#sorry if this is more than what you wanted

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"Don't forget how badly you said you wanted this when it gets to be too much, 'kay, mama?"

A warning that you paid no mind to and instead giggled at, because Toji kissed your knuckles and your forehead when he finished binding your wrists together. You thought he wouldn't be too hard on you, and even if he was, you have a trick up your sleeve. You know that if you beg hard enough with shimmering eyes, he becomes a little more lenient. He eases up on you and gentleness starts to seep into his actions.

Well, that didn't work. Not this time. This time, he wanted to give you everything you asked for and more.

"Fuck..." Toji groans. "Look at that, ma." He displays his cum soaked, glistening fingers and shows you an update on the juices that have made their way down his wrist. "Come on, open your eyes and look," he says, patting your thigh.

Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes flutter open, your dim, weary gaze darting to the face of the man inflicting all these varying sensations your body is feeling.

"Not at my mug. Look at my hand and my forearm," Toji instructs, trying hard not to smirk at how utterly debauched you look. You look like you're going to cry, again. "Messy girl, you did that."

You mumble something quiet and unintelligible, and like a shark, Toji devours your pathetic attempt to speak. "Louder. I know you can be louder, or do you need some encouragement?" He asks, ghosting the knuckle of his index finger along your slit, resulting in your body full on jolting.

"Sorry!" You cry out, loud enough to have Toji laughing at your frantic repetition. "I said-- said i'm sorry," you stutter out, your voice unsteady.

You're ruined, yet somehow, this is a sight that has Toji's heart racing, like he's falling in love with you for the millionth time. It puts him through a conflict. It makes him want to be nice to you, it also makes him want to add on to your ruin, but more than anything, it sadistically makes him want to see you cry, again.

"Don't be sorry. This is what you wanted, right?" Toji groans, quietly, as he lies back down on his stomach, eyes focusing on your glistening cunt, again. "Wanted me to make you cry from the intensity of it all? Said you could handle being overstimulated, didn't you, ma?" His thumb drags up your slit, slow enough to have your inner thighs trembling as he makes his way up towards your overly sensitive clit. "Stay there," he commands, when you squirm the slightest bit away from him. He goes again, this time, dragging the pads of his index and middle fingers through your slicked folds.

"T-Toji," you whimper, your abdomen clenching and quivering with every one of his touches. "Toji, I--" you gasp, feeling the warmth of his tongue dragging through your folds and when you feel his fingers grazing your entrance, you can't help but whimper in anticipation for what's to come.

"Why are you shaking?" Toji asks, looking up at you, condescendingly. You can't scramble quickly enough to respond, before he's feeding his fingers into your drooling cunt. "Wanna cum?" He asks, taking in the sight of your returning tears with a menacing smirk. You don't know what to say, because on one hand, you get another orgasm, but on the other hand, you know you are going to be pushed past pleasure. "Yeahhh, you do. Look at that pretty face. Gonna make you cum so hard," he purrs, curling his fingers inside of you.

You don't know if you'll make it out of this one. You feel like you're being launched into heaven every time he makes you cum with his fingers and his mouth, but it's an immediate, full speed plummet to hell when he keeps going—keeps rubbing your clit while you spasm and practically choke on your breaths.

"Right there?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in the sounds of your moans. They're higher in pitch, quicker, and constantly interrupted by your sharp gasps. "Oh fuck," he growls. "That's it, huh?"

"I-I'm--" you whimper, "--fuck, fuck." Your chest heaves, your back slightly arching off the bed. "Toji," you call, frenzied by the overwhelming sensations. "I'm gonna die..." you blurt. "G-Gonna die," you cry out, tears spilling down the corners of your eyes and treading down your cheeks.

Toji watches, amusedly, as you struggle to figure out what to do while he keeps building you up. The mobility of your hands is limited due to your wrists being bound together, but your palms are dented by your nails to all hell. You barely have control of your legs, because even though they aren't restrained, Toji handles them however he needs to in order to give you what you asked for without you trying to stop him.

"You're fine. You can take it," he says, over the lewd, squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you. "Last one, and you're giving me ten seconds."

"N-No!"

"Yes," he insists. "It's the last one, gotta make it a-"

It's unexpected, the wet mess you make all over Toji's hand, your thighs, and the sheets. You feel like your whole body is buzzing and your toes are curled so tightly that your feet are starting to hurt from the strain.

The countdown starts the second you start squirming and pressing your hips into the mattress. Toji's arms are hooked around your thighs, holding them open and still so he can use his mouth on you for all ten of those seconds and make a mess out of your overstimulated cunt. His lips are latched around your clit, one of his fingers pumping in and out of you, while you shake and pathetically sob from the borderline painful amount of stimulation. The skin of your palms must be broken by now from how hard you've been digging into them.

"Toj--" you barely manage, before your chest is heaving and racking out another sob.

The ten seconds are up, and Toji immediately eases off of you, releasing your visibly trembling legs so that you can move as you please. He crawls up the bed and sits beside you, quickly undoing the binding of your wrists and tossing the strip away.

"I know... I know, doll," Toji coos, wiping at your tear streaked cheeks. He doesn't instantly scoop you up into his arms, because you not wanting to be touched is definitely a possibility. He just sits there, by your side, and attempts to verbally soothe you while you work to compose yourself. "Just breathe, mama. It's all done. You're gonna be okay."

Once your breathing is more calm and you're not so rattled, he works his way up to touching you, starting with your shaky hands and the crescent shapes that litter your palms. He carefully runs his thumbs over the little marks, monitoring your reaction to make sure he isn't hurting you. He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, moving along each of your fingers and ending where his focus is needed most—your palms.

"You good, ma?" Toji asks, lying down on his side, facing you. He's still not pulling you into his arms, but one of his legs is pressed against yours, just to have some sort of physical contact with you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say, offering a soft smile. "It was just..." you hum, thinking.

"Intense?" Toji cuts in, to which you nod. "But I didn't hurt you too bad? You're alright?"

"Yes, baby," you assure. "I would've used my safe word if it was too much for me to handle. We touched on that before we started this, remember?" Your hand goes to cup his cheek, but he intercepts it by grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to his lips, again.

"Don't be scared to use that word, ma. Don't ever push your boundaries for me, alright? I don't give a fuck if i'm about to bust. If you're not feeling it, we're gonna stop, okay? The last thing I wanna do is to traumatize you."

"Jesus fuck, you're so sexy," you murmur, curling up into him. Your hand splays over his abdomen and rubs slowly, a simple gesture that makes his cock start throbbing and twitching in his sweats, the longer you do it. "Yes, Toji. I won't ever hesitate," you assure, your words promised, physically, through a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his, only further fuels his arousal. You can feel the way he impatiently kisses you back, like he's trying to inhale you. The way he grips your hip and pulls you so that your body is pressed against him, further communicates his need for more of you.

"I'll be so gentle with you, doll," he mumbles, into your neck, pressing kisses to it, afterwards. "Please? Let me treat you right, this time."

You giggle as he continues murmuring quiet little pleas into your neck, through kisses.

"I wanted you to do it, baby, but alright, treat me your way. The right way."

[5sospenguinqueen]

Papaya Rules | Oscar Piastri x Driver! Reader

Summary: From on-track rivals to reluctant teammates, the trauma of team orders issued by Mclaren bond you and Oscar in a way you never expected. 

Warnings: mentions of papaya rules, swearing

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me (a while ago. oops)

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

2023 

f1 posted a new story

itsyn_ln replied and that’s community service for piastri  → f1 girl, aren’t you supposed to be in the media pen → itsyn_ln five more minutes → i’m in no rush 

mclaren replied no time to explain but we need you to delete this before oscar sees → we need them to get along

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

mclaren just posted

liked by landonorris, jackdoohan and others

mclaren breaking news mclaren f1 racing is pleased to announce that yn ln will be joining the team in 2024, alongside oscar piastri, on a multi-year contract. we cannot wait to see what she can achieve with us

33,814 comments

itsyn_ln thank you for this opportunity! now i need to figure out how to make orange look good on me 

→ mclaren everything looks good on you

username1 wait, what? she’s oscar’s public enemy #1 and now she’ll be his teammate?

oscarpiastri and this is how i find out?

→ mclaren we didn’t want to give you a chance to protest

→ pierregasly i knew before oscar did? ha! 

→ oscarpiastri don’t make me still target the pink car next year

→ itsyn_ln i’m feeling unwanted 

jackdoohan @/itsyn_ln thanks for the seat 

→ itsyn_ln i hope i kept it warm for you! 

username2 poor osc is going to have to learn to manage this oddness

→ username3 poor osc is probably more focused on having to learn not to strangle her

alpinef1team losing another driver to the sinister evil and orange team 

→ itsyn_ln at least you’ll miss me. i’m starting to think pierre lied when he said he would

→ pierregasly of course i did. you were staring straight at me without blinking

username4 don’t get me wrong, i can’t wait to see yn in a better car but i fear this was poor planning on mclaren’s part. they’re going to struggle with managing their drivers 

landonorris i’m sorry, osco. i didn’t know me leaving was going to lead to this

→ oscarpiastri you’re not forgiven. 

username5 i fear mclaren are not going to have the dream team they were expecting

→ username6 they need to prepare to see both papaya cars dnf’ing all the time next year

username7 i need that jacket! 

→ mclaren all yn merch coming soon! 

→ username8 they move fast. they’ve already got her in papaya and prepared to release her papaya merch 

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2024

mclaren just posted

liked by patriciooward, gabrielbortoleto_ and others

mclaren and it’s a papaya 1-2 what a race! a phenomenal display of teamwork from oscar and yn

55,098 comments

username9 wtf was that 

username10 i can’t decide which one of them was robbed more 

username11 so they want them to become friends but then force them to concede wins???

username12 i never want to hear the phrase ‘papaya rules’ again. idk what it means but i know it was shit

username13 the fact that neither of them have interacted with this post shows that they’re not happy with their 1-2

username14 you guys need to chill. they were coming under fire from max, and yn was faster. oscar was holding her up and if they hadn’t have switched, max could’ve had them both 

→ username15 there was two laps left. i’m sure they could’ve managed it

→ username14 did you not see all the purple sectors max was setting 

username16 i hope oscar doesn’t blame yn for this

username17 unrelated but i love how much shorter yn is than osc in this pic. they’re so cute

→ username18 they’re mortal enemies. don’t start romanticising them

→ username19 they are so enemies to lovers coded 

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oscarpiastri just posted

liked by itsyn_ln, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri enjoying a week off

44,287 comments

mclaren does this mean we’re friends again

→ oscarpiastri not yet

username1 mr piastri, sir, um, is that a WOMAN?

username2 look, it’s very nice to see that you’re alive and well but we no longer care about that because who is that in the last pic?! 

charles_leclerc son, you didn’t tell me about this 

landonorris a new teammate and a new partner. i see i’m being fully replaced

→ oscarpiastri don’t fuel the rumours about us

username3 oh so this is why twitter is freaking out

username4 the linked hands

username5 yn liked this? are they friends now??

itsyn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, landonorris and others

itsyn_ln my boyfriend just won a grand prix, bitches! 

73,220 comments

pierregasly was this meant to be posted on the burner account??

→ itsyn_ln oh shit

→ oscarpiastri oh, sweetheart

→ charles_leclerc and everyone thought i would tell! 

itsyn_ln well, no point deleting it now. enjoy

→ username6 yn and oscar are dating?!!?

→ username7 and he calls her sweetheart?!?!?

username8 no one understands how precious these two are to me

username9 enemies to lovers come true

username10 these two were written by a wattpad user

alpinef1team sometimes we think we miss you and then you do stuff like this 

→ mclaren sure you don’t want her back 

→ username11 noooo don’t take our papaya partners away from us 

username12 i’ve only had ynoscar for five minutes but if anything happens to them, i will kill everyone

username13 they said i was crazy but i knew! i knew there was passion between their feud

landonorris and you did so good to not kiss him in front of the cameras

→ oscarpiastri she’s more annoyed that now she shouldn’t have bothered

→ itsyn_ln want to smooch you for the world to see

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requests open

coming soon; max taste part 3 and franco x driver! reader

[cowlings]

may I request miss🙋🏻‍♀️ some high nsfw katsuki

warnings for nsfw, p star! katsuki, no quirk college au, consumption of weed n alc, masturbation, fem! reader, it’s a cliffhanger i’m sorry i don’t have the brain rn

katsuki bakugo would become a porn star entirely on accident.

the topic would surge from time to time in his friend group, mostly as a joke. because "gosh, bakugo! you have the body of a porn star! you sure you're not on some secret account we don't know about?" and it really got to him. what does a porn star body look like, anyway? it's a mystery to him, as he pulls out his phone on incognito and...

he's in disbelief. he's actually looking up porn. never in his life would katsuki bakugo ever think of doing so. katsuki feels like he'd be less guilty if he's not sober whatsoever, so he's searching multiple accounts on his twitter throwaway with one hand as the other holds a small joint. it's not long before his eyes are completely red, pants and boxers slid down to his ankles, and videos recommended by kaminari going on auto-play.

but he's not satisfied, not one bit. he stopped caring for physique videos ago, he's now entertained by the poor technique. with blurry vision, he reads the replies and quote tweets, expressing their inconformities. comments like "god, her moans sound so fake", or "can't he stroke it slowly? i want it to last" make his mind run. katsuki bakugo was lost in the world of constructive criticism, while his ego began to chew at him.

he can do better than those stupid extras, right?

of fucking course. he's katsuki bakugo. but he's not gonna fucking do it. nope. never.

katsuki bakugo is a lightweight. he feels like he's sitting on the moon instead of his couch as he's gulping down some cheap rum his friends bought the week prior. and soon enough, his camera app is open, cock fully on display, and he's stroking it for a few good minutes. and the camera catches everything���how his cock twitches every time his strokes get slower, how the tip was reddish and filled with precum from the very beginning, his heavenly moans, his white-knuckled grip, and how his knees shake as he comes undone and stains his red, velvet couch.

and he has the video on twitter as a draft, half written caption and all. katsuki needs to visualize how it would look like if he posted. until he does. his finger slips, and the video and half caption are posted. at first, katsuki is mortified and doesn’t know what to do, until he sees a person liking and commenting. he decides to leave it up until he sobers up.

twelve hours and a huge hangover later, user 00179359027728kb is a twitter porn sensation.

thousands of users express their love for him, asking and demanding for more videos, as well as wishing to be his partner in crime. when katsuki realizes he can monetize this, he suddenly has dollar signs for eyes. a few videos later and katsuki bakugo is famous.

so famous, in fact, that one of your friends is in love with him, despite only seeing the lower half of his face. she raves about him to you on the daily, and as a result you find yourself creating a throwaway to watch his videos, and damn—katsuki is fucking sensational. he’s an icon, and you wish he were in your bed right then and there.

but he’s quickly discarded by your own brain as you get ready for an outing. it’s a nice, weekend night, and your friends are ready to go clubbing. once you get there it’s… okay, you suppose. dim lighting, people stuffed like sardines in a can, and the occasional couple eating their faces in the corner. you know the many cocktails you had are catching up to you once you accidentally bump into a person, and as you turn to apologize, you’re stunned.

“y’should watch where you’re going.”

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t see y—wait—are you that kb guy from twitter?”

he’s like a deer in headlights. “…that depends. who’s askin’”

“name’s y/n” you giggle, “i know you cause i have a friend who’s nuts for you.”

you officially pique katsuki‘s interest. his eyebrow rises as he smirks, “oh, is she?” he tilts his head to the side, “what about you, sweets? you watch me too?”

shyly, you nod. his smirk gets bigger as he steps closer, “she here? i don’t really do pictures, though.”

“do you do videos?”

liquid courage. it would cost you a lot to even say that sober, and you blame your drunken state for your boldness. katsuki bakugo has that fiery look in his eye as he laughs. “sure i do, sweets. you wanna be the first model for my page or is it just to spite yer friend?”

first?

only model is your goal. you’re determined to make that happen.

“bathroom? in 5?”

“ya got it, captain.”

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗌

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

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⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

Trigger warning

Your bare face is gorgeous. I’m not sure why I felt the need to say that but it just came through and I couldn’t ignore it. Your lips are an area of focus in this reading as well. I’m not sure what it is about your lips - it could be that you have naturally pink lips, cupid bow ones or have hyperpigmentation around your lips that make it look like you have a natural lip liner (it’s going to be different for everyone) but no matter what, they’re extremely gorgeous. Maybe because it’s winter in the northern hemisphere, many of you could wear lip balms, petroleum jelly or lip glosses but it gives your lips a wet appearance. If not, you lick and bite your lips a lot, like even if you don’t have any of the attributes mentioned above, the way you move your lips, the way you touch it, lick it, bite it, everything just gives you a different vibe. Now moving beyond your lips because while I could sing praises about them all day, I want the reading to consist of more. Your energy is such that when people see your vices or perceived ‘flaws’, it doesn’t disinterest them but instead only add more dimension to you. It makes you more attractive to them because they experience a certain ‘rawness’ in you that they might not get to experience elsewhere in this world due to how everyone is striving for perfection to the point they all seem manufactured. You’re someone who people stare at when in cafés or public places and I’m so sorry but you have fallen victim to catcalling possibly multiple times especially when you were younger than you are right now. You didn’t deserve that. People find themselves losing a certain level of consciousness when they’re close to you, especially physically. You cause people to feel a heat when around you and even away from you, it depends on the person, sometimes it is a gentle warmth that envelops them, sometimes it is a certain hotness running through their that makes it hard for them to contain themselves around you, to even breathe around you, let alone act normal and sometimes it is in the form of jealousy, people of the same sex or who are interested in increasing their appeal but haven’t been able to find their own spark feel intimidated by your scorching heat that seems to engulf all around it unapologetically. One thing that I need to warn you about is that you definitely have people who are jealous of you. You don’t even seem to notice it but when you’re out, people who are literally taken tend to check you out right in front of them, causing their partner to feel a certain hostility towards you. People stare at you a lot, it is very obvious. It’s come through multiple times. Right now, you’re someone who is just very nonchalant. You don’t hold onto connections too tightly, let alone chase them.

You used to formerly speak with your eyes a lot with certain people, it created a sense of knowing, belonging, connection and familiarity but now you just walk past those same people like you don’t know them or you might greet them, smile at them but you don’t seem to have the same gaze in your eyes anymore, often breaking eye contact quickly or not even caring enough to maintain it, it causes them to feel hurt sometimes, wondering if they never meant anything to you, if you just forgot them, if they were just that forgettable to you but it also makes you irresistibly attractive to them. You’ve developed a certain peace within yourself, there were days when you didn’t know how to live or had forgotten how to do so. You had become very internal, causing you to live within yourself and with it came a lot of overthinking. You used to hold onto grief and people could have underestimated you back then but you have moved far past that. You’ve become more present and mindful, you have started living beyond your mind. You’re starting to smile more, live more and keep your life, treasure it, even if it isn’t perfect, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had imagined. You’ve definitely had a past that was full of tears. It was difficult but you’ve left it all behind, this sense of presence and contentment is adding onto your attractiveness because the sorrow you’ve experienced has also given you a lot of wisdom. One thing that you don’t want to fall into is mourning and desperation because you have experienced both. ‘Extreme nostalgia’ is what I just heard. The sorrow you’ve experienced on your path, the tears that you’ve cried are the very things that are helping you move forward with such confidence and self assuredness. Since you’ve experienced so much, many dark thoughts too, possibly suicidal ones for some of you and have always managed to find a way out, you just feel like things will turn out fine in the end. You have tortured yourself enough in the past, it’s time to live now. That’s how you think and this shift is noticeable because you’re just focused on your own life. Your perception of connections especially romantic ones is that while they’re beautiful, people can burst your bubble so you just want to be discerning enough to only let a certain kind of people into your life like that. You desire to love but it’s not that big of a desire anymore, everyone wants love, to give and receive it, to be desired and desire someone but the way you look at it is “I’ve been there, I’m glad I’m out”, you’re just glad to be over it. It doesn’t even have to be romantic, I’m picking up on major disappointments in connections in general, causing you to prioritise yourself first and foremost.

You’re actually a hopeless romantic, a devotee. When you love, it’s very deep for you, your love is of divine nature. There’s no wandering eyes or anything of that sort, there’s just your person who you hold to be dear, almost divine, your love is devotional, almost like worship. I wonder if there was a point when you were devoted to the platonic or/and romantic connections in your life just for them to end and you were devastated about at least one or a few of them but the fact that you’ve managed to come out of it has given you more power because you know how deep your love runs, you know how you love and what kind of love you give out, and desire for yourself so it gives you the self assuredness that you deserve similar energy. You hold yourself and others to a high standard but if they don’t live up to it, you just abandon them and move forward. It’s nothing malicious but you just don’t see the point in getting caught up in the waiting game, training game or sticking around to entertain less than what you know you deserve. You have a different, slightly detached and elusive vibe to you. Your eyes and words tend to teleport people to a different world, not literally obviously but that’s what it feels like for them. Your energy is not possible to ignore, it bothers those around you because of the elusiveness mixed with the heat that I mentioned earlier but it’s not a bother that they ever want to get rid of. They enjoy the feeling of slight discomfort that comes from your presence. You interact with people very casually, not with everyone obviously but your ease of interacting with others is something that adds to your attractiveness. The vibe that I’m getting from you is that some people are bothered by your heat, others find it warm but both of these parties do not even realise when you started filling their world with nothing but yourself, it just hits them randomly and so strongly. I’m picking up on a romantic vibe from you and your beauty, it seems very gentle despite the heat you radiate. You’re also full of contradictions, despite your heat, you have a romantic appeal but despite the gentleness and elusiveness of it, you really confuse people. Some of you get turned on by fighting, not the excessive toxic kind of fighting but the dramatic yet silly ones that add to the pulse on your vertical lips are very much welcome by you 😭. I keep on hearing ‘what do you mean?’ by Justin Bieber here. “Don’t know if you’re happy or complaining”, “first you wanna go to the left and then turn right, wanna argue all day, make love all night.” You feel like home while simultaneously repulsing people. You’re a complex person full of contradictions and that’s what seems to make you attractive. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

This pile is for you if you have been touching and rubbing yourself a lot recently or just do so a lot generally. You have an intense sexual nature but really innocent eyes. You also crave fairytale love, like the innocent kind of love that doesn’t include touching and rubbing but just an eye contact makes you feel something, just an accidental brushing of skin is enough to make blood rush up to your cheeks, that’s the kind of love you desire and also give out but despite that, your sexual energy slips past your fairly pure and innocent exterior. Despite your love for consuming romantic content, you are not desperate for it. You understand that it’s a luxury to be with you and act like it. You know that people pleasing is self betrayal so you do not go out of your way to please others but at the same time, when they’re around you, you do please them? It just comes naturally to you. Much like the last pile, I’m getting something with the lips but in this pile, either you have plump lips, have a protruding lower lip or just pout a lot. Maybe, it’s just a natural slightly pouty appearance but I’m literally getting flying kisses so I’m not sure. Despite this innocent appearance and your desire for romance, you are very good at leaving people behind. You’ve learned that it’s best not to overstay your welcome anywhere. You’re someone who leaves people and things behind at the required pace, and you do not even seem to care about what anyone might think. You are fine with being lonely, what you’re not fine is getting used and heartbroken by people who might not have your best interests at heart. You have always had this delicate balance between being a friend and a lover. This could have led to misunderstandings in the past, you tend to treat your friends affectionately and generously, and those of the opposite sex or the sex you are interested in romantically might misunderstand, taking it as a free pass to underestimate and disrespect you? It has likely happened at some point in the past, definitely not for all of you but this quality of yours makes you very attractive. Also, when you fall apart from such people, they aren’t even able to voice out how much they miss you because you didn’t have a relationship set in stone and you just act as though you never even met them, as if you don’t know them, never did. In the past, you may have been unable to maintain this delicate balance or might perceive it as such but you are starting to go forward in life with stronger boundaries and that makes you very attractive.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some or in fact, many of you stopped making friends with the opposite sex due to such misunderstandings and disrespect. People from the past miss you, they’re terribly attracted to you and you’re irreplaceable but you’ve clearly grown out of that. If not, this is not your pile. I’m getting a lot of youthful energy here. It’s not just this delicate balance that has made you feel misunderstood in the past but also your friendships with people of the same sex. I’m legit getting friends from school missing you if you’re out of it and away from them (especially if you separated from them connection wise). You do not realise just how hard the nostalgia hits people of the past when it comes to you. People remember you as ‘the one that got away’ honestly and I hate this concept because it’s just sad, and I believe in true love being present, and not getting away but yes, you’re awfully missed. This is funny but people realise that they love or miss you at around 1-3 a.m. in the morning. You have something melancholic and lonely about you but also something so wholesome, and warm at the same time but you also interact with them by rolling eyes, sighing, vacantly staring, calling them dumb and saying something like “who cares?” All of this is dearly missed when you’re gone. You shouldn’t have to get away for people to want you, to appreciate and desire you, to treat you kindly, and with love and respect. You have this thing where you naturally love your friends a lot and don’t hold them inferior to other connections but this has led to you naturally relying on them and also treating them with a lot of love, and priority, and it was not rewarding for you because they used to develop hostility towards you over time for some reason. You’re very attractive to those from the past because they’ll genuinely never find someone like you anywhere. You’re an unconditionally loving person but you also understand that it’s better not to get involved in the lives of messy people. Also, you have a very casual and friendly way of interacting with people when they’re around you, you greet people and treat them as though you’ve known them for years at least for the amount of time that you’re around them even if you’ve just met them. You also have a tendency to be mean and get on people’s nerves but it only makes you more endearing because they get obsessed yet repulsed by you.

There’s something very innocent and pure, almost naive about you but also someone so dirty and mature. The energy here is a bit more contradictory but your contradictions are what seem to make you attractive. People who are used to being in control and are able to read others well find themselves being unable to remain controlled when around you and fail to read you, causing them to be frustrated, intrigued or/and drawn to you. There’s just something different about you that makes others feel like they’re changing, they’re shaking up, it’s not something that they can even put a finger on, it just is. People can’t help but want you around after meeting you, your presence and energy are intoxicating. I wouldn’t be surprised if once you enter a new environment, you see specific people everywhere around you because they just want to be close to you even if it’s from a distance. Many of you here seem to look like puppies or possess that kind of energy. This is the pile where you attract or at least intrigue those slightly older than you. Even people who claimed to ‘not date someone younger than them EVER’ can’t help but be curious about you, be attracted to you. Despite your youthful and puppy like energy, it’s them that feel like a puppies? Like, after meeting you, initially you’re the one acting like a puppy, treating them well and lighting up when you see them but the more the time starts passing by they feel like you’re not taking them seriously, they’re the one following you around everywhere, wanting to prove themselves to you, they do not even understand why they feel so lovesick without you around as if they were a puppy without their owner. Also, another thing is that some people have their youth attached to you and well, they’re still attracted to you even if you’re no longer in touch. Time passes by too fast when you’re around, people find themselves wishing that the hours would go slow so that they could spend more time with you. You’re a piece of warm sunlight of the first spring when it’s not hot yet but just a pleasant weather with a slight amount of coldness that vanishes when you graze their skin. You’re a joy to be around - a dream girl. You’re pleasant because there’s nothing too imposing about you but your energy though gentle and soft in nature is felt strongly, enveloping all that’s around you. People can’t help but want to be a part of your world. There’s also a sense of fragility that I’m picking up on here but it’s something that others feel fortunate to see about you. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

I think that some of you love dancing or just enjoy being young and enjoying life, being present. You’re just so candid, there’s something youthful and timeless about you due to how present you are because you’re someone who actively tries to be present. You do not want to perish with time which is why you try to make every moment count, to have adventures, to try and live your dreams, to leave a legacy. “People will not remember what you wore but they will remember how you made them feel.” You seem to have a solid understanding of this and try to make others feel good about themself and life itself. You’re very busy making the most out of your youth and out of your life but in your presence, you try to make sure that others don’t feel left out, you try to be as inclusive as possible, understanding that they too will only live once. You have an energy that’s everlastingly young about you and your eyes are very attractive, like they’re just captivating regardless of their size, shape and colour. Your eyes give you an appearance of goodness because they look like eyes that would belong to someone good, they’re open, inviting and warm but it seems like more of a disguise once you’re gone because when people run into you or are around you again after a falling out of some sort, your eyes lack that old familiar warmth that once greeted them and they feel an actual ache at the thought that your life continued on without them. You are someone who won’t stop your life for anyone, you want to have fun and spend your life joyfully so when you’re not getting that with certain people or in certain environments, you’re quick to pull yourself and continue on with your life, trying to make it as beautiful and celebratory as possible. Many really extravagant words are coming through for you, I wonder if your energy is a bit dramatic and extravagant too. You are someone who knows how to touch people and gently persuade them but remain distant, causing people to admire you and almost need you. There are times when people think that you’re wasting their time and try to give up on you but something happens that causes them to lose their discernment and heart to you again.

It’s hard to stay composed when you’re around because you just make them feel like little children. I find this endearing, you have a way of making everything very personal. You make memories with people and one thing in particular that stands out to me as attractive is when you call people by their name, it feels personal, it feels sweet. However, most people do not come forth to you beyond yearning for you. You’ve probably had friends confess to you in the past, out of nowhere. You’re very loveable in every sense of the word and people who share closeness to you or once did cannot help but wish for more than that. Many people do not even manage to get as close to you as they’d like to. There’s a lot of fear attached to confessing their feelings for you. The helplessness attached to liking you makes you irresistibly attractive, pretty much obsessively magnetic. Seduction is supposed to be subtle, it’s supposed to be non threatening, that’s what your attractiveness is like. I won’t lie, you do have a very scary attractive appeal too, like people who are attracted to you right away but even so, you win them over more and more over time. When you are around people, the world seems to stop but they don’t even notice it until after a while, they’ll have no clue when it started, when it got so deep. People do have a recognition of a connection with you from the start itself, of course it isn’t like that for everyone and it doesn’t have to be but those who recognise this are still unable to voice it out, however, if you’ve experienced this, you’re probably aware of how they act because their actions and mannerisms likely do give away their feelings. I’m picking up on humiliation, ridicule of looks, etc. You seem to have glowed up, take good care of yourself physically and dress to the best of ability, carrying yourself with your head held high because you remember how you were treated when you weren’t as attractive. This could be something like people close to you leaving you or disrespecting you too, it seems to extend beyond just looks actually, you’ve glowed up mentally and emotionally too. Also, you are forgetting the past, you are trying to, you have grown and don’t want it to hold any power over you at all. You are not in denial or anything, in fact, the kind of ‘forgetting’ seems to be a very healthy one, you’re naturally letting things go without regrets.

