#joe burrow fanfictoon

[likehoneyandsilk]

Ease My Mind

Seldom did Joe lose his serene and composed demeanor. At least not outwardly. It periodically became easier to notice the shift, the sway in his everyday presence. As July rolled in, when the weeks passed in a haze, hot summer heat idle in the air, you observed as your lover lumbered through another day without a vocal complaint. It was the soft sighs, slouching shoulders, tender muscles, and tired eyes repeatedly finding salvage between your arms. Within your grasp, lips pressed against your chest and silky strands brushing underneath your chin, was where he felt most at peace, the voices in his head muted.

It was uncanny, you thought, sitting at the edge of the tub as Joe leaned back, body immersed in an ice bath. Uncanny that a season like Summer symbolizing warmth and positivity became such a dreadful time for him. The pressure he placed on himself tormented, gravely demeaning. It was times like this when the expectations from himself and the public, the desire to perform beyond optimal perfection, settled deep into his soul, rattling his bones, and forcing him past even his own lengthy limits. He was never unrestrained from his job. Instead, he was entirely devoted and enthroned till his very last game. Till the final call, the end of an era belonging to Cincinnati’s golden boy.

When February ended, and March peeked into your lives, it was bliss. You gave Joe grace for a few weeks to wrap his mind around another completed season and permit him time to heal and redeem his emotions. By late February he'd recomposed, football aside, and you both played house. From hometown trips, aimless drives, mid-day chatter, and the ever-so-thrilling nights in bed. The following months leading up to this moment, when the kisses and embraces became more compassionate, the moments held fragile, and the memories of another off-season taunting.

And today as you sat before him, watching dawn grace his face golden yellow, concealing those electric blue eyes, you could not help but feel a twinge of guilt. Off-season despite its bliss, signified more acknowledged time apart. It was easier during the season to work, share meals, take evenings in, lazy mornings in bed on off days, spend your weekends cheering him on, road trips, and fancy team dinners. Any moment together was treasured, the routine ironically steady. But now you pondered if a phone call to the hospital would suffice the turmoils in your stomach. A harmless sick day, an opportunity to play hooky, a chance to pull Joe away from his mind. Your feet moved before the gears in your brain, and within seconds you managed to escape the tiring but rewarding 12 hours ahead, to instead look after your lover.

Upon returning to the bathroom, you met with those captivating blue eyes. Joe smiled at you softly, eyes glancing over your frame. His voice barely audible as he muttered a “Hey you”. Some mornings were brief. He’d catch your lips in a rush, pulling the hem of an oversized shirt covering your body closer precipitously. His hands would find your waist, consuming your senses in just a few seconds, till you’d split, forced to conquer your days. He missed the feel of you against him, the hours spent keeping each other warm, and his ears sought the medley you’d spill from within, only made for him. But his muscles were sore, his legs throbbing, and when he had you alone he selfishly craved your nursing. Familiar hands massaging every aching spot, lips pressing pleasant kisses to sections of pain, and those loving eyes he prayed to call his forever laced with concern before he’d dismiss your mind, venture to revoke the fear in your voice, drive away all worry and pull you into sleep with him, holding you close as if to persuade you he was well.

And as you lay next to him, watching him drift away, observing the crease between his brows resolve and his chest rise and fall with tiresome depth, you knew he was attempting to convince himself.

This morning, however, he noted the relaxation in your stride. His gaze observed as you sat near him, pulling your long hair back before those angelic eyes inched closer, and you pressed your lips to his dearly. The water shifted, barely jumping at the contact of his cold and wet hand against the warm skin of your neck until another held you in place, securing your bare legs, thick fingers pressing into your skin. He groaned as your part, a lazy smile on your lips. The hem of your shirt was wet, water trickling down your neck. Joe's profound chest was littered with droplets, shimmering against the ray of dawn. You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as the feel of his hands crept closer to your bottom. He muttered incoherent remarks at the first feel of thin lace. Before he could pull you in, you spoke.

“What time is practice?” your voice was sweet, almost hushed. His head fell back, a desolate sigh leaving his lips. The room fell quiet again. You placed your lips against his neck, painting a pathway of gentle kisses to his jaw. “Around noon.” His fingers tugged the thin material covering your body, distressed hands longing to have his way. Pulling away, you nodded, your eyes wandering to the large window behind you. The sun was barely up, and Joe had finished an early morning workout already. “Well then,” You faced him again, reaching for a towel on the vanity, holding it out for him. “Better get you some breakfast.”

The house was beginning to glow as the sun inched steadily above the horizon. The white walls became yellow, the hardwood floors shining. The aroma of coffee engulfed Joe’s senses as he made his way down the stairs toward the kitchen. He found you assembling freshly toasted frozen waffles on a plate, dousing them with savory syrup. Before he could protest or retreat from anything outside of his strict diet, you spoke.

“Not today Burrow, one sugary breakfast won’t hurt you.” You motioned to the coffee cups as you lead him to the balcony, nudging the large French doors open with your foot, setting the plates before both of you on the table, as you relaxed into the patio couch. Joe took a hearty bite of a waffle, mouth overcome with sweetness and delight. But nothing matched the pacifying look in your eyes when he turned to face you. “Told you,” you whispered, a smile lurking on your lips. You both ate in silence for a moment, watching the day come alive before you. Finally, Joe spoke aloud, his arm circling your waist.

