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dear-bunnyboo · 6 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐒 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

Since I’ve been focusing on my Joey B series for the a couple of weeks now, I decided to change it up a bit and write a one shot for a change,,, enjoy!

This was submitted to me anonymously by one of y’all and I accidentally posted it instead of saving it to drafts, so I ended up deleting it. So whoever, requested for this— I really hope you see this 🤍

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joe Burrow x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: On the outside Joe was seen as serious and stoic but what they don’t see behind the scenes is the big baby you call your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, more fluff, cursing, teasing, slight tension, flirting, established relationship, pet names, and did I mention fluff?

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joe Burrow is one of the best quarterbacks in the league. His teammates and opponents alike would always share both privately and publicly how Joe was someone they are scared to play against— calling him "silent but deadly". Players that had the opportunity to play against him would either call him "calm" or "poised". He had an attitude and mentality that either shocked or scared people— Joe could handle tackle after tackle, the trash talk he would get in the field would go in an ear and out the other— he'd listen quietly and prove them wrong in so many ways.

Joe is cold as ice.

He is ruthless on the field and outside he was serious. So, it seems amusing to you how your "scary" boyfriend was walking around with a literal pout gracing his face as he trailed behind you while you decorated your house for Halloween.

"You can continue that later. Let's watch the new show I was talking about— come on, baby." Joe whined with his deep gruff voice.

It was a peculiar dynamic you two had, one that both puzzled and amused the people around you. On the surface, he was a towering, imposing figure, someone whom people would describe as intimidating, even scary. But they didn't know the softer side of him, the part he revealed only to you, and it was something truly endearing.

At first, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his clinginess. He would drop everything he was doing if you asked him to, and he would eagerly help with any request, no matter how trivial or absurd it might be. He was the kind of boyfriend who would move mountains to make you happy, and at times, it was a lot to handle— but you truly wouldn't have it any other way.

"Joe that's the thing— the second we start cuddling on that sofa, we would never leave and I need to finish decorating the house before the party." you explained to your boyfriend who was looking at you like he was about to pick you up and slam you down on the couch.

"The party is not until tomorrow night." You and Joe were hosting a Halloween party with your closest friends tomorrow night and you wanted everything to be perfect.

"How about you help me. This way we can finish faster and then we can watch the show." you proposed to the blonde who seemed to like the idea of fasten the pace of decorating.

"I'm all yours, baby. What do you want me to do?" Joe grabs the pumpkin decoration from your hand.

You smiled at his enthusiasm to help before directing him to place the decoration in the kitchen.

It took you a while to get used to Joe's affection. and once you got to know him better, you began to understand the depth of his affection. He was fiercely loyal and protective, and his commitment to your relationship was unwavering. His willingness to go the extra mile for you was his way of showing how much he cared.

Despite Joe's imposing exterior, he was surprisingly tender and considerate. He would try to cook your favorite meals, leave sweet notes hidden for you to find, and surprise you with small, thoughtful gestures. Joe knows all your favorite songs, your deepest fears, and the little quirks that made you who you are.

Joe's softness was most evident in the way he treated his friends, particularly when they needed help. He was the dependable rock in their lives, the one who would listen to their problems and offer a shoulder to lean on. It was a side of him that they cherished, and one that he didn't feel the need to hide.

Both your friends couldn't quite grasp this side of him. They would tease him mercilessly, calling him whipped, and questioning why he worshipped the ground you walked on. But you knew it wasn't about worship; it was about love. He didn't just love you; he adored you, and he wanted to make you feel cherished and special every single day.

You silently watched as Joe carefully rearranged the different Halloween decorations across the house making sure they looked perfect according to your standards. He patiently moved them around as you directed him over and over again with not a single complain whatsoever— only the compliment every minute or so. "You have an eye for this." he said as he moved back to get a more detailed look, his hands on his hips as he gave you his most beautiful smile, "You are amazing at decorating, baby." Joe said before placing a peck on your lips

You glanced at the clock, realizing that it was much later than you had anticipated. As much as you loved decorating, you knew that spending time with Joe was equally important. He was patient, but you could see the excitement in his eyes as he talked about the show.

"Well, it's late and it's hard to resist your persuasive charms. Alright, let's watch your show, but I might sneak a few glances at the decor every now and then." you smiled up at him. Joe's face lit up with a warm smile, and he gently pulled you into his arms.

"Deal! I promise you won't regret it. And, who knows, maybe taking a break will inspire some new decorating ideas. Plus, we can relax and unwind together. I promise, I'll help you with anything tomorrow." Joe beamed at you before carrying you to the living room.

This is how Joe found himself at a bakery the next day— you asked him to pick up the cakes and desserts for the party and Joe could not say no because of your pretty little eyes staring up at him— plus he promised.

Joe was accompanied by Ja'Marr, Tee, and Sam who were attending the party as well as you busied yourself with the final touches back at home. You were sitting in the living room, trying to figure out what else to add to the area, engrossed in your own world when your phone pinged with an incoming video from Ja'Marr. Curious, you opened it to find your boyfriend's face illuminated on the screen. But what caught your attention was the laughter and teasing from his friends in the background— which were the laughs and voices of Ja'Marr, Tee, and Sam who should be helping Joe pick up the food for tonight.

"Joey B!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, as the camera panned to Joe's phone who simply stood with his phone out and a smirk on his face— shaking his head because of his friends’ behavior.

There, on the screen, was a clear shot of your contact information on Joe's phone. The caller ID photo was a picture of you from one of your early dates, smiling against a stunning sunset backdrop. In the photo, you had the biggest smile on your face that Joe has always found adorable.

The caller ID they were teasing him about was 'Mamas'— the pet name Joe would call you from time to time which was your absolute favorite. There was just something about the way your boyfriend says it that gets you going— however, you didn't know that this was what your contact was saved on his phone.

"Aw, dude, that's so cute!" Sam chortled, pointing at the screen. "You've got her as your caller ID with that sappy picture? Man, you're whipped!"

Amidst the laughter and playful jabs, Joe just chuckled and defended himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, guys. I like it, alright."

Your heart melted as you watched the video. Here was your boyfriend, being openly teased and mocked by his friends for his cute caller ID choice, and he didn't mind one bit. Joe was unapologetic about his feelings for you, and his friends couldn't help but admire that fact.

"Alright, man. Say goodbye to Y/N." Ja'Marr pointed to camera back to Joe's face who still had that damn smirk on his face he knew you loved.

"Bye, Mamas." Joe's deep voice resonated almost knocking the air out of your chest, you were now blushing as you stared at your phone— giggling as you laid back on the couch, your thoughts only on Joe, completely forgetting the task that you had in hand.

"Bye, Mamas!" "Mamas! "Bye bye, Mamas!" Tee, Ja'Marr, Sam chorused before a loud yet gruff voice interrupted off screen.

"You don't get to fucking call her that."

The video ended with his friends continuing to tease, but there was an undertone of respect and camaraderie in their laughter. It was clear to you that the love and affection he had for you were transparent in every aspect of his life, even his phone's caller ID.

You felt a warm, glowing pride knowing that Joe wasn't afraid to embrace his love for you, even in the face of good-natured ribbing from his friends. It was a sweet reminder of the affection you two shared, and it made you heart swell with happiness.

In Joe's presence, you felt safe and loved, knowing that you had someone who would stand by your side through thick and thin. You could see past the intimidating facade and into the heart of a man who was simply head over heels in love with you. His clinginess, as others might call it, was a testament to the intensity of his feelings.

Your relationship was a unique blend of toughness and tenderness, a world only the two of you truly understood. As you walked through life hand in hand, you realized that you didn't need the world to see what you saw in him. The softness beneath his exterior was a precious gift he had given you, and you cherished it with all your heart.

dividers: @cafekitsune

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

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Something to Fight For (series) Part 13

Word Count: 8.0K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria (yay!) / Tess x Joel (temporary) / Bill x Frank (forever)

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuut. Spoilers: thigh riding, dirty talk, female orgasm, Joel's a giver.

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joe

“An old favorite,” Paul says with a charming smile. “Maria will love it.”