You make people feel very young, to share an innocent bond with you, full of memories, they can’t help but yearn for you. It’s your friends and those you share communities with that find you to be the most attractive. Also, you’re someone who literally doesn’t have regrets in terms of connections because you’ve always done your best, you’ve always given your all. You have really strong self respect, it was likely developed with time and experience but those you share memories and past with, if they were struggling, you’d not let them come back in order to search for comfort, support and companionship because you remember how they left. Those who have lost you have especially had to pine for you, the realisation that there’s no one like you is hitting them. Many of these people, even platonic connections seem to have acted like you weren’t all that in the past but now the reality of having lost you is starting to set in. Some of you have nice thick hair or you do something that makes it look full, you could simply just leave it open for example, some of you here use a lot of eye pencil, liner or eyeshadow too probably in brown or black, if not you just have captivating eyes like I said earlier. Your energy brings about a heat that is hard to ignore, it’s usually a strong heat than just a warmth, the type to make people act out of control because they’re not sure how to act around you. It’s like you make them lose control and feel hot, and they regret certain things they say or do but still crave more of it because it’s addictive. The way you move too, gosh, you might not even pay that much attention to it but you’re so attractive like lethally attractive. I keep on getting a theme of you wasting people’s time but it doesn’t even seem to be intentional, you just move on with your life is all. You come off as someone who’s like “if we meet again, we meet, if we don’t, you have my memories to remember me by.” You make everything feel like a movie - a dream - in fact. People get so attached to you, they get so used to you, when you’re not around even the most familiar place starts feeling strange. Some of you could possess dimples or one single dimple. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

[greatw0r]

ROOMMATE VI ✶ vi × female reader

she's a night owl, you always hear sounds coming from her room when you get up to get a cup of water in the middle of the night

sitting with her on the cold balcony floor while talking about life and smoking

she's messy, her room is literally- you don't even wanna go in there until she gets her shit together and finnaly cleans it

everytime she goes to the gym she invites you to go with her " cmon princess- don't you wanna at least see me covered in sweat ? " she smirked and you trow her a pillow

cooking together sometimes- she's sitting on the counter while telling you the recipe and what to do next and eventually helps you - cuts something or mixes things

she's an caffeine addict omg

going grocery shopping with her and she acts like a nine years old, jumping into the wheels of the cart and running around almost hitting someone

helping her paint her hair and cutting her hair- she says she doesn't want to waste money on hair saloons who aren't going to do what she wants so you do it instead with a bit of begging on her part

sometimes you get home and get hit with her music busting trough her speaker and her doing workouts in the middle of the living room " sorry sweetheart- hey can you pass me that towel ? "

talking about towels- she almost doesn't wear one when she gets out of the shower- making extremely hard for you not to stare at her when she walks out

having her friends over and they immediately make you feel included, laughing and drinking around the house

watching movies with her ! if she picks she will tell you all about the movie before it even starts or she will be super exited

making her go shopping with you- she swears she hates it but she actually doesn't- she loves it specially when you go try on clothes and wait for her opinion

becoming ... a little more than just friends and roommates when one night- you two are talking about your last relationships and the past when vi hands you her jacket- and then her lips where on yours

" shit- ... I shouldn't have " she cursed and sighed but you pull her back into you kissing her more . she's shocked but kisses you back with an smile " didn't thought you had it in you princess "

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Tim Drake probably got into fights at school, but he didn't start the fights, he'd finish them. He'd also get away scott free.

People think that they can ruin the Drake's name with their kid getting into fights and causing problems, but no. They encourage him to do these.

Janet had a firm stance in her belief to have the upper hand, so he'd never get in trouble, because she'd blackmail and/or grill into the principal so hard they had to let him go and give the other kid(s) punishment.

Jack had one solid rule, don't start a fight, finish it, and always win. He enforced it by having occasional spars with Tim whenever he could and signed Tim up for all kinds of martial arts to make sure he knew how to fight.

Janet signed him up for whatever else extracurriculars he wanted(ballet, gymnastics, theater, art, vocal coaching, instruments, figure skating, track, etc.).

So just imagine, Tim Drake, publicly known to get into and win so many fights but with no prior context is seen as a trouble maker till they see how well behaved he is. They talk badly about him though, how much of a bad kid little Tim Drake who physically looks like his father but has the face and acts exactly like Janet when he speaks and leads.

And then his parents die and he doesn't cry. They think he's an even horrible kid for not caring about his parents' death even though he's torn.

And then he becomes a Wayne and his reputation, which only Alfred and Bruce know, brings the Wayne name down.

And then he becomes CEO of Wayne Enterprises and everyone expects him to be just like Bruce. What they don't expect is Janet Drake 2.0 when it comes to getting his way and the way he acts or Jack Drake 2.0 with his outstanding leadership and ideas and proposals and what not.

When the rest of the Waynes find out about his reputation, they don't believe it till they see it for themselves.

It's probably at a gala or some sorts. A socialite is being inherently racist towards Damian and talking about how bad of a kid he is. Tim is not standing for it.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he says just a but too loudly to get the attention if everyone in the place, "Would you care to finish that vile comment about my brother? That he was a what now."

"I do, in fact. Perhaps after everyone hears this you Waynes will do better to control that little devil and his unnatural brow-"

The socialite doesn't even get to finish his sentence when Tim karate chops their neck, making them choke(literally) in their own words.

"Oh what was that? Did someone who is actively cheating on their own wife with the underage heir of another company be racist towards my underage and tri-racial brother? Sorry? Did a pedophile defiling the 15 year old daughter of the Miller's family say my 11 year old brother's skin was the sign of the devil? Hm?"

No one says a word, even as they watch Tim twist his words and spill out every secret and dirty fact about the socialite.

They don't even stop him as they watch him beat the crap out of the person with out even trying when said person tries to throw hands with Timothey Jackson Drake, publicly known for getting into fights and winning as well as being graduated from every martial arts class in Gotham ever.

Police were involved, headlines were made, the Miller heir was no longer seen in public and her younger sibling was pronounced heir, and Tim Drake, not Wayne, got off without a scratch, repercussion, or warning.

Damian has never felt an older siblings' loving protection more than he did when he saw Tim grill that socialite. He s never felt more respect for the guy before. And suddenly Dick was lower on the sibling scale.

He was lower on the sibling scale for everyone. Good by #1 sibling Dick Grayson and hello Tim Drake.

Have a problem? Someone's mean or is picking a fight? Don't worry, Tim Drake's there.

Drake is more noticeable than Wayne when it comes to Tim, and everyone finds it out the hard way.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊GINGERBREAD MEN

SUMMARY: someone made gingerbread men! you’ve decided to share it with a special someone of yours. how do they eat it?

CHARACTERS: all dorms + grim (-ortho)

GENRE: fluff, crackfic-ish

WARNINGS: cursing

NOTES: debated between this and an angst fic but im feeling festive and holly jolly so you got the fluff this year. merry christmas!!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

EATS THEM LIKE NORMAL CAUSE THEY’RE “JUST COOKIES”

whether they’re in shape of a man or round, a cookie is a cookie. does it matter where you bite first? no! not like it has feelings—stop. he’s not heartless, these stupid cookies can’t feel anything. does not appreciate the way you look at him with a slight frown. he’ll acknowledge the fact they are more than regular cookies, does that satisfy you? please just say it does. you want to make houses for them too?! sighhh… get him the kit from the kitchen..

riddle, trey, leona, jack, azul, jamil, vil, malleus, sebek, silver

BITES THE HEAD OFF FIRST

snaps the head off and starts grinning like a fool. will literally INSIST it’s the most efficient way to eat gingerbread men and is not willing to reason. since he’s so mature, you’ve caught him one time biting the head off then putting the cookie back on the plate with red icing oozing from the top. nooo… he didn’t do that. the cookie was just bleeding, that’s all! don’t look at him like that, let him have fun. anyway, if you’ll excuse him. this plate of gingerbread wasn’t going to eat itself and these guys must be rushed to the guillotine. which was his mouth.

ace, jade, epel, idia

BITES OFF THE ARMS AND LEGS SO THEY “SUFFER FOR THEIR GINGERBREAD CRIMES”

if only you could paint a picture of the scene you had just saw. he throws the cookie onto the plate, interrogating it with questions straight out of a detectives movie. abruptly, he picks the poor cookie up and snaps off all its limbs, leaving the head before smiling at it wickedly. as he heard your voice, he turned suddenly. uhm.. you didn’t see that. he was just uh.. asking questions. to be fair this man owed time. wait, DONT YOU DARE TAKE PICTURES OF HIS SHAME. HEY! GET BACK HERE!

deuce, cater, floyd, rook, idia, lilia

POPS THE ENTIRE COOKIE IN THEIR MOUTH, SOMETIMES SEVERAL AT ONCE

feels like staring at a chipmunk. you had just watched him massacre what could’ve been an entire village of gingerbread men in less than 20 seconds because he thought it was funny. felt no regret whatsoever and will not hesitate to do it again. you try to explain to him why eating it this way was probably not a good idea, but fuck that!! who cares!! it’s christmas which means every man for himself!! and then he choked on cookies for 10 minutes so good luck to you, prefect.

ace, ruggie, jade, floyd, kalim, epel, lilia, grim

A/N: sorry, got busy again this month lol. here’s a xmas special to make up for the disappearance. merry christmas!!

date published: 12/25/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain’s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[starsinthesky5]

nothings gonna hurt you baby II part 2 || joe burrow x reader

description: loving what you do doesn’t always mean it loves you back—it takes more than it gives sometimes

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! oh my goodness i am so sorry this took so SO long to get out! i really hope this was worth the (painful) wait!. this is flashback heavy with smutty smut smut, angst, and adorable fluffy fluffiness 😍 as a reminder, this is after the week two loss against KC. (yeah, i know this took me like 3 months)

warnings: angst, language, SMUT. MDNI.

songs listened to while writing: sailor song : gigi perez, nothings gonna hurt you baby : cigarettes after sex, you’re the only good thing in my life : cigarettes after sex, sweet nothing : taylor swift, slow hands : niall horan, nasty : ariana grande, look after you : the fray, die for you - the weeknd, call it what you want : taylor swift, teenage dream : katy perry 

word count: 48 k (sorry. i know. im sorry)

NGHYB masterlist  ||  part 1 → (read FIRST as this is a continuation of it)

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeys-babe @joeyb1989 @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87

and a special thanks to @sofferaddict for a bunch of these ideas :)

---------------------------------------------

“Hmph,” you mumbled as you jolted awake, a small gust of cold air slipping through the room, sending a chill down your spine. Your eyes quickly fluttered open at the sudden sensation, but the darkness that enveloped the room was thick, making it difficult for you to make anything out in the unlit room. 

You shifted slightly to shake off the grogginess, but all you could see was the glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand. You squinted at the time–3:21 a.m.–which made your stomach churn. You never woke up like this in the middle of the night; you were always a heavy sleeper. Nothing could wake you once you passed out cold–not glass shattering, not a fire, not a hurricane, and certainly not a cool breeze. It had been a mildly concerning yet adorable habit you had since college, a habit Joe discovered when one night, the fire alarms went off in his apartment building and you couldn’t be more unbothered while his building was at risk of burning down. 

Flashback to LSU

Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep.

“What the fuck?” Joe mumbled, flipping around in the shower as he wiped the water droplets off his face before slicking his hair back, his brows furrowing at the sudden & strange noise he heard.

Beep-Beep.

“The hell is that noise?” he said again while looking around the shower walls as if the noise was coming from inside of them, “Wait, do I have an alarm set?” he asked himself, then peeked out from the shower curtain to see if his phone was the source of the annoying beeping noise–which it wasn’t. 

BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Why the fuck is it getting louder?” Joe grumbled as he let go of the curtain and turned the water off before stepping out of the shower in a hurry. He reached for his towel, carelessly wrapping it around his waist while the water dripped from his golden hair and trailed down his muscular back as he moved around in the bathroom to try to find the source of the sound that had disrupted his much-needed post-game shower. 

“Can I not shower in peace?” he complained as he looked aimlessly for the source of the sound in the vanity drawers, medicine cabinet, and even the air vent. “It’s not coming from in here…,” he said a few seconds later before his eyes met the door, then his brain wandered to what...or who was outside of the door. “Hm, she better not have burnt something in the kitchen,” he laughed to himself, imagining you in his kitchen, half naked & half asleep, accidentally setting off the smoke detector while trying to make a late-night snack. But before he could let his imagination wander off too much, the beeping grew louder and he was snapped back to the present. 

He swung the bathroom door open, fully prepared to get a whiff of burnt food at full force. But instead of a smell, the noise hit him with full force, and it was blaring through his entire apartment.  “Shit,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes trailed up to the flashing red light coming from his ceiling, his heart dropping once he realized what was actually happening. 

There was a fire in his building. 

There was no burnt food in the kitchen. 

There was a fire. 

That was the fire alarm’s sound. 

His eyes then fell to his bed where you were curled up against his pillows, completely unbothered by the piercing alarm above you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, almost as if you were caught in a dream that was so intense and lively that your body’s alert system was asleep too.

“Unreal,” he muttered, shaking his head out of amusement. It wasn’t as if the alarm sound was coming from down the hall, it was right above you–yet you still managed to stay asleep. “She’s actually sleeping through this?” he chuckled while walking over to your side of his bed. He placed a hand on your arm, gently shaking you while using his other hand to move your hair out of your face, “Y/N? Baby?” he whispered softly. 

“…Mmm,” you hummed in your sleep as you dug your head into his pillow even further, still so caught in the dream you were having to realize Joe was crouched down beside you and his hand was on your arm.

“Lovey? Wake up?” he whispered again, his voice soft and tender, this time using the nickname that he knew made you melt into a pile of goo which usually resulted in a lazy smile or adorable eye bat–but this time didn’t. The only response Joe got was the calm rise and fall of your chest as you stayed in your deep slumber–and the realization of how deeply you were sleeping made his heart squeeze. He really didn’t want to wake you up; you were sound asleep, in his bed, in the comfort of his space, and he didn’t want to pull you from your dream-filled oasis like this. 

Joe let out a sigh before shaking his head, “I don’t want to scare her by waking her up too roughly. But how do I get her up? We need to get out before the building burns down, that’s if there even is a legit fire,” he thought to himself, glancing from your precious face to the flashing alarm above you. It could be a false alarm, but it could also be the real deal. He wasn’t going to risk it, especially because of you, so you both really needed to get going. Shaking you wasn’t doing anything, and saying your name clearly wasn’t cutting through the haze that had you wrapped up in your dreams. So what could he do?

After spending a few seconds thinking of ways to wake you without startling you, a gentle voice entered his head—primarily because he remembered the movie you made him watch last night back at your place. It was one of your all-time favorites, a classic fairytale with an enchanted sleep and a true love’s kiss breaking the spell. He teased you over and over for your choice, but you urged him to watch it with you, claiming it was the perfect comfort movie to watch with your one true love. 

“And from this slumber you shall wake, when true love's kiss, the spell shall break,” the voice in his head recited which happened to be your voice. 

“I am her one true love,” he shrugged as he thought over the silly line from the fairytale you were so cutely obsessed with. “Alright, let’s see if this fairytale logic actually works,” he then smiled as he looked at you for a few more seconds, your captivating beauty making the sound of the alarm fade into the background; you really were a real-life Sleeping Beauty. You were his Sleeping Beauty. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself, realizing that life had its own unique way of imitating art in the strangest moments. 

He leaned down and pressed his soft lips against yours, feeling the warmth of your breath against him as he felt himself getting lost in your touch. 

Kissing you was something he could never get tired of. Joe wouldn’t hesitate to spend the entire day curled up in bed with you, cradling your face and dropping gentle, sometimes passionate, kisses on your lips if he was given the chance. He was like a needy baby whenever it came to kissing you–he always needed that bit of closeness and he just couldn’t get enough no matter how much you gave. Whenever this closeness was taken from him, he’d give you the same tempting pout and those puppy-dog eyes that made your heart melt. It was his way of saying that he needed you, that even the smallest distance between you two was too far for his liking. He was never like this with any of his previous girlfriends, there was just something so comforting and fulfilling about you, something that made him feel at home. And he wanted to feel at home all the damn time if he had the opportunity to. 

After holding the kiss for a few seconds, he gently pulled away with a smile and was met with the sight of your lashes fluttering—meaning it worked. “A true love’s kiss,” he smirked, brushing his thumb against your soft cheek, “I guess it does work every time,”. 

You moved around in his silk sheets for a few seconds, trying to chase the last bit of your dream before your eyes eventually fluttered open. The piercing sound of the alarm filled your ears and the sight of Joe crouched over you made your heart skip a beat. “Wha- What,” you whispered, your voice groggy and your brain still clouded from sleep. “Joey?” your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as you tried to understand what was happening.  

“Hey, baby,” he whispered gently, trying not to startle you. 

“What’s going on?” you whined, trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes as your head began pounding due to the alarm’s relentless beeping. 

He spoke softly, trying to keep you calm, “Hey, it’s okay, just wake up for me, alright? There’s a fire alarm going off and we need to get outta here,” he explained. 

Your once-sleepy eyes flashed with urgency at the mention of the word fire. “Fire? There’s a fire?” you shrieked in panic as you instantly sat up in the bed. The adrenaline hit you like a wave, washing away any lasting remnants of your sleep.   

“I don’t know for sure, but we need to get outside in case there is,” he said while he stepped back to give you room to stand up.

“O- Okay,” you nodded as you quickly slipped out from the covers and scrambled to slip your shoes on and fix your hair. 

After you got yourself together, he grabbed your hand and started leading you through his apartment, heading toward the door, but as he reached for the handle, you pulled him back. “Wait!” you shrieked, your grip tightening around his hand. 

“What?” he responded after flipping his head back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”. 

You gave him a quick look up and down, waiting to see if he would notice himself, but Joe always had a habit of being adorably clueless even in the most urgent moments. “You’re still in a towel, Joey,” you giggled, watching as his eyes widened and dropped down to his lower half, realizing he was indeed still in his towel. 

“Oh,” he blinked before looking back up at you like a deer caught in headlights, the thought of stepping out in front of everyone basically naked was mortifying for him, and the mental image of that made him want to die. “I just…Let me just-...,” he nervously stammered.  

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft giggle before giving him a playful shove back to his room. “No girl needs to see my man naked–even if it’s partially–except for me,” you yelled, earning a playful smirk from him before he disappeared into his room. 

A few seconds later, he returned wearing his familiar purple LSU football shorts and a plain black shirt. “I wonder if everyone thinks we’re dead? We’re taking our sweet time which is completely defeating the purpose of that annoying ass alarm,” you chuckled as you turned around and reached for the door handle. But before you could open the door, you felt Joe grab your other hand and yank you back from the door. 

“Wait!” he shrieked, almost as loud as you did a few moments ago. 

“What?” you said, looking back at him with a concerned expression. 

Joe lowered his head, sending you a look as he raised his eyebrows, “You forgetting something?” he asked you, giving you a once over just like you did to him. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “No? I don’t think so?”. 

You watched as his eyes fell to your lower half, your eyes following his gaze and your confusion still evident. “I’m not letting you out there with no pants on,” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest with a determined look on his face. 

Once you realized what he was talking about, you shook your head and rolled your eyes at his silliness, “Joe, your shirt is like a dress on me and I have panties on,”. 

“Y/N…Nobody, and I mean nobody, needs to get a peek at what’s under your shirt other than me,” he shook his head, his tone and posture similar to one of a protective dad. 

“It’s not even windy,” you shot back. “I’m not gonna have a Marylin moment, trust me,”. 

He shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders, flipping you around and playfully pushing you back towards his room as you did to him, “Put some sweats on, or no more me helping you shave your legs in the shower,” he whispered in your ear, his voice playful and full of teasing.

Your eyes widened, “You wouldn’t dare,” you gasped. 

“Oh, but I would,” he responded with a dangerous smirk, making the alarms go off in your head. Whenever Joe said he would do something, he always did it and this should be no different.  

Joe was the absolute perfect boyfriend, and nobody could ever come close to the standard he set for you. No ordinary guy would offer to help his girlfriend shave her legs, but the first time you and Joe showered together, he did. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you, especially because you always wanted to look perfect for him even though you knew he could care less about a few hairs on your leg. He knew how annoying it was for a girl to shave her legs–getting every spot without accidentally nicking herself–so he took it upon himself to help you out when he could. He was so gentle with you, so undeniably caring and sweet, always handling you like you were something as valuable as the koh-i-noor diamond. It’s the way he reached out to you with little acts of love that spoke louder than words. His words were already so powerful but his actions sealed the deal every time. You often wondered what you did to deserve him, someone who cared enough to make the smallest struggles feel a little lighter. 

“Okay, Okay,” you said while throwing your hands in the air and hurrying into his room to grab your sweatpants before he acted on his silly threat. “I am never going back to shaving my legs alone, mm mm,” you shook your head as you stumbled around to slip your sweats on, leaving Joe laughing in the hallway. Even though you were just talking about never going back to shaving your legs alone, that line had a deeper meaning in your heart. 

You didn’t want to go back to shaving alone, but you really just didn’t want to go back to anything in your life that was ‘Pre-Joe’.  

You thought your life before you met him was as good as it would get, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. You thought you were genuinely happy before you met him–comfortable with your post-breakup life, satisfied with your typical, redundant daily routine, pleased with how simple your life was. But when you met Joe, you saw that although simplicity and predictability were safe, the thrill was exciting. The thrill was worth living for.

Joe was the thrill you didn’t know you needed. 

The way he loved you–both physically and emotionally–was unlike anything you’d experienced before. When you first felt the effects of his love for you, you were shocked. He did things that you didn’t think were typical in a relationship. He took the time to learn what made you feel cared for, what made you laugh, and what made you feel adored in ways you never thought to ask for. He was attentive to the smallest details–things you never thought anyone would notice. He knew exactly how you liked to have your coffee with that specific splash of oat milk–-early on in your relationship during the ‘talking stage’ he would show up at your doorstep with your coffee from your favorite breakfast cafe so he could save you the trip and walk you to class. He’d also notice the way your nose scrunched when you tried to hide a laugh, the way you’d fidget with your birthstone ring when you got anxious, and the way you always needed a few extra moments of quiet, cuddling time with him before he had to leave you to go to practice (but to be honest, that was mostly for Joe. If you were clingy, he was clingier).

He took all the time in the world to understand not just your habits and tendencies, but also your beautiful heart. He learned what made you feel cared for–like how you preferred to be held tightly during a storm because you secretly were scared of thunder, or how you always liked to have a hand to squeeze during scary parts of a slasher movie you begged him to watch with you. He even memorized your laugh, knowing exactly what to do to bring it out–whether it was through his silly dance moves or sarcastic and sometimes suggestive comments he’d make during your late-night conversations. 

He treated this like it was something bigger than just a college relationship, he didn’t treat you like you were just his girlfriend, he treated you like you were his partner, his other half, his favorite person ever. He made you feel so secure, leaving absolutely no room for doubt in the relationship. You were the first person he wanted to tell about his day, the first one he thought of when something exciting happened for him, and the first person he’d go to when he just needed comfort after a rough game. He made you feel like you were worth every ounce of effort he put into your relationship, and that was a feeling you hadn’t known before. 

He’d spend the night with you even after a gruesome and exhausting practice or game, just because he wanted to spend time with you and it didn’t matter if he was tired or feeling upset. He’d leave you little notes around your apartment, each one filled with words that made your heart flutter (some of them even a little silly and corny because well, that was just Joe). It was those quiet moments between you as well–when he’d run his fingers through your hair when you felt stressed, or the way he would absentmindedly pull you closer at night in his sleep because he needed to feel you. He made you feel like you were an essential part of his life, and not just a chapter in it. He made you believe that love wasn’t just about being content; it was about finding someone who made the ordinary feel extraordinary.

He showed you that love wasn’t about grand gestures, it was about consistency. It was about those little, everyday actions that showed he was always thinking of you. And this was a feeling you hadn’t felt before with any other guy. A love that didn’t waver with time, but deepend. After getting a taste of what he had to offer, you just couldn’t go back to what life was like before you met him. He brought out a side of you that you didn’t even know existed. A version of yourself that laughed a little louder and lived a little bolder. And even though you had only been together for a short period, the way you felt about him was so intense. It felt like the connection you had with him was deeper than the usual of a new relationship, almost as if your souls already met in another lifetime and you were just catching up on lost time in this life. 

—

After finally getting yourself together, you ran back out to Joe, who gave you an energetic nod of approval. “Better?” you teased, rolling your eyes with a tiny smile.

“Much, Much better,” he grinned, making you chuckle before he reached for the door and finally swung it open. 

He stayed close behind you, one hand resting on your back as he led you through the hallway and to the fire escape stairs. “Thank god you’re not super high up. My slow ass would be long gone if I had to go down more than 3 flights of stairs,” you joked as he opened the door to the stairs.

Joe laughed softly as the two of you moved down the stairs, the echoes of your footsteps mixing with the distant alarm. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I’d be your knight in shining armor, just casually scooping you up and getting you out of danger without breaking a sweat,”.

You shot him a playful glance, “Yeah, I’d probably sleep through half of it too if you carried me. Wake up when it’s all over and ask what happened,”.

He grinned, giving your back a gentle pat as you reached the final set of stairs, “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. You’re cuter than normal when you’re all sleepy like this,” he said, his voice warmer as he stole another glance at you, your drowsiness clear even in this chaotic moment.

You nudged him with your shoulder, “You just like having an excuse to show off those muscles,” you teased, but deep down, you knew how much you appreciated his instinct to protect you, even when things were shaky.

“Maaaybe,” he said while scratching the back of his neck, “But I think I love you point one percent more,” he teased, quickening his pace to reach the ground floor and swinging the door open just in time to avoid your playful swat at him.

“Joseph Lee!” you yelled, your voice a mix of playful annoyance and amusement as you swatted at his back, both of you stumbling out of the fire escape and into the lobby of his apartment building. 

He let out a laugh before placing his arm around your shoulder and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment, “Kidding. I love you 100% more than anything in the world, including my muscles,” he smiled. 

“Good. I don’t like sharing you or your love,” you nodded, pressing a warm kiss to his neck as you felt his grip around you tighten.

“You won’t have to, lovey. I’m all yours,” he said in a way that made your heart melt. It felt like you two were just in your own bubble, shielded from all the chaos around you as you relished the comfort and warmth that radiated off each of you. 

But that bubble quickly popped when a loud, familiar voice called out from across the lobby. “There y'all are!” Ja’marr yelled from the entrance of the apartment building, a smirk on his face as he took note of how wrapped up you two were in each other’s arms. “I thought you guys died or some shit,” he folded his arms and shook his head like a concerned older brother, clearly relieved but ready to tease the two of you.

Joe waved him off, rolling his eyes with a grin, “Nah, man, just taking our time. We had to have a dramatic exit, you know? Keep everyone on edge,” he said on the way to where Ja’marr was standing.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned into Joe a little more, “Sorry for the scare. We just had a…uh, slight wardrobe malfunction,” you joked. 

“Mmm,” Joe said while tilting his head, “It was a little more than a wardrobe malfunction, babe,” his playful tone made you roll your eyes again.

Ja’marr shook his head while mumbling something to himself before speaking up, “Wardrobe malfunction? Oh, you guys weren’t like…you know…,” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow to drive his point home.

You and Joe stared at him in mutual confusion as you tried to make sense of what he was insinuating. Even though you were still a little sleepy, it clicked in your head a few seconds later, “Oh, no. God, no,” you chuckled, your body shaking with the force of your laughter. 

Joe looked between you and Ja’marr, clearly confused, “I’m lost,” he said, his eyebrows wrinkling as he watched the two of you giggle. 

“He thought we were too busy, you know…busy doing a little something-something to notice the alarm,” you smirked, nudging his side with your elbow. 

“...Oh,” Joe said while raising his eyebrows in realization. He leaned in closer to you as a grin rose on his face, “I mean. That probably would’ve happened after my shower. The alarm ruined our plans,” he sheepishly grinned. 

“Okayyyyy,” Ja’marr groaned, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “You two need to stop spending the night at each other’s places every day. Y'all too young to have children,”. 

“Hey, we do a lot more than just…uh…stay in bed all the time,” Joe laughed.

“Do we though?” you interrupted with a pat to his muscular chest. 

“You’re not helping,” Joe whispered in your ear with a smile before going back to his conversation with Ja’marr. “Anyyyway, Ms. Sleeping Beauty over here is mostly the reason why we took so long. She was legit sleeping through the entire thing and my fire alarm is right above my bed if that puts this into perspective,”. 

Ja’marr shook his head, his expression showing his disbelief and amusement all at once, “Man, I don’t know how y’all do it. Most people would be out the door in a heartbeat but you two over here in ya own little world,”

Joe just shrugged, giving you a quick and proud glance, “Guess we just roll that way, bro,”.

“Now y'all are lucky this was just a drill. Real fire and y'all was boutta be cooookeddd,” he ridiculed playfully before giving you two a wave as he walked backward to where the rest of the apartment tenets were gathered. 

“This was a drill,” you choked as you and Joe followed Ja’marr out to the parking lot where everyone was, your eyes moving up to Joe who was just as surprised as you. “What the fuck. I should’ve just stayed asleep,” you complained, remembering how comfortable and cozy you were just a few minutes ago. 

“I still don’t know how you were sleeping through that,” he smiled. “I’ve never seen someone so lost in their sleep that their alert system is completely off,”. 

“Welcome to my world,” you grinned. “That’s how I roll. I can sleep through just about anything and that annoying ass fire alarm being one of them. Quite literally nothing can wake me up in the middle of the night,”. 

“Remind me to set up an extra secure security system in the house we’ll eventually buy together in a couple years. If someone broke in, we’re goners,” he shook his head, the mention of living in a house…together…making your heart skip a beat. 

You paused for a few seconds to take in what he said and once you did, a warm feeling spread throughout your chest, “I got you,” you smiled, looking up at him with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He never failed to bring up his future with you whenever he could, and it was getting increasingly common as you two spent more and more time with one another. It was the way he’d mention all the little trips he wanted to go on with you with that adorable glimmer in his baby-blue eyes–that camping weekend already being planned out in his head ever since you old him you’d never been, or how he’d talk about how excited he was to have you on the sidelines for every NFL game he’d (hopefully) play in. Those little glimpses into his thoughts meant everything to you because they were a reminder that he saw a lifetime when he looked at you.

“Do you ever think about what our house will look like?” he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I can just picture us decorating for Christmas and fighting over if the tree should be silver or green,”. 

“Um, it’ll be green…classic is better. Duh,” you couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth that bubbled inside your body because of him spreading even more. Your voice became softer as a shy smile crept onto your face, “But to answer your question…all the time. I think about it all the time,” you said, glancing away as you felt your cheeks heat up. Although the way he was looking at you right now made it impossible for you to stay away. You met his eyes again, this time seeing how soft, how delicate they were after you said, “I think about you, about our future, every morning when I open my eyes. And I think about you, about what our life could be like, every night when I turn out the lights,”. 

Joe paused for a second as his face became more serious with realization. Have you really thought about it? He thought about it all the time–what your life would be like together after all of this–but he never knew if you thought about it like he did. He oftentimes mentioned your future in your conversations and he usually was the one to bring it up, and you two hadn’t talked about it with full seriousness yet, even though in your hearts you both knew where you wanted this to go. He didn’t really know how you felt about it and that made him a little nervous, so you saying that was the best reassurance he could’ve gotten. “I love you. I love you like a lot a lot,” he smiled before leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, one that conveyed some of those special feelings he couldn’t put into words. 

You stuffed one of your hands into his dirty blonde curls, lightly scratching his scalp as you melted into his lips. A content sigh left him at your gentle touch, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into you. “Mmm,” he hummed once he felt you suck on his top lip, but just before things could get too heated, the bubble around you two popped once again. 

“Get a room!” Ja’marr yelled from a few away, “Y’all can’t even last 20 minutes without sucking face, damn!” he laughed. 

You and Joe froze in the middle of your kiss for a few seconds, both your cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red than before. You pulled away, immediately hiding your face in Joe’s neck out of embarrassment. His hand instantly shifted to cradle the back of your head as his other snaked around your waist, his protective mannerisms like second nature. 

“You’re just jealous,” Joe shot back with a smirk, sticking his tongue out in a way that made him look more like a mischievous kid than a star quarterback. He enjoyed teasing him, knowing how much it would get under Ja’marr’s skin. “Don’t worry buddy, maybe one day you’ll find someone who can actually put up with you,” he jabbed as he felt you laugh against his skin.