“Don’t you have work today?” He asked, confusion spreading over his face. He toyed with the hem of your shirt, tips of his fingers daring to graze skin. “No, I called in,” you declared simply, watching as the furrow between his eyebrows became apparent. “I want to spend the day with you.” You added, extending your leg over him, placing your weight on his large thighs. Your hands ran up his neck, as you bent towards him, lips barely apart. “I want to look after you today.” You whispered, exploring his eyes for a sign of solace. “Y/N you didn’t have to …”

Joe admired your drive and passion for your profession. He was in awe of your selfless nature to look after others day and night. During the season you put aside your career some weeks to help him focus, support him and be present with him. And he despised pulling you away from what you loved and did best. “I know, trust me I know, but I want to calm down whatever it is going on in here.” Your voice was an analgesic, and your fingers recovery as they ran through his hair, stroking his scalp. He fell loose before you, allowing you to take authority as you kissed him. His body settled beneath your touch. Your hands ran up his arms which had grown over the last few weeks, along his torso which was more firm. And as your chest pressed against his, your hair falling to frame his face, the taste of syrup and coffee filling his mouth, he guided you underneath him. His calloused restless hands found residence beneath your shirt, feeling the panes of your back as Joe released his weight gently onto you. Your hips pushed against his, a gasp escaping your lips when those blue eyes flashed before you, the larger man practically crawling down your body.

Despite the yearning, regardless of the butterflies in your stomach, you withdrew, mumbling a breathless “Wait”, the tips of your digits pushing into his broad shoulders. “Not yet,” you whimpered, sighing. You swiped the sole curl on his forehead aside as he fell next to you, face nestled into your neck. “Not yet.” You whispered, feeling his lashes flutter against you, the silent consolation when he found your skin underneath fabric again, legs entangling with yours. The pleasure he desired was not a remedy for easing his mind. And while you held him, grazing your fingers through his hair, you observed as his body rose and fell steadily. And as the day awoke, Joe slept within your arms, and you didn’t dare wake him till just before noon.

The sun was fully awake as you stood on the sidelines of Paycor Stadium. The sky above you a vivacious blue, not a cloud in sight. You watched Joe run drills with the team. Those long muscular legs were quick and fast. Daring blue eyes hyper-focused. And every throw was meticulous, as the football spun seamlessly into the hands of his receivers. His orange jersey brought out the tan in his skin which glistened underneath the heat.

As the whistle blew for a water break, Joe permit himself to look at you. When you followed him to the car this morning, any dread of practice seeped through him when you declared you would join. And now, as you stood a few steps away, engaged in polite conversation with the training staff, Joe pulled his ears from the banter amongst his teammates, tuning their voices out, and found serenity at the sight of you.

It was a challenge not to fixate on you during drills, knowing in the back of his mind, from the corner of his eyes that the pretty girl in the blue sundress with tiny daisies was his girl. The sun gleamed down on your rich skin, hair loose, blowing slightly with the soft breeze. White cheeky heart-shaped sunglasses rested atop your head. Your cheeks were rosy from the heat and that pretty smile on your pink lips filled him with warmth greater than the scorching heat as you listened intently to your speaker. Far too mesmerized, Joe barely heard the whistle blow near him. It wasn’t until Coach Taylor yelled his name demanding his attention, followed by the snicker of his teammates as they glanced back at their quarterback's weakness did he ultimately draw his eyes from you, but not until catching sight of a reassuring smile you sent his way.

In another two hours, you had sought shade in the tunnel watching as practice concluded. As the men made their way off the green grass, some stopping to embrace you, you watched Coach Taylor pull Joe aside. At first, his broad shoulders seemed to tighten, those fine lips pursed, but then as the words left the Coach’s mouth you watched him ease back into comfort. The pair approached you then, anticipation bubbled as a glistening Joe headed straight for you. “Joe is excused from media obligations today Y/N.” You smiled at Coach Taylor as he sent you a wink, bidding you both well.

Your chest rose and fell prominently as Joe stood before you. Your fingers intertwined with his as your backside depressed against the firm wall. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.” The skin of his cheeks and forehead was sunkissed, the redness evident, and his baby blue eyes more luminous outside. The hair atop his head was messy, which he pushed back with his hand. With weary eyes Joe scanned near and far, before resting a hand over your head, bending down to press a grateful kiss to your lips. His right knee lightly pushed against your thigh, the edge of your little sun dress lifting dangerously higher. Your mind felt foggy, swamped with the fragrances of sweat, grass, and remnants of his cologne. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to reach his height as you stood on your toes, practically falling into him. And you didn’t pull back, not until a stream of whistles emerged from nearby. Joe laughed as he walked back into the locker room, turning to find your cheeks blushed, pulling the sunglasses over your eyes.

The house was silent, except for the sounds of soft breaths, the pages of your novel turning as your eyes skimmed over words, and the scratch of Joe’s pen against paper. The sun was beginning to descend below the horizon, the sky outside a canvas of cotton candy pink. The sound of Joe’s heartbeat filled your ears, as you lay your head on his chest, meshed into the couch. Much to your dismay, Joe was distracted with an article on his play. The writer critiqued his form, speed, and resilience. You listened as his heart quickened, frustration evident as he shifted uncomfortably against you. He obsessively underlined phrases and lines, reading over and over what this foreign man claimed he needed to improve. Unable to take it anymore you shifted, your weight no longer pulling into him and he forced his eyes away, a sudden panic as you stood up. Your novel fell in your spot on the couch, unfazed as you lost your page. "Put it away, please, for your sanity just put it away.” Joe watched as the familiar fear clouded your eyes. 

There were only so many times he could play dumb.