You and Paul are at his place sitting on the sofa facing one another. Paul has his guitar resting on his lap and he's strumming the first few bars to "Always on my Mind". He's decided that Maria and Tommy would love this at the wedding; a little impromptu reunion of the band.

“What about Tommy?” you pose, feeling strange about the whole thing. “He wasn’t even around to see us play before.”

“Oh he’ll get on board,” Paul says with confidence.

"I haven't sung it in so long," you say, your nerves building as you think about singing in public again. "I don't really think I wanna do it, Paul."

"It's the perfect song for a wedding." Paul insists, strumming the guitar a little more loudly. "Now c'mon, we only have a few weeks to get it right."

He sets off into the first verse, his voice clear and melodic before he prompts you with a raise of his brows.

This is the part of Paul you didn't miss.

The pressing.

Even when you didn't want to sing at the bars some nights all those years ago, he'd insist. You'd stand up there, your heart hammering as you gazed out into the crowd. But then Paul would be at your side with his guitar over his shoulder squeezing your hip and whispering that you sounded amazing, that everyone loved it and that you needed to keep going. He'd never force you, never threaten. He'd just wear you down to the point where it was easier to just give in.

And you would.

The only time you'd refused Paul anything was the night he told you he was ending things. After your big blow out where you told him in no uncertain terms that you weren't leaving your job to run off with he and Jack to tour.

You'd been devastated. The anguish you'd felt you'd packed in a rush, holding in your sniffles even when Paul begged you to reconsider. That heavy sadness when Paul watched you leave the apartment, telling you that it was a mistake.

You frown at the memory now, those same feelings of anxiety spreading through your body.

"C'mon," Paul urges you in a voice heavy with love for you. "This is your part, baby."

And as you always did back then, you nod and you relent.

///

"Hey friend," comes Joel's smiling voice at the end of the phone the next day. "Any chance you have a minute?"

You glance at the mountain of paperwork on your desk at the humane society and a smile moves over your features at the request. "Always."

You can hear Joel crawling into the seat of his truck, closing his door to the sound of the work site drilling and hammering.

"Good. I wanted your advice about Sarah's birthday party." Joel's voice is thoughtful. "I know it's gotta be toads and purple but that's where I'm stuck. When I asked her she just mentioned she wanted McDonalds. Doesn't care about anything else."

"Not everything has to be toads," you reason with a smile and a laugh. "Why not ... McDonalds and mini golf? That new course just opened up and I bet Sarah would love it."

"That's a good idea," Joel agrees, and you can imagine him nodding. "Didn't think of that."

Tess ' words come back to you sharp and unexpected.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

How are you giving her room to bond with Sarah if you're doing this? You're practically planning Sarah's birthday party like you’re her mother or something. There's an acute tug at your heart at that thought before you sober.

"What did Tess say?"

"Huh?"

"When you asked her about this," you say motioning to the air in front of you. "What was her idea?"

There is a stretch of quiet. You can hear Joel's fingers strumming the wheel.

"I, uh, haven't asked her yet," Joel finally recovers. "You've known Sarah longer so I thought I'd ask you first."

"Oh right. Well, Tess really likes Sarah," you say, holding in a wince. "I bet she'd have lots of good ideas."

The conversation is suddenly awkward and stilted. You both find reasons to end the call that have everything and nothing to do with your respective jobs.

The gap begins.

///

At the end of your shift you're surprised to see Tommy in the parking lot of your building. He’s leaning against the back like something out of a teen girl’s magazine. He gives you a sweet smile when you approach.

“Was heading to Maria’s and thought you’d wanna lift.”

You had no desire to take the bus home tonight; you’re exhausted from all this sanctuary planning. You shoot him a thankful smile.

“You’re the best,” you enthuse, bringing yourself up into the truck’s bench seat. You stow your purse at your feet, buckling in as Tommy starts the truck up. You give a wave to Alex as you pull out of the lot and onto the winding road home.

Tommy and Joel are peas in a pod when it comes to music. You try to change it to a pop station before Tommy shoots you a meaningful look and switches the dial back to 92.5 CountryJamFM.

“Jesus,” you mock as the first straining guitar ballad begins. “Just as bad as your brother.”

“Really?” Tommy is smiling widely.

“Yep. I gave him shit for the exact same thing.”

“Not surprised. Our mom was always sayin’ I copied everything Joel did when we were kids,” Tommy laughs. “I thought he was the coolest person on earth. Always wanted to do everything he did, listen to the same bands, drink the same beer. Guess some of it stuck.”

You’re imagining the two young brown-eyed boys (one a little older, a little more serious), laughing and playing in forests and building tree forts. When you think of the Miller brothers it’s always out in nature, wild and unfettered

“That’s actually really sweet,” you say with a smile. “Joel never really talks about your parents.”

“Not a shock. Neither’s around anymore.” Tommy looks grim and you immediately regret saying anything about to apologize but then Tommy gets a faraway look in his eyes. “You know when we were younger, and our Mom was sick, Joel quit school?”

“What?” this surprises you. “Where was your dad?”

“Left years before. I don’t even remember what he looked like.”

Tommy is frowning now and you’re trying to formulate the whirring thoughts in your head. You’re surprised by so much of what is happening. You and Tommy have never had a great many deep conversations. You know so little Joel’s history.

“I thought Joel said he didn’t do well in school. Said he only enjoyed shop.”

“Nah, not true,” Tommy says with a shake of his head. “He was really smart, ‘specially in English classes. He only left so he could get a job and support us. Construction place near our house was hiring.”

You sit in the seat next to Tommy and mull over your time with Joel realizing that while he was so determined to learn more of you, you were more passive, taking in the information in crumbs when he offered them. You have a heavy regret that settles into your tummy with this information Tommy is sharing.

“And then I grow up, smokin’ weed in bathrooms and getting’ into bar fights and there’s Joel comin’ to rescue me every time. I barely graduated and then I couldn’t keep a job. And then Joel had this construction company, something he built from the ground up. ‘Course Joel hired me and now my life is better than it ever could be but only because of my brother.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes still peeled on the road but glassy. “Sometimes I feel guilty, like I stole Joel’s future from him.”

You want to shake your head and assure Tommy that this couldn’t be the case. But the reality is you don’t know. You two lapse into silence as the drive continues but you can’t stop thinking about Joel and his childhood.

“Joel’s always been that way though.”

“What way?”

“Protector. Always wants to do what’s best for other people instead of himself. S'funny," Tommy says airily looking at the stretch of road in front of him. "I always thought you were a great match for my brother because you’re just the same."

Pure unfettered delight goes through your body like a drug. A tingling sensation that makes your cheeks flush and your mouth curl into a grin. Tommy thinks that? Tommy thinks you’re a good match for Joel?

All at once you realize you sober.

He thought that.

Past tense.

Because Joel is with Tess now.

“It’s why I dragged him to trivia that night,” Tommy confesses with a shy grin. “Was hoping you two’d hit it off after that fucking abysmal first night.”

Your heart is thumping now. You wonder why Tommy is telling you this at all.

"I was so sure something had happened between you two," Tommy adds before he can stop himself. “He came home from that Christmas party all excited and smiling and I thought ‘this is the Joel from when we were kids.’ Like he finally had something just for himself. Not for Sarah or for me.”

Joel’s words haunt you now, swirling in your mind and your heart. The way he’d held you and kissed you and whispered those words.

I want you for my own.

And you know that Joel never meant it to possess you or own you. He wanted that carved space in his heart to be filled with something he didn’t have to share. Something that he could cherish and rely would still be there.

Tears are stinging your eyes and you blink them back furiously. Tommy slants a look at your down-turned face.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“You really like that Paul guy?”

Tommy has a cringing look on his face, like he knows what he asked is over the line. He’s bracing himself for your ire or complete silence. You give him neither because you know Tommy isn’t asking to be cruel or prying. He’s asking, you realize, because he’s not really sure.

And while you want to tell Tommy that yes, you do like Paul you also really, really like Joel. But you can’t help but think of Tess and her hopes for a future with him. You think of Paul and his desire to start a life together with you. You realize that wanting more is incredibly selfish so you give Tommy a small nod and smile.