Ja’marr rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he spoke up, “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure there’s a long line of girls waiting to sweep me off my feet..so be careful there, Burrow,” he said sarcastically, but with a hint of confidence. 

“Please, spare me with the bullshit Ja’marr. The only thing you’re sweeping off your feet is the dust on your fancy shoes since you never have an occasion to take them out. If there was a line, it would probably be full of girls trying to figure out how to escape after one dinner with you,” Joe teased. 

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ja’marr said while waving Joe off. “Just wait till I find my perfect match. Then you’ll see who’s really got game ‘round here,”. 

Joe rolled his eyes, “I don’t need game, bud. I already found my perfect match and I know I’m set for life,” he said before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making you smile and nuzzle your nose against his fragrant, freshly washed neck. Their playful banter always warmed your heart. It was always so natural between them, the kind of banter only the closest of friends could have. 

“Y'all make me sick. God damn he’s whipped for you, Y/N,” Ja’marr scoffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. Even though the sight of you two cuddled up and all over each other made him physically ill, he couldn’t help but be over the moon for his best friend. Seeing him so in love to the point where everything around him faded away was all he could have wanted for his best friend, and the fact that he fell in love with an amazing girl like you was even better. Joe deserved this, to be loved the way you love him, to be happy in the way you make him happy, to be seen in the way you see him. Ever since you came into Joe’s life, Ja'marr felt as if some of the heavy burdens that were weighing on Joe's shoulders had been lifted. It's like you came in, effortlessly took off some of his load, and lightened his spirits. He seems to be carrying less weight, moving more freely, and radiating more energy ever since you came into the picture.

“Anywayyy,” Joe said while turning his attention back to you, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what were you dreaming about earlier? I wanna know what made you so…like gone,” he chuckled after he pulled away, his hands still seated firmly on each side of your hip. 

“Hm, I think I was dreaming about our first date,” you laughed, trying to recollect the specifics of your dream. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really? What about it?” he asked. 

“Oh, just feeling that amazing night over again. Specifically, the way you were so adorably nervous around me,” you blushed. “The way you were fidgeting with the napkin like that was going to save you from impending doom or something, or how you nervously locked in on the menu as if you were reading some sports magazine article about yourself. But I saw you sneaking looks at me,” you said as you leaned into him a little more. “Not so sneaky as you think you are,”. 

“I was trynna play it cool,” he shrugged as a smile spread across his face. “That was my first real date in a long time and I just wanted to impress you and not scare you off,”.

“Oh, you were sooooo cool,” you mocked, “The coolest man to ever be cool. Might have to start calling you Joe Cool now like they did Joe Montana,”.

“Okay, Okay,” Joe rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve done enough to deserve that nickname,”.

“Done enough…yet,” you mumbled under your breath, feeling a tug at your heart as if you already knew he was on his way there.

“Did you end up dreaming about what happened…after the date?” he asked, not hearing what you mumbled as he started to remember that night himself, the memory of it causing his heart rate to pick up. “Just ‘cause it was pretty hot and special in my opinion,”

You bit your bottom lip at the memory of what he was referring to; you could practically feel yourself going back to that amazing night just thinking about it. You were feeling the way he held you firmly below him, your leg nestled around his waist as his hand gripped your upper thigh with a firm yet gentle touch. You were feeling his hot breath against your cheek as he chanted your name over and over, almost as if he had forgotten every word in the English dictionary and your name was the only word he could remember. You were hearing him chant, “That’s it..that’s my girl..fuck, you’re taking me so well, Y/N”. You were smelling the thin layer of sweat that was coating both your bodies due to your frantic and needy movements. You were seeing his eyes darken with lust, with desire, for you and only you. You felt like you were touching and sliding your hands down his muscular arms and thick chest. You were feeling the way he was sending your body to heaven with each thrust, with each pump of his thick shaft. You were feeling how good he was making you feel all over again, especially in a way he had never before. His heated touch, his intense gaze, and the love-struck look on his face were burned into your memory, and you were feeling and seeing all three of these things from him right now. 

That’s how intense the memory was. That’s how intense what happened after the date was. What might happen as a result of this conversation might be just as intense, likely even more since you two had perfected the act since then by repeating it over, and over, and over. Ja’marr was right, you two really spent quite a bit of your time together in bed, usually with no clothes on and coated in sweat, amongst other things. 

“Sadly, you woke me up just before I could get to the good stuff,” you breathed out, your skin tingling from the heated memory.

“Damn-,” Joe shook his head before pausing as he glanced over at the group of people walking back into the building. “Oh, looks like we’re good to go back up,” he added before beginning to walk you both over.

Joe threw his arm around your shoulder as you spoke up, “Oh thank god. I need to go back to-,” you began to say before you felt Joe drop his head so his mouth was level with your ear, his hot breath pressing against the corner of your ear.

“Maybe after we go back up we can continue where your dream left off, ya know? Except this time you won’t have to fall asleep to feel that all over again. I can make it happen all over again. Bet this time I can make you scream twice as loud as you did the first time. Maybe even get you past your fear of hurting me and get you to leave some scratches on my back,” he whispered into your ear, his voice laced with fire and promise. 

You stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him, as you two walked back into the building. Joe smirked above you because he knew your silence and lack of heated eye contact was because of his words. Your brain froze for a few seconds before you felt his hand move from your waist and down to your ass, giving it an ample squeeze. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as visions of what Joe was promising filled your mind, and boy was it delicious. Your once sleepy body was quickly filled with desire and passion, and you were now running on pure fire. The way he could completely change your mood and vibe was so impressive. It was so effortless. All he had to do was whisper a few things into your ear and touch you like that for you to lose all decency, modesty, and etiquette. 

You moved his arm off your shoulder, gripped his hand tightly, and started leading him urgently through the crowd of people in the lobby, your pace was fast and needy. You didn’t care that you were bumping into the other apartment tenets, all you could think about was Joe and his big…warm-. 

“Woahh, slow down,” he laughed behind you, amused at how easily he could get you like this–all needy and heated, “You’re moving like your hair’s on fire or something,”. 

You glanced back at him with your bottom lip between your teeth, “My hair isn’t, but my body is,” you admitted, the fire behind your eyes sparking something inside both of you. “I don’t think I’m going back to sleep anytime soon. That fire alarm might’ve just been the best thing to happen to me…maybe even you…all day,” you said with a look that made his heart skip a beat…maybe even two beats.

“Really?” he said with a cocky grin.

You gave his hand three gentle squeezes before glancing back at him again, both of you flashing those bedroom eyes at each other. The bedroom eyes were usually his thing, but after spending so much time with him, you picked up on a few things. He was rubbing off on you, and he fucking loved that. “I think we’re going to set it off for real this time,” he winked. 

End of Flashback 

So what made you wake up? You could sleep through a blaring siren but not through whatever made you wake up now. The breeze wasn’t the explanation, was it? It couldn’t have been something so simple…right?

And it didn’t help that the air around you felt strangely empty too. Something wasn’t right but you weren’t sure what it was and it felt like something was missing, the lack of that something being the reason why your body woke you up. This strange feeling was gnawing at you, refusing to let you slip back into slumber.

You rubbed your eyes again, this time feeling the puffiness around your eyelids, a sad reminder of the way you fell asleep, and a reminder of everything that unfolded a few miserable hours ago. The heaviness was still in your chest, the tight knot of emotion hadn’t loosened yet and flashes of earlier moments filled your mind; the high-intensity moments of the game, the comments from the fans, and everything Joe unloaded on you once he got home. 

“Wait,” you whispered. That’s when you noticed the absence of warmth–his warmth. Just a few hours ago, you had your full-time human teddy bear and part-time football player wrapped around you, his arms holding you tightly as if he never wanted to and couldn’t let go. But now, all that was left was a blanket partially tangled around your cold, lonesome body. 

“He must’ve moved over,” you whispered, your voice heavy with sleep as you turned your head to look over to his spot next to you. You were expecting to find him sprawled out beside you because he’d done that before–fall asleep on your chest and somehow end up next to you once he woke up–but to your surprise, his spot was empty. 

Except for his…t-shirt?

You reached out, scrunching up the soft fabric of his worn-out Fiesta Bowl shirt in your hands, “Where did he go?” you thought to yourself as you felt a twinge of anxiety in your body. You blinked a few more times to adjust to the darkness before shooting up from the bed, “Joe?” you called out as you looked around the room–no response. 

“Is he in the bathroom?” you whispered as you looked over, but there was no light coming from there and the door was wide open so he clearly wasn’t inside. It was uncharacteristic of him to get up like this in the middle of the night, especially because he valued his sleep so much during the season. 

You slipped out of the bed, planting each foot firmly on the floor and pausing for a few seconds to ground yourself before walking into the closet to see if he was in there, which he wasn’t. You even walked into the bathroom to check again even though you knew it was empty. 

“Where did he go?” you asked yourself again as you felt a pit in your stomach form, “Maybe his office?” you wondered as you peeked out into the hallway, but saw there was no light coming from any of the rooms, including his office.  

“Joe?” you called out as you stepped out of your bedroom, his shirt in your hand as you waddled down the hallway, your eyes scanning every room and every corner to see if you could find him. 

Your footsteps echoed through your quiet home as you searched for him, the shuffling of your feet mixed with the darkness around you almost enough to scare you back into bed. You weren’t really afraid of the dark, but you just hated being alone…hated being away from Joe.

You were letting your mind come up with any excuse for his absence even though you knew everything you came up with was so unlike him. Thinking he was in his office, grabbing a late-night snack downstairs, on the phone with someone important, or out in the backyard for some reason, was pointless because that wasn’t Joe. You wanted to think that he just got up for a simpler reason, but deep down, you felt like you knew exactly where he was. 

And your suspicions were proven to be true once you made your way downstairs.

“It’s bad if he’s in there…especially right now,” you sighed to yourself after you made your way through the first floor of the house, now leaning against the kitchen island as you stared at the door next to the garage, a soft glow of light coming from inside the room. “I guess what I said didn’t help him as much as I thought it would,” you said out loud, your voice faltering as you felt a familiar wave of sadness come over you. 

You took a deep breath before pushing back from the island and walking towards the room he was in. “I really thought I got through to him a little bit. But I didn’t. I should have, but I couldn’t.” you thought to yourself as you gently pushed the door open, feeling absolutely gutted that he was in there…in the gym. 

When you walked into the home gym, you were met with total silence. Well, other than the shuffling sounds of the treadmill Joe was running on. Normally you’d walk into the pumping bass of his music playing over the speakers, but this time it was pure silence. Maybe it being 3 in the morning had something to do with that, but it still felt weird being in total silence. 

You looked up and saw Joe running on the sleek black treadmill, his broad, tan, muscular back glistening under the warm light of the gym. He was shirtless, obviously, only clad in workout shorts and shoes. His strong legs were powering through each stride as he stared straight ahead with focus, his Bose earbuds in his ears blocking out any and all noise. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was lost in thought, pushing himself harder than usual. 

“Fuck..,” you mumbled under your breath, a sense of realization washing over you as you gripped his shirt tighter in your hands. You really wanted to be wrong about finding him in here at this hour of the night, but you always had the worst luck. 

Normally, you wouldn’t be fazed about finding Joe in the home gym, it was one of his favorite places in the house. He loved getting a quick workout whenever he could, especially in a place that was his own. But this was more than just him getting a quick workout in, not just because it was the middle of the night. He didn’t do this too often, but whenever he did, it triggered the alarms in your brain. Running on the treadmill in the middle of the night was only done when he needed to clear his head and nothing worked, not even talking to you (so this was rare). It was his last resort, which meant that whatever was weighing on him was so heavy that even you couldn’t lift it off his shoulders. He felt like running calmed his soul, cleared his head, and helped him get away from his problems. And it did. But only temporarily–like a bandaid instead of a stitch. 

You let out a sigh as you stood there for a few seconds just watching him run, hoping and silently praying he’d turn around and notice you, but he didn’t. 

Some nights when he did this, he noticed you instantly and unknowingly allowed you to coax him back to bed. He wasn’t trying to, but when he looked at you, he had this small pout on his face and this glint in his eyes like he did when he was a baby. Both then and now, that pout meant that he was silently begging for someone to help him and get him out of a zone that caused him discomfort. When he was little, it was to get him out of a zone filled with chaos and high energy that was sometimes too much for a baby to handle, sometimes he just needed nap time. Now, it was to get him out of a darker zone; a zone where he was surrounded by his most destructive thoughts, thoughts that he couldn’t push away. Sometimes, he just needed you.

Luckily for him, you’d always be there to pull him back from the maze of mirrors he found himself in. A maze of mirrors where each frame reflected the worst qualities about himself; his self-doubt, his anxiety, his insecurities. Each glass distorted his image until it became unrecognizable. But you were always there, ready to throw a curtain over the mirror before he got lost in the warped reflections. 

But other nights, nights like these, he was so lost in his head–in that maze of wretched mirrors–to the point where everything around him faded away; only two things could make that happen. 

One was you.

And the other was his deepest, most critical thoughts. 

It should’ve only been you because you made things fade away for a good reason. But tonight, it seemed like he couldn’t block out those stubborn voices and those versions of himself he hated, no matter how much he wanted to. They filled his mind, dimming any and all peaceful thoughts he wanted to cling to. 

You closed your eyes for a second, then took a few deep breaths before glancing back to the workout equipment behind you, “Guess I’ll just wait here,” you muttered, walking backward and plopping down on one of the workout benches. You really didn’t want to leave him alone right now, even though you knew he came in here to be by himself. “I can wait for him,” you said, trying to reassure yourself that you had it in you to wait here. 

You also couldn’t help but blame yourself for his current state as your mind started to spiral again. Yeah, this was a bad loss and that was enough to make him upset. But everything that happened with you was what pushed him over the edge. He was hurting, still hurting, and you could tell. He was hurting because he felt like he hurt you, and you were hurting because you felt like you hurt him. 

Funny, isn’t it? How two people, so deeply and madly in love, can feel so much pain even in their carefully built protective bubble? Each of you thought you were the reason for this mess, but the real culprits hid in the shadows just beyond your reach. They were like silent intruders, slipping through the tiny cracks when neither of you was looking. And here you were, blaming yourselves for a pain that neither of you brought onto yourselves. 

—

You don’t know how long you had been sitting on that black workout bench, watching him run and run and run on that treadmill. But you knew it was long enough because of the little moments where you saw him slow himself down, almost because he was tired. But you also saw him shake his head and then continue to power through each stride on the workout machine. He was exhausted, but he wouldn’t let himself admit it. 

Every few minutes, you’d say his name, hoping to get him to glance over at you so he could give you the chance to ease him back to bed. “Joe? Joey, please. Come back to bed,” you mumbled, your voice so tired and heavy as you watched him run, and run, and run. 

But he wouldn’t even flinch, let alone glance back at you. 

“Baby, it’s late. C’mon,”. 

“Joey, I know it’s hard but you can’t expect this to make it better,”. 

“Joe? Hey? Are you okay?”. 

“J, please? We can talk about it upstairs. Just come back with me?”.

But nothing. Nothing each time you said something. Just. Total. Silence. 

You were starting to get a little aggravated, not because he wouldn’t budge, but because he wouldn’t look back at you. “Is he ignoring me? Or does he genuinely not feel me behind him?”  you asked yourself as you swayed your head to the side to get a good peek at him. His music could only be so loud, it’s not like his headphones were blocking his eyes. 

You let out a deep sigh and groaned as your eyes scanned the room in search of something that could get his attention off of running. You saw that there was a yoga ball, a few tennis balls, and some weights in your reach. “I just want his attention. I’m not trying to hurt him,” you laughed in your head before playing with his shirt in your hands without realizing. 

But when you did realize that you still had his shirt in your hands, you were scrunching it up into a ball and throwing the fabric at the back of his head in a matter of seconds. “Bullseye!” you smiled to yourself as the shirt directly hit the intended target, “If he saw that throw, he’d be proud,”.

You watched his body flinch after he felt the fabric being thrown at him, the jumpscare a little too much for him because he quickly hit the stop button and flipped around. “Finally,” you grinned as you crossed your arms and waited for him to meet your eyes.

Joe turned around with a semi-startled look on his face, almost enough to make you feel guilty for scaring him since you knew how much he hated being spooked like that. “What the hell?” he panted, his hand moving up to take out his earbud. His breathing seemed to steady out once he realized it was just you, “Y/N? What the hell...are you...are you...doing in here?” he huffed while licking his lips. His face was coated with a generous amount of sweat which made his skin sparkle even more. God, he looked so good. 

“And good morning to you too,” you yawned, getting up from the bench and stretching your limbs.  

Joe sighed, “Y/N…it’s late. Go to sleep,” while threading his fingers through his damp hair, then using his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“Joe, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep,” you smiled back as you mimicked his tone, tugging on the sleeves of your sweatshirt to feel a comfortable warmth that was similar to the warmth your bed offered. 

He rolled his eyes, his frustration and sadness clearly speaking for him based on the look in his eyes and his stiff body language. “Stop being difficult and just go back to sleep. I’m fine,” he spat out, flipping back around and hitting the start button on the treadmill again. His words felt like a punch to the gut, and he knew that very well because of the immediate regret that filled his tired body. “Why the hell did I say that to her? What’s wrong with me?”. 

You felt your heart sink, the weight of his words settling heavily on your chest. You watched him tense up, his fingers flexing and releasing at his sides out of internal frustration and confusion. “Lying to my face yet again? Come on, Joe. I thought we moved past the shutting me out phase. You promised,” you thought to yourself, anxiously playing with the blue topaz birthstone, his birthstone, necklace around your neck as you felt the tension in the room.

You know he’s pushing you away again, but you refuse to back down because you know in your head he needs you more than anything. He was building that hard shell again, fragile but stubborn, shielding him from you in a way you knew he thought was protective. 

You walked over to him slowly, “Joe, it’s been a long day,” you breathed out. “You’re tired, rightfully so. And I’m tired too. Why don’t we just go back to bed and figure this out tomorrow? You’ve had a really shitty night and I think sleep is best for you right now,”. 

He didn’t respond, didn’t even glance back at you. All you heard was just the quiet hum of the treadmill as you watched him continue to run. But you knew he heard you since his headphones weren’t in his ears, and his extra tense back muscles gave away more than he intended. 

“It’s not good for you to put this much pressure on yourself, baby. You’ve had a long day, a long week. You need to relax,” you added, taking two more steps forward. 

Still nothing. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your palms feeling clammy because you could feel his stress and tension radiating off him and melting into your body. “He’s not budging. This always works…why is it not working?” the thoughts in your brain were loud, banging from wall to wall and making your head spin. 

“Alright,” you mumbled, shaking your head to push away those agonizing thoughts, “Guess he wants to do this the hard way,” moving closer to Joe and walking around the treadmill so you were standing in front of him. Your eyes slowly move up his chiseled chest as you took in his appearance, the way sweat clung to his muscular frame made his chest glisten in the glow of the room. You felt a rush of heat pool in your belly–seeing him like this always left you a little weak. “Oh, come on,” you thought while shaking your head to push away those types of thoughts.

You moved your eyes up, meeting his icy baby blues which somehow seemed cold yet burned with anger. There was no relief there, just a sharpness that made your heartache. The tension in his body matched the intensity in his eyes, his muscles were taut with the same pressure. He was seconds away from exploding if you made the wrong move, you knew you needed to handle him gently. 

“Joe…,” you said softly, placing a hand on each side of the treadmill screen to catch his attention, which worked. You saw his eyes peek down at your hands, his pace slightly slowing as he met your eyes again. “Stop running, Joe,” you pleaded, your voice gentle but firm, urging him to hear you out and not push himself away. 

His eyes were locked in on yours for a few seconds, his softening gaze nearly made it feel as if he was trying to hand himself over to you. It felt like he was ready to give in, but then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, his finger inched up the screen and tapped the button to increase the speed. The little chime echoed between you both, and in that moment, it felt like the wall fell back down.

“Is he messing with me?” you thought to yourself as your grip on the screen became tighter. 

The fact that he had been disregarding your wishes for what felt like an hour was bothering you way more than it should have. You knew why he was behaving like this, understanding where this dismissive attitude was coming from, but you couldn’t help but feel angry at the way he was acting with you right now. 

You let out a drained sigh, your shoulders slumping as you slowly release your grip on the screen. His eyes never left you as he watched you stare down at your feet, feeling utterly helpless and small. You tried everything, said everything, but nothing seemed to stick with him. There was nothing more you felt like you could say or do, and the ache in your heart grew once you realized that. 

But as you stared down at your manicured toes, you remembered a somewhat similar moment from a few months ago where the roles were reversed. Joe wasn’t the only one who got like this when something went wrong in his work life. You did too.

A few months ago, you had been working on a crucial, tedious, and time-consuming project for work. You knew this was your shot–the one that would prove your worth, the one that could bag you that promotion you’d been eyeing for so long. Every detail had to be perfect; you were putting in long hours and pushing yourself way beyond your threshold. Just when things felt like they were finally coming together, when you were about to hand it all in, it all came crashing down. One small mistake, one missed deadline, or maybe a combination of both, and the project was a failure. Your heart sank and you could feel the weight of the loss pushing down on you, knowing you had worked so hard for nothing. It was a blow to your confidence, and for a moment, it felt like all that effort had been useless. 

You came home that night with the most defeated look on your face, feeling like an absolute disappointment. All you wanted to do was cry, lock yourself in the bedroom for a week, and wallow in sadness. And you would have done that–if it weren’t for him. The man who promised to wipe away your tears for as long as he could, your Joey. 

He spent the whole evening being there for you in the smallest yet most thoughtful ways. Each time your eyes pooled with ears, he was ready. He plucked a tissue from the box and held it to your nose, murmuring gentle reminders for you to blow. He refilled your glass with ice water each hour because he knew how chewing on the cubes somehow cooled your face down, a comforting ritual of yours after crying that he had memorized. Each time a tear formed in your eye, his thumb was right there before it had the chance to make it down your cheek. He sat with you, promising that mistakes like this happened more than you realized. He offered to talk to your boss and take on whatever came his way as long as he could lighten the burden on your shoulders. But most importantly, he held you close and the quiet reassurance, the gentleness of his touch, and the sweetness of his words reminded you how deeply he loved you and how he’d be right by your side no matter what.

But nothing he was saying really stuck with you, just like how nothing you said stuck with him right now. But Joe didn’t give up once he realized his words weren’t doing anything. Instead, he got an idea–a more Joe-like idea–to get you to relax which involved releasing some…pent-up tension in your body.

So then as you stared at your manicured toes while laying on the bed with him, your mind wandering to all the different scenarios that would play out when you went back to work, you suddenly felt his soft, pillowy lips press slow, wet kisses down your neck. His lips trailed down your arm while his warm hand lifted your shirt and pressed against your bare skin, then his lips moved to your hips and belly. Each kiss caused your stomach to flutter from excitement and your brain to become clouded with only thoughts of him. And the next thing you knew, his head was stuck between your legs, his large hands gripping your thighs and holding them open, his cold nose rubbing against your clit, and your back arching off the bed as his name repeatedly fell from your lips. 

Work was the last thing on your mind after that. 

So maybe it was time to use reverse psychology? 

Screw gentle. 

If he could get you to relax by grabbing your attention that way, maybe you could do the same? It was uncharacteristic of you to use sex as a way to distract him, but it was worth a shot. You just needed him to get off of the treadmill and somehow tire him out enough to pass out as soon as he hit the pillow. This…might just work? No, it definitely will work. Joe couldn’t resist the temptation when given the chance. No way would he be able to hold back from this.

“Joe’s hormones, don’t fail me now,” you thought to yourself as you looked back up, your hand reaching down to grasp the hem of your crewneck sweatshirt, lifting it just enough for him to catch a peek of what was underneath–or more accurately, what wasn’t. You pulled the fabric up slowly, revealing your bare thighs and the lacy purple panties that he could never resist, the ones that always drove him mad no matter the mood he was in. You saw his eyes flash, breaking away from the stare he’d been giving the treadmill screen. 

This was perfect. 

“Joe,” you said, a playful tone lacing your words. “Why don’t you come back to bed with me?” you finished, your sweatshirt now fully off as you threw it to the side, your bare chest now on display for him. The cool air drifting through the room felt like a kiss to your bare body, but the heat in his gaze burned hotter than anything the cold could offer; it was enough to make your knees tremble. 

His eyes widened at the display in front of him, and for a split second, you saw a crack in the wall between you. He gripped the sidebar tightly, his knuckles turning white as he steadied himself, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You knew your little stunt had hit a nerve…the perfect nerve. 

“Careful,” you teased, your voice dripping with need. “I’d hate for you to trip, baby,”. 

His eyebrow shot up, a mix of surprise and desire on his face. His jaw clenched, the tension in his body palpable as his cheeks flushed to the same color as the mark on your collarbone he would love to leave in heated moments like these.

Ohhh yeah. You hit the nerve. Bullseye. 

“What’re..you doing,” he said, his voice dipping down as he saw you reach up to untie your messy bun, your soft, silky hair falling down your bare back like a mystical waterfall. 

You let out a low chuckle, “Getting you to stop running, duh,” as you gave his body another slow once-over, and this time, he noticed it.

The look you were giving him, mimicking the same bedroom eyes he’d often give you, made his body react instantly. The tension between you turned to electricity, and he could feel the growing heat in his shorts, the tent tightening with every passing second. 

“Y- you’re unbelievable,” he scoffed, shaking his head as a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But instead of stepping down, he tapped the speed button again and went back to looking ahead, refocusing on his run as if he were trying to shake off the effect you were having on him.

“Nope, juuuuust relentless,” you winked.

The heat between you both was hard to deny and you could tell he was slowly cracking with the way his face would scrunch up when he ran a little too fast. The hardness growing in his boxers made it incredibly uncomfortable to run and you were enjoying every second of him pretending like he wasn’t bothered by it. The stiffness straining against his shorts was practically begging for the attention you were offering, despite how hard he was trying to keep it under control. 

You stood there in front of him, letting your eyes wander up and down his body with purpose, occasionally turning around so he could get a view of your bare back and the curve of your hips, just doing whatever you could to break his front. The sounds of his small, frustrated groans and his breath hitching told you that you were hitting your mark. One specific thing you did really got to him though. You leaned forward, resting your arms on top of the treadmill screen so that your chest was fully visible, your breasts dangling right in front of him. You could feel his restraint slipping, piece by piece. His sharp intake of breath and the way his eyes darkened once he looked at you confirmed it. You had him right where you wanted.

“Y/N, stop,” he snapped, his gaze dropping to your pretty pink lips which he desperately needed to feel everywhere. 

“Make me,” you challenged, batting your eyes at him in mockery. 

“If you’re soooo horny, go upstairs and take care of it yourself. It’s not like you haven’t before when I’m not here,” he sneered, the twinkle in your eyes letting him know exactly what you were up to. “Just do whatever and leave me alone,”. 

Those three words felt like a fastball to the face. No way was he on this again, not after the conversations you two had the past week. “Oh hell no.” you thought to yourself, feeling even more irritated by his behavior because he was acting the same way he did after the game last week. You weren’t going to let him push you away this time, not after everything you’ve helped him through. 

But maybe, just maybe pushing his buttons was the answer? You knew how Joe operated all too well; when he got heated, the wall he built crumbled fast and he’d be too focused on that fire. If you could light that fire just enough, maybe he’d finally let go. “Oh, I’m going to hell for this,” you mumbled under your breath, bracing yourself for the words that were about to fall from your mouth. “Here we go again with the ‘leave me alone’ act,” you groaned, seeming more pissed than you actually were in order to make him mad. “Joe, I love you. But please stop with the bullshit because it’s giving me whiplash,”. 

“What bullshit?” he questioned, his brows furrowing in offense. He was slightly taken aback by the tone of your voice–usually playful but now rough. It was laced with a kind of frustration even he couldn’t ignore. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” you rolled your eyes, leaning back so that your entire body was in his view again. “It’s the middle of the night and I’ve been in here for the past hour trying to help you out of this funk but you just won’t quit it with this bullshit,”. 

Joe’s gaze sharpened, “Again, what bullshit.” his lips pressed into a thin line. 

You let out a snarky laugh, “This whole ‘leave me alone’ bullshit, the ‘i’m fine’ bullshit. You’re not fine Joe and it’s okay to admit that. Saying you’re not fine doesn’t make you any less of a man, trust me,”. 

“You better watch what you say, Y/N,” he quickly retorted, raising an eyebrow at your arrogance. His voice dripped with warning and intrigue, he was warning you to watch your mouth but he was just as curious to hear what you had to say. 

“Or what? Or what, Joe?” you snapped back. “I’m so sick of seeing you act like this; being dismissive doesn’t fucking solve anything. And you know what else? I am so sick of you acting like this with me. Just hours ago you were stuck to me like glue and now it’s like you’re avoiding me like the plague. I’m also so sick of getting hundreds of messages asking how you’re doing. What the hell am I supposed to say to them? ‘I don’t know how my own boyfriend is doing because he refuses to tell me and acts like I’m not here?’ Spare me the embarrassment, Joe. I can’t deal with these funks where you’re all over me, confiding in me and then hours later you’re acting like I’m a piece of gum stuck to your shoe that won’t go away,”.

“You know, I didn’t ask you to come in here,” he interjected, continuing to run on the treadmill at full force, his words shaky as he was trying to catch his breath. His eyes trailed up and down your body, and even in this tense moment, he was captivated by your raw beauty. You looked angelic in this light, even though you had just woken up and had a rough evening prior. Your hair was slightly messy, but messy in a way that he adored. The soft light of the room gave you an ethereal glow which made it hard for him to look away. And your face…oh, your face. The softness, and the gentle curve of your full lips both made him feel an ache deep within his heart. All he wanted to do was pull you to his lips and never stop kissing you, despite feeling aggravated by your words. “I didn’t ask you to care, Y/N,”. 

You tipped your head back in frustration, but reminding yourself that you needed to keep your cool with him or this would turn into a screaming match too fast. You closed your eyes and took another deep breath, “Yikes. Okay, maybe I’m pushing his buttons a little too hard. Deep breaths, Y/N,”. 

“You don’t need to ask me, Joe,” you replied once you opened them, your words much softer now that you eased up. “We’re like magnets, Joey. I go where you go and you go where I go…we’ve always been that close. Since LSU? You know that. It’s always just been you and me no matter the circumstance or situation, we count on each other for everything and you promised me that when you told me you loved me. I know when you’re not okay even when you try your hardest to hide it from me. I just want you to let me be there for you like I always have…and I don’t care if you think pushing me away is protecting me. I love you more than anything in this world and you will always come first for me no matter what. I’ll always be there for you, even if I get caught in the line of fire,” you said, your voice heavy with despair. “You need me, and I’m there. I’m always there,”.

The words, “I’m always there” echoed in his brain as his gaze fell to the floor, then back to your wary eyes, almost as if he was trying to decide whether to give in or keep holding his front. He felt your words, he felt the weight of your words. He felt how badly you wanted to help him and get him out of his head. But he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had, that’s why he was pushing you out again. He couldn’t stand the sight of you wiping your tears after he walked away, or hearing you try to stifle your sniffles to spare his feelings or stare into your bloodshot eyes, knowing he was the cause of your pain. You were his delicate Y/N, the one person who was as fragile as a feather but strong as a block of concrete…for him. You promised to protect him at all costs no matter what happened, sometimes even putting herself in the line of fire just to shield him. And in his own twisted way, he thought pushing you away from him was protecting you.