Circling your hand around his, you gestured for him to join you. Trailing behind you like a lost puppy, he watched your fingers skim as you flipped light switches, the house becoming dark as did the sky, a sleek dark blue. Reaching the bathroom, you pressed your palms into Joe’s chest, pushing him back towards the vanity. He watched as you filled the tub with warm water, the steam rising. You made your way effortlessly through the bathroom depositing rose and lavender Epsom salts into the water. Finally, when the tub was full, the waft of rose and lavender swallowing him, you came closer, your dainty fingers falling to his gray cotton shorts. Your fingers danced through the strings, loosening them as your hands slid up higher, pulling the black shirt over his head. Your eyes never met his, but he kept his on you, watching as the concern laced your features, tears threatening to spill.

“I want you to get in.” your voice was hushed, sending a shiver down his spine as he nodded, forcing his hands away from your waist as you turned without a glimpse. The door shut behind you, and you lingered, holding your breath till you heard the water shift, his relieved sigh loud as you imagined him descending into the water. After a few minutes of solitude, you knocked, peaking your head into the bathroom, catching Joe in utopia, head back, eyes closed as the warmth around soothed every muscle, each nerve, and delighted his skin. Quietly you sat next to him, your hips in alignment with his head. 

His eyes opened at the first feel of your touch and closed almost immediately. Loving hands massaged his shoulder, your palms outlining the pane of his collarbone, gracing his back, watching as he tensed and eased back into you. Dipping your hands into the water, you brought them back up, running your fingers through his scalp, washing away the scents reminding you of locker room shampoo. You worked quietly, shifting to press your hands into any exposed skin, bringing his arms to rest against your bare thighs as you relieved each knot, every tense form.

His eyes opened as his head fell against your stomach, his large hands closing around yours resting on his bare chest. The silence was comfort. The night had become cool, the floor beneath your feet icey. “What is it that’s on your mind?” He shifted against you, a sigh following a long pause. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I let everyone down again?” You purse your lips at these words, scouring for the right things to say as your head dipped lower in gloom. “You’re always going to think you need to do better. And whether you see it or not, you are better, every year. A trophy doesn’t prove your worth.” You hovered your hand underneath his chin, pulling his head back as you grazed your lips over his. He kissed you feverishly. “You just have to remind yourself you are getting better. It isn’t fair to not love and appreciate yourself the way you do others.” His features softened, eyes fading into realization. 

As he fell back into you, your hold tighter, you whispered into his ear, pressing your lips against it as if to seal the deal. “You play the game for a living, but you can’t live to play. There will always be someone to tell you that you aren’t better, but if you choose to listen and drive yourself into suffering when instead you can use it to build yourself soundly, I can only speculate how your mind would ease.” For a few more minutes you held him, listening to the sound of his breathing as his eyes stared out into the darkness, your words shifting in his brain.

And as you started the shower, pressing a loving kiss to his lips, you left the bathroom, retreating back to settle your own mind.

When you entered the bedroom again he sat against the headboard, long legs hanging off the bed, feet planted firmly on the ground, and a sober look on his face. Wordless, he reached for you, drawing you near, your legs draping over his thick-toned thighs, skin unveiled as his shorts rose higher. “You’re right Y/N.” The two simple words lingered between you, the concern in your eyes overcome with endearment. You pressed your lips into the crook of his neck, cheek resting on his shoulder as your arms wrapped around him. You breathed in the smells of rose and lavender, your brain fuzzy and stomach filling with butterflies. His fingers danced in your hair, an arm draped across your waist holding you close. “Lean back Joe.” he groaned ever so softly as you pulled away, in search of what it is you needed. 

He watched through heavy lustful eyes as you rummaged through the drawers, smiling as you pulled a pain relief oil from one. “Tell me where it hurts.” The room was dim, and as your bodies made shadows on the walls, the glow warm, your eyes glistening before him, Joe obeyed, guiding your hand to his left thigh. Sitting before him on your knees, settled between his outstretched legs, he gulped as you raised his shorts higher, heat rushing to your cheeks as the oil you rubbed between your palms met his thigh, fidgeting underneath your tedious hands. Slowly you made your way through every painful location, and as you pulled the his shirt over his head, your own eyes heavy, you beckoned to switch spots, settling behind him, drawing circles into the panes of his back, up his spine and down his biceps. And with every ease of pain, every delicate touch of love, he fell deeper in love if possible.

He listened as the water ran in the shower, waiting for you as the effects of the oil seeped into his muscles. For the first time in days he felt free. For the first time in days he didn’t dread tomorrow. And as you opened the door, eyes catching his, you made you way back to him hesitantly, afraid to inflict more pain. “There you go, that’s better.” You chuckled at his teasing remarks, cheeks crimson as your core met his thigh, his hands pulling the lace robe off your body, revealing white lace in the most intimate of spots.

“Thank you for today, and everyday,” he whispered, bringing you down with him, rolling over to face you as you fell beneath him. You nodded, knowing slowly but surely Joe understood. Your fingers traced the brim of his nose, the outline of his lips before digging your fingers into the hem of his shorts. You shuddered as his hands inched higher up your thighs, his lips trailing from your lips, down your neck, and descending below your sternum.

You sunk further in bed, engulfed by the sheets as his hands got lost in your hair, trailed down your warm arms and cupped your cheeks as his teeth grazed your bottom lip. “I wish I could make you forget it all” you whispered, words dripping with sympathy. He nodded against you, “I know ..., I know ...”. Your heart fluttered as his hips pressed against yours, skin meeting skin as your bodies entangled. Cupping his face within your hands you halted him, watching those desperate eyes hold your gaze intently. “You’re more than enough nine”. You watched the calm wash over his face, pictured the wave of relief running through his mind. And you kissed him, drawing him from his woes, pulling him into another world, reminding him just how much you loved him. 