“I do.”

///

Joel stands in front of his bathroom mirror and stares at himself. He's taken to doing this in recent weeks, but not for vanity's sake. He doesn't look at his hair or his body.

He leans over the counter, his wide palms flat on the cool stone until his nose is inches from the mirror. There he keeps gaze with his own reflection until his mouth curls in disgust.

"You're a piece of shit."

He reminds himself of this because no one else does.

Being back in Frank and Bill's had done something to him. Sitting there in the scene of the crime. He'd made sure not to go past the studio door, terrified of what he'd do if he saw the same sofa you'd been entangled on. He was sure he'd feel the phantom touch of your hands in his hair and the way you'd looked at him that night.

It stirred up not just feelings of lust but if overwhelming regret. Sadness that was so much more acute than loneliness had been. And this deep unrelenting guilt that he'd fucked up.

He hadn't been able to keep himself from looking over at you during that visit, sneaking looks when you laughed. His own lips quirking in amusement when you did. Your arm had brushed against his as you shifted in your seat and he'd refused to move, desperate for you to do it again.

Seeing you happy makes him feel so fucking good even if he's not the one doing it.

Frank and Bill, they give you ease and comfort and he likes being there with you in this world of baked goods and laughing and gentle comments of how wonderful Sarah is.

His heart felt full that day and then it broke just as easily in the subsequent ones.

Coming to see Tommy at Maria's had been a last minute detour to grab the tools. He hadn't even considered you'd be there until his brother invited him in for a drink and he'd seen you there snuggled up against Paul. A handsome man, a man who had you tucked under his arm like you were his.

And Joel had felt that sickening lurch in his heart followed quickly by a scorching and ugly possessiveness. Who the fuck was this guy touching you? You were Joel’s.

Except you aren't.

Joel doesn't get to feel that way. He doesn't get to feel any way about who you take up with. He'd lost that privilege the second he'd taken up with Tess. He stares with menace into his reflection until the dark brown of his eyes are all he sees and feels, suffocating and harsh and unrelenting.

Why did you do it?

Why? How did he convince himself that being with Tess, that not waiting for you, had been the logical decision?

Was it anger at your lack of communication? Perhaps. Hurt and pathetic jealousy over knowing that you had contacted Maria and not him? Likely. Feeling rejected? Feeling unworthy? Maybe. Had it been fair?

No.

The thing with Tess had been so unexpected. A month of silence from you had left Joel feeling insecure and rejected. Sarah's concern that you didn't like her anymore or were mad at her had him upset. So when Tess called suggesting a play date for Daniel and Sarah he'd jumped at the chance to get out of his house and out of his head.

He hadn't gone in with the intention of anything more than a cup of coffee. Sarah and Daniel were in the next room giggling and pretending they were mermaids.

Joel and Tess sat across from one another in the kitchen with their rapidly cooling coffees. They began with chatting about their prospective Christmases and the stress that comes with the holiday when you have a five year old. But then Tess had given him a sharp look.

"You look tired."

"Not sleeping much," Joel replied.

"Me neither." Tess took a sip of her coffee. "Dave's girlfriend is pregnant."

That had shocked Joel's eyes from the mug to her face. Tess was looking at him with that curiously intense gaze of hers.

"Yeah that was my Christmas present this year," Tess replied with a forced laugh. "Finding out my ex is already moving on with some slut from his office and he's already gotten her pregnant."

"Daniel?"

"He's thrilled. Can't wait to be a big brother." Tess' gaze turned hard. "Sorry, shouldn't be bringing this up with you."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not really our dynamic, is it?" Tess has asked him curiously. "Our kids play together, sometimes we talk. . . Surface level stuff."

Joel had shrugged. "I don't mind listening."

Tess had been surprised by Joel's candor and in the way he sat there, hand around his mug listening as Tess poured her heart out about her ex. The hurt, the loneliness that Joel could relate to a bit too much.

"Thanks for listening," Tess said with a wry smile as she finished.

"Any time," Joel replied with a small lift of his fingers from the table.

"You seein' anyone these days?" Tess said it airily, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. She'd seen the pretty woman in his truck weeks ago. The one he couldn't stop glancing over his shoulder to look at, to smile at.

Joel felt his mouth tug into a frown at that question. Was he seeing someone?

No.

You didn't even want to talk to him. He couldn't call you to see where the two of you stood. Wasn't that his answer?

He shook his head to indicate the negative. That action felt like a betrayal the moment he stopped.

"Ever feel lonely?" Tess had mused, tracing her finger along the rim of her mug. "I sure fucking do."

"Yeah," Joel had nodded. Because it was true. He did feel lonely in a way Tommy and Sarah and his job couldn't touch.

"Wanna be lonely together? Go on a date?"

Joel hadn't been expecting that from Tess. His knee jerk reaction was to say no. That he was seeing someone. That it was complicated. But what was the complication? He told you how he felt and you'd left, icing him out.

Joel thought of the worst scenario: that you didn't actually like him. That he'd pressured you into something you didn't want and now you wanted nothing to do with him.

He could see the insecurity growing in Tess' face the longer he didn't answer.

"Sure," Joel had agreed with a smile that didn't feel genuine. "Yeah."

"Did you really even like me that much?"

Of course you would wonder that. Of course you would sit there looking so beautiful and hurt and asking that in a way that made Joel's heart ache. And he deserved it. He deserved that question and that pain.

And he'd waited for your disgust, your recalcitrance when he explained his loneliness. Because it wasn't a good enough answer. It didn't encompass how he thought you'd not wanted him and how he'd been weak enough not to fight for you.

But you'd responded with kindness and patience and above all you wanted to know how it would affect Sarah.

And that's when he'd felt his resolve starting to slip. That was when he considered taking you into his arms and covering your face with kisses. He wanted to throw himself at your feet and beg your forgiveness. He wanted to push you onto your bed and make gentle love to you for hours.

And then he'd heard the name Paul. And then he sees you tucked up beside him days later and he hears Maria tell Tommy that she thinks you're happy and he wants you to be happy. After everything Joel just wants that smile of yours to stay.

///

You come to babysit that Friday night loaded down with a backpack full of puzzles and Disney DVDs and Sarah runs screeching into your arms as you heft her onto one hip. You’re especially excited to see her today.

"Had to show you this," you tell Sarah as you hold her in one arm. Her tiny arms wrap around you, twisting to look at the flip phone you've opened and begun to bring images up on. You stop on the most recent, smiling at her.

"Are those kitty's?"

"Yup," you smile at her reaction. "Foster parent sent the photos to me this morning. 5 kittens in all."

"What's a fozzer parent?"

"A foster parent,” you correct gently. “They're the people who take care of the animals when they're small until they're big and strong enough to get adopted."

Sarah is digesting this, her wide eyes going off into middle distance just as Joel enters the kitchen. He's dressed casual tonight in jeans that hug the curve of his ass and a t-shirt that strains along the arm and broad chest of his body.

If Frank was here you're sure he'd be foaming at the mouth.

"Hi Daddy."

"Hey babygirl."

Joel smiles a hello at you, going to grab a glass of water before he leaves. You continue scanning through the grainy photos in your phone at Sarah’s request. She suggests names like Pumpkin and Carrot for the kittens and you don’t bother telling her they already have Lord of the Rings names because the foster parent is a Tolkien nerd.

///

Joel sips his water slowly, needing to extend the time in your presence. He watches you hold his daughter on your hip, both sets of eyes on the glowing phone in your hands. Sarah is excitedly rambling and you’re glancing over at her with an indulgent smile.

He loves you.

Wait, what? No. He means he loves watching you with Sarah. The sweetness of your bond. He doesn’t love you. You’re friends, that’s it.

You seem really happy with Paul, as much as he hates to admit it. He hears from Maria how happy you are.

He can’t love you.

///

You feel Joel’s warm eyes on you and you glance up to see him staring at you and Sarah. You can’t stop looking at him differently now after your conversation with Tommy. You give a sweet smile of affection for him.

Protector.

I want you for my own.

There is a part of your lizard brain that focuses on this aspect of Joel. The strong protector covering his own hurt. The way he wants to take care of you. The way he wants to protect everyone even at a cost to his own happiness.