But what he didn’t realize–what he never seemed to understand–was that pushing you away only hurt you both more. You weren’t afraid of his broken pieces or his rough edges because you knew how to hold the shattered pieces together. You knew how to soften the edges. He tried to push you away time and time again, but you always fought it. And now he understood why. To you, his rough edges and shattered pieces weren’t something to run from–it was something to love through. To you, they weren’t flaws to be fixed, but unique parts to be cherished. You saw beauty in his resilience, strength in his vulnerability, and passion in his devotion to protecting the ones he loved the most. He wasn’t anything like what those idiots said, he was far from it. 

You saw him for him. You loved him for him. No matter what was said, what was done, what baggage he carried, you loved him. You never backed away from him when his entire world felt like it was imploding. He had never met anyone like that…anyone like you. 

Why should he push away the best thing that ever happened to him? Why should he let his fears build walls to separate you when all you ever wanted to do was hold him closer, to remind him that he was enough just as he was? You were protective over the ones you loved and he knew that, but you were protective over Joe more than anyone or anything else. 

He’d always allowed you to be there for him, but this time he was doing everything in his power to push back from you. That was not like him at all. He’d always been open with you, seeking solace in your arms, falling asleep to your reassuring, sweet words, getting lost under your protective touch, and breathing in your calming scent. He’d never been the one to ignore you, snap at you, and make you feel overlooked. But ever since the wrist injury, he had moments, phases, where he would get like this; those phases and moments hurt you more than anything any fan could ever say. It hurt you because he pulled away, something he’d never done. In the beginning, you couldn’t figure out why, which scared the hell out of you, and luckily he realized before it was too late. The guilt was almost unbearable at times when he saw you come down with puffy eyes or give him a shaky response. But as time passed and he slowly started to let you in, you understood why he acted the way he did–and it had nothing to do with you. 

This time, however, it had everything to do with you. The game went pretty badly and he was being overly critical about himself as usual, but that’s not what did it for him. Those awful comments people spat at you, his girl? That was where he drew the line. That should’ve been enough for him to comfort you, to hold you for as long as he could, to be there for you. But instead, he was running further from you, shutting himself out, and making you come after him. He didn’t even think about how upset you must be feeling, how difficult it must be to hide it from him because you didn’t want to burden him with anything else. 

“I’m not fine…I haven’t been fine in months and neither has she. She puts this strong front to protect me and I never even realize how much she must be dealing with right now, how much she must be juggling with me, work, and football. She’s not a robot, she’s hurting too,” he thought to himself as his eyes trailed back to yours, seeing the pain behind your pupils. “Let go, Joe. She’s right there for you. Stop being a hardass and let her be there for you. You’re killing her,”. 

“Joe,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling as if you were on the verge of tears, “I’m not going anywhere. Let me in, p- please?”. 

“Let her in, Joe. It’s just Y/N, the girl you’ve loved ever since she showed up at your door with a bag of caramel apple suckers to apologize for crashing football practice. She didn’t have to do that, but she showed up and did. This is the girl that is the first one to come find you after a brutal loss, knowing how much of a detached asshole you’d be in the heat of the moment. She doesn’t have to, but she shows up and does it anyway. This is the woman you want to marry as soon as possible. Why? Because she has always been there for you through thick and thin–she never once has gone back on her promise to be by your side until her wheels fall off. Lots of people in your life came and went and left you high and dry but she never did that to you. She could have, she had so many chances to run for the hills and never look back, but she didn’t. If you keep pushing her away, you’ll push her away for good. You can’t lose her. You can’t live without her. The thought of losing her makes your chest physically hurt,” he thought to himself, feeling that subtle sting in his chest he was thinking about. 

“I love you, Joe. You don’t have to figure this out alone. I can handle it, whatever it is. Just tr- trust me,” you swallowed, your voice cracking again as you felt the emotional waters push against the mental dam you had built in your mind to keep Joe dry. “Keep it together, Y/N,” you told yourself. 

“Trust her. Trust her. Trust her,” Joe’s subconscious whispered, a mantra meant to bring him to his senses. He let out a deep breath, his voice a barely audible mumble as the words left him, “I trust you.” It was so soft, you couldn’t hear him, but even saying it out loud seemed to open something within him. You never gave him a reason to not trust you which meant whatever you were saying, you meant every word. 

You noticed the way his shoulders dropped, tension oozing out of him like air from a balloon. His vulnerability was almost palpable–but it wasn’t just that. There was something else now, something charged, bubbling just beneath the surface. “I need to do something to get her to relax. She won’t tell me how she’s feeling straight up, but I know she’s like a glass of water filled to the brim, each drop teetering on the edge before it spills over in an uncontrollable flood,” his inner voice said, the thought flipping a switch deep inside him. Joe wasn’t oblivious to your habit of putting everyone else before yourself–it was one of the things he admired about you, but it also frustrated him. He hated seeing you push your own emotions to the side. And now, with you standing in front of him, he could see through the cracks in your armor–the water dancing on the edge of the glass–the quiet exhaustion you tried to mask so well for him. 

His stare darkened as the air shifted between you, thick with an implied intensity. His lips curved into a smirk, and the hesitation that had hypnotized him earlier seemed to melt away in an instant. “You know…,” he began, his voice low, laced with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine, “You’re playing a risky game, Y/N,”.  

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor.  

Joe’s eyes roamed over your body, slow and unapologetic, lingering in a way that made your skin catch on fire. The smirk on his lips deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, the energy between you crackling like lightning. 

“Out here with no clothes on and that look in your eyes…,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and commanding, leaving no doubt that he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

Oh. 

Your breath hitched, the heat pooling in your belly as your heartbeat quickened, “Oh, I- I…,” you stammered, your words twisting in your throat. 

He chuckled softly, “What’s the matter, lovey? Lost your words?”. 

Oh?

You stared into his deep blue eyes, and something was different. Something had shifted. The wall you’d seen there before, was…gone?

Wait. Was it really gone? The tension, the guarded demeanor–just melted away? Your teasing, your soft words, the way you’d carefully nudged him…did it actually work? You weren’t exactly doubting your ability to break through to him, but this was Joe. Joe, who could be as immovable as a brick wall when he wanted to be. Joe, who sometimes made you work for every crack in his armor. Your heart skipped a beat at the realization. The icy look in his eyes, the stoic front just…gone. Now it was just the Joe you knew. The Joe who trusted you. The Joe that made you smile in moments like these–where you were far from happy. Your Joe. 

You weren’t sure what exactly did it for him but whatever it was, it made him laugh. It made him genuinely laugh. And whatever it was, you sure as hell weren’t going to grill him about it right now.

Now, it was time for step two: release the tension in his mind and body in the best way possible. 

“No,” you shook your head, “Just…distracted,” as you slowly walked around the treadmill. You lifted your hand to glide across his sweaty arm, lightly scratching his bare skin with your manicured nails, “You can’t be in here looking like this…with no shirt…covered in sweat…and expect me to act normal about it,”. Joe’s eyes darted to where your nails danced on his arm, his breath hitching for a brief moment before his gaze met yours again, a mixture of amusement and something stronger swirling within them. 

“You’re trouble,” he said, a little breathless as you pushed yourself away from him and started twirling around the empty space in the gym. 

“Ohhh noooo. I guess you’ll have to arrest me, officer,” you pouted, a mischievous glimmer behind your soft eyes which resulted in another chuckle from your boyfriend. Your lips curled into a playful grin as you circled him like a predator stalking her prey. “There’s that laugh,” you murmured, your tone light as you moved closer to him. “I knew it was in there somewhere. You’ve been holding out on me, Burrow,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he watched your every move. “What are you up to, Y/N?” he asked, a hint of pleasure mixing with curiosity in his voice.

“Oh, me?” you joked, acting innocent as you came around to stand in front of him. “I’m just here to help…you know, ease some of that tension you’ve been carrying around all night,”.

He tilted his head, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his eyes after he understood what you were implying. “You’re playing with fire, you know that? Gotta be careful,”.

“And yet,” you shot back, stepping just a little closer, “You’re still standing here, letting me,” you said, your voice just above a whisper. 

Your eyes stayed zoned in on his, observing how that little sparkle burnt brighter behind his as a heavy silence fell between you. You knew the effect you had on him, and it was only a matter of seconds before he gave into that need–that need to feel you everywhere. You watched the tension in his jaw increase, how his chest heaved a little harder, and his eyes dropping to your lips and chest. You also saw the twinge of discomfort on his face which stemmed from the growing tent in his workout shorts. 

“Any second,”  you smirked to yourself. 

You continued to look at him with those heated eyes, waiting for the moment when he gave into his desire, his need to feel you. You knew him too well, which meant you also knew exactly how to set him off. “Well…guess I should just go take care of it myself then. Shouldn’t I?” you teased, slowly inching back from him. Joe absolutely hated not being the one to get you off when you needed to feel liquid bliss coursing through your veins. The idea of you sprawled across your shared bed, your fingers between your thighs, his name falling from your lips, and for him to not be there? That drove him wild.

And as if on cue, his hand slammed down on the power button, the treadmill abruptly stopping. Then you watched as he stepped down while his other hand reached out, gripping your wrist with a firm but gentle hold. Before you had the chance to say something, he pulled you closer. Your bare chest brushed against his slick, sweat-covered torso, “Hell no,” he mumbled.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Yeah, the effect you had on him was strong and powerful. But when it came down to this, you were a pile of goo in his hands. He knew that and you knew that even better. 

He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over your ear as his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “You wanna play with fire, baby? Well congratulations. You just got burned,”.

And again, before you had a chance to say something, his mouth was on yours. His large hands slide down to your sides, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that makes your knees weak. The heat of his body radiated to yours as he walked you both backward; you were so lost in the lustful haze that surrounded you to realize where you were going. “Mmph,” you moaned into the kiss, feeling the hardness in his boxers brush against your upper thigh. “Please,” you whimpered, feeling his lips mash against yours in a slow, sultry movement. “Joe,”. 

Suddenly, he pulled away from you and plopped down onto the padded bench behind him, then pulled you down with him before you could catch your breath. His strong arms held you firmly in his lap, each of your legs around him as you straddled him in place. “What am I going to do with you now, huh?” he murmured as his lips traveled from your lips, down your neck, and ghosted over your collarbone. “With all that shit you said to me…I shouldn’t be doing this. You were running that pretty little mouth of yours a little too much tonight,”. 

“Joe…,” you whispered, your breath hitching as his other hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair and tugging at the soft, silky strands. Each kiss he pressed was slow, wet, and hot against your skin; he was savoring every inch of you. 

“What, lovey?” he whispered as his lips went back up the path he traced.

You threw your head to the side, allowing his lips to explore parts of your skin he hadn’t adored yet, “Joey, please…I need it,”. 

A low chuckle left his lips, “What’s got you so worked up, hm?”. 

“You…,” you gasped, feeling him attach his lips to the sweet spot on your neck. “I told you…you look so-,”.

“Me?” he rasped as he moved up your neck. “Have you seen yourself? You look gorgeous, and this?,” his fingers toying with the waistband of your purple lace panties, “These are driving me fucking insane,”  he chuckled.“You always look beautiful for me, so effortless and sexy,”.

A rush of heat flooded your body at his words, at his touch, leaving you breathless. His scruff grazed against your delicate skin, sending a rousing mix of roughness and warmth down your spine. Your hips had a mind of their own as they slowly rocked back and forth against Joe’s, his reaction telling you that you were slowly getting through to him in another way…a more pleasurable way. His lips found your ear, brushing against the corner as he whispered, his voice deep and low, “Mmm, yeah…That’s a good girl.”.  

His words ignited a fire within you, your hips instinctively shifting against him in another strong movement, pressing into the hardness you could now feel straining against his shorts. His hands gripped your hips tighter, keeping you steady as he began to guide your movements, enticing soft gasps from your lips. “You’re making it really hard for me to hold back, baby,” he murmured, the heat of his breath tickling your ear as you rocked back and forth on his cock, your panties soaked from your arousal. His fingers trailed up your side, leaving goosebumps in their path before they dipped beneath the waistband and down to your dripping heat.

“Oh,” you whimpered, his knuckles brushing against your slick core, as he watched your reaction. "Joe…," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of desperation and desire. “P- please…need to feel you…,”. 

His lips curved into a smirk against your neck as his fingers moved deeper, exploring your warmth. “So needy…is that why you did this…strip naked? Say all that shit to me? To get my attention?”. One thick finger slid in, your walls immediately clenching around it as he pushed it deeper. 

“O- Ohhh,” you sputtered, then dropped your head onto his shoulder, your hips slowly moving back and forth against his–now damp–shorts. 

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his scruff pressed harder against the sensitive skin of your neck. You’d never get tired of feeling his scratchy scruff against your skin. Whenever you felt it on you, your body knew that you were in for a treat. He then added another finger, his movements rhythmic, precise, and torturously amazing. “You feel so damn perfect, baby,” he whispered, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping heat with a faint squelching sound. “So tight around my fingers,” he whispered before planting a kiss to your neck. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching onto him for stability as his mouth returned to your ear, his deep groan making your body tremble. “I should hate you for teasing me like that…but how can I when you’re being so good to me now?”.  

“F- fuck,” you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his fingers graze over your sweet spot. “I- I didn’t mean to…tease you. I just w- wanted to help, oh,” you said, each word struggling to come out of your mouth because of your soft gasps and moans. 

“You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss under your ear. “That’s why I love you so much,”. 

The pressure built within you as his fingers moved expertly, curling in ways that made your body dance to the beat of his drum. His lips left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and to your collarbone, each one sending shockwaves through you. “Agh, Joe, I’m so close,” you whimpered, barely able to form coherent thoughts as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter.  

“That’s my girl…such a good girl,” he whispered against your ear, his lips brushing so close that you felt the pressure of every word. “Let go for me, baby. Show me how much you love me,”.  

“Joe, fuck…I-,” you started to say until your breath caught in your throat from the tight feeling in your lower belly. A few more strong pumps later, “Fuck, oh fuck!” you screamed, your body trembling as your walls clenched around his thick fingers and you reached your high, your fingers pulling at his hair.

“That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice wrapping around you like a soft blanket of security. His strong arms held you tightly, grounding you through the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he pressed a few wet kisses along the curve of your neck. His fingers slowed their pace, a delicate, intimate touch now helping you back down from the high he had guided you to. His lips moved up to press soft, tender kisses to your temple, whispering unspoken promises with each one.

Joe knew you were holding back your own emotions as well, likely so that you didn’t burden him with more weight than he already was dealing with. He knew that you had tension built up inside of you, and he noticed that as soon as he got home and saw your eyes. You’d spent the entire night focusing on him, hiding your own thoughts and fears which he knew were eating away at you. He hated seeing you carry that silent load, hated knowing you were sacrificing your own peace for his. That wasn’t how this worked. You needed release, and Joe was determined to give it to you–to make sure you felt just as cared for as he did.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice taking on a softer tone as his hands gently smoothed over your back. “Everything I’ll ever need,”. 

You felt the room spin when you opened your eyes, your body trembling and your mind clouded by the aftermath of your orgasm. Every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing from the way Joe had just untangled you. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, and the first thing your cloudy vision focused on was Joe’s face. His eyes, glossed over with a mix of desire and sincerity, locked onto yours. They had an intensity that sent another shiver down your spine. The heat between you was substantial, and when you shifted slightly, you felt the unmistakable hardness beneath you, pressing firmly against your core. “Joe,” you whispered again, your voice shaky from the tingling sensation in your body. 

He didn’t say a word at first but his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand even the smallest distance between you. His lips opened slightly, his breathing ragged as his forehead came to rest against yours, his damp hair brushing against your skin. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through you. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think you’re not, okay?” he said, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you anchored to him, the tension between you far from disappearing.  

You bit your lip, your body still trembling as you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his. “I love you, Joe,” you whispered, the words barely audible but filled with meaning. You then pressed your lips against his, feeling yourself ease up when you felt his tongue enter your mouth with no hesitation. 

The groan that escaped his throat was enough to give away how much he needed you, how much he needed to consume you and be consumed by you. His grasp tightened as he shifted beneath you to try to ignore his hardening cock, but he moved a little too quickly and accidentally jerked his hips up toward you. “Mmm,” he hissed, feeling his sensitive erection grow at the contact with your soaked heat. Although he didn’t want to, he forced himself to abruptly pull away from your lips because of the aching need in his shorts that was getting harder to ignore, “I’m not done with you yet, baby,” he reminded both you and himself. 

You gave a lazy nod, your body melting against his as he moved under you. With a firm grip on your waist, he planted his feet on the ground and stood effortlessly, holding you as if you weighed nothing. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of him–clean, warm, and unmistakably Joe. The gentle scrape of his scruff against your cheek sent a pang of arousal right down to your core again.  

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and while he carried you, the soft light of the room caught the promise ring on your left hand. The delicate shimmer of the diamonds made your lips curl into a faint smile, a silent reminder of everything you’d promised to one another–the love, the loyalty, and the unspoken vow that neither of you would let go, no matter how difficult things might get. 

He carried you over to the couch in the corner of the gym, his steps slow and relaxed. His lips brushed against your cheek to plant a quick kiss as he mumbled, “You okay, babe?”. 

You nodded against him, your voice muffled as you whispered, “Perfect,”.

A chuckle left his lips, “Yeah, you are,” he replied, knowing that when you were with him, ‘perfect’ was always the answer. 

He reached the plush couch and gently lowered you onto the cushions, before straightening up and flashing you with a look so intense it sent a wave of heat coursing through every inch of your body. That long, lingering stare had you squirming below him, desperate for him to touch you again.  

Without breaking eye contact, he slipped out of the last bit of his clothes, his muscles flexing with every small movement. When he finally leaned down, his weight settling over you, the warmth of his bare skin against yours made you shiver. His hands were planted on either side of you, caging you in, but it never felt suffocating–it felt safe. He hovered there, close enough for his breath to mix with yours as his deep blue eyes searched your face, silently asking for reassurance. Any doubt or hesitation in his mind disappeared the second he saw the love reflected in your gaze. “You’re all I’ll ever need,” he whispered, brushing his lips tenderly over yours like a prayer. “You’re the only good thing in my life, and I’m so fucking lucky to have you,”.  

His words should have triggered something–a little siren in your brain, an alarm to unpack the weight of what he’d just said. The only good thing in his life? The significance of that sentence should have hit you harder. But the way he said it–the raw vulnerability in his voice, the tenderness of his touch–made your thoughts blur. The intoxicating mix of love and lust overpowered everything else, and all you could focus on was him and this intimate moment. 

“Joe,” you whispered softly, though it wasn’t a protest. If anything, it was a plea.  

That was all it took for him to close the distance again, his mouth stuck on yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was soft. Each tug and push was more demanding than the last. His teeth grazed your lower lip before pulling it lightly, earning a soft whimper from you that urged him on. His hands roamed your sides, sliding down to grip your hips possessively. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. “Don’t know what I’d do without you,”. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your voice coming out in a whisper. “You don’t have to. I’m here, Joe. Always,”. 

He smirked, but his eyes softened at your words. “Damn right you are,” he murmured before dipping his head to trail kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His scruff scraped against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips latched onto a sweet spot just below your ear. You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening as he sucked and nipped at the tender skin, leaving his mark for you to find later. “Joe,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his hands slid under your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Shh, baby,” he grunted, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me take care of you. Just let go,”.

His hands gripped your hips with a force that caused your vision to go hazy as he adjusted himself above you. When he finally pushed into you, slow and gently, your body arched against him. A breathy moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, every inch of him sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, shit,” you moaned, your mouth falling open as you dug your head back into the couch. 

“God, baby,” he rasped, his forehead resting against yours as his hips began to move, his thrusts slow but deep. “You feel…so fucking good,” he moaned, his lips just inches from yours to the point where your breaths were mixing.

“Joe,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he set a steady, rhythmic pace. You could feel the remnants of his sweat on his back, the pheromonic smell of it sending you into another dimension. It mixed with his natural scent, and all of that was now pressing onto your body, the air around you smelling like a delicious cocktail of natural musk, sweat, and sex. Each thrust was precise, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. “Please…don’t stop. Don’t ever s- stop,”.  

His lips brushed over your ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not stopping until you can’t think of anything but me,”. His pace quickened slightly, each roll of his hips deliberate and full of intent. 

You moved your hands along the curves of his sculpted back, feeling his large muscles and the slowly loosening tension beneath his golden skin. “Joey,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please…I- do whatever you have to do…to relax…f- fuck,”.  

You wanted him to let go, fully let go. You needed him to let go. It may have been difficult to break through the tension in his mind right now, but you knew that this would help him. There was so much tension pent up inside of his body from the field and from what happened off the field, he needed to let go, and you were right there to help him. 

“Oh, I will,” he murmured, matter of factly. “I just need to hear you first. Can you do that for me? Be a little louder? Use that pretty little mouth of yours the way you were meant to,”. 

“F- fuck, okay,” you whimpered, and with each snap of his hips, you got louder and louder. Your moans urged him on, his hips rutting into yours with more urgency now, his movements becoming almost primal as he chased the pleasure of feeling you wrapped around him. “God, Joe. You always do it so good, ohhh,”. 

Joe’s forehead pressed against yours again, his breaths mixing with yours as he forced into you with a steady, hard pace. The pleasure rapidly builds in your body, only growing stronger with every pump of his large cock. The heat between you was overwhelming, every movement sending shivers coursing through your body. His lips hovered just inches from yours, teasing yet comforting, which reminds you he was right there with you. As his hands caressed your sides in a loving manner that made your heart flutter, he said. “I love you, you know that?”. 

“Please, Joe. Don’t stop,” you whimpered, throwing your head to the side as your voice trembled with need; the couch began to creak under you due to the strength of his thrusts. “Joe, don’t stop ever,”. 

His hips didn’t stutter even for a split second, his rhythm was perfect and unrelenting. “Listen to me,” he insisted, quickly using his hand to move your face back to his, his tone gentle and commanding. “You know I love you, right?” he asked again, his cock pounding into your heat with more force to punctuate his words. 

You gasped when his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth grazing before he bit and sucked gently, leaving his mark on you. “O- Oh, Joey,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. “Yeah, y- yeah. I know you love me, baby,”.  

“Good,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours again as he kept that hypnotic pace. “Because I fucking do. I love you more than anything,”.  

“Oh my god, Joe,” you choked, your back arching as he adjusted his angle by cupping the back of your knee and lifting your leg a little, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. 

“God damn, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure as he felt you open up more than before. “You’re so fucking beautiful, taking me like this. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, looking down at his shaft disappearing in and out of your heat, somehow even leaving a little imprint in your lower belly. The sounds filling the room added to the haze, the melodic sound of his cock slapping in and out of your soaked core almost as beautiful as the sounds coming from your lips. 

“Joey. Joey. Joe, fuck,” you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.“Right there–oh my god, Joe, right there!” you screamed, feeling his cock hitting your g-spot over and over, his tip abusing your cervix in the best possible way. 

“Yeah? Right there?” he panted, his breath hot against your skin. “That make you feel good? You like that?” he asked, his next thrust being ever rougher so he could hit the spot again. The sight of your breasts bouncing back and forth from the intensity of his thrusts made his eyes roll back, “Damn,” he grunted under his breath. 

“Oh, fuck yeah. Shit,” you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him, your brain completely dark as you lost yourself in his heated touch.  

His lips found yours again, silencing your moans as his pace quickened. “You’re my girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with confidence. “My special girl. Nobody can hurt you, not as long as I’m by your side,”.  

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intimacy and the way his words wrapped around your heart like a protective shield. And well, also because he usually had a knack for sending you to the verge of tears when he was a little intense with you like this. “I know…I- I know, Joe. I’m your girl,” you whispered, your voice cracking as another wave of pleasure overtook you. “Ah,” you hissed, closing your eyes from the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were feeling.  

“That’s right,” he groaned, his hips pressing into you deeper, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “You’re mine, Y/N. Forever mine,”.  

Your eyes met his baby blues, and you felt a warmth behind them that had been missing for weeks. There was a familiar spark between you as if everything else had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment. You had finally broken through the barriers he put up. The way he held you now, the way he talked to you now, was different. He was confident, relaxed, and full of raw need. 

As his lips met yours in another kiss, the words he spoke were soft, yet they carried the weight of everything he had been holding back. “I need you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice raw with emotion. “P- please don’t ever leave me, I-. I need you, baby,” he said again, his earlier emotions threatening to take over during this heated affair. 

“I’m yours,” you breathed out, your brain jumping over what he just said, again. “I’m here for y- you…always, fuck-,”. Your legs moved around him, pulling him closer as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Your head fell back against the couch, a loud moan escaping your lips as you trembled beneath him. “God, Joe! F- fuck, I can’t…oh my god,” you moaned, breathy gasps falling from your lips with no end in sight.

Joe didn’t stop, his hips slowing just enough to ride you through your nearing high while he continued murmuring sweet, filthy praises against your skin. “Fuck, baby. You were made for me, made for me to fuck you like this,” he groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as your walls convulsed around him.  

You clung to him, your body still shaking as he slowed his movements, his own release edging closer. His lips pressed against your ears, his breath hot and jagged as he whimpered your name over and over. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, feeling the need to let him know that this wasn’t only about you–hell it wasn’t supposed to be about you. “Let go, Joey. Do what you need to do,”.  

Joe’s eyes locked with yours, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath all over again. With a groan, he pushed forward, capturing your lips in another kiss so deep it left no doubt–he was yours, and you were his. Always.  

“Oh, I’m so close,” you whimpered, feeling the band in your belly tighten and your walls start to close in on his thick shaft. 

“Fuck…me too, baby,” he whined, picking up the speed of his thrusts while moving a hand down to your bundle of nerves. His fingers fondled your clit expertly, knowing exactly what you liked and how you needed it. And a few seconds later, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over your body. “God, Joe!” you screamed, throwing your head back into the pillows as you arched into him, “Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whimpered. 

“Yeah?” he growled, pushing into your snug walls with more force. “You gonna let go for me? You gonna stop thinking about what those fucking idiots said earlier? Ah. You gonna relax for me?” he groaned, his voice strained as he felt himself tip over the edge from the way you were reacting underneath him. 

“Y- yeah, I will,” you moaned as your body trembled beneath his sweaty frame, caving at the power of his words. Your adorably scrunched-up nose, your fluttering eyes, your rosy cheeks, and your grip on his shoulders were all enough for him to reach his high. He was the only one to have you like this–so vulnerable and raw. And that thought drove him feral. 

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Oh, fuck…Y/N,”. With one final, powerful thrust, you felt him come undone, his entire body trembling as he shattered against you. His cock twitched deep inside, flooding your core with his release as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder to silence his moans. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer and his arms wrapped tightly around you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. “God, Y/N…,” he panted, his breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself deeper, making sure every last bit of him filled you. 

“Joe,” you whimpered softly, the faint sting below making your voice shake. “Oh m- my god…,” you breathed out, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you while your eyes adjusted to the room; his arms tightened instinctively around you almost like he could protect you from even the smallest discomfort. 

You felt so achingly full–the feeling of his load and softening cock deep inside of you, and his hand sprawled across your stomach making you a little dizzy. His fingertips began tracing slow, soothing patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch bringing you back down to earth. 

He lifted his head enough to look at you, his messy hair and lazy eyes looking all too familiar. The corners of his mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile as his baby blue eyes softened. “You wore me out, princess,” he murmured, his voice carrying that delicious, raspy edge you loved so much. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,”.  

The warmth in his voice was matched by the way he looked at you, his expression a blend of admiration, affection, and a touch of exhaustion. 

“Thank you, god,” you thought to yourself. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, concern clear in his voice as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Was I too rough?”.

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “Better than okay,”.  

His smile grew, and he leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, softer, as if he was pouring all the emotions he couldn’t put into words into that single moment. When he pulled back, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re my everything. I’m so sorry about everything that happened today,”.  

The sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at you made your chest swell with love. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about that right now. Just relax. I’m here,” you whispered back, your words filled with quiet certainty as you ran your other hand up along his chest and stopped at his heart. “You might be a stubborn ass sometimes,” you began, earning a lazy chuckle from him. “But you’re all mine…you’re my everything. I love you,”.

“I’m still sorry for–,” he began, but you didn’t let him finish. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that cut off his unnecessary apology. It was soft but firm, a clear message that he didn’t need to say anything more. When you pulled back, your eyes met his. Those gentle, puppy dog eyes of yours told him everything you wanted him to know–your forgiveness, your love, and your reassurance–all without a single word. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he gave you a small, grateful smile. 

He took the hint—that you didn’t want to talk about this right now—and kept the conversation going. The last thing he wanted to do was press you about this after he had just gotten you to loosen up. “That was a way better workout than running,” he mumbled, dropping his head down to your chest and breathing in your calming scent as his fingers brushed against your belly; tracing little shapes into your plush skin.

You chuckled weakly, the sound barely a breath as your exhaustion caught up to you. “Mm, good…that was the plan,” your eyelids grew heavier, and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your body pulled you closer to the edge of sleep. 

“You were extra loud tonight too,” he shamelessly teased, pressing a kiss to your belly. “I liked that,”. 

“…You ask and I deliver..,” you replied lazily, fighting back a yawn. 

Joe noticed the way your responses slowed, your breathing evening out as you succumbed to the warmth and safety of his embrace. “Hey,” he whispered, “You’re fading on me, aren’t you?”.

“Hmm,” you hummed, feeling yourself fall further into slumber. “Mm, tiredd,” you dragged out, yawing again as you closed your eyes for a few seconds. 

“Alright, sleeping beauty,” he murmured, his voice the softest it’d been all night. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he said and moved with such caution as he knew by the look in your eyes that you were exhausted in more ways than one. You stirred a little, nuzzling into his chest as he picked you up in his arms, your body instinctively latching onto the comfort he offered. 

Joe carried you through the quiet house, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. He looked down at you, his lips curving into a fond smile as you whispered something in your sleep. “I love you, Joey,” you mumbled, rubbing your cheek against his chest out of comfort. 

“I love you too,” Joe mumbled as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and as he pulled away to look at you, he felt a tug at his heart. You looked so delicate, so precious in his arms and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for making you act this worried about him. You never showed it, but he knew that you were struggling–that you had been since November. “I’m going to be there for you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not again, not ever,”. 

When he reached the bedroom, he gently lowered you onto the bed, tucking the covers around you with practiced ease. For a second, he just stood there, watching the way your peaceful face softened in the comfort of your bed. Leaning down, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sliding into bed next to you, Joe wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he settled in. Even in your sleep, you turned into him, your body naturally finding his warmth. As the quiet night enveloped you both, Joe let out a content sigh, feeling relaxed for the first time all day. Despite the storm raging inside his head, he managed to find shelter in it for you. Now he hoped you could do the same for him, he hoped you could let yourself be open with him. He hoped you’d allow yourself to let him carry some of your weight for once, especially because it was his fault. 

You did what you needed to do–distracting him to get his mind off of things and bring him back to his safe space. But getting you to relax was the true thing that made him take a deep breath and loosen up. Seeing you curled up against him, a faint smile on your lips, your arms clinging to him; that’s what made him genuinely let go. You weren’t just his distraction; you were his peace. And for the first time in hours, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

The Next Morning 

You stirred gently in your sleep, the light of the morning filtering through the curtains and casting a glow over your bare skin. Your eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing against your cheeks as you adjusted to the faint sunshine which was limited by the clouds. A soft, sleepy whine escaped your lips, the remnants of slumber clinging to you as the day began to break through the haze of your dreams.

You turned your head to the space next to you, your nose brushing against his pillow, filling your nostrils with a clean, subtle musk mixed with the faded remains of his body wash–a warm, woodsy fragrance with hints of cedar and sandalwood. Mixed with that was the specific, earthy scent of his skin with the light saltiness of sweat from last night. It was uniquely him–raw, grounding, and intoxicatingly familiar. 

But he wasn’t there. 