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #cincinnati bengals #begals #joe burrow one shot #cincinnati bengals imagines #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow writes #joe burrow fanfictoon #nfl imagine

[likehoneyandsilk]

Stay

Graceful fingers danced across the strings of the harp. Aaliyah observed with curiosity as the harpist’s body descended into her craft. Shoulders rigid but hands-free. Long legs firmly encircled the instrument. Her eyes shut from the dimly lit restaurant draping her in gold. She had tuned out the entire world.  

Aaliyah’s dark brown eyes fixated on the harp, listening for every sound as the strings moved in patterns she did not comprehend. As her shoulders relaxed and her finger withdrew from the brim of her glass, the harpist stood up and took a bow. The dining hall burst into a roar of applause.

“Aaliyah?"

Suddenly, Aaliyah was back in the world. “Sorry Dash.” Aaliyah shook her head in shame, feeling idiotic for casting her focus on something other than the man who had arranged for an extraordinary meal. Aaliyah’s eyes found Dash’s own brown ones across the small table. He smiled reassuringly, reaching across to place a cordial hand over hers. She hesitated. 

His touch was unfamiliar. Aaliyah only truly knew one touch. Inscribed deep into her soul. It did not belong to this polite but foreign man before her. Dash withdrew, clearing his throat and bringing the glass of red wine to his lips. Grave silence fell between them as Aaliyah fidgeted with her cutlery.

She had been distracted the moment they stepped foot into the restaurant.“I’m starting to think you were never really interested in me.”

Oh gosh. Be soft, Aaliyah. He isn’t at fault. Dash observed the dazzling woman sitting across from him. Out of place. Back into the scene of harmless dates far too soon. Aaliyah paused, sipping on her wine for a few seconds attempting to collect her thoughts. However, there were not many. Her heart had been heavy for the past few months. This was her first date since the turmoil breakup. Her first date where the other man was not the one she had known to be her lover of six years.

Before Aaliyah could speak, she was stopped by Dash’s raised hand ushering the waiter over. “The cheque please.” Dash’s tone was solid yet kind. The young waiter looked between the two seated at his table, awkward and confused at their hasty departure. Aaliyah was parched. Her eyes located themselves on the bottle of wine before them, not even a quarter empty. She drew the glass towards her mouth again, swallowing a large amount of bitterness. The waiter nodded abruptly. “Of course sir, of course.” Aaliyah averted her gaze watching the boy disappear behind Dash. He became a lost figure within the exhibition of people smiling and laughing. Their eyes and mouths moved jovially, exchanging pleasantries with one another accompanied by divine meals and the most exquisite wine.

“Dash, listen I ...” Aaliyah’s words were cut short as the waiter emerged with their cheque. She reached for it abruptly. It’s the least I can do, she thought to herself. “No Aaliyah, please, let me.” Without a glance at the cheque, Dash retrieved a few bills, crisp and smooth, handing them to the young boy. “Thanks for your service, keep the tip.” The waiter thanked Dash before giving Aaliyah a gentle bow. “Dash I am so sorry.” she mustered sheepishly, her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

The remorse in Aaliyah’s tone was evident, her features rueful. It saddened her to watch Dash smile with a shake of his head. His hand brushed through his long dark hair, styled neatly. “Let’s talk outside.” Aaliyah pulled her coat around her.

Autumn nights in Cincinnati were always frigid. After leaving the doors of the warm restaurant, Aaliyah shuddered as the cold sank into her bare legs. The stars above them were bright, like specks of glitter littering the dark sky. Dash kept a hand at the small of her back, leading her towards the valet. The two men seemed to wear the identical expression of shock as their waiter. They both acknowledged Dash and Aaliyah with a nod, before parting for their respective vehicles. It had not been very long since they had arrived. A few sips of red wine were the only thing of consumption. The engine must still be warm.

Aaliyah pulled her coat tighter, hugging her purse against her stomach. Dash leaned against the wall giving her his full attention as he had all along. “I feel horrible.” Aaliyah was a broken record that was repeating the same sentence in paraphrases.

Dash studied her face for a few seconds. Taking in those big brown eyes, dark lashes, and those plump lips. “I know Aaliyah, but it isn’t easy to see past how distant you seem. I know it was only the first date, but it isn’t time.” Gosh, Dash, you’re perfect.

Perhaps it was the way Dash knew exactly what to say. Or that despite having gone on the shortest date of his life with a woman as distasteful as Aaliyah, he sympathized and saw through her. “You owe it to yourself, and all the other men to figure it out. Whatever that is, whoever he is.” Aaliyah felt the tears at the brim of her eyes, turning her head away from this man who accepted her without question. “You are absolutely wonderful Dash. I’m sorry for wasting your time tonight. You didn’t deserve this.”

Their cars appear before them and Aaliyah walked with Dash to his. In the sleek black BMW, she caught sight of them. She felt the tension in the air, tearing herself away from Dash as he reached into the backseat of his car. “For what it’s worth,” he stated, offering a bouquet of ruby red roses.

Aaliyah chuckled. “Dash,” she whispered, reaching for the bouquet. “Thank you.” Dash nodded with his easy smile. “Take care, Aaliyah.”

And Aaliyah watched as he drove away, farther and farther. And she wondered when she would feel ready. If there ever was a time known as ready for her?

. . .

This is ridiculous. This is shameful. It’s low. In every attempt to talk herself out of what she was about to get herself into, Aaliyah failed to succeed.