And you can admit now, as you stare into his eyes, that you love that about him. This deep, abiding affection that makes your heart swell when you look at him. It makes you daydream about a world and a future that isn’t yours.

You think what it would be like if Joel was your husband. You can imagine it. The three of you just as you have always been. Except now its Joel curving forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, looking at the phone with Sarah perched on your hip. His strong arms wrapping around your expanded midsection. His mouth coming to your temple to whisper how much he wanted this, how much he wanted you.

The dam breaks.

All the emotions you’d been holding back sputter out of you and you nearly drop the phone. Thankfully Sarah has a grip on it and she stills it. Your eyes are threatening to spill over and you rub them furiously.

“Careful,” Sarah tells you, her attention still on the images of the little kittens. Joel approaches, his eyes peering into yours. His hand is on your cheek, cupping it before you can say anything.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod shakily, trying not to nuzzle into his palm. “Just a headache.”

“I don’t have to go,” Joel insists, worried he sounds too eager. “I could cancel if you’re not feeling well.”

This affection you have for Joel, this worrisome love that you can’t seem to stop builds in your chest. And just as Tommy said, you are so similar. Because while you care for Joel you know that Tess is a better match. You are chaotic and troubled and you bring drama into this single father’s life; drama he never had before you. Tess is even and steady and no, she’s not perfect. But neither is Joel.

“You go on,” you croak, forcing a smile to your face. “Have fun.”

Joel nods and gives a weak smile, dropping his hand from your cheek.

“Don’t know how much fun a bid meeting is, but we’ll see.”

Since she's still in your arms you watch as Joel leans forward and presses a kiss to Sarah's forehead before smiling indulgently at her.

"Your beard tickles," Sarah giggles with a smile up at her father before mentioning the kittens from your work. Her voice is fading though because Joel's eyes have snapped to you and he's not moving back. If anything his face is getting closer to yours.

You don’t pull away.

Ever so softly, Joel presses a kiss to your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the contact. His lips are warm and soft against your skin and you feel his hand skating along to your lower back, resting there. He’s so close you can smell the scent of his shampoo and the laundry detergent and this underlying scent that is just Joel to you.

He pulls back slowly, staring at you as you blink open your eyes. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Can he tell everything in your gaze?

Sarah barely notices this interaction between the two grownups because her attention is on the phone and on the subject of what she has decided what she'll do for a job when she gets to an employable age: Fozzer parent.

"Have fun you two," he says to you both in a deep voice before clearing it.

You swallow; swaying gently and watching him leave. You decide to stop acting like a stunned mullet when the door closes behind him and you’ve lowered Sarah back to the floor

“Let’s play Barbies.”

Sarah is unaware of your sudden daze, or the way you stumble when you walk into the living room after her. She doesn’t even comment on how you’re smiling crookedly as you dress the various Barbie dolls she shoves at you.

“This one needs a bit of love,” you say brushing the hair of a particularly bedraggled Barbie as you and Sarah sit before another one of her Christmas acquisitions; a Barbie Dream home. So pink and purple you want to wear sunglasses just to look at it.

“My birthday is soon.”

“I know,” you say with measured enthusiasm. “I hear you and your dad are planning something really fun.”

“McDonalds and mini golf,” Sarah tells you smiling widely. “They have a big play place with a ball pit.”

“Mhmm. Who’s coming?”

“Uncle Tommy, Auntie Maria (auntie! You’ll never get over that!) and my best friend Jessie. And you, right?”

“Of course,” you answer without thinking then realize some names have been left off her list. “You think you’ll invite Daniel and Miss Tess?”

“Daniel’s annoying.” Sarah adds nothing else to this as she’s struggling to put a pair of plastic shoes onto a Barbie with springy feet. “He only wants to play cars.”

"Ah, that’s boys for you,” you try to say it casually. “I think Miss Tess is really nice though."

"She doesn't do voices right when she reads," Sarah tells you flatly, not looking up from the Barbie she’s currently trying to make walk. "Templeton sounds the same like Wilbur."

You hold in a laugh at her criticism of Tess' ability to read Charlotte's Web to her standards.

"Maybe there's another book she can read with you?" You offer. "One we haven't read yet."

Sarah looks up at you with a peering expression, as if she can’t really figure you out tonight. But this dims when her attention becomes fixed on the Barbie you've now made look presentable

"Olivia books?" Sarah suggests finally. "Olivia is a pig but she wears a red dress. That’s a good book."

You nod and hope your smile hides the pain behind it.

///

After two stories (with very good voices), one song (“You are my sunshine” seemed more appropriate for a five year old than more Linda Ronstadt), five forehead kisses (plus one for toad) and two “I love you’s” (two each, that is), Sarah is asleep and you’re daydreaming on the sofa.

You can’t stop thinking about Joel kissing your cheek. The warmth of him, the broadness of his frame, the soft rasp of his whiskers. Every single thing about Joel makes you feel giddy and fluttery and just when you feel yourself about to giggle out loud, the house phone rings and you sit up as Tess’ voice rings through the air as the answering machine clicks on.

Hey Joel, it’s me. Just wanted to know what you thought Sar-bear would want for her birthday? I already got something but I’m worried it’s not enough. Call me back, k? Bye.

You can hear the unspoken ‘I love you’ in the ‘bye’. You know it’s because the machine is public, possible for Sarah to listen to.

Sar-bear?

Jesus Christ. Were you really so naïve to think you could exist in this world with Sarah and Joel, immune to what lay outside the doors? Immune to the woman who wants to have Sarah for a daughter and Joel for a husband?

Besides, you’re reading too much into this. He kissed your cheek. Tommy kisses your cheek hello sometimes when you see he and Maria at dinner. There’s nothing sensual there, just a form of affection.

The TV is turned on and your mind is distracted until a short while later you hear a rapping on the door. You switch the TV off, feeling a bit nervous. You consider taking the butcher knife from the kitchen but then decide perhaps this is an overreaction since Joel lives in a perfectly safe neighborhood.

A quick look through the peephole tells you its Paul on the other side.�� Your ride home. A quick glance at your wristwatch tells you that its barely nine o’clock.

“Hey baby,” Paul says, leaning against the door frame. He kisses you gently. “Ready to go?”

“I said Joel would be back around nine-thirty,” you remind him, feeling a flash of irritation. You don’t like that he’s here at the door, so close to a world you’ve unknowingly kept him on the perimeter of. It makes you feel strange to have him there on the doorstep.

“Sorry,” Paul says with a wince. “Think I heard wrong. Can I come in?"

“I don’t think that’s. . . I don’t know how Joel would feel about that.”

Paul looks shocked by this from you, about to say something when another voice sounds out from behind him.

“How would I feel about what?”

Joel is striding up to the house, his muscled legs moving up the drive.

“Bringing boyfriends over while you babysit? A bit cliche,” Joel teases, but his voice is tight and his smile looks forced. You feel a strange sense of guilt that Paul is here.

“Hey Joel,” you say with an awkward laugh. “This is Paul. Paul, this is Joel."

Joel walks up the steps and extends a hand that Paul immediately shakes, smiling warmly.

“Yeah I think I saw you once at Maria’s. Heard lots about you.”

Joel slants a look your way before nodding back at Paul. “Good things I hope.”

You watch, stricken as the two men shake hands before breaking apart.

“Paul just got here early to pick me up.”

“Good man,” Joel says and up close you can see the strange look in his eyes. He brushes past you gently to go into the house as you prepare to leave, feeling strange to be leaving like this, one foot already on the threshold of the door. You give a soft goodnight to Joel, preparing to head out when Paul furrows his brow and grips your wrist, stopping you.

“Aren’t you going to pay her?”

Joel who had been about to walk inside his house stops, stepping back and looking at Paul. You immediately blanch, looking at your boyfriend in dull horror.

“No, that’s not-“

“She did a service for you, she deserves to get paid.”

Paul states this as if he’s doing you a favor. He says this about you – that you’re too kind and you do too much for others. That you don’t stand up for yourself enough and you know he’s doing it to be kind but you want to scream at him.