“Morning meetings,” you sighed, remembering that he had a typical routine to follow and couldn’t just relax in bed all day with you like you wanted him to. 

You turned your head back to the ceiling, giving yourself a moment to breathe before slowly sitting up. As you moved, a deep, dull ache spread between your thighs–a lingering memento from the night before. “Ooooh,” you hissed softly, biting your lip and carefully lifting your hips to ease the pressure as you shifted forward. The memory of his intensity made a blush rise to your cheeks, and despite the sting, a playful giggle escaped your lips. “Damn, he really went hard last night,” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head at the thought of Joe's unmatched determination–both on and off the field. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and planted your feet on the cool wooden floor. The difference sent a little shiver up your spine, bringing you back to the present as you stretched your arms, feeling your body wake up from its lingering exhaustion. “I’ll see him in a few hours…might as well pull myself together in the meantime,” you nodded, then stood up and slowly walked over to the closet. You grabbed your baby blue robe and carefully slipped it onto your nude body, your eyes glancing at every mark he left on your body last night. From the scattered marks on your neck to the print of his fingers on your hips, they were all beautiful remnants of him. 

You smiled at your reflection, the hazy glow of pleasure from the night before still on your face. With a light hum and smile, you grabbed your towel and headed for the bathroom, eager to rinse off and start the day.

As you stepped into the bathroom, your eyes landed on the mirror, and you froze. A cluster of sticky notes was taped to the glass, their colorful squares bright against the surface. Your chest swelled with warmth as you leaned closer to read them, “What’d you do this time,” you mumbled.

Gone for some meetings. Shouldn’t take too long, be back around lunch.

Thanks for last night ;) I love you sooooo much!!

(Sorry if you’re in pain…got a little carried away lol. I left out a bottle of Tylenol and your heating pad for you)

– j.b 

Your fingertips brushed over the notes, and a flood of memories came rushing back. The sticky notes reminded you of your first date–the way Joe had taped one to your apartment door. It had simply said: Open the bag below for tonight.

Flashback to LSU – You and Joe’s first date 

“I think I’m going to puke,” you said to Emma while you stared at yourself in your vanity mirror as she finished curling your hair. 

“Not over that gorgeous dress. Aim for the side,” she laughed, setting the final curl and then using her fingers to separate them. 

You felt a blush rise on your cheeks as you looked down at what you were wearing–a special gift from Joe. When you came back to your apartment earlier, there was a neon pink sticky note taped to the door with a silver gift bag at the doorstep. You weren’t expecting anything, so this came to your surprise and when you got closer, the sticky read “Open the bag below for tonight.”. You skeptically opened the bag, only to be met with the best surprise–a beautiful midnight-blue dress with delicate spaghetti straps and a flowy skirt that danced every time you moved. You gasped when you pulled it out of the bag, the soft fabric slipping through your fingers like silk. Another sticky note had been tucked inside the bag, reading, “A beautiful dress for my beautiful girl. Can’t wait to see you tonight :) -  j.b”. 

“He’s…something else,” you grinned to yourself, holding the dress up against your body and admiring the way it sparkled in the light.

Now, hours later, with Emma skillfully finishing your hair and your makeup just right, you were feeling…well, terrified.  

“I’m serious, Em,” you said, twisting in your chair to look at her. “What if I trip in these heels? What if he regrets asking me out? What if I say something stupid, or worse, what if I–,”.

“Stop it.” Emma held her hands up in mock surrender, rolling her eyes. “First of all, you’re not tripping anywhere. Second, Joe Burrow is down-bad obsessed with you, so let’s not even entertain that nonsense. Third, you won’t say anything stupid because you’re charming as hell. Just relax,”.  

You bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corners despite your nerves. “...You think he’s…Obsessed? Really?”.

“Uh, yeah. The man went and picked out a gorgeous, sparkly, expensive–did I mention gorgeous–dress for you. And we all know how men do when it comes to picking things out for girls,” she rolled her eyes. “Joe nailed it and you’re only a girl he met only a few weeks ago but he’s out here like he’s shopping for his fiancee or something. Most guys would just go for flowers or chocolate…but a whole dress–which may or may not retail for $150–,”.

“Wait, what?” you gasped, your eyes widening as you looked down at the outfit. The price tag made your heart race because you’d never worn anything this expensive before–never even imagined it.  

You’d always wanted to feel this beautiful, to have someone make you feel special, like a rare gem. And Joe, of all people, being the one to do that? It completely caught you off guard. Warmth spread through your chest as you realized just how much he was making you feel worth it. The lengths he was going to make tonight the best night ever was something that stuck out to you. Tonight was your first official date, but you two have had plenty of hangouts, flirty exchanges, facetimes, and hour-long text conversations that it didn’t really feel like something as noteworthy as a first date. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little nervous about it. It was a date with…Joe Burrow of course. 

“That’s next-level dedication,” Emma finished, smoothing the skirt of the dress as you stood to admire the full sparkle effect in the mirror. If it was nearly $200, those sparkles better be doing their damn job. “Besides, have you seen the way he looks at you? Either he’s looking at you with severe bedroom eyes or with the most love physically possible…like when we hit up that frat party at Sigma Phi Epsilon last weekend? All of the girls that usually chase after him were there, begging for some form of his attention, but Joe just looked at you. Claire even bumped into him on purpose and spilled her drink on herself to get him to say something to her, but when he saw you with that look in your eyes–the one you get when you feel anxious–he dropped everything to walk straight across the room from his guys and her…to you. Joe was glued to your hip the entire night, constantly checking on you even when you didn’t notice. He was the center of attention at the party—just like any other party—but he didn’t care about anyone except for the girl next to him. Everybody’s watchin’ him, but he’s lookin’ at you. That tiger’s tail is wrapped right around your finger, babe,”. 

Your stomach did a backflip as her words registered in your mind, the gentle ache in your heart intensifying at the mention of that party. The party solidified Joe’s uniqueness amongst the guys at LSU. You remembered standing in the middle of the crowded room, clutching a red solo cup filled with cheap, overly sweet alcohol. The music blared, the bass vibrating in your chest like a second heartbeat, while the room spun with too many bodies pressed too close. You became hyper-aware of everything—the way some guys looked at you, their eyes lingering a little too long, making your skin crawl. The overwhelming smell of sweat and spilled drinks. The chaotic energy of laughter and voices meshing together.

It all became too much, too fast. Your breaths quickened, your chest tightening as panic began to creep in. The walls seemed to close in on you, and the laughter around you sounded sharp, almost mocking. You were frozen, not sure of how to calm yourself without drawing even more attention. Your friends were nowhere in sight, likely caught up in their own conversations or flirting with someone in another corner of the house. You felt alone, trapped in a wave of anxiety that threatened to drown you.

And then, like a lifeline thrown into stormy waters, you felt it–a large, warm hand on your shoulder. The touch was firm but gentle, instantly grounding you. It was familiar and comforting, like it carried a silent assurance that everything would be okay.

Turning your head, you saw him. Joe. His kind eyes searched yours with a quiet intensity, his presence breaking through the chaos around you. In that moment, the weight on your chest lifted, the tight knot in your stomach loosening as the panic started to fade away. It was as if, somehow, he had known exactly when you needed him most, and he’d been there to catch you before you fell.

You’d struggled with anxiety for as long as you could remember, and all the guys you’d been with had realized that one way or another. But none of them cared. None of them knew how to help you and it was because they didn’t want to. They didn’t want to deal with the emotional baggage, with the nerves that you brought with you everywhere you went. But Joe? Joe did. He wanted to help you, be there for you, take care of you. He didn’t even ask you how he could help, he just…knew. 

He spent the rest of the party by your side, trading your alcohol for a soda, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, his thumb sliding up and down your bare arm, and his attention all on you. 

You felt comfortable for the first time all night by his side. Your mind and body were at ease for once, and you didn’t know how to describe the new feeling you felt. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced before–something warm and magnetic, yet light and giddy all at once. 

But did everyone see it–the way that Joe looked at you like you were the only thought on his mind? Did they see how much he cared about you? Was he so obvious about it?

The connection between you felt so electric, almost as rare and whimsical as lightning in a bottle. You didn’t know if you should be terrified of that because the lighting could shatter through the glass and burn you at any given moment. But it could also be something beautiful, something extraordinary. The kind of spark people spend their whole lives searching for.

Even though you’d only known each other for a short amount of time, the time you had spent together made it feel like you’d know each other for a lifetime. He quickly picked up on your little habits, moods, likes, and dislikes—literally everything there was to know about you. You quickly learned who Joe was behind that helmet and jersey he put on every week, who he was behind his hard-shelled demeanor. He let you in without thinking twice, showing you parts of him he had guarded off for a reason. And you did the same. You didn’t know why since normally you’d be hesitant on showing a guy your weaknesses, your most vulnerable aspects, because you thought they would take advantage of them. But Joe never made you feel like he’d do that to you. 

“I just hope he feels the same about me. I really really like him and it’s kind of scary because I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before and I don’t want to mess it up or screw it up or I don’t know, not give the right vibe? I-,” you blabbed before Emma spoke up.

“Y/N. You’re rambling again,” she said, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “Stop getting in your head over this, babe. You are so hot, so smart, sooooo nerdy, so genuine, and you bring out a side of him that everyone says they’ve never seen. You are the entire package. It doesn’t get any better than you for him,”.

Her words made you pause, your mouth opening as if to argue, but the look in her eyes stopped you. It was determined, full of confidence in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. You let out a nervous laugh, running your hands down the fabric of your dress as you tried to absorb her pep talk. “You really think so?” you asked softly, looking up at her with a hint of doubt.

“I know so,” she said firmly, leaning closer and placing her hands on your shoulders again. “You’re amazing, Y/N. And if he doesn’t already know that–which, spoiler alert, he does–he’s about to find out tonight,”.

“...You’re right,” you nodded, taking a deep breath and giving your reflection one last look. If this was meant to be, how tonight’s date would go will show that. There was no reason to stress over it anymore–you just had to leave it to the universe now. “How do I look?” you asked, quickly changing the subject so that you didn’t get lost in your head even more, your eyes roaming from your delicate bracelets to your dainty necklaces, and finally to the star of the show–your dress.

“Like you’re about to knock him on his ass,” Emma said with a wink. 

“I sure hope so,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a butterfly in your stomach at the thought of him seeing you in the dress he had picked out for you. The deep blue of it shimmered under the soft lights, almost like the dress was alive. And if you looked closely, you could swear the color matched the exact shade of his eyes–especially when he was focused, locked in on something that required all his attention, like the shade of his eyes during a football game. The kind of intensity you could never pull your eyes away from.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he chose this dress, if the color reminded him of that fire in his eyes when he was doing or looking at something that mattered to him. The thought made your heart race just a little faster because he always had a way of making you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him when you were together. His eyes were always the same shade as this dress when he looked at you. 

You realized he wasn’t just buying a dress for you. He was buying something that made you feel like you were seen, truly seen by him.

“I know so,” she repeated, her eyes shining with a knowing smile. “Remember, Y/N. He chose you. He decided to ask you out. He chooses you every day, whether it’s spending every free afternoon with you or calling you for hours before he goes to bed. He’s not doing it because he has to; he’s doing it because he wants to. He wants this with you. He wants you,”.

She was right, and you knew that deep down in your heart—the same heart that was slowly having his name carved into it. Joe always had this gentle smile when he looked at you, this way about him that instantly made you feel comfortable. Everything about him screamed comfortable. But he also had this way about him that made you want to forget the rules, to let your hair down in the breeze, to forget about life for just a second, and to savor each moment for what it was. He made you feel alive. Ever since you met him, the world seemed to take on a new energy, like someone had turned up the saturation in your life. Colors looked richer, sounds felt clearer, and every little thing had a kind of magic it hadn’t before. Joe had this effortless way of bringing joy into your life that nobody else had ever done. He made you laugh harder than you ever thought possible, those deep belly laughs that left you breathless and grinning ear to ear. He made you smile longer too, the kind of smile that lingered even when he wasn’t around, sparked by a memory or the very thought of him. 

And those butterflies–oh, those butterflies. They were stubborn, fluttering in your chest every time his name crossed your mind. Whether it was the memory of his laugh, the way his hand brushed yours, or the way his voice dipped when he said your name, they never failed to make their presence known. He wasn’t just someone who made you happy; he made you feel everything more deeply. With Joe, the world was brighter, lighter, alive.

Just like this dress. 

—

While you were inside your apartment getting ready and feeling those stubborn butterflies all over again, Joe was standing in front of the mirror in Ja’marr’s apartment, adjusting his button-up for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“Man, relax,” Ja’marr said, lounging on his bed while tossing a football in the air. “It’s just a date. You acting like you about to propose or something,”.  

“Easy for you to say,” Joe muttered, tugging at the sleeves. “She’s...she’s different. This isn’t just any date,”.  

Justin, sitting at the desk scrolling through his phone, looked up and grinned. “He’s whipped already and they haven’t even gone out yet. Looks like Joey done got struck by cupid’s arrow,” he teased.

“‘Bout damn time too!” Ja’marr nodded. “I’m tired of this man complaining ‘bout how he don’t got a girl when he sees the couples out and about or someone to build legos with ever since I started hangin’ with Shyla,”.  

Joe shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. He couldn’t deny it–he was whipped. Ever since he’d worked up the courage to ask you out, you’d been all he could think about. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight, down to the smallest detail. “You think she’ll like the dress and flowers?” Joe asked, ignoring Ja’marr’s comments and glancing nervously at the bouquet of carnations and roses sitting on the desk next to the container filled with smarties. 

“Boy,” Ja’marr said, catching the football and sitting up. “You nailed it. She’s gonna look amazing in it, and she’s gonna love that you went out of ya way to pick that out from the most expensive store in the mall and the flowers out. Hell, I think she’ll lose it for real once she sees the smarties box,”.  

Justin chuckled. “You stressing too much, bro. Just be yourself. You know she already likes you, right?”. 

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, but...she’s special. I don’t want to screw this up,”.  

“Special, huh?” Ja’marr teased, smirking at Justin as they both thought the same thing. With the way Joe had talked about you to them plus how he was acting right now only made it clear that he was serious serious about you. They couldn’t really place their finger on why since you’d only known each other for a short amount of time, but they weren’t going to question it as long as Joe had that boyish smile and glow on his face, the smile and glow you put on his face. 

“Yeah, special,” Joe said firmly, his jaw setting as he turned to face his friends. “She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s so smart, adorably funny, so natural, and so damn beautiful, and I don’t want her thinking she made a mistake agreeing to this…'cause well…dating the star quarterback sounds scary as hell. I don’t want her to feel nervous around me because of who I am and what I do,”.  

Justin and Ja’marr exchanged a look, their smirks softening into understanding smiles. “Boy quit worrying,” Justin said, standing up and lightly punching Joe on the shoulder. “She seems like a great girl…a lot better than the girls that throw themselves at you. You got this,”. 

“Claire,” Ja’marr coughed. 

“Just keep your cool? Like how you do during a game. Think of it like that,” Justin added. 

Ja’marr nodded, leaning back on his bed. “And if you don’t, well, just let your awkward charm work for you. Girls eat that up,”.  

Joe rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, guys. Really great advice,”.  

“Anytime,” Justin smiled. “Now go pick her up before she thinks you bailed,” he said, turning Joe around to face the door. 

But Joe wasn’t done with his nervous ranting just yet. “What if I say something stupid though? I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. Or wait, what if I don’t say the things I should be saying? I really like her and I don’t want to make her feel like I don’t, y’know? Like I want her to know I’m taking this seriously,” Joe rambled, overthinking every detail about tonight. “What if she hates the dress? What if she hates the dinner set up? I-”.

“Joe.” Ja’marr shouted, shooting up from his bed and walking over to his best friend. “Wake the fuck up man? What’s wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why you actin’ like you don’t know how to do this?”. 

“I…I don’t know,” he admitted, not sure why he was worrying about tonight. You never gave him a reason to worry, so why was he so scared about messing things up with you? Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair as he paced the length of the room. “It’s just...she’s different, y’know? She’s not like anyone else. I’ve never felt this way about someone before,”.

Ja’marr crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he watched Joe unravel. “Bro, she already likes you. Hell, she said yes to the date, didn’t she? You’re Joe freakin’ Burrow. Stop psyching yourself out,”.

“But that’s the thing,” Joe argued, stopping mid-step and looking at his friend with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “I don’t want her to like me just because I’m Joe freakin’ Burrow. I want her to like me, the real me,”.

Justin finally chimed in, a smirk evident on his face. “So show her the real you, man. Don’t overthink it. You’re a good guy, Joe. She already knows that, or she wouldn’t be wasting her time on you,”.

Joe dropped into a chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he hung his head, his stomach doing nervous backflips as if he was getting ready for the biggest game of his entire career. “I just...I really don’t want to screw this up,”.

“Joe, don’t be doing that,” Ja’marr said firmly, patting a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “She’s gonna love the dress, the dinner, all of it. And if she doesn’t, she’s not the one. Just relax, man,”.

Joe let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. Relax. Sure,”.

Justin chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. “For real, though, don’t overthink it. She’s probably over there freaking out just as much as you are,”.

Joe tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagined you running around, freaking out about the date with a tube of mascara in hand and a mirror in the other. “You think so?”. 

“Guaranteed,” Ja’marr said with a grin. “She’s probably stressing about the exact same things you are. Don’t underestimate the depths of girl talk. Shyla told me it’s more than just gossip and talking about sex. They always freakin’ out ‘bout something like their nail color or that their period is late or some shit,”. 

“What?” Joe twisted his head and questioned, not understanding what Ja’marr was getting at and if the thought of you gossiping about him and sex–the sex you haven’t had yet–was supposed to make him feel better. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Now, come on, Romeo. That clock is tickin’, and you got a girl to get. Pull your head up, straighten them shoulders out, take a deep breath, and go get the future Mrs. Burrow,” Ja’marr nodded, his tone half-serious but laced with the usual teasing that always seemed to calm Joe’s nerves.  

Joe couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s words, the humor breaking through his anxiety just enough to loosen the tightness in his chest. Leave it to Ja’marr to keep him grounded, even when he felt like he was about to jump out of his own skin. “Alright, alright,” Joe said, standing up and rolling his shoulders back like he was about to step onto the field for a game-winning drive. He took a deep breath, letting the tension in his body melt away as he focused on one thing–you. The thought of your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed, and the softness of your voice filled his mind like a relaxer. Those memories were his anchor, steadying him when the nerves threatened to take over. He looked down at the bouquet in one hand and the container of smarties in the other, his lips shifting into a small, almost boyish smile. He couldn’t believe just a few months ago he was thinking he’d never find the right girl, that he’d be alone for the rest of his life and not have someone to share his happiness with. And now here he was, absolutely obsessed with the greatest woman he had ever come across. The one woman who completely rocked his world the moment she walked in.  

“Alright,” Joe murmured to himself. With one last deep breath and a few goodbyes, he turned to head out, the flutter of anxious energy in his stomach transforming into a feeling of excitement.  

As he walked to his car, Ja’marr’s last words echoed in his mind, making him shake his head with a grin. “Future Mrs. Burrow,” he muttered, the thought simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. 

The time you spent in those few weeks had made it beautifully clear that you were different from the other girls he’d been with. You gave him a feeling that he’d never felt before, a feeling that only comes around once in a person’s lifetime. That feeling you get when you feel like you’ve met the one. 

You made him feel that feeling.

Maybe you were the future Mrs. Burrow. 

“Only one way to find out,” Joe smiled, staring at the bouquet of flowers he had for you. 

—

A little later, after receiving a text from Joe that he was on his way, you were standing by your door and giving yourself a mental pep talk as your heart hammered against your chest. “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It’s just Joe. Everything will be fine. You’ve been alone with him plenty of times before. You can do this,” you told yourself, then heard a soft knock on the door which made your heart skip a beat. “Oh god, he’s here. Just don’t throw up or say the wrong words and it’ll be fine…right?”.

You took one final, deep, long breath before you opened the door to find Joe standing there with his arms behind his back, looking effortlessly handsome in a crisp white, long-sleeved button-up and black pants.  

“Oh, fuck he looks good,” was your first of many shameful thoughts of the night. 

For a moment, neither of you said anything out loud. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before his lips parted. “Wow,” he said, his tone laced with awe, his eyes widening and his stomach fluttering as if he had just come across the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid his eyes on–which you honestly were. “You l- look...absolutely stunning,”.  

“God, she looks even sexier than usual. The blue really brings out her smile and eyes…,” he thought to himself, his eyes landing on your hips, then your chest, lingering for a second too long which made your breath hitch. 

Your cheeks flushed so hard you could feel the warmth spread to your ears. “The d- dress really s- suits you,” he said, moving back to your eyes, awkwardly letting the words fall from his lips as he felt his heart palpitate in his chest. 

He was stuttering. He was standing here in front of you, stuttering because he couldn’t comprehend how beautiful you looked; his baby blue eyes wider than ever before as he was bouncing back and forth on his feet. 

He was nervous.

Joe Burrow was nervous, because of you. 

Adorable.

“Thanks to you,” you replied softly, glancing down at the dress he picked out, and brushing the fabric nervously with your fingers. “This dress…it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You have great taste, it’s exactly what I like and I love it. Thank you for this, Joey,”.

Joe’s lips curved into a more peaceful smile now that he knew you liked it, one that reached his eyes, and then, as if remembering something, he brought forward one of his hands. Your eyes widened as he brought out a bouquet–your favorite mix of carnations and roses, arranged in a delicate bundle and wrapped in crisp pink paper.  “These are for you,” he said, his voice shy.

For a moment, you just stared, your heart swelling in your chest as a wave of emotion threatened to smoosh you. The flowers were perfect, like he’d thought of you with each petal–which he did because he remembered you telling him all about your favorite flowers. From the specific flower shop to the specific flowers, to the colors and combinations, you rambled about it for minutes when you grabbed a post-practice meal with him last week. Even though he was sore, tired, and sleepy, he still listened to you as if you were giving the State of the Union address at the White House; like what you were saying was life-altering important. 

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his as you took them. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered, feeling your throat tighten. “You’re so sweet, J. I love them,”.  

The vulnerability in your voice must have touched his heart directly because his smile deepened, his gaze softening. “They reminded me of you,” he said simply. “Delicate and gorgeous, their beauty shines through each soft petal-like how you effortlessly light up every room you walk into, leaving everyone around you–especially me–in awe,”. 

“I-,”.

“Oh, and I have something else for you,” he added, bringing forth his other hand, which held a medium-sized, clear container in it.

Your eyes widened as you peeked inside, “There is no way he-,” you thought, realizing it was filled with unwrapped smarties. “Oh my god,” you gasped out loud. “Joe, did you- did you actually unwrap all of these?”.

He shrugged, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. “You told me how much you hated unwrapping them, so…I figured I’d save you the trouble,”.

Holy shit. 

A few nights ago, during a late-night FaceTime call–the kind that only happened when both of you couldn’t sleep–you found yourself rambling about the little things to each other. The conversation had started with a casual “What are you doing?” that spiraled into a deep dive into your love for smarties.

You had told Joe the story with a soft smile on your face, remembering how your brother built the logo of your favorite football team out of the colorful candies for your birthday one year. It was one of your favorite memories, and ever since then, smarties have become your go-to comfort snack. “I love them,” you confessed. “But I hate unwrapping them. It’s so tedious. Like, why do they need to make it that hard to enjoy them?”.

Joe had laughed at the time, shaking his head at how passionate you sounded about something so simple. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he had said with a grin, his face brightened by the glow of his phone screen.

Now, standing in front of you with a container of what looked like more than a hundred pieces of unwrapped smarties, Joe Burrow was proving once again that he paid attention to everything you said.

Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across your face. “Joe Burrow, you are ridiculous,” you said, but your tone was soft, full of affection.

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected with a nod, his smile turning playful. “And besides, you deserve to have your smarties stress-free, even if it might have taken me a few hours to make sure of it,”.

You laughed, reaching out to touch his arm. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. You really know how to make a girl feel special,”.

His grin softened as he looked down at you, his blue eyes glowing in the evening light. “You’re worth it,” he said simply, the seriousness in his tone making your chest tighten with a giddy feeling.

You clutched the flowers and smarties to your chest, feeling the weight of his thoughtfulness settle over you. What he did was such a simple thing, yet the way it made you feel was as if he pronounced his love for you in front of the entire state of Louisiana. But that’s just it, Joe had a way of making the smallest, sincerest, gestures feel like some of the biggest deals ever. He listened to the little things, that’s what made him so special. 

“Okay,” you said with a soft smile. “Now you’re just showing off,” you said, referring to how easily he got you to this point–giggly, shy, and oh so soft. 

He smirked, his confidence returning. “Is it working?”.

“Oh my god, he’s perfect,” you thought to yourself, feeling the urge to skip to the end of the movie that was your life, jump into his arms, and run off into the sunset with him. He was so good at sweet-talking, he made it seem so…easy? He never made it feel forced or like he had to say those things–which again, separated him from every other guy you’d been with. All the other guys made saying these little compliments, sweet nothings, feel like a monotonous chore. But with Joe, it wasn’t like that at all. It couldn’t be with the way those things easily and constantly slipped from his mouth.

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the flirty moment. “Oh, for god’s sake, Lover boy,” Emma laughed from behind you, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed and an exaggerated smirk. “How much longer are you going to stare at her like that? You’ll make her blush right out of that dress,”.  

“Emma!” you hissed, spinning around with a glare.  

She shrugged innocently. “What? I’m just saying,” while popping a bite of a brownie in her mouth. “Just…don’t get her pregnant, okay? I don’t want to babysit like ever,”.  

Your mouth dropped open in sheer mortification, and your face burned so hot you thought you might combust on the spot. Behind you, Joe let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin as he tried not to laugh too hard. “Emma!” you snapped, your voice strangled as you clutched the flowers tighter.  

“I’m serious,” she laughed. “You were going on and onnn earlier about how you think he’s the hottest man you’d ever seen, how you just want to pull on his soft hair and want him to throw you aroun–,”.

“Emma Lynn!” you screamed in mortification, shutting her down before she could finish what she was saying, Joe’s cheeks turning red as you whined in embarrassment. He did not need to know what went on during girl talk earlier, especially because the things that you said were so…fueled by hormones. 

But you couldn’t really help it? He was seriously the hottest man you’d ever come across. His soft, adorable, gentle nature went so well with his stoic, hard-headed, sometimes cocky, always sexy, character. When you got a mixture of both his sides, you were right on your knees in front of him. The things you wanted him to do to you would quite literally set feminism back by a few hundred years. 

“I’m just teasing,” she lied, giving you a wink as she pushed off the counter. “But seriously, nice flowers, Joe. Maybe you can teach other guys how to not be so clueless,”.  

“Emma, go away!” you glared, feeling incredibly embarrassed by your friend’s teasing. 

She raised her hands in mock surrender, walking towards your bathroom with a smug grin. “Alrighttttttt. You two have fun…but not too much fun,” she said over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.  

You turned back to Joe, groaning as you covered your face with one hand. “I’m so sorry about her,” you mumbled, peeking at him through your fingers. But Joe didn’t seem flustered. If anything, his smile grew more relaxed, his boyish charm shining through. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “She’s...protective, I guess?”.

“More like annoying,” you muttered, shaking your head.  

“Hey, I don’t mind,” he said with a soft laugh. “It’s nice to know you’ve got people looking out for you. Even if they’re a little...direct about it,”.  

You couldn’t help but laugh, lowering your head. “Yeah, direct is one way to put it,”.  

Joe laughed as he held out his hand, the hand that was always so steady and sure; whether it was gripping a football or your hand, his grip was firm, like he knew exactly what he was going to do at all times. “You ready?” he asked, his deep blue eyes meeting yours, searching for the answer he already seemed to know.

For a moment, everything around you felt different. The air seemed lighter, almost like a soft breeze had wrapped around you both and put you in your own safe cocoon. The sky shifted from baby blue to lilac and orange; you couldn’t tell if it was real or just your imagination.  

Looking at him, clutching the flowers and candy he gave you, a strong feeling rushed through you, one so deep it almost knocked you over. You’d only known Joe for a few weeks, but it felt like longer, like he’d been part of your life forever. There was something about him–a pull, magnetic and impossible to resist–that made you want to stay close, to let him hold you and never let go.  

He gave your hand three gentle squeezes, a small gesture that felt like so much more. You could tell it meant something more, but you didn’t overthink it. It was too soon for that, or at least that’s what your brain said. Right now, all that mattered was him and this special moment.

“Ready,” you smiled, feeling that pull between you tighten once the word left your lips. 

If it was too soon for that then why did it feel like you were saying “ready” for something so much more? This wasn’t a lifelong vow, just a first date. But the significance of the moment hung in the air and it was hard to ignore. Maybe it was the way Joe looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe it was the way the dress hugged your body in all the right places, making you feel effortlessly beautiful, or how the soft floral scent of the bouquet in your hands seemed to cast a spell around you, clouding your thoughts and focusing them only on him. Or maybe it was because Joe felt different. A kind of different that wasn’t just exciting–it was safe and grounding but also made you feel exposed in the best way; like he already understood parts of you you hadn’t shared yet. This didn’t feel like just a first date. It felt like the beginning of something bigger, something important.  

Joe must have sensed it too. As he led you out the door, his hand never leaving yours, his pace was slow, unhurried. He looked at you often, his eyes full of stars, like he was etching this moment into memory. It was as if this wasn’t just a step into the night, but a step toward fulfilling something inevitable. Something written in the stars. 

Neither of you said much on the short walk to his car, but his actions spoke volumes. There was a naturality in the way Joe moved around you, a quiet attentiveness that felt so...gentlemanly. When he opened the car door for you, his hand found the small of your back, keeping you steady as you slid into the seat. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. As he walked to the driver’s side, you adjusted in your seat, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension seemed to grow between you both, turning electric by the second. He didn’t start the car right away, though. Instead, his eyes moved toward you as he waited for you to settle in, like even the small act of buckling your seatbelt deserved his undivided attention.  

Then, with the same quiet thoughtfulness that had your heart doing little flips, he reached out and turned the air conditioner down without a word. It was such a small thing, but it made you pause. 

He remembered. 

He remembered how you’d shivered after one of his games a few weeks ago, and how you’d mentioned, half-jokingly, that you were always cold. That night, he placed his sweatshirt over your shoulders without hesitation–a gesture so casual but so thoughtful it left you floored. He still hadn’t asked for it back, which was great because you wore it to bed almost every night now–which he didn’t need to know. 

You bit your lip to hide the smile creeping onto your face. The fact that he remembered such a tiny detail about you–a throwaway comment from weeks ago–made your heart soar. It wasn’t just the grand gestures, like tonight’s date, but these quiet, understated moments that made you feel seen in a way you never had before.  

A few minutes later, the soft tune of Eventually by Tame Impala played through the car, filling the quiet space. Joe tapped his fingers lightly on the top of the steering wheel, humming along with the song. The streetlights outside cast a soft glow on his face, showing the sharpness of his jawline and the calm look in his eyes.  

But the lights didn’t just light up the road—they brought your emotions into focus, the ones you’d been trying to push down. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering, were you ready for this? For him?  

You looked over at him. He looked so sure, so steady, and it pulled at something deep inside your chest. Joe wasn’t just another guy. He was someone who could change everything, someone you could fall for completely. It was scary, but at the same time, it felt like there was no turning back. Not now, not with him. He knew what he wanted, now the ball was in your court. 

Being with Joe meant a lot of things: stepping into the spotlight, taking on the role of a quarterback’s girlfriend, and accepting all the emotional ups and downs that came with being with someone chasing a dream as big as the NFL. It meant being recognized by strangers, whispered about in stands and dining halls, and analyzed by people who didn’t even know your last name. It meant late nights comforting him after tough games, early morning pep talks before practices, and balancing your life with the whirlwind of his. 