The front porch light was on. All the blinds shut. From her seat, Aaliyah could make out that the lights were on in the kitchen and living room. She wondered if the key taped underneath the doormat in the left upper corner was still there. It always had been.

Stop Aaliyah, stop!

Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.

Her mind said to turn back. Go back to your sad empty apartment. Take off the dress, wipe the makeup, and fall into your bed. Think about him as you try to sleep instead. But her heart propelled her further.

Without another thought, she parted her car, slamming the door behind her. She walked straight to the door. Past the dead hydrangeas Aaliyah remembered planting early Spring. The red, orange, and yellow leaves crunched beneath her heels. She felt dizzy on her way up the steps. A trembling finger pushed against the doorbell. The all-too-familiar sound tugged at her heartstrings. Her legs felt feeble. Her vision was blurry. She was gripping the roses against her chest. Their musky scent was intoxicating. I can’t do this.

And then he appeared. 

“Aaliyah?” The sound of his voice laced with confusion hung heavy between them. It was as if a ghost appeared. He was unable to believe she was here. Aaliyah was frozen trying to comprehend that the man before her was right before her. If she reached out her hand, she could run it down the material of his white shirt. Aaliyah could pull at it, force him to her. And she could hold him. Cry into him. Beg him to love her. Plead him to kiss her once again.

Make her feel all the things he had for six years.

“Aaliyah.” Her name rolled off his tongue like an addictive drug. It came out whispered this time. As if she would drift away. As if the sound of his voice, one she had tried to forget, would pull her into insanity. “What are you doing here?”

What am I doing here? What am I doing here Joe?

“I … I don’t know … I …” her speech felt weak. Aaliyah’s chest was heavy as if pulling her down to the ground. The air around her was hot. With all her strength, she tore her eyes away from his piercing blue ones, dropping her gaze to the ground to compose herself.

Joe hesitated and with a shaking hand softly enveloped his fingers around her wrist. The sudden contact was enough for Aaliyah to feel the void within her fill. She wondered if he could feel her radial pulse pounding against his digits. The gentle tug of her arm towards the door forced her eyes into his again.

It was effortless for Joe to get lost in them. Big and brown. Surrounded by long lashes. Tonight they gleamed like stars underneath the porch light. Glossy and timid. His features softened. Aaliyah felt the well-known solace of his cool and calm persona. He shifted on his feet, leading her through the door.

What are you doing Aaliyah!? What are we doing!?

The release of her wrist happened all too soon. She placed the bouquet of roses on the ottoman she had selected when they first moved in. Her coat slid from her arms, exposing herself as vulnerable yet brave. She unclasped her heels, pushing them aside. It was as if she was making herself at home.

She could hear his trembling breath as she came clear into vision. Joe ran his eyes from the top of her head to her toes. Aaliyah’s jet-black hair had grown longer since he last saw her. It was curled and surrounded her back and shoulders. Her lips were painted a mixture of red and pink. The silk black dress hugged every curve of her body. A body he knew on the back of his hand. Every dip, every curve, every soft spot, and every insecurity. It was Aaliyah, his achingly stunning Aaliyah. 

Their eyes met again. Those heavenly lips parted but sealed shut. Joe gestured for her to follow him up. It was odd to Aaliyah how one could live in a home for years, only to become a stranger within its walls. Every part of this house was hers. From the art, the furniture, and each appliance.

They had built this home together. And then she was gone. And it had become only his.

Aaliyah gulped upon entering the kitchen. Everything was the same. It was as she had left it. She remained at the doorway. Joe watched from behind the kitchen island as her eyes roamed the space before her. He observed the change in her demeanor. She was scared. He knew her inside out. He knew the look of panic in her eyes. The realization that perhaps she was not ready for what she had come for. The epiphany that she had no clue how to go about this.

Joe feared Aaliyah would turn and run. And that he would not be able to stop her. He pictured chasing after her. Pulling her into him. Holding onto her for dear life and letting her release herself against him in any which way. Any opportunity to tell her he loved her. That he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Tell her the minute she walked out, the moment the front door slammed, that in that second everything once something had become absolutely nothing.

But to his relief, Aaliyah came closer. She stood on the opposite end. She permitted herself to properly look at him. Him. It’s him. Tall, broad, and handsome like always. It was obvious he was bigger, more built in the span of a few months. His hair was the perfect length, not too short or long. It appeared soft and silky underneath the lighting. His jaw was more defined, lined with the tiniest of scruff and a scar to the left. Likely from a game. His eyes were soft. Skin tinted golden. Patiently waiting for her to say something. Joe leaned slightly over the counter, his knuckles white from gripping the ends.

“I’m sorry I came.” Joe felt a chill down his spine. That voice. Her voice so timid and sweet. Her voice like honey. A voice with the power to soothe him and drive him wild. “To be honest …” her thoughts fell short as she let out a shaking breath. She hesitated, searching her head for the words. 

In silence, Joe watched her as she made her way to the wine cellar off the left kitchen wall. Her fingers danced over labels, settling for a bottle of red wine. As she neared, Joe studied her frame. Her dress was divine. The fabric falling over her effortlessly. Her fingers long and slender, nails painted a glossy red. The tattoo of a daisy she had gotten drunk in college on full display between the curves of her breasts. Joe sighed heavily, averting his gaze. Aaliyah proceeded to the cabinet with the wine glasses. She had organized this home. She knew where anything and everything was kept.

Filling two glasses halfway, she slid one across the counter. Joe observed her lips fold around the brim, the red liquid diving into her mouth. He watched the movement of her neck, which was bare. His heart twisted at the missing “9” necklace. With some liquid courage, and the slightest of adrenaline, Aaliyah’s eyes once again encountered his.