“We have a deal, Joel built all those kennels for me and-“

“Your boyfriend is right,” Joel interrupts lowly, taking the wallet out the back of his pants pocket. “You do a lot and you deserve to get paid for it.”

Paul shoots you a look that says: See?

You swallow the warm shame that is flushing your entire body a humiliated pink. You can only stand in horrible, awkward silence as Joel peels off five twenty dollar bills (far too much for a few hours babysitting) and gently holds them to you. You stare at the money a beat too long before Paul reaches out, taking the money and then handing it to you himself.

“Thanks,” you mutter with your eyes on the ground as you put the money in your pocket.

"Good night," Joel says.

///

You can’t stop thinking about of Joel’s mouth.

You should be turned off, especially after the humiliating spectacle you just endured but your mind keeps flying back to the softness in his eyes and the way his hand had skated down your back. Abuzz with thoughts of Joel and his lips on your fevered cheek, you drive to Paul’s house almost thrumming beside him.

In bed Paul moves between your legs with the comforting motions of a longtime lover. Your bodies are familiar with one another; you know the sweet spots each other enjoys. After two years there is gentleness to the intimacy, a calm and steady reliance that when you fall you'll be caught.

He likes to do it best with both you on your sides, his front pressed against your back, your legs scissor with his, rolling your hips against him as he fucks you. He is usually silent, the only noises are the grunts and gasps when he hits you in a way that makes you squirm delightedly. At this angle you often come, shuddering his name.

Tonight is no different except the mouth on your body that you imagine in Joel's and you feel the warmth expand up your body, making you go boneless against Paul as he finishes soon after.

He kisses your sweaty temple, holding you until he softens, disposing of the condom and returning to bed to hold you again.

"Remind me, I gotta go to the pharmacy tomorrow," you tell Paul flicking off the lamp next to the bed. "Gotta get my refill."

You feel Paul snuggling up against you in bed and you smile. You like cozy nights like this at his place. His bed is bigger than yours, more room to stretch out and his lithe body is so warm.

"Maybe don't get a refill this time," Paul coos as he comes to wrap his arms around you.

"What?"

You're suddenly so tensed that Paul begins tugging you back into him. He sighs gently before pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder.

"I wanna make a baby with you," Paul says, his hand coming to span over your empty stomach. "I want us to build a family."

You want to laugh at the preposterousness of the suggestion but something stops you.

Paul is offering you a family.

you won't have Sarah and Joel. Tess has laid a very obvious claim to them and you don't have a leg to stand on. Maria and Tommy are starting a new chapter in their lives. It won't be long before they too will turn inward, their lives intertwined.

And wouldn't it be nice to raise kids together with Maria? Maybe even be pregnant at the same time? The thought causes an excited frisson to go through you. You have images of you both holding newborns. Maria glowing and holding a curly haired baby with dark caramel skin.

You rocking a baby in your arms, a baby with large eyes a dark chocolate brown that look up at you with adoration. The same brown color as -

You feel your eyes fly open. You glance over at Paul, taking in his sweet blue eyes and give a guilty smile.

"I'll think about it."

///

You’re surprised to see Joel at your work later that week. It’s early and you’re just arriving from the bus, your bag bouncing against your hip. At first you see him and his gentle smile and a surge of affection goes through you followed by a crushing humiliation at the memory of the last time you saw him.

You wave and walk over to the truck confused at his arrival before you see a flurry of movement in the back seat.

The widow is rolled down and Sarah shouts your name. You jog the rest of the way over, smirking over at Joel before you lean over the right window of the back seat. Sarah is dressed in a purple sweater and bumblebee boots. Her hair is in tight buns on either side of her head.

"Hey, how's it goin' bug?"

She reaches out towards you with one hand, and then frustrated at being buckled into her car seat she frowns at her father. "Daddy, let me out!"

"We had a deal," Joel warns her, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Sarah leans back in her car seat shooting daggers at her dad as she theatrically crosses her arms.

"What was the deal?" You ask Sarah playfully.

"She found out I driving in this direction for work and she begged me to take her to see ya before I dropped her at school," Joel explains with a smirk and a shrug from the front seat. "Drove by your place to see if you wanted a lift but you’d already left.”

You try to hide a pleased smile.

“Do you have a sec? If not we understand."

You love seeing them and you love that Sarah was so eager to see you.

"I always have time for Sarah," you say turning your attention back to the squirming girl in the backseat. "So what's up?"

Sarah reaches beside her in the car seat and you expect to see toad flying out of her pocket. Instead it's a glittery piece of stationary with the image of a frog in a tutu dancing with a party hat on.

"My birthday party," she explains handing you the card. "Can you come?"

"Your birthday party is finally here?" You say, feeling your heart melt as you see she's filled in all the information herself in her wide, crooked lettering. "How old are you turning? 20? 25? Can you finally rent a car?"

Sarah giggles at this, shaking her head. “I’m turning six.”

You look at the information. McDonalds and mini golf. You used to have parties like that when you were little. It makes you feel nostalgic for a life not overshadowed by poor memories.

"It's a small party," Joel explains from the front seat. "Just Tommy and Maria, Tess and Daniel and Sarah's friend from school."

"Jessie," Sarah tells you. "She's my best friend since I was four."

She says this like it's a relationship that has weathered many seasons. The party sounds like it's an intimate affair and you wonder if that means you shouldn't go. Yes, you want to be part of Sarah’s life and yes, you love her but Tess will be there and it's too hard for you to pretend like you don't care that she's with Joel.

You glance at the date on the shining card stock where Joel has obviously helped her to print the date: this Saturday.

"We're having ice cream cake," Sarah explains. "I get vanilla and chocolate."

"Lucky girl!" You enthuse before your eyes dart to Joel in the front seat. He's looking between you and Sarah in the rear view mirror, his gaze unreadable.

"Yep!" Sarah shouts this giggling madly and kicking her feet. Her little boots bump against the car seat, squeaking as she speaks rapidly. "I'm gonna have so many pieces-"

"Time to go, say goodbye," Joel says in a playful voice before he starts the engine again, seeing that Sarah's attention now firmly rests on what she's going to be eating on Saturday.

"Wait daddy! Are you coming to my birthday?" Sarah asks you with wide eyes before her dad can hit the gas pedal.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah. Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

You made a promise to Tess. Not one you wanted to make, not one that feels particularly fair, but one that you agreed to. You look from the sweet child to the sweet man in the front seat and feel your heart aching. You want so much for them both to be happy. And this means you need to pull back, just a little bit.

"Sarah, this is so nice of you to invite me," you enthuse. "But uh, unfortunately this Saturday I have plans. I can't make it."

You aren't expecting the devastation that crosses Sarah's face. Her crumpling face makes your heart sink.

“But you and me we’ll go to the movies or something, just us, and I'll still totally get you a present!" You promise, reaching through the window and cupping her warm cheek in your hand. "What were you wanting?"

"That's not necessa-" Joel starts from the front seat.

"Because I want to," you say speaking over Joel. "I'll make sure to give it to your dad so you get it before the party. Just tell me what you want."

Sarah's tears are warm and cover your thumbs. She pulls her face away from you, rubbing at her eyes as she tries to stop crying. You feel wretched.

"We better go," Joel grumbles as he shifts into gear.

The gap widens.

///

She’s sobbing.

His little girl is sobbing.

He can’t remember the last time he saw Sarah this upset. She’s in his lap in the front of the truck and he’s rocking her back and forth, murmuring soothing words as he rubs at her back. She’s too upset to go to daycare quite yet, so they’re in the parking lot.

You were lying. Lying to Sarah of all people. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He’d seen the indecision in your eyes that morning, almost felt the panic you had as you looked over the invitation. What was the problem? Was it that Paul wasn’t invited? He’d invite the entire fucking neighborhood if that’s what it took.

“I don’t w-wanna stupid party anymore,” Sarah hiccups, her body shuddering with the effort of trying to stop her crying. Her little arms around his neck and her forehead pressed to his cheek. “I don’t want one.”

“Sarah,” Joel offers diplomatically, pulling her back so he can look at her face. “Now you’re actin’ silly. You love parties.”