Were you ready for all that?

And as if on cue, you felt Joe’s soft hand slowly reach over and rest gently on your knee. His touch was soft, but the weight of it felt like an anchor, grounding you in this quiet moment almost as if he knew you were hesitating about this. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles over your knee, a simple gesture that sent a comforting warmth spreading through your body. Each soft stroke felt like a promise, an implicit connection that went beyond words. 

And then, you realized being with Joe also meant so much more. It meant laughter that made your cheeks hurt, quiet moments where it felt like the world disappeared, and a kind of love that left you breathless. It meant being someone he could count on when the pressure felt too heavy, and knowing he’d do the same for you without hesitation. It meant being part of his journey–not just as a supportive figure, but as someone he genuinely wanted by his side through it all; someone who he wanted to share his world with. 

Your breath hitched slightly when you felt him give you a squeeze. It was the subtle way he made you feel seen and cared for. It was more than just his hand on your thigh. It was his entire presence, so calm and collected, wrapping around you like a safe hug.

Joe felt safe. You hadn’t felt that kind of feeling in any of your previous relationships, until him. But while he felt safe, he and his world also felt risky. He could leave you heartbroken, shattered beyond repair in the blink of an eye, but he could also make you experience life in a way you would’ve never imagined, show you a love that you thought only existed in the fairytales. Yes, he was a risk, but he was the risk you were willing to take. He was a safe risk. 

And that’s when you realized, without a doubt, that you were ready for this. Ready for him. For all the uncertainties, for the unknowns of what might come next. You were ready for Joe, for whatever this was, wherever it was going. 

You were ready for it because it felt right.

Like all the stars aligned perfectly for the first time in your life. 

And that was something so hard to ignore. 

You looked back up at his face, and this time, his eyes caught yours. “You okay?” he asked, flashing you that gentle, loving smile you had become obsessed with. 

You nodded, “Better than okay, Joey,” while placing your hand over his, picking it up, and pressing your lips to his knuckles–an action that sent butterflies through his body.

—

The soft glow of the candles reflected off the white tablecloth as you walked into the private dining room at Sogno d’Innamorati. The room was intimate and warm, with delicate floral arrangements decorating the small table set perfectly for two. He had rented out the room just for your date, wanting to spend time with you alone and away from any interruptions or distractions. You couldn't remember the last time a guy went this big for the first date, so either Joe was trying to impress you or this was just how he was–intimate and private. 

“He really went all out,” you thought to yourself as Joe guided you inside with his warm touch on the small of your back. A glimpse at the restaurant name on the menu made you tilt your head in curiosity, you wondered what it could have meant.

“This is so beautiful,” you murmured, turning to him with a soft smile. “Sogno d’Innamorati…What does that mean?”.

Joe hesitated for the shortest second, his eyes flickering to you as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, with a small, slightly bashful grin, he said, “Lover’s dream,”.

You felt your cheeks heat up because of the way he said it, so raspy and almost…shy, sending a shiver through your body. “Lover’s dream?” you repeated softly, a timid smile forming on your face.

He nodded, his eyes locked in on yours for a second longer than intended, “Yeah,” he said, then looking down briefly. “Thought it might be a fitting place for our first date. I heard the food is phenomenal and I thought you might like the vibe, ya know? It’s romantic and warm,”. 

You once again tried to fight back the urge to jump in his arms, but it was getting more and more difficult because he was quite literally sweeping you off your feet with every little thing tonight. “Joe, that’s…that’s so sweet,” you said, nervously glancing from the table to him. “You really went all out for this date…thank you. I love all of it,” you smiled, your facial muscles straining from the amount of times you’d smiled at him in the past hour. 

“God, she’s a lover’s dream,” he thought to himself as he got lost in your eyes–the eyes that had a look in them that seemed like they’d love him for a lifetime. He snapped out of the daze and then led you to your chair, replaying the way your face lit up when you walked into the room over and over again because of how happy you looked.

—

The atmosphere felt light and dreamy, yet tinted with unspoken nervous energy. Joe was being his usual polite and attentive self, pulling out your chair and making sure you were comfortable. But you could tell he was fidgety in the smallest ways–the little adjustments to his cuffs, the quick flick of his fingers over the edge of his wine glass, the fidgeting with his napkin, and his nervous glancing from the menu to your face that he thought you didn’t notice. 

It was absolutely adorable how someone like him could be so nervous around someone like you. 

At first, you both sat across from each other, the classy arrangement of the table separating you. The flowers he’d brought earlier sat between you now, their soft scent mingling with the smell of freshly baked bread and wine. The conversation between you flowed easily, despite the jittery undertone that made you both laugh at yourselves every now and then.

Joe leaned back in his chair,  still fidgeting with the edge of his napkin, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. “So, uh...what’s your favorite part of this whole...dinner thing so far?” he asked, clearly overthinking his question the second it left his mouth.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “The whole dinner thing? You mean this?” you gestured to the dimly lit room, the elegant table, and the soft music playing in the background. “I don’t know, I guess...the company?”.

Joe’s face brightened as he realized you were teasing him. “Right, right. The company is, uh, definitely...the best part,”.

You leaned in a little, lowering your voice in mock seriousness. “I’m glad you agree. But I do have to say, the wine is pretty close behind,”.

Joe laughed, his nerves melting a little. “Yeah, wine’s great. I just–,” he paused, glancing down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up at you. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to...I want to make sure you’re having a good time, y’know?”.

Your heart melted a little at his softness and shyness, “He’s still nervous. Aw, Joey,” you thought before you spoke up. “Joe, I’m having a great time. Seriously. You don’t need to worry about me,”.

“I mean,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve never exactly... done the fancy dinner thing. It’s not... uh...not really my style but I wanted something like this for you,”.

“Oh, I can tell,” you grinned, teasing him again. “The way you looked at the different forks next to your plate earlier told me everything, but you’re pulling it off pretty well. I’ll give you an A for effort,”.

Joe snorted, clearly relieved that you picked up on his vibe. “Okay, well, A for effort, but not, like, a solid A+?”.

You giggled, giving him a playful side eye. “I mean...maybe if you added a little more charm,”.

He leaned forward in shock. “Charm?,” he dramatically gasped, “You mean I’m not charming enough already?”.

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin dramatically. “Well, I think you're getting there. But, I might need a few more minutes to decide,”.

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, putting his hand over his heart. “Well, now I’m just heartbroken. I thought I was acing it,”. 

“Like I said, keep up with the charm and maybe my answer will change,” you winked, raising your wine glass to take a sip.  

—

After a while, Joe started shifting in his seat, leaning forward as if the space between you was unbearable. You watched him stand up, and your eyebrows rose in confusion. “What are you doing?” you asked, laughing nervously because you weren’t sure if you said something or did something to make him abruptly get up. 

“I don’t like this,” he said simply, shaking his head in disapproval.

You felt your heart stop, your stomach churn, and the room catch on fire all within the span of a few seconds. “Oh, it’s over. I fucked up. I ruined the date and he doesn’t want this anymore,” you thought, feeling a wave of nausea come over you as you stared at Joe. You had a knack for jumping to conclusions in moments like these, which is why when you saw him pick up his chair, walk around the table, and place it next to yours, you froze.

Oh.

When he sat back down, he smiled, looking much more at peace and genuinely comfortable. “Better,” he murmured, casually draping his arm over the back of your chair, his body warmth immediately enveloping you.

You felt his fingers softly grazing your shoulder, each touch giving your heart the much-needed shocks to start back up again. You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, teasing but secretly loving how close he was and how he physically couldn’t be that far away from you.

“I wanted to,” he said matter-of-factly, his blue eyes sparkling. “Wanted to be close to you,”.

You felt his lips press against your temple in a tender kiss, his hand continuing to rub gentle circles on your bare shoulder. The softness of the gesture and the way he let out a quiet laugh–like he was still a little nervous–made you smile.

“Can’t stay away from me, Burrow?” you teased, leaning into his body a little more. 

“Nope,” he admitted, smiling against your forehead. “You’ve got me wrapped around your pretty little finger, lovey,”.

Lovey?

The nickname dangled in the air like a soft melody, and you froze for a moment. It wasn’t the nickname itself but the way he said it–so natural, so affectionate, like it had always been yours.

Your head tilted up to look at him, your eyes wide. “Lovey?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe’s cheeks flushed, his confident smile stuttering for just a second before he shrugged, playing it cool. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “It just…fits, doesn’t it?”.

You blinked at him, the surprise thawing into something warmer, something deeper. “You really just came up with that, didn’t you?”.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. But it feels right,”.

The way his eyes met yours, so sincere and steady, made your heart skip a beat. “Lovey,” you repeated again, this time with a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I kind of…love it,”.

Joe grinned, that boyish, lopsided grin that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Good,” he said, pulling you a little closer. “Because I’m not taking it back,”.

You laughed, your cheeks warm as you leaned into him again. “You’re such a softie, Burrow. Who would’ve guessed that the stone-cold LSU quarterback was such a sappy, lover boy deep down?”. But…I like it. I like you like this,”.

“Guess I just needed the right person to bring out that side to me, lovey,” he winked. 

Your heart fluttered at the way he said it again, and you knew right then and there that you’d never get tired of hearing that nickname–or the way he made you feel like you were his entire world.

—

The mood shifted as the main courses arrived and the yummy smell of Italian cuisine filled the air. Everything was flowing so easily between you two, and at one point, you caught him staring at you a little longer than usual. “What?” you asked, feeling a little nervous but excited by the way he was looking at you. 

“Sei così bella in questa luce,” he said with a smirk, his voice soft and warm.

You blinked at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “Wait. What?”.

He cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “It means…you look so beautiful in this light,”.

“Oh my god,” you thought to yourself, “He fucking knows Italian? Is he real?”. 

Your heart skipped a beat as your hand instinctively rose to your cheek. “Joe Burrow,” you whispered, your voice laced with surprise and a touch of shyness. “You know Italian?” you asked while shaking your head in disbelief. What did this man not know?

“A little bit,” he shrugged, though the twinkle in his eyes told you he was lying. He’d actually memorized a few one-liners for you tonight, hoping to add to the vibe and impress you. 

“Hmmm..Really?” you teased. 

He smirked again, leaning back as he tried to keep his cool, “Mi piace sentire il suono della tua risata,” he said, his voice smoother than silk.

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued as you raised your eyebrow at him. “And what does that mean?”.

“I love hearing the sound of your laugh,” he translated, his excited eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound making his lips curve into a bigger smile. “Anything else you’ve got up your sleeve?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. 

His smirk deepened as he leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. “Sei incredibilmente bella con questo vestito e mi fai sudare,”.

The words sounded impossibly romantic in his deep, husky voice, but the way his cheeks turned pink after saying it made you suspicious. “Okay, now I need to know what that means,” you said, your grin widening.

“It means…you look insanely gorgeous in this dress, and it’s making me sweat,” he admitted, his bashful tone contrasting with the boldness of the words.

You burst out laughing, your head tipping back as you giggle, “You are unbelievable,”. 

“Is it working, though?” he asked, his grin turning boyish as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, absolutely. You’re smooth as hell, Burrow,” you grinned. 

“I mean, I’m being serious, Y/N,” Joe said, the tone of his voice and look in his eyes shifting to something more intense. "You look...really good,".

There was something about the way he looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time again, but in a way that made you feel seen in all the right ways. “Is that so?” you smirked, leaning back in your chair, pretending to be casual, but the heat flooding your cheeks gave you away. “What exactly about this...look is doing it for you?”.

Joe let out a low laugh, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of his wine glass as his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. “Honestly? Everything. The way that dress fits you? It’s like you were made to wear it. It’s...dangerous how good you look,” he said, his eyes roaming your body so incredibly slowly.

You could feel the tension rising between you, like a spark that kept threatening to catch fire. “Dangerous, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, the playful tone in your voice just barely hiding the way your body was reacting to his words. “Careful, Joe. You keep talking like that, and I might just make you regret it,”.

Joe's eyes darkened in an instant, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours. “I don’t think I’d regret a single thing about tonight, Y/N,” he said, his voice a low growl, the flirtation clear in his tone.

A rush of heat spread through you, pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension spark between you like static. You couldn't help but bite your lip, the pull between you two undeniable. “Mmm, well,” you said, voice just barely above a whisper, “Maybe I should keep you guessing. Who knows? You might find out if there’s something worth regretting,”.

Joe chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your heart flutter. “Trust me,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “You’ve got me exactly where you want me. No regrets tonight from me,".

For a second, the world around you faded away. There was nothing but the soft music in the background and the quiet hum of the restaurant, yet it felt like the two of you were in your own little bubble, the air thick with something you were both thinking, but not daring to say. The way his eyes were latched onto yours made it impossible to ignore the heat radiating between you, his confidence and attraction to you only adding to the feeling.

“So,” you said, breaking the tension with a flirtatious tilt of your head, “You think you can handle me?"

“I’m not sure I can handle you,” he murmured, his lips twitching as he felt his heart rate increase. “But god, I want to try,”.

The words hit you like a spark, igniting something inside you that had been building ever since you first locked eyes tonight. “Well," you said, voice thick with lust, “If you’re up for the challenge…,” you trailed off, letting the words linger in the air between you. The teasing smile never left your lips, but you could tell by the way Joe’s breath caught that he was feeling the same thing.

He leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing against your knuckles before looking at you, “Oh, I’m definitely up for it,” he said, now leaning in closer to your lips, his hot breath hitting them like a rush of hot air on a cold, icy day.

But before either of you could close the gap between your lips, the sound of the door creaking open shattered the moment. A few servers entered, carrying more dishes and breaking the intense silence with the clatter of dishes. You both blinked, suddenly extracted from the magnetic pull between you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the timing, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you reached out, giving his thigh a playful tap. “Saved by the food,” you said, grinning at the adorable pout forming on his lips. His brows furrowed in mock frustration, but there was a twinkle in his eye that told you he wasn’t truly disappointed.

“Guess I’ll have to wait a little longer,” Joe teased, leaning back in his chair, his lips curling into a sly smile. But you could still see the heat in his eyes, the way his body was still subtly leaning toward you as if he were counting down the seconds until he could pick up where you left off.

“I adore your patience, Quarterback," you teased, unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

“All for you, babe,” Joe murmured, another spark of electricity being sent to your heart when you felt his hand squeeze your bare thigh. But as the servers set down the dishes in front of you, the tension between you both simmered just beneath the surface. You both knew it wasn’t over–not by a long shot.

—

The heated tension between you settled for a little as the two of you continued eating and chatting from everything to football to embarrassing stories from your childhood. As you got to know more about him, it was clear that Joe was just like any other guy. He may have been the star of LSU, but right now, he was just Joe. He didn’t make you feel like you were talking to the most sought out man in Louisiana, he made you feel like you were talking to him. No extra status, no other titles, just simply Joe. 

You leaned into Joe’s side, feeling his steady arm around your shoulders as you giggled at your own antics. “I can’t believe you did that,” Joe chuckled, shaking his head after you’d told him about a poor attempt to be a magician that ended in spilled juice, a ruined rug, and one very upset parent.  

“I was seven, Joe! And in my defense, the rabbit just wouldn’t cooperate,” you said, pouting slightly.  

“Sure,” he teased, his lips turning into that charming half-smile you adored. “And what about the juice? Did it jump out of your hand, too?”. 

“Whatever,” you said, trying to sound annoyed, but the laughter in your voice gave you away. 

“Your turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing little Joey B did?”.

Joe groaned, his head falling back dramatically as he laughed. “Oh, man. There’s one that my parents never let me live down,”.  

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, your eyes lighting up with excitement.  

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the corner of his eyes crinkling from happiness. “Okay, so I was maybe two or three, and we went to this pumpkin patch for Halloween. I guess I got a little too excited about one of the pumpkins,”.  

“Too excited?” you asked.  

He nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing at his own story. “Yeah. I saw this big, hollowed-out pumpkin they were using as decoration, and for some reason, my brilliant little brain thought it was a great idea to crawl inside,”. 

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst out laughing. “Wait, inside? Like all the way?”  

“All the way,” Joe admitted, grinning sheepishly. “And then I got stuck. Like, really stuck. They had to tip the pumpkin over and basically pull me out by my feet,”.  

You gasped, doubling over with laughter, your hand clutching your stomach. “Joe! Oh my god! That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Little pumpkin Joe,”.  

“I know, I know,” he said, his laughter mixing with yours. “My parents even took a picture. I had pumpkin guts in my hair and everything. They still show it off every Thanksgiving…specifically when I try to take a bite of Pumpkin Pie,”.  

“That is adorable,” you said, leaning into him and looking up at him with a fond smile. “You were a tiny little pumpkin burglar. I bet you were the cutest kid,”.  

Joe laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. “I don’t know about that...but I was definitely a little menace,”.  

“Well, now I need to see that picture,” you teased, poking his side gently.  

“Not a chance,” he said, shaking his head, though his smile was soft.  

“C’mon,” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.  

“Maybe,” he conceded, laughing when you lit up triumphantly. “But only if you promise not to bring it up every time we see a pumpkin,”.  

“No promises,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. “Pumpkin Burglar. It has a nice ring to it,”.  

He groaned, but the grin on his face told you he secretly loved how much joy the story had brought you. “Well, Ms. Houdini, I’ll have you know that Pumpkin, especially Pumpkin Pie, is my favorite thing ever. So yeah, I guess I am a Pumpkin Burglar,”.

“And I guess that makes me Ms. Houdini,” you said with a playful shrug.

Joe chuckled, leaning back slightly with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you mean with your failed magic trick attempt? At least I made it into the pumpkin,”.

“Hey,” you opposed, narrowing your eyes at him. “I might have bombed that one, but I think the trick I’m pulling off right now is going pretty well,”.

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile widening. “And what magic trick is that, Ms. Houdini?”.

You leaned in just a little, your confidence strengthened by the way he was looking at you, his attention completely yours. “Making you fall for me,” you said, your voice light but teasing, a wink punctuating your words.

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard by your boldness, before a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone dropping just a little, a hint of something deeper laced through his words.

You tilted your head, matching his energy. “Is it working?”

He didn’t answer instantly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Yes,” he admitted boldly.

A laugh left your lips before you looked at him again, “Good,” you whispered.

“What happens when the trick’s over?” he asked, his voice low, teasing but with an edge of seriousness. He was enjoying his night with you, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when it ended, what would happen if the trick ended. 

“Who says it ever ends?” you shot back, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, assuring him with your touch that you were not going anywhere. 

—

A little later, as you continued sharing stories and talking until your mouths went numb, the soft tune of “Look After You” by The Fray started to fill the cozy private dining room, adding to the intimate atmosphere Joe had so carefully curated. His leg bounced nervously under the table, his fingers tapping against his thigh as the song played in the back. 

He had spent way too long thinking over the song choices when the restaurant manager asked for recommendations. Most of his picks were safe, but something had compelled him to throw this one into the mix. Now that he was actually hearing it play, he wasn’t sure if it was too much. Would you think it was too forward? Was it too soon? 

It’s not like the song was exactly…casual.

Joe was lost in his own thoughts, nearly missing the way your eyes lit up as the lyrics caught your attention. 

“Oh, oh, Be my baby, Oh, oh. It's always have and never hold, You've begun to feel like home yeah, What's mine is yours to leave or take, What's mine is yours to make your own,”. 

“Oh my god,” you said softly, a nostalgic smile forming on your face, “I love this song,”.

Joe froze for a second, his eyes darting to yours, “You do?” he asked, clearly nervous by the way his voice was slightly trembling. 

You nodded as you leaned closer, “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. It’s so…romantic,”.

The tension dissolved from his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair, a shy grin pulling at his lips. “I thought it might be a little, uh…on the nose,” he admitted. 

You laughed softly, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm. “It’s perfect, Joey,” you assured him, your touch grounding him in a way that words couldn’t. “All the songs that you played were so perfect,”. 

“Even Mine by Taylor Swift?” he asked, raising a brow as a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The song had played earlier, and now that he thought about it, it might’ve been a little too on the nose. He looked at you, genuinely curious.

Without hesitation, you boldly replied, “Mhm. You know why? Because you are the best thing that’s ever been mine,”. Your words were confident, but your heart raced as the weight of what you’d just said settled over you. A small part of you worried–was it too soon? Too much?

But Joe didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, his eyes softened, his expression contemplative. “Mine,” he murmured under his breath, as if he was testing the word, letting it roll off his tongue with a certain ease. The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t just like the sound of it. He wanted it. He wanted you to be his–completely, fully, undeniably his. He didn’t want to share your smiles, your laughs, your love with anyone else. That word, simple as it was, held so much meaning to him.

It was only a matter of time before the two of you had that conversation. The feelings you shared were too strong to ignore, and the connection between you was so obvious that anyone nearby could feel the pull. All that was left now was for you both to be brave enough to face it, to acknowledge the love that had quietly woven itself into your hearts.

—

As the night went on, the feeling didn’t waver, it only got stronger, maybe even louder. It was the gestures, the little things he did that made you fall even harder for him, like he was all yours and was doing this just for you. 

He poured your water before you even noticed your glass was half-empty. Whenever you were talking, he gave you all his attention, his eyes glued to yours, his face tilted to you, and his arm resting around your shoulder. And the entire time you were at dinner, he never looked at his phone. He asked if you were cold, if you needed some fresh air, if you needed to use the bathroom. When you moved in your seat, he asked if you were comfortable, adjusting the chair slightly for you. “Good?” he asked, his voice so sweet it made your cheeks hotter than the sun.

“Perfect,” you replied softly, resting your head against his shoulder for just a moment, this movement making his heart skip a beat. “You’re such a gentleman, Joe Burrow,” you mumbled, smiling like a madman into his chest. 

“And you deserve nothing less,” he said under his breath before he glanced down at you, his lips curling into a small smile at the sight of how peaceful, how natural you fit next to his body. “You okay?”.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Just…very comfortable,”.

It wasn’t long before you placed a soft, warm kiss against his neck, the warmth of your lips making him stiffen for a moment before relaxing into your touch. His hand, which had been resting on your shoulder, slid down to hold your hand, his thumb grazing the back of it. When you ran your hand lightly along his thigh, you felt his muscles tense, and a low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Careful,” he murmured, though the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him.

You weren’t usually this touchy feely–not on a first date. Neither was he. But something about tonight felt different. There was an enchanting, magical pull between you, a sense of comfort that got rid of any awkwardness. Neither of you could deny that the spark between you was just seconds away from fully catching on fire. 

Joe pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering this time. “You feel different,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?” you asked, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Just…better. Like this is supposed to be happening,” he said, his blue eyes soft as they searched yours. “Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Here, with you. Doing this with you,”. 

Your chest tightened at his words, a warmth blossoming in your heart. You felt it too–that same inexplicable connection. You leaned into him again, your head on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly. “Me too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard it. “You feel different…good different,”. 

“You know,” he started, “I didn’t think tonight would feel like this,”.

You tilted your head to look at him, your brows lifting slightly. “Like what?”.

“Like home,” he admitted, his lips curving into a small smile. “I thought it’d be fun, you know, easygoing. But being here with you? It’s more than that. It feels…right,”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I get that,” you said quietly, your fingers instinctively tightening around his. “It’s like…like I’ve known you forever, but also like I’m just starting to figure you out,”.

Joe nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Exactly. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How someone can just...fit into your life like they were always supposed to be there,”.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze, the intensity of his words making your pulse quicken. “I don’t know how you do it,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “How you make me feel so safe and…seen,”.

His expression turned serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper. “You deserve to feel that way,” he said firmly. “Every single day. And I–” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I want to be the one to make sure you do,”.

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You could see it in his eyes–he wasn’t just saying this. He meant every word.

“Joe…,” you started, but the emotion in your voice made it impossible to continue.

He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just…needed you to know,”.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with emotion as you rested your head against his shoulder again. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “For tonight. For…everything,”.

Joe smiled, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “I’d do it all over again, a hundred times, just to see you smile like that,”.

And in that moment, you realized you didn’t just feel different. You felt loved. Truly, deeply loved.

—

The drive back to Joe’s apartment was a mix of anticipation and tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The earlier first date anxiety you both had at dinner had melted as fast as your heart did when Joe wrapped his arm around your waist, his touch firm, sure, and almost heated, to lead you out to his car. It was fully dark by the time you went outside, so all the stars were on full display in the night sky above you. You think you might have rambled on about the stars and constellations for about 10 minutes, not caring that Joe was silent the entire time and you were just talking on and on about the things you learned in your astrology class. He just watched in awe, letting you nerd out in the most adorable way possible. After a certain point, you got a little insecure at his silence so you quickly stopped in the middle of your mini-lesson about the meaning behind the Cassiopeia constellation, to which he replied by dropping a lingering kiss on your cheek, then on your ear and whispered, “Keep going. Hearing you talk nerd makes you even hotter than you already are,”.  

That little comment sealed the deal. Now, there was a different kind of energy between you; it was magnetic, hot, and alluring; you could feel it in every shared glance, every quick touch. You had a taste of this energy earlier before you were interrupted by the restaurant staff who were a reminder that you two were still in public, but now that you were actually alone again, the energy was back and somehow stronger. 

Joe’s hand rested on your bare thigh, his thumb absentmindedly drawing small circles against your skin. The touch was light, yet it sent ripples of electricity through your body. He looked at you a few times, his lips curling into a soft, cheeky grin that felt both charming and inviting. The dim light of the dashboard brightened his features, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on the sharpness of his jawline and the way his adam's apple bobbed every time he swallowed.  

“He’s…so so so hot,” you thought, feeling another rush of heat to your lower belly as your eyes roamed his thick, muscular body. “The angels themselves literally crafted him from gold. I mean, look at his arms? And oh…his hand on my thigh? I wonder what it feels like to have those hands all over your body? I just want those two hands on me at all fucking times, gripping my waist, sliding up and down my arm, squeezing my ass…Or that tongue painting pictures across my skin. Damn, I need him-,”. You swore you heard the sound of a bomb exploding because of the way you froze in fear, “What.” you mumbled, startled by your own thoughts, your quiet voice being drowned out by the hum of the tires against the road which prevented him from hearing you. “Woah, Y/N. Chill out? You’re getting way too ahead of yourself, relax. He told you how he felt, but what if he wants to take it slow? Stop letting your hormones control your logic,”. 

But you couldn’t help it because Joe was just…something else. He wasn’t just sexy–though that was obvious–tonight, you saw a side of him that went beyond his looks. He was genuine, thoughtful, and comforting in ways you had never seen before. Every word he spoke, every action he took, showed just how deeply he cared, how much attention he gave to the little details that mattered to you. He was making you feel things you didn’t think you were capable of ever feeling, feelings you thought only existed in fantasies. He was a true gentleman, and all the nerves you had felt earlier seemed silly now. You couldn’t remember why you’d ever questioned this, why you’d hesitated. 

The truth was that beneath all your hesitation laid a repressed thought–something you didn’t want to admit but were now ready to accept. You were falling for him; falling for Joe Burrow in a way that terrified you, yet also filled you with a sense of peace. It wasn’t supposed to feel this safe, this right. But for the first time in your life, you felt like you didn’t need a safety net. Because you knew, no matter what, he would catch you. And that was enough to make you take the leap, headfirst, into everything he had to offer. He told you how he felt about you, he showed you how he felt about you, and now it was your turn to reciprocate the energy. But you just didn’t know exactly how to do it. 

You caught yourself staring at him for a little longer than you should have, deeply lost in your thoughts about him. He caught your gaze, the small tilt of his head prompting you to snap your head to the other side to face the window. He couldn’t help but stare at you when you weren’t looking at him. Joe’s looks at you lingered a little longer than usual, longer than he would let you see. He felt the exact same way about you, your beauty was as captivating as the night sky itself. The way your eyes twinkled in the light of the moon, the way your smile beamed brighter than the stars, the way your body fit so perfectly next to his. From your legs to your gentle thighs, to your soft belly, to your ample breasts, you were the hottest girl he had seen in all his years. He had no idea how he ended up with someone like you, who is not only beautiful physically but also beautiful as a human being. 

“I need to feel her…like everywhere. Her nails dragging across my back, her legs around my waist, fuck even her pretty mouth whispering my name in my ear. She’s so pretty and I just–,” he thought before he froze, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw you move your hair to the side, exposing the crook of your neck. “Holy shit I-. Woah, Joe. Calm down, buddy. She’s not even your girlfriend yet and you’re having those thoughts? Don’t be weird. Easy tiger,” Joe shamefully thought as he imagined your neck displaying pretty purple marks from him. Almost imagined those imaginary purple marks to be a reminder to everyone that you were his. 

Each passing thought strengthened the tension in the car. The date went great and when you left, you two were so giddy and smiley. But once you got into the car, it was silent. A silence that created a unique sense of nervousness that neither of you could understand. This unease stemmed from a shared feeling, but neither of you realized it. He told you how he felt, and despite telling you he didn’t need an answer from you immediately, he actually really wanted one now. You wanted to give it to him, but just didn’t know how. 

When he pulled into the parking lot of his building, you felt your heartbeat quicken for maybe the thousandth time tonight. As you made your way inside, hand in hand, you realized that you’d never been inside his place before, so this was kind of a big deal? And the bubbling sexual tension wasn’t making it any better, either. You’d be in there, all alone, with nobody around, in the vicinity of his private bedroom, and his bed. This could either be as innocent as a movie and some cuddling, or as dangerous as a kiss lasting too long which would turn into being trapped under his sheets (and under him) for the rest of the night. 

“Snap out of it!” you muttered out loud, prompting Joe to snap his head to you as he guided you through the lobby. 

“Hm?” he questioned, a little jittery because of the silence being broken by something as jumpy as that.

“Fuck,” you whispered, before looking up at Joe as he led you into the elevator. “Sorry, just thinking out loud about something…uh..something dumb,” you stuttered, your brain failing to find an excuse. 

Joe looked at you skeptically, his brows furrowing out of confusion. “Are you-,” he started to say before you were joined by a few other people in the elevator which infiltrated your privacy. 

You let out a sigh of relief as the elevator was now filled with the chatter of the other apartment tenants, causing Joe to lose his chance to say something because you knew if he pressed you on it too hard, you wouldn’t have an actual explanation. 

“Weird,” he thought to himself, glancing down at you and seeing you play with the birthstone ring on your finger—the ring he noticed you’d fidget with whenever you got anxious. He first noticed it when you first met at the football practice you accidentally stumbled into, and ever since then, he knew that this was an anxiety-related mechanism.  But…why were you anxious right now? Did he do something? 

“You alright?” Joe whispered, his hand giving yours a soft squeeze as he looked down at you with concern.  

The quick rise and fall of your chest betrayed your nerves, and when you looked up at him, your face didn’t exactly match your nervous reply. “Y- yeah,” you said, the tone in your voice and the way you avoided his eyes told a different story.  

Joe tilted his head, “Are you sure? Because you look–,”.  

The ding of the elevator interrupted him, the doors sliding open to reveal his floor.  

“C’mon,” you cut him off, pulling him out of the elevator and into the dimly lit hallway before he could finish.  

Joe followed, his confusion only growing. You weren’t being subtle about dodging his concern, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had you so wound up all of a sudden.  

When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you were met by a space that felt unexpectedly personal, almost cozy. The first thing that caught your eye was how much of him was infused into the apartment.  

It was clean but lived-in, with just enough mess to make it feel normal. A framed Athens high school jersey hung proudly on one wall, with a shelf of football memorabilia that added a subtle touch of his career so far. Near his small dining table, a Kid Cudi poster stood out against the neutral walls, its vibrant colors hinting at his taste in music.  