“I went on a date tonight. First one since.” Aaliyah paused, flailing her fingers between them, scoffing before she said bitterly, “I couldn’t even sit through it.” Joe shifted uneasily. Lips pressed into a firm line as his eyes darkened with jealousy. Any man would be honored to know the woman before him. Radiant, loving, and sincere. The mere thought of another man holding her, kissing her, and touching her in ways only he had made him distraught. She was no longer his. He had no right.

“How was it?” His tone was flat. He didn’t want to know. But he did. She chuckled dryly jerking her head back and forth. Joe took a long sip of wine, pursing his lips at the sharp taste. With only a few drops of liquid remaining, Joe moved to pour it down the drain, watching the dark red swirl before it vanished completely. Aaliyah watched the muscles of his back tense underneath his shirt. 

“I couldn’t sit through it. I didn’t want to.” And then they relaxed.

“And why is that?” His tone was firm, jealousy probing. Aaliyah felt her breath hitch. She wanted to flee. But Joe was taking slow yet purposeful steps in her direction and she couldn’t move. “Talk to me, Aaliyah. What brings you here?”

Joe now stood inches from her. His large hands rested against the granite countertop. From this proximity, Aaliyah could see clearly how gorgeous he was. “He took me to a nice restaurant. Bought me flowers. Purchased the best wine. But ...” Aaliyah felt the tears pooling in her eyes. Joe became blurry before her as a single tear fell down her cheek.

“It’s okay A, it's alright.” Joe’s voice was like butter. Soft and smooth, sending ripples of warmth through her body. Aaliyah was tense, as Joe carefully pulled her against him. Her arms felt weak, limping at her sides. The familiarity of his arms around her made Aaliyah’s stomach tingle. One hand was placed against the curvature of her back while the other became lost in her hair. They remained that way for a few minutes, a single tear falling from Joe’s eyes when Aaliyah’s arms wrapped around his torso. This feels wrong yet right, she thought.

Aaliyah was not naive. She understood this would end in one of two ways. It wasn’t fair to either of them for her to just walk back in a moment of heartbreak. He deserved better.

“Please don’t go.” Aaliyah’s body tightened against him in response to his words. I don’t want to, she thought. But the words just didn’t seem to come out. She felt him shuffle, directing her against the island. Her breath hitched in her throat when he released her. Her heart felt like it was about to explode from her chest when their eyes met again. “Baby please don’t go.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

He was so close. Their lashes barely touched, his breath warm against her lips. His jaw clenched as she brought her hand nervously against the right side of his face, tracing his scar. His large hands placed themselves firmly on the countertop as if trapping her. Aaliyah felt her throat constrict, and her chest tighten. Joe watched as the dark lips before him moved, brown eyes staring right through his soul.

“How do you give someone six years of your life and pretend that they don’t exist anymore?” The words fell from those lips dripping with curiosity.

Aaliyah wanted to reach for Joe when he pulled back, propelling himself off the counter, and straightening back to his normal level. She saw a flare of something in his eyes. The confusion, pain, and potential resentment brushed passed in a wave as his eyes appeared  two shades darker. He shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t.”

His voice was loud. Assured. Powerful. Not to scare Aaliyah, but a reminder that she was responsible for his pain as he was for hers. “I didn’t, because not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. Not a morning passes when I wake up to realize the spot next to me in bed is empty. The door was always within your reach.”

The key.

“The moment you left, the moment I let you leave, everything changed.” What started as confidence now became a cry for help. A pleading of words that he had suppressed far too long. His biceps flexed as he pulled at the ends of his hair. 

“Nothing feels right. You’re embedded everywhere in this house. Every inch and corner is a reminder of you. Every time I come home I wonder if you’ll be here.”

Aaliyah stood motionless. Digesting all his words. Every change in his tone. She did not bother to ask why he hadn’t sought her. She understood him far too well. They had practically grown together. Aaliyah knew that once Joe felt someone was better off without him, he wouldn’t dare intrude.

Even if it destroyed him.

The silence was heavy. Aaliyah fiddled with the rings on her fingers, pulling at the elastic band around her wrist. Joe winced as the band slapped back and forth against her skin. She’d picked up the anxiety relief mechanism after they parted ways. When nights were long and days a drag. When all she could do was wallow in heartbreak. He watched Aaliyah now, examining the damage they had done. Cheeks red from the impact of his words. But her eyes said everything. She was sorry. She was afraid. She had felt lost without him too.

“All I’ve thought about is you, Joe.” He gulped. The muscles in his biceps relaxed. A wave of relief washed across his face. Aaliyah willed herself forward. With weary steps, she came closer and closer. His fingers slipped between hers. His thumb rubbed atop the spot of her hand that always seemed to calm her. She couldn’t play this game she’d begun of back and forth the minute she had arrived at the door. They didn’t deserve to spend whatever time they’d have in this moment treading on thin ice.

The exhale leaving Aaliyah’s body felt promising. Her lungs felt lighter. Despite her heart beating profusely against her chest, regardless of her dry mouth, she felt safe as she always had with him. “Joe.” She whispered, craning her neck upwards. She released her fingers from his hold, moving them to his muscular arms. He shuddered at her touch, the tips of her fingers running up and down his arms. Aaliyah had the effect of turning “Joe Cool” into a mess of a lustful  man desiring nothing but her. His eyes closed waiting for her to speak. Aliyah watched her effect on him. She grazed over those arms, playing him like a harp. “Dammit Aaliya, say something.” HIs voice was husky, lingering in the air as Aaliyah clenched her legs together.