“Not without her. She makes cupcakes and tells me stories.”

“She said she was gonna take you out, just the two of you. I bet if you asked she’d make you your favorite cupcakes,” Joel insists, wiping at her runny nose with a tissue from his glove box. “Babygirl, sometimes grownups get busy.”

“Not her,” Sarah says wiping at her eyes even as fresh tears replace the old. “She loves me.”

“She does love you,” Joel insists, his heart seizing. “Loving you has nothing to do with coming to your party. So many people that love you will be at your party. I love you and Uncle Tommy loves you and-”

“Maybe she loves me like Mommy does?” Sarah asks, her lower lip trembling as she tries to understand, to rationalize you as a grown up. “Love but from far away?”

///

You left work early. You couldn’t concentrate on the tasks at hand. All you could think of was Sarah and how upset she’d been. You know you’re only doing what Tess asked. You’re backing off, giving her space to bond with Sarah.

It’s supposed to be the right thing, but it hurts so much. The kind of pain you feel you can taste in your mouth, bitter and metallic.

But you would want the same if Paul had a kid, wouldn’t you? You’d want to bond with the child that brings the man you care for such joy. The conversation you had earlier in the week with Paul makes your stomach flip, but not quite pleasantly.

There's a large knock at your door and you open it only to have Joel standing there looking as if he’s about to open fire.

“Joel?”

“Can I come in?”

You take a step backward, confused and a little wary. He looks furious. More furious than you can recall. His hands are at his sides and you note that he’s rubbing the fingertips together in agitation.

“Is everything-“

"So that promise you made about always being there for Sarah? Loving her?" Joel interrupts, walking in at your gesture. "I guess that was all bullshit?"

"No, I meant it," you defend immediately, closing the door behind you with a slam. “And I am. I just can’t come to her party on Saturday.”

“Because you have plans?”

“Yes.”

“You think I don’t know when you’re lyin’?” Joel says, his eyes swimming over your face. “You think I can’t see it in your eyes? I thought we were past this? Tell me the truth. Why aren’t you coming?”

You don’t want to answer him. But you know you have to.

“Because she doesn’t need me there,” you answer in half-truth. “She has Tess now. I figured I should ease off a bit. Give you guys some room.”

"She's not askin' for Tess, she's askin" for you!" Joel insists angrily, his drawl more pronounced when he's upset. Joel loves his daughter, he loves her so much and you've hurt her. You can see the anger in the tightness of his jaw, in the burning coals of his dark eyes.

It frightens you to see Joel this angry and you lash out.

"Stop yelling at me!" you shout at him, not acknowledging the irony. “Or you can get the fuck out of my place!”

Joel falters, realizing that he’s come in too hot, too aggressive.

"She keeps saying she doesn't wanna have a party if you're not there," he says, his voice dropping a bit as if he’s just now recognizing the volume and severity. "Says it won't feel like a real party without you."

"Well I didn't know that," you throw back at him. "I thought it was more of a family thing. I didn't wanna intrude."

"You're not intruding. You're family to her. So are you coming or not?" Joel insists. He's panting now, coming down from his furious high.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

Tess’ plea for you to stay away is ignored, pushed away by the sight of Sarah’s father glaring down at you.

No, not just because Joel is upset.

But because you have no intention of staying away from Sarah. If Tess wants Joel and Sarah she has to understand that you’ll be there in the peripheral, fighting for your place. You left Joel and Sarah once and it was the worst thing you could have done, you refuse to do it again.

"Yes,” you say softly. "Of course I'll come. What time?"

"Three."

"Fine."

Joel's voice is a soft rasp now. You take a step back, just as he steps forward.

"Fine."

It's like your bodies are magnets.

You keep trying to pull back from one another but it feels inevitable when you finally crash together.

Joel's hands are immediately fisting through your hair, tugging it so your head tilts back and he can move his mouth over yours. Your arms are around his neck, holding him tightly as you moan against his parting lips.

Your bodies are both trembling with need as Joel backs you against the wall, his eyes shut as he kisses you deeply. His knee comes to rest between your thighs and his hips press against yours fervently. You can feel him there, hard and thick through his denim.

So good. So good.

He licks into your mouth, curling his body around yours as you cling to him, desperate to feel everything. In a daring move your hands skate under his flannel and you feel the smooth, taught warmth of his broad back under your hands. He lets out a small moan into your mouth as goose bumps rise under your fingertips.

You’re quivering, full body shudders of desire that have your breath coming out in little quakes. Joel tilts his head so he can hear every sound, groaning lowly as your hips begin to slide along his thigh.

The friction of his jeans and the seam of yours hits perfectly, causing you to hiccup a gasp, pulling up. You quiver, your entire body shuddering as Joel urges you down against his thigh again, his own hips moving in tandem as you do. Your arms are on his shoulders, holding him.

One of his hands is palm flat above your shoulders on the wall at your back, balancing you both. The other is at the base of your spine, guiding you, urging you to grind harder against him. You do, feeling the arousal pooling between your legs.

Joel pulls back to look at you heavy-lidded with a mouth swollen from his lips. He watches your hips moving to rub against his thigh, your own thigh brushing his stiffened cock under the jeans. He’s aching, physically throbbing as he groans again, his brows saddling and his head falling forward.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps in your ear.

It’s not a dare from Joel, it’s a beg. A needful beg for you to be the one to stop things. For you to be the one that reminds him it’s wrong. For you to see that he’s completely undone, unable to stop himself.

"Don’t stop," you moan, tilting your head so that he has better access to trace his tongue along your neck. He does so, pressing you tighter to the wall until it’s not just his thigh you’re riding, but almost rutting up against his hips.

You grip him around the neck, your mouth panting against the slope where his shoulder meet the base of his neck. With a sound of delight Joel is coaxing you to take what you need, that he’s got you.

You can feel him hard against you and you have the strongest desire to reach into his jeans and just hold him, thick and twitching in your palm.

“Joel I w-wanna t-touch-” you begin, your words stopping sharply as the seam of your jeans hits that sweet spot.

You hear his smile, because your eyes are slammed shut as he begins to rub himself against you at an achingly slow pace.

“You first, honey,” he rasps against your jaw and this time you embrace the endearment as it slips past his lush lips. “Need to hear those sounds you make.”

"F-fuck," you gasp out. It's nothing like Paul or James.You’re fully clothed, your riding his fucking thigh and yet you feel electric. If it were anyone else you’d laugh at the sight of two grown people dry humping against a wall, but with Joel it’s the hottest thing you can imagine outside of full-blown sex.

His eyes are open now and staring at your face as you begin to crest whimpering his name. Your eyes crack open and in silent communion you watch each other. The darkening of Joel’s irises as his pupils expand, the flush of your cheeks and neck.

"Are you gonna come?" he's murmuring in awe before he’s pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth a as you rut against his jeans. "Already? I can’t believe… So fucking beautiful. . .”

You feel beautiful when you arch out against him and whimper that yes, you’re close and that you can’t stop. Both of his broad hands are on your hip, urging your body more firmly against his muscled thigh.

"Please come for me," he groans as he presses wet kisses along your jaw. “I need it.”

You feel the ripples of pleasure taking you over, your nipples tightening painfully under your shirt. You arch again, tilting your head back as you moan lowly.

“There she goes,” Joel marvels as he watches your eyes roll back into your head as you buck against him. And when the orgasm rolls through you, devastatingly fast, it's his name on your tongue as you surrender to the pleasure that consumes you, collapsing against his shoulder as you come down.

Then there is nothing heard but your mutual panting, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he presses you against the wall, holding you there. You give a shuddering whimper as Joel slowly brings his thigh from between your legs.

As he does this, it’s like he drains you of your lustful haze.

What did you just do?

Paul.

Tess.

"What the fuck," you shoving the hair from your feverish face. You push away from Joel and in a daze he stumbles back, his eyes pitched black as he stares at you.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know," Joel says slowly, his eyes unable to stop travelling the length of you. “But I don’t want to stop.”

“We have to stop! That was so fucking wrong Joel,” you say, your heart thundering.