Photos of him from his childhood, some with his parents, and some with his friends adorned the walls and little corner of the room. He seemed to enjoy displaying his most cherished memories and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever find a photo of the two of you in here one day. You knew how much he valued these relationships, but seeing his value for them made that thought hit even harder. 

Your eyes moved to the kitchen island, where a stack of science books sat next to a neatly folded dish towel. “Science books?” you thought to yourself, the detail catching you off guard in the best way. And then there was the Squidward sweatshirt draped over the back of the couch–a hilariously unexpected contrast to the more polished parts of the room.  

You smiled, taking it all in. “Equally as nerdy as sporty. I love it,” you said, letting your eyes roam the space.  

Joe set his keys down and turned toward you, his lips twitching into a grin. “You love it?”. 

“Yeah,” you said, turning to face him fully. “Nothing about this screams football player bachelor pad. It’s…you. And I love that,”.  

His smile softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “I guess I wanted it to feel like home,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am pretty far from Ohio so I thought to make this home just like what I had there. I’m glad you think it does,”.  

You nodded, letting the sweetness of his words settle over you as you stepped further into the apartment. The nervous energy that had taken over you in the elevator was starting to fade away, replaced by something quieter and more intimate as you realized just how much of himself Joe had let you see.  

“Make yourself comfortable,” Joe said, the intimacy of the space wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You couldn’t tell if it was the apartment that felt homey, or Joe himself. He grabbed a couple of waters from the kitchen before gesturing toward his bedroom.  

You hesitated, glancing at the door to his room and then back to him, the look on your face as if he had just told you to strip naked and lay out on his bed for him.

“Don’t worry,” he teased, catching your expression. “Just a movie. I promise,”.  

You laughed nervously as he walked over to you and led you to his room, thinking, “Can we not watch it on the couch? Why his room. Am I being punished by the universe for something?”. You didn’t know how this would go–your hormones were all over the place and being so close to him on his bed was just a recipe for disaster. 

When you made it inside his bedroom, you were instantly attracted to his bed–large, inviting, and neatly made with a navy blue comforter that seemed to mirror the color of his eyes. Even his room was clean? Either he did all this for you or he really was the complete opposite of the football player stereotype. There was only a little mess: some piles of clothes, textbooks scattered on his table along with what looked like his football notebook, and some empty water bottles. 

He motioned for you to sit, and you settled on the edge, feeling a mix of nervous excitement and comfort as your eyes scanned the new surroundings. 

He busied himself by setting up the movie–Spiderman: Homecoming–but as it started, neither of you paid any attention. Instead, the conversation from dinner picked back up effortlessly. You eventually lay side by side on his bed after he playfully dragged you up to him by your wrist, the faint glow of the TV illuminating the soft curve of his cute smile. But despite your giggling and silly joking, the electricity in the air from earlier returned. Every accidental brush of his arm against yours sent a jolt through you, and every time your knees bumped, your breath stopped. For the most part, you were doing great at keeping your cool, but you couldn’t help but feel the urge to finish what you started at dinner; to address the electricity humming between your bodies.

“So, do you ever get tired of being the golden boy?” you asked, changing the subject of the conversation from which Marvel superhero you’d want in your corner during the apocalypse. His answer was Wolverine because of his healing abilities and no half-dead human had shit on his claws. Your answer was Spiderman because of his webs, duh, but Joe disagreed and said his heroicness and need to save everyone would get him killed faster than he could swing out of danger. You went back and forth about it for almost 10 minutes before Joe took out the pillow from under his head and smothered you with it to get you to stop yapping about your Marvel crush, your giggles and shrieking filling the room.

Amidst the chaos, you noticed the calendar on his desk, filled with colorful notes that showed his busy schedule. Each day had clear markings for practice days, upcoming games, and other football events. Tonight’s date stood out with a small red heart, suggesting something special. You couldn't help but wonder if he ever wanted a break from his packed schedule–a moment to relax and breathe in the middle of the constant demands of the sport he loved.

“Golden boy? Is that what you think I am?” he questioned. 

You nudged his shoulder gently as you played with the wristbands on his wrist, your heart melting as you saw the football ones. “Well, you’re extremely talented, ridiculously good-looking, and everyone loves you. If the shoe fits…,”.

Joe leaned into you slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ridiculously good-looking, huh? I think I like where this is going,”.

“Oh, stop it,” you giggled and rolled your eyes. “I just mean that ever since you got here, the spotlight’s been on you nonstop. That didn’t happen to you back at Ohio State. It must be different, right? Even difficult? You can’t go anywhere or do anything without random people coming up to you, and you have all this football stress on your shoulders too. I just wonder if it ever gets tiring. You never get a break, like it’s all football all the time. I don’t think I’d be able to survive what you do if I never got any peace and quiet,”. 

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers soft and gentle. The gesture was simple, but the affection in his touch made your heart flutter. “It does get tiring,” he said, his voice fainter now, almost as if he removed a layer from his words and was completely bare in front of you, “But I do get peace and quiet time. A lot more than you’d think, actually,”. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? I don’t think watching an episode of The Office at your locker before practice is classified as peace and quiet time, Joey,”. 

Joe chuckled, “That’s not the peace and quiet time I’m talking about. I’m talking about…you, Y/N”.

Oh. 

Ohhh. 

There it was. Those butterflies. They were blossoming in your stomach again, this time the feeling of them was stronger than they’d ever been before. Your eyes softened, your fingers pausing their fidgety movements as you inched them further down to clutch his. “Joe, I-,”.

“The time I spend with you…it's like everything else fades away,” Joe said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’re my peace and quiet, you know that? When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t matter–football, school, the whole Golden Boy thing. It all just…disappears,”.

His words made your chest tighten, a warmth blooming in your heart as you searched his face. There was something so raw in the way he looked at you, so open and vulnerable. You could see it in his eyes, the way they softened whenever they met yours. “You have this way of grounding me,” he continued, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Just by being you. I don’t even think you realize it, but you calm me in a way no one else ever has. It’s like…I can finally breathe when I’m with you. I can stop hiding behind the helmet,”.

You felt your eyes well up, the sincerity in his voice hitting you right in the heart. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you placed your other hand over his. “You don’t know what that means to me,”.

Being his calm, his peace? That meant the world to you and he had no idea. This was exactly why, every time someone asked about your relationship and you mentioned how short a time you’d known each other, it felt almost laughable. Because time didn’t explain any of this. Time didn’t explain the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. It didn’t explain the way he instinctively knew when you needed reassurance, a touch, or just the sound of his voice saying your name. His actions told a different story–like you’d known each other for a lifetime. 

He smiled, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek before it could fall. “I don’t think you know what you mean to me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get so heavy but I mean it. You’re my safe space, my escape from everything. You’re not just someone I like spending time with–you’re the reason I look forward to everything now. You’ve become my favorite person, Y/N,”.

His words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it in the best way. You couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down your cheek, but this time you didn’t care. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. The shift in the energy from electric, to giddy, to soft was giving you whiplash–but you loved it. It almost mirrored your relationship with Joe; a plethora of emotions and feelings that had you swooning for him.

Joe shook his head, leaning in closer so his forehead rested against yours. He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, “Just…stay. Be here with me. That’s all I’ll ever need,”.

You nodded, your hand slipping to the back of his neck as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke everything you couldn’t put into words–a kiss that said I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, and I feel the same way.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles. “I don’t care about anything else when I’m with you,” he said, his voice so full of love it made your heartache. “As long as I’ve got you, everything else is just…noise,”.

You smiled through your watery eyes, leaning into his touch. “You’ve got me, Joe. Always,” you promised, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. 

“I love what I do, trust me. But none of this is worth it, none of this is important if I don’t have someone to share it with,” he said, his hand settling on your hip and almost dragging you closer to him. His touch felt needy rather than soft. 

Despite being one of the most talented players in college football, Joe never let the accolades, titles, or prestige define him. That wasn’t who he was. Instead, he displayed himself in the values that truly mattered–his actions, his words, his thoughts. And tonight, with what he had just told you, he had proven that all over again. It wasn’t the grandeur of his achievements that made your heart race; it was him. The way he saw the world, the way he saw his world, the way he saw you.

“And I want to share it with you. Only you. All of this right now and whatever the future brings, whether I go to the NFL or am stuck with some boring 9 to 5. I just want you with me. I don’t know what the future holds, all of this could fade away in the blink of an eye. But the one thing I’m sure about is you. Hell, you might be the only thing I’m sure about,” he confessed, his shoulders releasing the last bit of tension he had inside his body now that he’d told you everything he wanted to. Well…mostly everything. 

You stared at him, unable to pull your gaze away because of what he just said to you. His eyes–lazy yet strikingly alert–held yours like they were trying to say something else his lips hadn’t quite figured out yet. You saw his eyes drop down to your lips here and there, you also felt his fingers slowly moving up and down your waist in a way that was far from innocent. There was a depth there, a feeling he wasn’t used to sharing so quickly but couldn’t seem to help when it came to you.

It hit you then, like a slow, steady wave.

He wanted you. No, he needed you. So much so that he couldn’t quite understand how he’d managed all these years without you by his side…without you in his arms. 

And the truth was, you felt the exact same way.

“Fuck it,” you thought as he saw your eyes darken, and before he could process what you were doing, your lips were on his. The kiss was hesitant at first, a gentle exploration to see if he’d reciprocate the feeling, but the hunger beneath it grew quickly. His hand found its way to your cheek, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with increasing passion. 

He didn’t want to take it slow, and neither did you.  

Your fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as your heart pounded in your chest. His weight shifted, and he pressed you back against the bed, his body shifting to align with yours. The feel of him, solid and warm, made your head spin. The heat pooling in your panties was hard to ignore, so when he acknowledged it, you felt him smirk into your lips.  

But just as the heat between you threatened to consume you both, Joe pulled back suddenly. His breathing was uneven, his face just inches from yours. His hands trembled slightly as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. “I don’t do this on the first date,” he said, his voice hoarse and raspy in a way that made your knees weak. “I just…I don’t want you to think this is all I want. Because it’s not. You’re not just a way for me to get laid. I really, really like you,”.

His words wrapped around you, melting away any lingering doubt. You reached up, your fingers brushing softly along his jawline, the vibe of the moment reflected in your gentle smile. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned up to press your lips against his, “It’s okay. I don’t do this on the first date either. But with you…everything feels easy. Like I don’t have a care in the world. Like I don’t want to have a care in the world,”,

You gave into the electricity sparking between you, knowing that if you didn’t, you’d regret it for the rest of your life. The words that had been dancing on your tongue all night, scrambling to find their footing, had finally found their rhythm. 

Your eyes searched his, the intensity of your emotions pouring out with every word. “Everything you just said to me…I feel it too. You see me in a way no one else ever has, and in a way no one else ever will. You make me feel safe–so safe–and loved in a way I didn’t even know I was searching for. I love your world and being a small part of it, getting a glimpse of what it’s like, has been the most exciting experience of my life,”. A soft pause settled between you, but it was full of meaning, your heart swelling as you continued. “You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for, Joe. And now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go. I want you. All of you. And I’m more than okay with this…with us. I want us.”.

“You mean it?” he asked you, his eyes softening at your confession. 

You gave him a smirk and trailed your hand from his soft hair down his back, slipping your fingers under his shirt and lightly scraping your nails along the chiseled expanse of his skin. Your touch sent shivers down his spine, and then you pressed your lips against his to share the warmth he needed. You pulled at his bottom lip, tugging and nipping in a way that revealed your internal desires, “That answer your question?” you asked him after you pulled away. 

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned in to kiss you again, hungrier this time, even slower so he could taste every single inch of you. “Hell yeah,” he smirked as he kissed you. His hands roamed your body with need, each touch more rougher than the last as if he physically couldn’t let go of you let alone want to. “I’ve wanted to do this the second I saw you in this dress,” he whispered, his big hands sliding all along your body over the silky fabric. His touch set each part of your skin ablaze, a fiery path being traced on your body as he grabbed and squeezed anything he could. 

“Please, if you knew the thoughts…mmph, going through my..mm..head on the drive over…ah…here,” you mumbled, his kisses forcibly making you pause in between your words. 

He pulled away from you, his face hovering above yours as he eyes had this raw, unfiltered need in them. A look you hadn’t ever seen in his eyes before, but a look that had you wanting him to consume every part of you. “You shoulda told me then and there,” he smirked. “I could’ve pulled over and fucked you in the back seat of my car if you were that horny,”. 

Your breath hitched at his words, your cheeks turning red as his smirk deepened. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both embarrassment and arousal. 

“What?” he teased, his lips brushing against yours but never quite closing the distance. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have liked it, baby. The thought of you in my backseat, those pretty legs spread just for me…,”. He groaned softly, his hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed you firmly against him. “I’d have taken my time with you, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. “Spreading you out across the seats, my hands gripping these perfect thighs…,” he paused, his grip tightening as if imagining it. “You’d be begging for me to go faster, harder. But I’d make you wait–make you feel every single second of it,”.

You whimpered, your head falling back as his lips traveled to the sensitive spot on your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Joe,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his biceps, needing something to anchor yourself. 

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, his teeth nipping your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “I can just picture you, your back arched, those gorgeous lips of yours moaning my name while I ruin you in the back of my car,”.

Your heart raced, the mental image combined with his low, raspy voice making your knees weak. “Why didn’t we do that?” you managed to say, your voice shaky.

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you against him. “Because I wanted to have you like this,” he said, his hips pressing against yours, emphasizing his words. “In my bed, where I could take my time and really show you just how crazy you drive me,”. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with intensity. “But don’t think for a second I won’t make good on that backseat fantasy someday,” he promised, his voice rough with need. “Because, baby, I’ve got plans for you. So many fucking plans,”.

A shiver ran down your spine at the images his words painted. God, you would’ve loved for him to have his way with you in the back seat of his car. The thrill, the secrecy, the alertness…oh that would have driven you wild. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice betrayed you, dripping with need. The way his entire mood seamlessly switched from soft to drop-dead sexy? Oh yeah, you were in for a damn treat.

“Am I?” he challenged, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his lips hot and determined against your skin. “Or am I just saying what you’ve been thinking all night?” his teeth grazed your earlobe, and you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Joe,” you moaned, arching into him, your body responding to every word, every touch. “God, you’re driving me insane,”.

“That’s the idea, baby,” he murmured against your neck, his voice husky. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly as he settled deeper between your legs. “So, tell me,” he whispered, his lips trailing lower. “What exactly were you thinking about? Hm? Tell me what you wanted me to do to you,”.

Your breathing was erratic as you tried to find the words. “I…I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands,” you confessed, your voice shaking but honest. “The way you touch me, like you can’t get enough of me…I wanted them everywhere,”.

His groan was throaty, his hands gripping you even tighter. “Fuck, baby,” he rasped. “You don’t know what you do to me,” his lips found yours again, this time with a desperation that matched the fire building between you. His hips pressed against yours, his hardness evident through the thin layers of clothing separating you. “You want my hands everywhere?” he breathed against your lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly. “Then you’ll get them everywhere,”.

Joe’s hands roamed higher, sliding up the smooth skin of your thighs, his touch igniting a fire that made your entire body ache with need. The anticipation was unbearable as his fingers teased the edge of your panties, his lips curving into a devilish smirk against your neck. “You’re already so wet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. “All for me, huh?”

“All for you,” you breathed, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, desperate for more.

He pressed his hips against yours, grinding slowly, the friction making your head tilt back against the pillows. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, lovey,” he said, his breath hot against your ear. “The way you moan my name, the way you look at me like you need me as much as I need you…fuck,”.

“I do need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Joe, please. I need you now,”.

His eyes darkened, his restraint clearly slipping as he pulled back just enough to strip off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and the light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “Say it again,” he said, his voice commanding but soft, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties.

“I need you, Joe,” you repeated, your gaze locked on his, your voice laced with a mix of desperation and desire.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, tugging your panties down and tossing them aside. His hands returned to your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin as if he couldn’t get enough. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, leaving you breathless.

As the remaining layers of clothing were peeled away, there was a rush, an urgency–the two of you needed to feel each other in a way that felt as natural as breathing. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their path, while his hands explored every curve, every inch of skin, as if he was trying to memorize you by touch alone. He was so gentle with you yet so in control, talking you through every little thing, letting you know he was here with you, how beautiful you were, and how much he wanted this with you. The way he looked at you, seeing you completely bare for the first time, was burned into your memory. You thought he couldn’t get any more perfect, but he just continues to prove you wrong every time. 

When he pushed into you, the world seemed to blur, leaving only him–his eyes locked on yours, his whispered words of reassurance and adoration keeping you stable. He moved with a rhythm that was equally as passionate as it was controlled–but you didn’t want him to be controlled. His forehead brushed against yours as he murmured your name like a prayer. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered, his voice shaky but steady. “You feel so good, fuck,”.

You threw your head back into the pillow as you felt his cock push into your core, exploring you in the most delicious way possible. “Joe. Harder, fuck me harder,” you whimpered, needing to feel him moving against you with no restraints. 

“Y- you sure, beautiful?” he asked, your hands sliding down his sweaty back and into his hair. He was a little hesitant, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far since this was the first time you two were having sex. 

“Y- yes, please,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need as your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, blown wide with lust, it was like a spark igniting a fire. The sight of his messy hair sticking to his forehead, the blush painting his cheeks, and the heat of his breath mingling with yours–it was intoxicating, a perfect cocktail of everything that was Joe.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? I need to know you’re okay,” he asked you before pressing a few featherlight kisses along your jaw. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, giving it a soft tug that made him groan. “I want this. I want you,”.

And then, as if that’s all he needed to hear, Joe’s restraint snapped like a tight spring, letting the hunger he had been holding back take over. His hips drove into yours with a need that made your entire body burn, your back arching as the intensity of his movements overwhelmed your senses. Each thrust sent shockwaves through you, his grip on your hips firm and commanding like he was staking his claim on every inch of you.

“You drive me crazy,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire as his lips left a scorching path of wet kisses down your neck. “So fucking crazy, you know that?”, his teeth grazed your collarbone, drawing a sharp gasp from you that only seemed to urge him on. His hands explored your body with a possessive hunger like he was memorizing every curve, every dip, every place that made you tremble.

“Joe,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair again and pulling, a low, guttural sound escaping him as your nails raked across his scalp. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop,”.

“Never,” he rasped, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so desperate and raw it left you breathless. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinning yours above your head so that he had you completely under his control, his body pressing into yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of you. “I need you, baby. I’ve needed you for so long,” he confessed, his voice breaking, his movements growing rougher, more frenzied.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sound he made in response sent a delicious shiver through you. “Harder,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. No matter how much he gave you, you wanted more. “Fuck, Joe. Harder,”.

His eyes locked on yours, wild and glassy, as he delivered exactly what you asked for. His hips snapped against yours with relentless precision, every thrust sending you spiraling higher. His headboard banged against his wall, the bed beneath you creaking nonstop at the force of his thrusts. “God, you feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned, his forehead falling against yours. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Damn, where have you b- been all my life,”.

“Right here,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as your body arched again to meet his. “Right here, Joe. Always yours,”. 

His breath hitched at your words, a groan spilling from his lips as his hips drove into you harder, deeper. The force of his movements made the headboard slam louder, but neither of you cared–the world outside that room didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in this moment, raw and unrestrained. You quite literally have never felt like this. None of the other guys you’d been with prior to Joe were this good, this attentive to what you liked. The way his cock was hitting every sweet spot inside you, pushing you beyond the limits you’d set yourself felt otherworldly. He was the best you’d ever had. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His lips found your pulse, pressing kisses that sent shivers coursing through your body. “You’re everything, everything I’ve ever needed,”. Joe couldn’t get enough of you, enough of the way you were letting him care for you, enough of the way you were reacting to him. He just couldn’t–. 

“Joe,” you whimpered, gripping the back of his neck, pulling him closer and snapping him out of his daze. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,”.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice shaking with the feel of the moment. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you firmly as he angled himself deeper, his pace unrelenting yet filled with so much love it made your heartache. “I’m not stopping, baby. Not until you have everything,”. 

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room like a melody. “Joe. Joe. Joee,” you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the force of your high. 

“Oh, fuck–,” he moaned at the sound of you whimpering his name, the feel of your walls clenching around him even more enticing than he imagined. “I’m gonna cum,” he said, his grip tightening around your hips as he pounded into you even harder.

“Oh,” you hissed, feeling his cock hit your sweet spot over and over which made the aftershocks of your high feel like pure bliss in your veins. “D- don’t pull out, Joey,” you panted, meeting his eyes once again. 

He looked up at you, his face a mixture of amusement and confusion. “W- what?” he panted, his thrusts becoming uneven which signaled that he was so close. 

“I’m on the pill. I don’t care,” you smiled at him, using your hand to brush back a few of his slick curls before planting a kiss on his chin. “Do whatever you want to me,”. 

Joe's eyes darkened at your words, a low groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself even deeper inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,”. 

You smiled lazily at him, your body trembling under his as you reached up to cup his cheek. “It’s a great way to die then,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. 

That was all it took to send him over the edge. His hips slammed into yours with desperate urgency, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he chased his release. “Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as his body tensed. “That’s my g- girl,”. As he stilled, his body shaking against yours, you could feel the warmth of him filling you, the new sensation sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body. His lips found yours in a messy, heated kiss, his breath mixing with yours as he tried to come down from the high. Sounds of skin-hitting skin were soon replaced by heavy breathing and the remnants of your climaxes.  

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting and completely lost in the haze. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, moving to gently trace circles on your sides. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with concern.

You smiled up at him, your fingers threading through his damp curls. “Better than okay,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his. “You?”.

A grin spread across his face, that boyish charm shining through despite the flush in his cheeks. “Never better,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips before trailing down to your jawline and collarbone. “You’re incredible, you know that?”.

You giggled softly, your hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. “So are you, Joey. So are you,”.

He collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms with ease. Even after going at it like rabid bunnies, he still had all his strength in him? Damn. The weight of his body against yours, the sound of his heartbeat under your ear–it was perfect. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be the death of me,” he said, his tone teasing but his expression completely serious. 

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with affection. “Good,” you replied with a smirk, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon,”. 

“Promise?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Promise,” you said, sealing it with another kiss, one that felt like you were kissing each other's hearts. “Where have you been all my life?” you whispered, your voice shaky but laced with affection as you nuzzled into his chest.

He smiled against your hair, his arms tightening around you. “Right here,” he murmured, echoing your words from earlier, “Waiting for you,”. 

Your breath hitched, and before you could say something, he continued, “You’re one of a kind, Y/N…one of a kind. Which is why…,” he paused, taking a deep breath as his face turned serious. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, searching your eyes for an immediate reaction. “You’re rare…so fucking rare. It’s rare to meet a person like you in this life. And now that I have you, I don’t want to let you go. I know it hasn’t been that long since we’ve known each other, but I seriously have never been so sure about something in my entire life. I meant what I said about you being my peace and quiet. I need that peace and quiet every morning…every night…every week…every year…every time before a game…every time after a game…every time I need someone who can make everything around me disappear. I need someone like you, baby. Someone so perfect, someone who lights up my world the way you do. You’re the one who hangs the stars in my galaxy, the one who completes it,” he added, completely sure of what he was saying but suddenly feeling doubtful because of your blank, emotionless expression. 

“Oh shit. I just scared her, didn’t I?” he instantly thought to himself, realizing how heavy his words were. 

You continued to stare at him in silence, a flurry of butterflies swirling through your stomach and tickling your heart. You couldn’t believe this was real, that he was real. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, I just ruined this, didn’t I? You probably want to take it slow and steady, which is fair because again, we just met not too long ago. And you’re probably stressed about the whole dating a football player thing, which is also fair but I swear I’m not like the other guys. Oh my god. Please don’t think I’m pushing you too fast or…trying to be smooth about this because we had sex…which might I say, it was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. Wait, what the fuck am I saying? I swear I–,” he rambled in a panic before you leaned up and mashed your lips against his to shut him up. 

His words were cut off by your lips, and he could feel you smiling into him as your chest rumbled from laughter. His nervousness from the dinner date was back, and you couldn’t help but admire how cute he got when he was unsure about something and got in his head. You pulled away, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as his lips parted to say something, but before he could, you said, “You’re my boyfriend.”. 

“Wait, what?” Joe asked even though he heard you loud and clear. 

“I said…” you began before dropping another kiss to his lips. You pulled away and continued, “You.” then placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Are.” and then a kiss to his chin., “My.” then a kiss to his cheek, “Boyfriend.” you finished, ending the sentence with one more kiss to his plump lips. 

“You mean it?” he asked, genuinely needing you to reassure him because right now, it felt like he was dreaming.

You giggled, and the sound made Joe smile even harder than he already was. “I mean it one thousand percent, Boyfriend. You are all mine, and I am all yours. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably yours. You feel that electricity between us? That’s enough to prove to me that this is different. That you’re different,” you grinned. “You pulled out all the stops for tonight from the dress to the flowers and smarties–which had me on the floor by the way–and then everything at dinner, and now this? God, you’re like the perfect boyfriend, like the heart throbs in the movies. I know that you genuinely care about me and like me, you’ve shown me that since the day we met. And I really like you too, Joe. And I won’t lie when I say that this feels a little risky, but you’re a risk I’m willing to take. You know why? Because you make me feel alive, safe, and so damn loved. With you I'd dance in a storm, in my best dress, at any given time,”. 

“God, I’m so obsessed with you,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek, and before you knew it, he was leaning down to kiss you again, the heat between you reigniting like a flame. “I promise I won’t make you regret this. I promise I’ll make you feel loved until I physically can’t anymore. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you,”. 

“And I’m going to hold you to it,” you mumbled between the kiss, letting your body reciprocate those words to him. The way it was responding to his touch was everything he needed to know; the subtle hooking of your leg around his waist, the graze of your nails along his bicep, and the way you were pushing up into him. “I promise I’m…going to be right there with you,” you whispered as he moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, slowly kissing his way down your glistening body. 

This time, the passion was unrestrained, the desire to feel each other again consuming you both completely. You could feel the growing urge to have each other like that again, and lucky for both of you, you two were so down bad to say no.

“Round two?” you teased, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling his face back to yours. 

Joe looked at you and laughed, then slithered his hands around your hips and easily flipped you onto your back, prompting a shriek from your lips. “Anything for my girlfriend,”.  

“Fantastic,” you shot back with a grin, pulling him down for another kiss. “I think your girlfriend deserves to be reminded of how much you care about her,” you teased before he locked lips with you once again, then used his hand to pull the sheets over you both. 

End of flashback 

“He hasn’t changed a single bit since LSU,” you giggled, your heart fluttering at how thoughtful and romantic his little gestures were. 

Your eyes moved down to the other sticky note, this one reading,

P.S. made you breakfast before i left. your strawberry mango protein smoothie is waiting in the fridge 

to be loved is to be seen, and i see you. always have, and always will. 

j.b 

“Joe,” you whispered, your eyes softening at his last sentence. 

He saw you. He always saw you. He saw your anxieties, he saw your worries, but he also saw your smile, your happiness, your love for him. When he woke up this morning, he knew how awful the past day, past weeks have been for you. And it was all because of his current situation. When he looked at you, all he could see was the worry in your eyes and the hesitation in every word that left your mouth. He needed to do something to bring back that smile, that unwavering happiness that he fell in love with. 

And you felt the same way about him. When you looked at him, all you saw was his self doubt, his fear of failing. You couldn’t see his confidence, his resilience anymore. Nobody could understand his internal struggles, not even you. But you sure as hell weren’t going to let them push you out. 

And then as you stared at the sticky notes—a reminder of Joe and his adorable little gestures, you got an idea. One that could make him feel better, open up, and allow him to relax with you. 

“He’s gone for a few hours, right? What if I do a little lunch date at home for him?” you asked yourself, already pulling out your phone to get started on the idea. This was a great way for him to unwind, for him to feel at ease after how awful the past few days had been for him. And it was also a great way for the two of you to spend time together, the time you’d been craving since football started back up. You both always thrived when it was just the two of you, in those little quiet moments that had you both feeling like you were back in college and didn’t have a care in the world. He was always so relaxed then, even though he was balling out and had the entire state of Louisiana breathing down his neck. He still managed to let loose, give himself some breathing room, a chance to be open despite the weight he had on his shoulders. Ever since he came into the NFL, it’s like there was no room for error for him, no room for him to show his emotions and be vulnerable. And when he did, he felt guilty about it because he felt like he was burdening everyone–especially you–with his feelings. 

—

After finishing up your morning routine and enjoying the delicious smoothie he made for you, you got started on planning your surprise for him. You remembered him mentioning just last week, how he was craving Mexican food. That was all the inspiration you needed. You placed an order for his favorites from your usual go-to Mexican spot downtown, imagining the way his face would light up at the sight of the spread. 

But you didn’t stop there. Knowing Joe, you wanted to add a little something extra–a surprise he’d never expect. You remembered the way he’d lit up talking about The Office Lego set he’d been eyeing for months but never seemed to have a reason for buying it for himself. He always listened to your mindless ramblings about things that caught your eye that you’d never buy for yourself–jewelry, clothes, shoes, bags–and always made sure to buy them for you as soon as he had the chance to. He didn’t ever need a reason to spoil his girl. That was one of the things you loved about him, he was always listening to you even when you thought he wasn’t. You did the same for him, so a few clicks later, the Legos were on their way to come just in time for your lunch date. 

By the time everything was ready, the scene was nearly perfect: the food bags on the living room table, the Lego set placed beside them, and you impatiently waiting for him to come home. But as you sat there on the couch, looking at the setup, something felt off–like it was missing a little magic.

You tilted your head, thinking, and then it hit you like a spark of nostalgia.

A blanket fort.

A grin rose on your face as the memory of those cozy, rainy days you’d spent with Joe came rushing back–days when the two of you would build blanket forts and lose track of time, laughing, snacking, and just being kids at heart. “Oh, hell yeah,” you said to yourself, already gathering pillows and blankets, determined to recreate that same magic. 

If there was one thing Joe loved more than food and Legos, it was the kind of thoughtfulness that made the simplest moments memorable. And you were about to do just that.

You grabbed a few dining room chairs, every plush blanket you could find, and a variety of cloud-like pillows, determined to create the ultimate cozy cave. Piece by piece, you began making your little fort, carefully lining up the chairs and draping the blankets across them with skill. You built a sturdy wall of pillows to keep it snug and inviting, even moving the lamp inside to give it a warm, comfy glow. After a few adjustments to make sure everything was stable, you stepped back to admire your work. The soft light lit up the cozy space, the blankets creating a cocoon of comfort that practically begged to be crawled into. It was perfect–inviting, intimate, and filled with the kind of charm you knew Joe would love.

“I really hope he likes this,” you mumbled to yourself, wanting nothing more than for him to be able to come home and just relax for the first time all week. Your thoughtfulness knew no limits, and Joe always appreciated the hell out of that so you knew he’d like everything you did for him no matter what. 

A few minutes later, as you were carefully placing the food and Lego set inside of the fort, you heard the garage door open, a sign that Joe was finally home. You heard the clank of the keys hitting the kitchen island, and the muffled sounds of him slipping his shoes off, and then his soft voice breaking through the silence, “Baby? I’m home. You in here?” he called out, not seeing the blanket fort in yet. 

“Over here!” you yelled, peeking your head out from the little cave and waving him over. 

He furrowed his brows, a little confused at what you were doing, as he walked over to the couch. You noticed that he had something in his hand, a few bags that made your eyes widen: Taco Bell, Bath & Body Works, and Sephora? “What’s all this?” Joe laughed, seeing the architectural masterpiece that was your little blanket fort. 