“I keep searching for some sense of relief. I keep waiting for things to feel right.” Her voice was like liquor. Pulling him right back in and he couldn't resist. He had no wish to.

“I still love you, Joe.” His eyes opened then. Aaliyah’s eyes had darkened, her expression was sincere but reluctant of what he might say. They both knew something wrong had happened to cause the drift. They both knew that at some point they’d become outsiders to one another. Barely speaking. Scarcely touching. They knew there was a reason she had walked out the door that night when everything went to shambles.

But why did it hurt so bad? If this wasn’t meant to be, why couldn’t they move on? "Right person wrong time." It was the phrase they heard from numerous people. Skeptical of what may happen next, Aaliyah watched as Joe leaned towards her. Her arms curled around his neck. He dipped his head near her, quivering at the feeling of her fingers in his hair. For the first time in months, he felt at peace. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her with ease. Aaliyah pressed herself to him, her chest against his toned one. Her legs secured around him as if she’d fall. He was her harp. Their breathing fell into sync. Their heartbeats demanded to become one.

The cold of granite countertop seeped through the fabric of her dress. Joe’s forehead rested against her own, his hand raising her chin. “I love you A. I love you so fucking much.” A chill ran down Aaliyah’s spine. It’s all she longed to hear. His voice was delicate with a twinge of pleading. His fingers skimmed her lips.

Whatever happened tonight, whether she walked out the door or allowed herself to fall into him, she wasn’t sure what to do after. But he loved her. 

He loves me.

Aaliyah felt the tears forming in her eyes to the influence of his revelation, interwoven with the unclarity between them. “I love you,” he whispered again. Please keep saying it. His eyes requested permission in a way so caring as his lips approached hers. Her breath hitched in her throat. Aaliyah nodded slowly, hands trembling as her fingers danced through his hair. “You don’t need to have all the answers right now.” She nodded again, lashes fluttering against his skin. His mint breath was cool against her skin. “You tell me to stop and I will Aaliyah.” She didn’t say a word, but her demeanor and liberation against him, with those brown eyes imploring, was sufficient for him to press his lips against hers.

“Joe Cool” was even better at making a desiring, longing, and impatient mess of Aaliyah.

He was careful. As if Aaliyah were a glass that may shatter. Warmth radiated throughout her body. In perfect harmony, they fell into a rhythm. A reminder of what they had, a prospect of what could be redeemed. Never in six years had they kissed like this. A kiss sealed with relief, despair, worry, and hope. Aaliyah drew back breathlessly. Her body felt limp. She wanted to fall into him, tell him to heal her in all the ways he could. Her eyes closed as his digits ran up and down her arms. “Please” she whispered, guiding his hands up dress, where they rubbed warmth into her thighs. His large hands pressed into plush skin as her insides throbbed. Joe’s fingers teased, driving the end of her lace undergarment upwards ever so slightly. Aaliyah sighed into him, her nails grazing against the back of his shirt.

Outstretching her neck, Aaliyah gave Joe access to more of her. Joe placed butterfly kisses from her collarbone up to her jaw. Silky and beloved, peppering her skin with his mark. Aaliyah wriggled against him. The simplest of contact made her impatient. He breathed in the familiar aroma of her perfume and pulled back her hair to expose her tender spot. A moan fled her lips as his teeth dug into her skin. She shuddered against him, pushing herself nearer, legs encircling his torso hard. Aaliyah nodded quickly as his fingers lingered along the straps of her dress. “Aaliyah, I need you to say it.” His calloused hands ran down her arms forming butterflies in her stomach. “Yes.” She mumbled breathlessly, leaning back on her arms. "Yes."

He was delicate, so soft and gentle. Her lips found his again, more firmly against them. Aaliyah's breasts pressed into his chest as a sound released from the back of her throat when he bit her lip, granting his tongue access to hers. Unexpectedly he drew her onward, her feet landing on the ground. They parted, breathless and warm. Joe studied her rosy cheeks, lustful eyes, and throbbing lips. Her fingers laced with his, tugging him closer.

Aaliyah led them through the halls and ascended the stairs into what was once their bedroom. She halted at the sight of his suitcase. It’s Friday. He would depart for Pittsburgh tomorrow. She knew that. He and his team were the talk of the city. Aaliyah was aware of every move.

“I don’t leave till noon,” he said softly as if reading her mind. The back of her legs hit the bed as she spun to face him. She seemed to be nodding when at a loss for words. Aaliyah pulled him to her, willing him to steer her down. Towering over her, Joe watched as Aaliyah dipped into the white sheets, the mattress soaking her in. A wave of greed surged through her core as her head fell against a pillow. The ends of her digits fiddled with his shirt, pulling it over his head. His body was littered with bruises, likely from his most recent game. Aaliyah ran dainty fingers over each bruise, watching Joe tremble before her. He depressed softly against her hips, earning a moan of delight when he eased against her. Kissing her again from her neck, around her jaw, and her lips. Her back arched with every surge of impatience. “J ...” she dragged out, her voice barely audible.

He worked gradually with her dress. Achingly slow. Aaliyah withered impatiently beneath him. The silk slid down her skin, revealing dark lace adorning her most intimate spots. Aaliyah’s cheek flared as Joe's pupils dilated in desire. “My pretty pretty girl,” he muttered, aimlessly tracing the lining of the fabric around her breasts. 

Yes, I’m yours. 