You feel a sick pit in the bottom of your stomach, this dreadful realization that you’ve just done something so incredibly selfish. Tears slip down your cheeks, full of guilt and shame. Joel’s eyes immediately sharpen and he cups your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, trying to dry them of your tears. “I’m so sorry, honey-“

He crowds you, holding you to him as he kisses your cheeks tenderly. This motion is meant only to give you comfort. Your hands go to his wrists on either side of your face, wanting to tear his hands away, needing to breathe.

But it’s Joel.

You move your head so that now his lips inadvertently brush your mouth and not your cheek. And suddenly one hand is cupping the back of your head and the other is banding against your back, pulling you into him because his head is tilted and your lips are against his and you’re kissing him, holding to the back of his neck and kissing him so ardently you feel breathless.

Now you're licking into his mouth and whimpering and its your needy hands sliding from his chest up to the neck of his flannel, trembling fingers trying to undo the button closest to his sternum. Now it’s Joel who stops, pulling back from your mouth and panting down at you. You feel your entire world tilting in that gaze.

He says your name, slow and breathy and you feel everything in those syllables. Never before has your name sounded so laced with sensuality.

And that’s the fucking problem. You blink up at him, trying to clear your head.

Tess. Paul. Marmalade.

“Joel I- we can’t be alone together anymore.”

“It was – “ Joel wants to defend himself, to explain that this was just a one-time slip up. But he knows that’s not true. Knows that if you gave him the word he’d take you to the bed right now and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

"You should go."

"Sarah’s party – “

"I’ll be there," you say as you herd him towards the door like some frazzled, still-horny border collie. "But until then we need to stay away from one another. And right now you gotta go, Paul is coming over."

Joel is in the frame of the open door about to leave when he turns around.

“Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am.”

“Happier than with me?”

You’re about to respond but then you hear the sound of footsteps on gravel approaching and you jerk back. Paul is coming around the corner to the door, he sees Joel's broad shouldered frame in the door just as you two break apart.

"Hey."

Joel turns with a start to see a smiling Paul making his way to the door. Your face is tense and you wonder if he guesses what just went on between you and Joel. If he does, his face doesn’t show it.

“Joel, this is a surprise.”

"Yup," Joel nods, "I was just inviting your girl to Sarah's birthday. You should come too. More the merrier."

His girl?

Joel looks so casual as he says this, as if he didn’t just make you come seconds ago in this very suite.

"When is it?"

"Saturday afternoon."

Paul enters into the suite and pecks a kiss to your cheek. He misses when Joel narrows his eyes at that.

"Works for me, what about you, baby?"

You wince at the nickname. It's not that you hate it; you just hate hearing it in front of Joel. The man whose eyes are boring into your face so intensely you feel flustered.

"Yep. Of course we’ll be there."

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joeybsversion · 8 months

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Comfortable

Joe Burrow x reader

You travel with the team for a relaxing weekend

You tightened your pony tail, trying to find something to do with your hands as Joe slipped his Cartier shades over his eyes. Your hand founds it’s way back to his and he laced your fingers together. You could see a crowd of fans and people taking pictures up ahead. Joe tightened his grip on your hand and put his head down as you fought your way through the crowded airport.

“Cars are out front. Follow this hallway and go out the doors on your next left.” Ja’Marr instructed, following close behind.

With another Super Bowl win behind them, the team had decided to take a relaxing trip to the mountains of Montana with girlfriends and wives in tow. You all needed a break from the city and the craziness that comes with being in the NFL.

“After you.” Joe smiled and opened the back door of the black SUV for you before following you in.

“Next stop, Camp Champs.” Sam Joked as he climbed in and took a seat next to Joe, his new girlfriend close behind.

A pack of SUV’s navigated the winding Montana roads through fields of wild flowers and forests of trees. “It’s so beautiful.” You admired the landscape.

“Just wait until we get to the cabin. Views are supposedly breath taking.” Joe looked out the window.

“Damn this place is huge!” Tee swung the door open, dropping his bags.

“Wow.” You gasped.

Joe smiled, taking your bags and leading you through the house, trying to find a room to claim. “How’s this one?” He asked. The room had floor to ceiling windows along the wall and a private balcony on the opposite side.

“It looks like a post card out there!”

He laughed at you before planting a kiss on your forehead. “It really does.. hopefully there’s no bears out there!” Joe teased.

“That’s not funny, Joey!” You backed away from the windows.

“I’m serious! This area is know for its big bad grizzly bears! You packed bear spray, right?” He asked, a look of concern on his face. You turned to look at him. “What is that!!” He pointed out the window.

You screamed and buried your face in his chest.

He laughed uncontrollably. “Baby, I’m kidding!” He fell backwards on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

“You’re so mean!” You playfully smacked his arm and flopped down on the bed beside him.

After a long day of travel, everyone was looking forward to a night spent around the campfire.

You slipped on some leggings and one of Joes flannels and followed him out into the big back yard where the rest of the team was gathered around watching Ja’Marr start the fire.

The crackle of the fire was relaxing, to the point where you might fall asleep outside. It doesn’t help that your cuddled up in Joes lap under a blanket, his hand tracing up and down your back. He’s laughing away with the team, already talking about next season, and sipping on a beer. He keeps name dropping sports people you’ve never heard of, which is helping you stay zoned out. Every so often he looks down and kisses you on the forehead, checking that you’re comfortable enough and warm enough. He notices goose bumps on the back of your neck and wraps the blanket around you tighter.

There’s a warm, full feeling in your heart when you’re with Joe. A feeling so familiar and specific. A feeling you didn’t know until you met Joe.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow one shot #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow instagram #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl smut #nfl fluff #nfl #joe sheisty #nfl fic

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cat-identifier · 2 months

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This was Hennessey. We used to joke that he was ⅓ mountain lion due to his size. (About 23 lbs. but much of that was muscle — if you given him a tummy rub you could have felt washboard abs.)

Was an absolute lovebug and quite the conversationalist. His favorite song was Cotton Eye Joe.

Ohhhh what a BIG BOY!!! I'm actually having a bit of a Time with identifying him bcs that rumpled-looking fur makes it kinda hard to see patterns but I'd say blue mackerel tabby??? Maybe colorpoint because his face looks darker than his body and he's got those Blue Peepers but wow he's determined to be hard to look at right haha

#cat id #asks answered

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dragonflavoredcake · 2 years

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Handy guide to Hermitcraft groups/platonic pairings

Squads

Aerial Sheep Service (S5): Zedaph, Tango, Xisuma

Allium Alliance: Bdubs, Etho, Beef, Doc, False, Stress

Architechs (S6): Mumbo, Grian, Iskall

Bed Trio / Sleepy Trio: Scar, Bdubs, Grian

Big Eye Crew (S8): Bdubs, Keralis, Tango

Blue Bin Bags (S10): Hypno, Iskall, Mumbo, Ren, Stress

Boatem Crew (S8): Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Pearl, Impulse

Boomers (S7): Impulse, Tango, Bdubs

Create Crew / Coggers: Bdubs, Keralis, Tango, Zedaph, Scar

Clockers: Cleo, Scar, Bdubs

Dragon Bros (S6): Grian, Iskall, Bdubs, Mumbo, False

Evil Empire (S8): Xisuma, Jevin, Beef, Wels

GIGS: Grian, Impulse, Gem, Scar, Skizz

G-Team (S6): Grian, Iskall, Cleo, Mumbo, Stress, Jevin, JoeHills, Tango

Hermitcraft Environmental Protection Agency [HEP] (S7): Scar, Bdubs, Cub, Tango, Xisuma, False, Keralis, Mumbo