“What’s all that?” you shot back, pointing at all the bags in his hand. 

Joe chuckled, setting the bags down on the table and glancing between you and the fort. “This? Just a little pick-me-up for my favorite person,” he said casually, but the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed how much thought he’d put into it. “I felt bad about last night, and everything that happened at the game, and just…, you know, not being around as much lately. Figured I’d spoil you a little tonight,”.

You felt your heart squeeze, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like one of the soft blankets in your fort. “Joe,” you said softly, your voice filled with affection. You quickly came out of the fort and stood up, his opening arms making room for you as usual. “That’s exactly why I did all this,” you gestured toward the fort with a small smile as his arms held you tightly against his warm chest. 

He looked at you for a moment, his expression softening as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You did all this for me?” he asked, his lips forming a little pout.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Last night…was rough…,” you began. 

“In more ways than one,” Joe teased, his hand sliding down to your ass and giving it a little squeeze, reminding you just how rough things got last night. 

“Right, in more ways than one,” you giggled. “It was rough and well, everything that happened during the game and you know, the game itself? I just thought you could use some time to relax and just be…Joe. Time for us to just be…us. I’ve missed you,” you sighed, the heaviness of the entire situation still bugging you. “I got you the Mexican food you’ve been craving all week, that Lego set you had your eye on, and topped it all off with the blanket fort. Just like old times,” you said, pressing a kiss to his chest.  

Joe leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I’ve missed you too,” he mumbled, his heart aching at the confession. 

He missed you–missed how easy and comfortable things felt in moments like this. The off-season had been full of moments like these, where it was just the two of you with no rush or stress. But ever since football started, those moments had just…disappeared. He missed the times when it wasn’t about games or busy schedules–just Joe and Y/N, together, feeling at home.

“Thank you for doing this. You always know how to get through to me even when I try to push you away,” he said, his hand moving up your body to cradle the back of your head. He pulled your head back and looked into your eyes briefly, trying to see if you had the same look as you did last night–the tension, the worry, and the fear. It was there, but only bits and pieces; meaning last night worked and everything he had planned for tonight was going to fully push those feelings out the door. 

“I promised you that I’d always be there for you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me, okay?” you smiled, your hands moving up and resting on each side of his neck. 

“I know,” he nodded. “That’s why I love you. You never back down from a fight,”. 

“Exactly,” you smiled up at him, feeling the familiar rush of love that seemed to grow every time you were with him. “Looks like you had your own cozy day-in planned too, didn’t you?” you said, pulling away slightly to glance at the bags. “Taco Bell and Sephora? That’s quite the combo,”.

He grinned, “I know you love those little face masks andddd I also found that pedicure kit you’ve been wanting, so I thought maybe you would enjoy making me look like an alien later tonight and we can do those together. And, well, Taco Bell is my apology for taking so long to make time for this. Guilty pleasure foods are the way to your heart, that I know for a fact,”,

You laughed, shaking your head, “You are perfect, Joe Burrow. You know that? So damn perfect at being the world’s best boyfriend,”.

He glanced at the fort again, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Not as perfect as this. A blanket fort? I’m starting to think I’m the luckiest guy alive. I mean, not only do I have the world's greatest blanket fort in front of me right now, but I also have a smokin’ hot wif–...girlfriend, waiting for me every time I come home,”.

“Shit, almost slipped up there. Not yet, Joe. Just a little longer. The wait will be worth it,” he thought to himself. 

You skipped right over his little slip-up and burst into laughter. “Easy there, Burrow. Your girlfriend is still recovering from last night. Give her some time to bounce back, would ya?” you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face. 

Joe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as he dropped his head onto your shoulder, his embarrassment absolutely adorable. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt. “Guess I got a little carried away,”.

You gently pulled him back so you could meet his eyes, the corners of your lips tugging into a smirk. “Don’t you dare apologize for being ridiculously good at making your girlfriend feel like she’s on cloud nine,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his warm cheek as your fingers found their way into his hair.

His laugh bubbled out and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that made your heart skip. There he was–your Joey. The tension and heaviness from yesterday seemed to have vanished, replaced by this light, playful energy you adored so much. “Better mood today, huh?” you asked, rubbing the skin underneath his eye.

“Better everything,” he replied, his voice softer now, his blue eyes full of warmth as they locked on yours. “All because of you,”.

You exhaled, letting out a breath you’d been holding in for a long while, “I’m so glad. Last night was…I was worried about you–,” you started to say, but before you could finish, Joe pushed a finger to your lips. 

“No,” he shook his head. “We don’t have to talk about that right now, okay? Don’t stress about it,”. And before you could say something else, he grabbed his hand, pulling you toward the fort. “Now c’mon, let’s see if the fort passes inspection,” he teased, crawling inside first and motioning for you to follow. 

“It better pass the Joey B inspection. I put a lot of effort into this one,” you chuckled, a small shriek following after Joe grabbed your arm and pulled you into him as his back hit the pillows. 

“It’s already a ten out of ten,” he grinned, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you snug against him. His scent–fresh, a little woodsy, with a hint of something sweet–washed over you, making your heart flutter.

“You’re biased,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful pout. “You’d give anything I make a ten out of ten,”.

“Not true,” he said in mock offense. “Remember that time you tried to make brownies but forgot the sugar? I gave those a solid three,”.

You gasped, swatting his chest lightly. “That was one time! And you still ate half the tray,”.

“Because I love you, and I wasn’t about to let you feel bad about it,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His teasing tone turned into something warmer, more serious. “Besides, everything you do has your touch on it. That’s what makes it perfect to me,”.

Your playful grin softened as you took in his words. The way he looked at you, his eyes warm and sincere, made the world outside the blanket fort fade away. “You’re such a sap, Joey,” you whispered, your hand tracing slow circles on his chest.

“Only for you,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now, tell me–what’s the plan for this top-tier blanket fort? Because I see food, I see Legos, and I see the most beautiful girl in the world. Looks like a perfect date to me? We can do my side of the date–taco bell, face masks, pedicures, with your favorite candles–later tonight,”.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest as you snuggled closer. “Well, we eat first–because I know someone skipped lunch today–and then we tackle that Lego set. And maybe,” you added, peeking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “If you’re really good, I’ll let you have the last churro,”.

Joe’s face lit up with mock excitement. “The last churro? You’d really let me have that honor?”.

“Maybe,” you said sheepishly, booping his nose. “As long as you actually help build the Lego set this time and not get distracted and stare at me the whole time,”. 

He laughed, the deep, thundering sound vibrating through you in the best way. “Deal. But I’m keeping the churro safe–no take-backs. And you can’t get mad if I stare at you here and there, you’re like crazy hot and I need to appreciate that you’re mine allll the time,” he smiled, the down-badness in his voice the same type of down-badness that used to be in his voice back in college. Under all that hard-shelled exterior, Joe was still the same as he was back at LSU. He may not let that side come out easily in front of others…or at all…but it always came out around you. 

“You’re really trying to butter me up for the churro, aren’t you?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you sat up, the playful suspicion in your voice clear.

Joe followed, sitting up behind you with that mischievous glimmer in his eye that always meant trouble. “Mmm,” he hummed nonchalantly, shifting ever so slightly. His arms moved as if he were about to pull you into a hug, but you quickly noticed something was off.

When his hand didn’t quite make it around your waist, you glanced over your shoulder to catch him red-handed–or rather, churro-handed. His fingers were sneaking their way into the bag of Mexican food, inching closer to the special dessert.

“Oh, you sneaky little–,” you started, turning around to confront him. But before you could finish, Joe tilted his head, catching your lips with his in a kiss that was equal parts distraction and charm. The unexpected move left you momentarily speechless, and in that tiny window of opportunity, he managed to carefully extract a churro from the bag. When he finally pulled back, his grin was nothing short of triumphant.

“Oops,” he giggled against your lips, holding up the churro like a prize. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his laughter contagious as you tried–and failed–to keep a straight face.

“Joey!” you groaned, swatting at his shoulder as he leaned back, already taking a bite of the churro with a smug look on his face.

“What?” he said, shrugging dramatically as if he were completely innocent. “I thought sharing is caring, babe,”.

“Oh, you are so lucky I love you,” you muttered, shaking your head as you reached for the other churro in the bag.

—

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon tangled in each other and the cozy chaos of your little fort. Between bites of tacos and teasing arguments over Lego instructions, Joe’s laughter echoed through the space, filling it with a kind of warmth that you knew only he could bring. He was laughing, genuinely smiling, and having fun for the first time in a long time. It felt like whatever was weighing oh him last night was...gone. And when the sun began to set, casting a golden glow through the makeshift walls, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Thank you for this,”.

“For what?” you asked, your voice soft.

“For reminding me that no matter how crazy the world gets, I’ll always have a place where everything feels right,” he said, fiddling absently with the promise ring he’d given you a few years ago. “And that place is wherever you are,”. 

“...Joe,” you mumbled, your eyes softening as you looked up at him. 

“You know,” he started softly, “Yesterday was tough, but…it wasn’t on me. And I’ve learned I can’t hold onto that. Can’t let it eat me up like I used to. I did my best out on that field, I gave it my all like I always do. I made mistakes, the team made mistakes, but we all make mistakes. I can’t keep beating myself up over things I can’t control,” he exhaled, his thumb running over the diamond ring. “But that’s not what I want to talk about,”.

You tilted your head at him, puzzled because you thought he was going to talk to you about what was going on in his head. “What do you mean?”.

Joe’s eyes met yours, his blue eyes staring deeply into your soul almost. “I mean you. You never talk about how you’re feeling. You’re always so worried about me, about making sure I’m okay. But what about you? Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours? I know you’re hurting, Y/N. I know you cried before I got home last night. I know how much those comments hurt you. I know how much you’ve been trying to balance since I got hurt. I know how hard this is for you. And I know you’re not letting me see it because you think you’re protecting me,”.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just blinked at him, your lips parting slightly. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you.

He saw. 

He always saw right through you. He always saw how you’d try to keep yourself from hurting him. He always saw how much you’d put him first over yourself. He always saw how much you wanted to protect him. 

To be loved is to be seen, and Joe always saw you. 

“Talk to me, Y/N. You are always there when I need you…let me be there for you?” he nodded, his hand rubbing circles along your back to calm you down. He was going to get you to open up to him, even if it took a little push or a shove. 

“I…,” you swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat and tears starting to form in your eyes as the emotional dam felt like it was about to burst. All the feelings you were trying to suppress were coming to the surface, and all it took was for Joe to tell you that he could see it; your restraint, your need to protect him, your real feelings. “I don’t know. It’s…hard sometimes. Watching e- everything you go through. Seeing people tear you down or attack me…because of who you are. It’s like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I can’t protect you from any of it,” you confessed, your voice trembling as you remembered everything those Chiefs fans said to you yesterday. “I get scared, you know? Seeing you shut down like that because of things that aren’t even your fault. I get scared when you start to d- doubt yourself. And I get scared when people say those awful things about you…about m- me…about us. You’ve worked so hard to come back from that wrist injury, that whole process was so hard on you physically and mentally. I just hate seeing people downplay what you went through. They all just want so much more from you, and I hate seeing you think that what you’re doing isn’t enough as is,”. 

Joe’s expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his other hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek as it slipped free.“You’re not supposed to protect me,” he murmured. “That’s not your job. Just being here, being you…that’s everything I need. You’re the only good thing in my life that feels real, and I’d be lost without you. All the voices that implore ‘You should be doing more, Joe’, but to you I can admit, that I’m just too soft for all of it. I can always tell you how tiring it gets, I can always vent to you about how hard things get. That’s more than enough. You’re the only person who knows me…the real me, which is why you’re the only one I can confide in. You’re always there when I need you, to catch me when I fall. You make me feel safe, lovey. By just being you, being here with me, listening to whatever I have to say, letting me cry on your shoulder. You don’t need to do anything extra to protect me, ever. There’s a reason why I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Outside, they're always pushing and shoving, but you're in the kitchen humming. All you’ve ever wanted from me is sweet nothing,” he said.

“That’s why I love you and I love the peace and quiet you bring me. You never want anything extra from me…never need me to do more than I already do. But when you start bottling up your feelings, bottling up your emotions…that peace and quiet starts to fade. You know why? Because you aren’t happy. Because you’re hurting, and that kills me more than anything else,”. 

You felt your heartache from his words, a bittersweet mixture of comfort and longing setting over you. The way he opened up made it impossible not to let your own feelings spill out. You glanced down at your hands as you spoke, “This entire world,” you began softly, your voice trembling slightly, “It’s so chaotic. It’s...it’s scary. Those good moments, they’re brief. They last for a heartbeat, and then before you know it, something bad happens, and it feels like everything’s falling apart,” you said, referring to the wrist injury that came out of nowhere last season.

You took a shaky breath, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that urged you to keep going. “But you? Us? Our relationship? That’s the one constant. The one thing that feels solid, unshakable. It’s like.. no matter how bad things get, no matter how lost I feel, I always have this place to hide. This place to seek shelter in the middle of the storm. And that place–it’s always with you. But ever since last November…I’ve had this nagging thought in the back of my head that maybe…the shelter is too good to be true. I’m scared that I’ll lose you…lose you to this world of football and unpredictable moments. I’m scared you’ll get too caught up in proving yourself…in being the best…too caught up in your head, and you’ll just–,”.

“No,” he quickly stopped you before those words fell from your mouth. “Don’t…don’t say that,” he said, his voice shaky as you saw his eyes water. 

Another tear slipped from your eye as you kept going, “Even when I’m dreaming, I can feel you leaving. And I know I shouldn’t feel that way, especially because you’ve never given me a reason to doubt us…but I’m scared, Joe. I’m scared that I’m too much for you, that I’m pushing you too much and you’ll just…leave. I’m scared that what everyone said about me was right? I haven’t done enough to protect you, and I said I always would…but I didn’t,”. A sob escaped your lips and before you knew it, the tears were free-flowing down your cheeks, “I can’t,” you cried. 

Joe felt his heart shatter at your confession.

You felt like he was going to leave? 

Never in a million years would he ever think about leaving you…leaving his love…leaving his peace. Never in a million years would he ever even think about living his life without you in it. 

“Baby,” he said with urgency, his hands moving up to your face, wiping the tears away. “Baby, look at me,”.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t know why I feel like this…I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking that you’d be better off without me. I don’t know why I’m letting all of it get to me. I’m supposed to be better than that,”,

“Y/N.” he said, his voice loud enough to silence you. “Stop.”.

His words cracked something open inside you, and the tears came slowly now, silent but steady. Joe didn’t flinch, didn’t rush you. Instead, he slipped the promise ring from your right hand and slid it onto your ring finger, the gesture deliberate and filled with unspoken meaning.

“See this?” he said, holding up your hand so the ring caught the light. “This…it’s my promise to you. That no matter how loud the world gets, no matter how much they push and shove, this…us...it’s our quiet. It’s our peace. You are my peace and I am never leaving you. No matter how hard it gets…no matter how much I keep losing in the NFL. I am never leaving you. No matter how many injuries I have or how many fucking fans want to talk shit on me, I am never leaving you. 

You sniffled, your hand trembling slightly in his. “Joe, I–”,

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb now tracing the veins on the back of your left hand. The sensation was soothing, grounding you in a way only he could. “You need to know that I am sorry. I am so sorry that I haven’t seen how much you’ve been struggling since my injury. I am so sorry that I always get in a fucking shitty ass mood whenever shit doesn’t go my way. I am so sorry I’m always crying to you about my problems. That’s not how a relationship works. That’s not how we work. We always talk to each other and lean on each other for comfort and security. I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel like you couldn’t do that. I’ve been trying to protect you by pushing you away, not knowing that it only hurt you more every time. I never wanted you to feel like I was pushing you away for good. I thought protecting you from me, from my doubts, and from all of the bullshit that’s been surrounding me lately would keep you safe. But I was so wrong. I need to keep you here with me, no matter how tough it gets because you’re the only one that can make it better. Winning won’t make anything better. My wrist being 100% won’t make anything better. The fans shutting up won’t make anything better. You? You will.”. 

“I’m not going to leave you, Y/N. I made that clear on our first date back at LSU. Remember? I promised you to love you till I physically couldn’t. And I don’t ever plan on going back on that promise. Don’t ever feel like you’re a burden to me, that you’re pushing me too much, okay? Because without you I wouldn’t be able to do any of this. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you telling me how proud you are of me, without you being there for me after every loss with your arms open, ready to listen to whatever I have to say. I wouldn’t be able to do this without your constant motivation, reassurance, and unwavering support. It’s okay to crumble, to feel upset, and be sad. You are human, baby. It’s okay to worry and feel scared. But I’m here. I’m always here for you and I want you to know you can always tell me these things. I want you to know that I need you with me. I needed you then, I need you now, and I need you forever,”. 

Your breath hitched as Joe’s words washed over you, their weight settling deep in your chest. It was like the dam had burst, finally releasing all the emotions you had been bottling up for so long. You stared at him through tear-filled eyes, his face so close to yours, so calm and full of love. The way he looked at you–like you were the only thing in the world that mattered–made your heartache in the best way.

“I…I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, Joe,”.

“Stop that,” he said gently, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that continued to fall, his touch soft and deliberate. “You deserve the world, Y/N. And if I could, I’d give it to you. But right now, all I can give you is me. All of me,”.

A sob escaped your lips as you leaned into his touch, your hands gripping his wrists as if letting go would shatter the moment. “You already give me everything,” you said, your voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Joe. I’m scared of even thinking about it,”.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You are so much more than what those people think. You’re everything to me, I can’t lose you to any of this. If I don’t have someone to share this all with, then what even is the point? If I don’t have you, why am I even trying? I promise you that you’re doing just enough for me. I promise I’m not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere, and I promise that you and I will always get through this together,”.

The promise in his voice broke through the last of your defenses. You collapsed against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, holding you tightly, as if shielding you from the weight of the world. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you,”.

And you did. You let it all out–the fear, the insecurity, the pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders for far too long. You cried into his chest, and he held you through it all, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. His other hand stayed on your left hand, his thumb tracing the veins there in that familiar, grounding gesture that had always calmed you.

When your sobs finally quieted, and your breathing began to steady, Joe pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, his expression full of concern and love. “Better?” he asked softly.

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped at your cheeks. “A little. Thanks to you.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not done yet,”.

“What do you mean?” you asked, a small laugh escaping despite the heaviness of the moment.

Joe tilted his head playfully, his fingers still holding your left hand. He glanced down at your promise ring, now on your ring finger, and gave it a small twist. “This right here,” he said, his voice low but firm, “Is just the beginning. You’re not just my girlfriend, Y/N. You’re my partner. My future. And one day, I’m going to replace this ring with a different one. One that means forever,”. 

Your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “Joe…,”.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tender it brought fresh tears to your eyes. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. And I’m never letting you go. I am going to be right by your side through everything. We were made to do this together, and I realized that the first night you let me make you mine. It’s you and me forevermore,”. 

The weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and safety. You smiled through your tears, your hands moving to cradle his face. “I love you too, Joey. Always,”.

Letting your feelings out to Joe, finally saying everything you had been holding onto for the past year, was more liberating and comforting than you ever could have imagined. It was better than any cozy day spent under a blanket or any attempt to distract yourself from the chaos inside. Joe had been right all along–your relationship was built on leaning on each other, on sharing everything, the good and the bad. He had been doing that with you from the start, and now it was your turn to do the same.

And now that you had, you felt...lighter. 

You felt better because Joe had a way of making all those nagging doubts vanish. With his words, his touch, and his unwavering love, he silenced every awful thought that had taken root in your mind. He reminded you of who you were, of what you meant to him, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so overwhelming. Instead of being weighed down, you felt grounded, tethered to the one person who could always make everything okay. Joe felt all of his worries wash away too. He only needed to see you happy, see you at peace, for his own peace and quiet to come back.

“I love you, Y/N. Never forget that,” he whispered to you before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him, letting his heartbeat soothe any remaining doubts in your mind. 

For a while, the two of you sat there, cocooned in the stillness, calmness of the moment. The world outside might as well not have existed. Joe’s fingers never stopped their gentle motions, tracing patterns over your hand, his forehead occasionally brushing against yours.

Finally, you broke the silence with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”.

Joe blinked, caught off guard, before his lips curved into a playful smirk. “A worm?” he echoed, his eyebrow rising. “Like…an actual worm? Wiggles and all?”. 

You nodded enthusiastically, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “Yes! Like if I just…poof, turned into a worm right now,”.

He pretended to consider this very serious question, his lips pursed and his gaze narrowing as though deep in thought. “Hmm…worms don’t have arms, so you couldn’t hug me like this,” he said, tightening his hold on you in an exaggerated squeeze. “But yeah, I’d love you. Because then I could finally keep you safe from everything and take care of you without you fighting me on it,”.

You burst out laughing, your head falling back against his chest as his words sank in. “Joe, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,”.  

“And you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever loved,” he teased, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. “It’s a perfect match,”.  

Your laughter softened into a warm, lingering smile as you gazed at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper there–tenderness, devotion, and a reminder of the unshakable love that made your chest ache in the best way.  

As the playfulness settled, he reached up to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Everything might feel wrong in our life, but with each other? It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.  "We just need us. That's all,".

Your heart swelled, a warmth spreading through you that no blanket could replicate. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and he hummed contentedly, pulling you closer.  “See?” he murmured against your lips. “You’re stuck with me–worm or not,”.  

And he meant that. He meant all of it. The two of you were meant to do this together, the connection between you was strong enough to outlast any storm that came your way. Joe knew you were his forever the night of his first date, and ever since then, he'd only made that clearer to you. It was just you and him, for the rest of your lives.

The bond you shared was unshakable, rooted in something far deeper than words could ever express. You both knew that no matter what life threw your way, as long as you were tethered to one another, the flame between you would never waver. It wasn’t just love—it was a connection so profound that it felt eternal, like the universe had stitched your hearts together with threads of stardust.

You didn’t need a ceremony to tell you what was already so obvious in the way he held you, spoke to you, and loved you. But the thought of that moment—when he would ask, when you would say yes—was enough to send a soft thrill through you.

Little did you know, that directly above you, inside the confines of his safe, sat the ring you had been dreaming of, waiting patiently for the right moment to appear on your finger. He had it since January, but he knew this was something so extraordinary that it could never be rushed.

And little did you know, that the moment you were dreaming of was coming sooner rather than later.

Until then, you found peace in the quiet certainty that your flame, your love, would burn brightly forever as long as you were together.

–The End–

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[xiazats-mind]

I'm going to tear into this because this pisses off so much that I can only hope it's fake:

First of all, if you are going to make a list with 10+ items, please make it so each item occupies its own line, because the way the teacher formatted it makes it a pain to parse information.

Second, several things are listed twice on here, or are made redundant by other articles; Dragons are listed twice, cats and kittens are listed despite being different stages of the same animal. But both of the above are made redundant by my next point:

Many of the listed articles are so incredibly broad that they encompass nearly everything a person could think of. If I'm spending more time trying to decipher what you are willing to accept than actually making art, you have failed as an art teacher.

And the cherry on top, the final paragraph has to be one of the most pretentious, head-up-own-ass things I've ever read. I want to give this person an expertly drawn middle finger with the title: "How I Feel About Your Class".

Anyways, sorry about the rant, this one got under my skin.

have i ever shown you guys my professor’s DNI list

[jeongin-lvr]

thoughts on virgin!jeongin 😋😋

absolutely yes 100% i hope this is okay i made this my little headcannon list >< cw. virginity loss, pocket pussy + masturbation, endurance training, blowjobs + pussy eating.

virgin! jeongin who acts so relaxed, so nonchalant all the time. and, y’know, with the way he carries himself, his cadence, you’re inclined to believe he’s way more experienced than you. little do you know he’s such a little loser, pathetically whining and fucking a pocket pussy (a gag gift from a friend...) while thinking about you, his oh-so-oblivious girlfriend.

virgin! jeongin who actually twitches when you ask him to finger you for the first time. he has no idea what to do, so he just happily follows your instruction. using his pretty hands (which you excitedly compliment and praise him for) to run over your nub and folds, spreading your precum. he hesitates and stops himself from licking his fingers, not wanting to cross any lines, though he wants to so badly. when he sinks his long fingers into you and hears you moan for the first time... he might cum from the sound. you don’t tease him though, too busy fucking yourself back on his quaking hand.

virgin! jeongin that you have wrapped around your finger with little effort. he can and will (gladly) sink to his knees to beg you for a blowjob, or for just a chance to taste your pussy. and if you agree? well, he’s twitching and obliging by every rule and demand you give him. you want to tie up his wrists while you blow him? yes, absolutely. you want to sit on his pretty boy face and suffocate him your slick? well, he isn’t complaining.

virgin! jeongin who cannot control himself. he pops boners everywhere, and either you’re too oblivious to notice or you pretend to be. it drives him crazy. he also cums wayyyy too early its so cute. imagine both of you having sex for the first time and he’s shaking so hard just putting the tip of his thick cock inside your slick walls; he feels like you’re sucking him in, it’s unlike anything hes ever felt. one stroke and he’s gone, i’m sorry.

but that’s what endurance training is for!

virgin! jeongin who actually sheds tears when you ride him for the first time, telling him he can’t cum until you do, or maybe until you tell him. he is quite literally blacking out and biting his lip till it bleeds trying to hold back that gigantic bubble of pleasure in his tummy. you’re telling him how handsome, cute, sexy he is and he’s sure his brain is going numb from the sound of your cunt swallowing his cock. when you finally give him the go-ahead to cum he thanks you so gratefully, voice shaky and whiny as he grips your hips and fucks up into you. finally using those muscles of his to his advantage.

once jeongin isn’t quite a virgin anymore it’s like a flip switched in his brain... now that he has the option to be in your slick walls, he kind of abuses his power... but its okay !! you’ll let him won’t you?

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, in the middle of your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back at him. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown at him.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s just a little baby and he’s all alone and…” 

“Okay, okay, baby, we can keep him.”  (By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

“Right,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!”  You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

[lovelettersfromluna]

Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

Or

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

[unlimitedhearts]

I want to highlight too that celebrity hate brigades can also have a detrimental psychologicalveffect to bystanding fans. Association with the thing or person being hate mobbed makes you fear that someone will hate mob you next even if its not logical.

Even back when all of this was in vogue and hating John Green was the cool thing to do - I was a teenager on tumblr who wanted to be a writer because John Green's work touched me DEEPLY. I read Paper Towns and it Changed me enough to where I still think about how I could possibly make anything as meaningful to anyone as that one book was to me. I came to tumblr with a love for John Green and his work only to be met with this horrific vitriol toward a man that, as far as I was aware, had done nothing.

That vitriol trickled into my own subconscious and I started to wonder if I was a bad person for liking John Green's work. So by the time the TFIOS movie was out - I didn't say a thing about it. I didn't talk about the book outside of one post i made of my pre order copy coming in the mail. I didn't talk about being an active member in the Nerdfighter community. I didn't even write anymore because I was afraid I would piss someone off that I didn't mean to. I felt sorry for John. He was nothing short of one of the most genuine people I'd had the pleasure to internet meet and im fairly sure both him and Hank Green were directly responsible for steering my adolescent internet journey into a good one.

Speaking of Hank... its quite disturbing to me that John got the brunt of the internets anger for daring to be Creative In The Wrong Way and Being Neurodivergent, Hank was often lauded. Both by tumblr and larger swathes of the internet I have rarely if ever seen Hank Green be treated with the same Cringe Hammer that John Green has. Is it because he does science? Is it because his Neurodivergency is closer to ADHD and therefore more acceptable than OCD and Anxiety? Is it because he didn't write YA at the turning of the tide against YA in the pop culture?

Something tells me the same cancel culture/purity culture people would have had a thing or two to say about An Absolutely Remarkable Thing and A Beautifully Foolish Endeavour if they released in the years 2012-2015. Raking him over the coals for much the same as they did John. For these perceived slights in a fictional work that had nothing to do with them. But because Hank didn't release his books during Tumblrs heyday, that never happened.

All John Green ever did was write his stories, say what he needed to say, and be openly Neurodivergent on the internet. And because everyone on tumblr couldn't stand the idea of someone being earnest on the internet, they crucified him for it. John Green deserves an apology. From the people who harassed him, from people who didn't, from everyone. He didn't deserve an iota of the shit he got for no reason.

I can't stress enough how much the John Green debacle was an early example of how cancel culture and purity culture combine to make people feel righteously justified to engage in harassment.

John Green, during his time on tumblr, committed the heinous sins of...being neurodivergent and talking openly about it, earnestly interacting with fans in a very direct and unfiltered way, and writing about teenagers navigating first love and sexuality while he himself was an adult. The worst things he ever did were be a little cringe or misspeak, for which he was always prompt to apologize (often whether he really needed to or not).

Yet despite the former two being things tumblr claimed to love and the last one being true of 99.99% of YA authors, in this case a large segment of tumblr users steeped in the early 2010s resurgence of purity culture decided that these things were suspicious and predatory, and used that as an excuse to justify some truly awful behavior.

Which is really all that cancel culture is: the normalization and even celebration of the process of misapplying morality or ethics to dehumanize someone for the express purpose of justifying whatever pain and suffering you want to inflict upon them. Basically, deciding "this person is bad, so I am exempt from affording them basic respect and human dignity, and am allowed to cross any and all otherwise uncrossable lines in order to punish them without damaging my own moral or ethical standing."

Contrary to popular tumblr lore, the infamous "cock monologue" was not the sum total of the harassment, or even the worst of it. Callout blogs issued long lists of "receipts" about how terrible John Green was, most if not all of which were either taken out of context or completely refutable. His works were torn to shreds by people who'd never read them, as evidenced by much of the criticism being obviously and blatantly counter to the actual contents of the books.

Not that it mattered. Once the John Green hate party reached a certain level of critical mass, it became less about who he actually was or what he'd done, and more about proving you were a good person by hating him. That's the natural conclusion of cancel culture, after all: virtue signalling by identifying yourself in opposition to the cancelled parties. They're bad, and I'm good, so I hate them! Or, more often: They're bad, and I hate them, so I'm good!

Before it was over with, John Green had been accused, with no evidence, of being everything from a Nazi to a pedophile and subjected to hate mail and death threats. He eventually left the site for the sake of his own mental health, and because he no longer felt comfortable engaging directly with fans in the same way he once had.

Yet even now, with the benefit of hindsight, and even among those who ostensibly reject purity culture and condem bullying and harassment, very few on tumblr take what was done to John Green as seriously as it should be taken or condemn it as thoroughly as it should be condemned. Which I think is something we need to at least consider doing, given the increasing rise of purity and cancel culture online, and given the recent influx of professional creators eager to interact with fans on a more direct level than they have on other social media.

And my concern is not purely, or even primarily, for the Mike Flanagans and Lynda Carters of the world. I'm far more concerned, actually, for the small, independent or self-published creators in this space, and how much even a very small level of visibility gives too many people a feeling of carte blanche to engage in harassment.

I myself have less than 3k followers on here, a handful of popular posts, and zero notoriety or consequence outside of tumblr whatsoever, and I've been repeatedly told to kill myself for saying such innocuous things as "I don't think censorship is the cure for the world's evils" and "maybe learning the history of communities you want to participate in would be a good idea."

Thankfully, all it took for me to stop the harassment that came my way was to block those few individuals. But there have been many instances over the years of small creators or just random tumblr users that got a bit popular being stalked, doxxed, swatted, and harassed to the point of leaving the site and dealing with serious mental health issues as a result. It has never been just John Green. John Green isn't even the worst example. And tumblr has never learned its lesson.