Hermit Dads: Joehills, Bdubs, Docm77, Keralis, Tango, Impulse

Hermit Gals: ZombieCleo, Gem, Pearl, False, Stress

Her-munculous (S6): Cleo, False, Stress

Hippies (S6): Ren, Impulse, and Grian

IDEA (S6): Xisuma, Bdubs, Keralis

Jungle Crew (S7): Stress, Mumbo, Grian, Iskall, Scar

Knights of the Square Table (S9): Rendog, Bdubs, Cleo, Joe, Cub, Scar, Iskall

La Revolution (S5): Iskall, Ren, Stress

Magic Mountaineers (S10): Grian, Scar, Joel, Gem, Impulse, Skizz, Mumbo

Mustard Milk Tots (S10): Cleo, Beef, Doc, Skizz, Tango

Mycelium Resistance (S7): Grian, Impulse, Etho, XB, Ren, Jevin, Stress, Doc

Milk Sog Quartet (S9): Bdubs, Scar, Tango, Grian, Cub

Monolith Trio (S9): Ren, Bdubs, and Etho

New Hermit Order (S5): Bdubs, Doc, Etho, Beef

No Braincells Trio / Buttercups (S9): Grian, Mumbo, Scar

PET Neighbors (S10): Pearl, Etho, Tango

Purple Pickles (S10): Joe, Keralis, XB, Xisuma

Red Rashers (S10): Bdubs, Etho, False, Jevin

Sewer Cats (S7): Impulse, Scar, Grian, Bdubs

Soup Group / Trifle Trio (S9): Gem, Pearl, Impulse

Swamp Lump (S8): False, Gem, Stress

Team BEST (S10): Bdubs, Etho, Skizz, Tango

Team Canada: Etho, Beef, Gem

Team STAR / Hermit Gang (S6): Doc, Wels, False, Impulse, Xisuma, Ren, Mumbo (briefly as a double agent)

Team TIES: Tango, Impulse, Etho, Skizz

Team ZITS: Zedaph, Impulse, Tango, and Skizz

Team ZIT: Zedaph, Impulse, Tango

Wood Collective (S10): Beef, Doc, and Skizz

5k Club: False, Cub, Scar

Duos

Area 77 (S6): Scar and Doc

Aqua Town Duo (S7): Scar and Bdubs

Big Salmon (S10): Beef and Skizz

Birchfellas (S4): Cub and Wels

Boat Boys: Joel and Etho

Clock Duo / Homewreckers: Impulse and Bdubs

Clumsy Cooking Duo: Zedaph and Tango

Convex / ConCorp (S5-S6): Scar and Cub

Crastle Duo: Bdubs and Cleo

Deadliest Duo: Grian and Joel

DERP Duo: Tango and Impulse

Desert Duo: Grian and Scar

Elven Duo (S9): Gem and Scar

End Busters / Mafia Bros: Mumbo and Iskall

Gingerbread Duo: Grian and Gem

Hohenzollern Castle Duo (S8): Joe and Cleo

Horse Head Farms (S8): Hypno and XB

Logfellas (S4): Xisuma and Ren

Maple Duo (S10): Gem and Etho

Octagon (S8): Doc and Ren

Podzol Party (S7): Beef and Hypno

PogSupremacy Duo: False and Ren

Quartz Cleaners: Iskall and Beef

Rich Duo: Mumbo and Keralis

Shattered Savanna Duo (S8): Etho and Iskall

Shiny Duo: Gem and Pearl

Sky Siblings / Sky Duo / Skyblings: Pearl and Grian

Sunflower Duo: Scar and Pearl (S9)

Tall and Short (S9): Bdubs and Etho

Team Plastic: Ren and Iskall

Waffle Duo: Grian and Mumbo

Warden Wranglers (S9): Xisuma and Cub

Wither Duo: Grian and Impulse

PLEASE COMMENT WITH ANY I’VE MISSED, BECAUSE I KNOW I DIDN’T GET ALL OF THEM

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vintagepresley · 4 months

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Reading more of Charlie’s book on my break and y’all.. the story I just read. Elvis really be dodging death, lol.

They had finished filming Kissin’ Cousins up in the mountains and when they were getting ready to leave a huge storm was coming in that was soon to turn into snow. (There was already snow on the ground) so Elvis told everyone to hurry up before they get stuck up there. He drove this big mobile home down and the brakes STOPPED working. Elvis just told everyone to hold on as they were picking up speed and he’s like maneuvering this mobile home around the mountain.

One guy strapped himself down to a seat. Charlie was just speechless and Joe had opened one of the windows I guess to help Elvis see cause the storm was getting worse and Charlie thought Joe was talking to him. But Joe was like “I’m praying!” 😭

Meanwhile the brakes still weren’t working and Elvis said that if a car comes up from the other side he’s gonna have to crash into the mountain to avoid hitting and killing anyone especially if it’s a car with family. That the worst that could happen is it smashing into the mountain or smashing into the mountain and bouncing back that they slide of the side of the mountain. 😭😭

But man… they made it off the mountain and Elvis somehow got them stopped safely at this gas station and suddenly the brakes kicked in and he was able to stop. Charlie said everyone was silent and he felt sick and one guy was kissing the ground. LMFAO

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audreygianelliart · 9 days

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Close up video of my fashion illustration the superb @lilygladstone at the 2024 Oscars’s.

(According to Vogue, the @gucci dress was designed by the Italian house’s new creative director, Sabato De Sarno, alongside Ironhorse Quillwork artist @joe.bigmtn m, who is of Mohawk, Cree, and Comanche heritage, and his wife Sunshine. (Source teen vogue))

Made with @ohuhuart markers and watercolor

#lily gladstone #Gucci #oscars 2024 #fashion illustration #joe big mountain #drawing #dessin #ohuhuart #ohuhumarkers #alcohol markers #watercolor

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lightgaswaterelectricityrent · 2 months

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lily gladstone in gucci x joe big mountain

#it was really hard to find these pictures idk why #lily gladstone

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tatekane · 4 months

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I've been reading the comments on reddit about the megabases and burnout, and the take that megabases are "facades", just there to look pretty with no function. Read that continuously it gets exhausting.

I don't know how to form my thoughts I'll just dump it all here:

First eyyyy Scar giving props again to Pearl and Bdubs that they aren't MC builders anymore they've ascended to great artists.

That leads me to the thought of megabases, there are ppl in HC who treats MC as a canvas, they genuinely enjoy building and if making megabases is their thing let em, no need to harp on that it has no function, yes it does it's their outlet and most importantly their art. If someone is building something big just to follow an imagined template in HC that's their misconception and if a viewer is complaining about this, there are hermits they can watch that has a different take, like Zed (have you seen the zedvancements?! amazing), Joe (tho he was building the massive pinball machine this season, it was a passion project for him), Etho, xB, Beef (his maps were mega xD, he loves doing it tho).

I remember Bdubs in s7 he was building his wonderful town and Grian told him it wasn't a megabase so he built his mountain and massive castle (btw is this why ppl thinking HC is about megabases?) Bdubs never appears to burnout when he's building. His solo series "Building with Bdubs" he's even challenging himself to build massive... my point is, there are ppl who geniunely likes building and ppl thumbing their nose at it are hurting the builders of HC.

Grian is the most prominent one who has megabase burnout, he always enjoy building when they are novel or is tied with lore. Grumbot, his bottle under the ocean, his stores, treesa, Cherry Tree in a pot, etc. Maybe stick with that (these are mostly relatively smaller builds).

The burnout comes from self-inflicted "rules" like megabases and what "content" will make the viewers engaged. Content is something they have to deal with because it's their job... they just need to do content that they enjoy. I'm pretty sure the hermits are brainstorming in their meetings. They will come up with something good.

AND I see this a lot too on reddit, ppl who are asking "Isn't HC vanilla?" passive-aggressively pointing at DO2's doors, cards, keys etc. now if you made Tango do those too in map form or have him make more farms for unique items for the treasure/shards, imagine the restocking... Tango would definitely burnout especially with how much those doors/custom items made him happy. He has done A LOOOOT for season 9. It irks me when ppl question if they are vanilla.

Let the hermits have their custom item models for their hats/elytra/weapons it adds something to their content and those simple things invigorates them and we enjoy their silliness with it.

*cue Bdubs gasping* "but we're vanilla!" when they requested for rain/snow to be shut off when they were ice racing.

#tldr #i hope this opinion dumping made sense #bdubs #pearlescentmoon #scar #tango #hermitcraft #they have been playing for more than 10 years #let them enjoy playing the way they want to #that translates to more amazing content

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pastafossa · 1 year

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🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

“Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

“Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

“You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

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