Lowering himself yet again to press his lips to her, his hand roamed to her back, where the garment was unhinged. Aaliyah pulled back breathlessly, her breasts tender as the lace withdrew from her skin, disheveled whines pleading with him to touch her in ways she had missed. His lusting eyes searched hers for a split second before retreating. His lips fell to the daisy between her breasts. She grasped the sheets around, her nails digging into his flesh as he sank against her. His touches were delicate. His mouth traveled over every bit of skin.

And so the harmony of two souls began. He listened while she articulated beautiful sounds he had only heard while his lips lowered. Lower, lower, lower. Hands traveled and explored places of her body he knew in his sleep. His name slipped from her lips in ways he craved. Joe watched as Aaliyah unraveled before him. Aaliyah was relieved when Joe's lips moved past her navel, and she felt the lacy garment surrounding her core shift down her legs, exposing her entirety to someone who knew how to please, adore, and love her.

And then they became one. Slow and steady. Soothing and sweet. Every ounce of pleasure poured into one another. His hands gripped hers as she unleashed every trace of uncontainable desire. And she felt him disentangle against her. Pour his heart and soul into her.

. . .

When morning came, Joe awoke first. Sunlight crept in through the curtains. Next to him, Aaliyah lay peacefully in a deep sleep. Her head was secluded into the crook of his neck, their limbs entangled. Her dark hair settled behind her ears. Her lips were swollen from the collection of kisses shared overnight.

It was the first morning Joe woke up without the grim feeling of isolation. The first morning in which his heart felt whole. Harboring this moment because he did not know what the next hour entailed. The clock behind her read 10:45 AM. It was almost noon.

But he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to provide reason for Aaliyah to leave. He could not bear losing her as soon as he got her back.

Aaliyah stirred slightly, sensing the sun's warmth and the man laying next to her. She felt the shift on his end as his large arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. His ocean eyes met her as she fluttered them open. Hair was disheveled from their antics. Recollections of last night became clear. Sounds of of his name and hers falling from respective lips. The efflux of desire and pleasure radiating through their bodies. The ease with which they knew how to satisfy the other.

This felt normal. This felt like the mornings she had missed. 

Normal was the feeling of love that remained between them. They had escaped the loneliness for a night. And challenged the deprivation of one another, sufficing with one night. Yet it was not enough. It would never be enough. 

Six years came down to this one morning.

“Aaliyah.” For the first time since they crossed paths, she saw the faintest smile on his lips. The ends of Aaliyah's lips curled upwards as her heavy hand brushed the sparse strands of hair from his forehead. “Aaliyah I have to go.” His whispers were shaky, hardly audible in the stillness of the bedroom. Her fingers traced along his forehead, around his eyes, the brim of his nose, brushing over his lips and jawline. A single tear fell from her eyes. “I know.” She whispered. “I know Burrow.”

Pulling from her with the heaviest heart, she watched his motions as he worked through the bedroom. When the shower began, she rolled over, wiping her tears. The bedside drawer was slightly ajar. Aimlessly going to push it back, Aaliyah hovered over it finding a little black box. Lifting it with unsteady fingers, and pulling open the lid, Aaliyah felt her body drain of life at the sight of the diamond ring.

She froze. A ring. The diamond sparkled. Pulling her eyes away, Aaliyah rummaged through the drawer discovering a photograph of herself. The colors had faded. She recognized her growing features, shorter hair, and a smile that seemed to have disappeared in the past few months. It was taken by Joe, from their earlier days of bliss when they first met in college.

She did not notice the numbers on the clock passing by nearing noon. And it wasn’t until the bed dipped next to her did she find the man bearing these belongings. Joe's eyes told stories she was unaware of for the past few months. The faint scruff was gone, the scent of his aftershave filling her senses. He had dressed for his departure, black pants with a grey shirt and leather jacket. His lips fell into a melancholy smile, clearing his throat before speaking. Aaliyah let his fingers grasp the box and photograph from her own.

The sun had brought a yellow glow into the room. Joe’s exposed skin was painted golden, his blue eyes electric. Aaliyah pulled her legs against her chest, gripping them in safety. “I never got to ask you.” He whispered, announcing it with fragility. Her heart broke into a million pieces once again.

“I’m sorry Joe.” Aaliyah sniffed, suddenly standing from the bed and rushing into the bathroom. When the door slammed shut behind her, Joe sat there, watching the minutes pass by on the clock.

Aaliyah pulled his shirt over her head. She stared at her bare body in the mirror. Her fingers scanned every love bite. Wrapping her hair into a bun, she guided herself to the shower, where she melted as the hot water burned her skin. Generously lathering his body wash over her skin as if preserving his scent.

Her mind raced when she found the room empty, his luggage no longer in view. The bed was stripped, her dress hanging on the wall on a hanger. Removing the towel from around her, Aaliyah hurried to dress. It was almost noon.

No. No, no, no, no, no. NO!

Rushing down the staircase, and through the hall, Aaliyah called his name, “Joe!?” Afraid she had missed him, till he appeared before her, catching her in his arms. “Oh god, oh my gosh, I thought you left.” she listened to the desperation and fear in her voice. Her eyes fell shut against his chest, breathing in all his scents. Running her fingers through the slightly wet hair at the nape of his neck. There was a knock at the door, a familiar voice of a teammate shouting his name.

Aaliyah was about to be alone again. All alone. “No,” she whispered, feeling his arms tighten around her. Her hair had fallen down her back, his fingers massaging the back of her scalp. His lips pressed against the top of her head. Another knock and then a ring. Joe murmured endearments to her. Bringing her with him to the door.

“Give me a minute!” Joe called out gravely. Aaliyah listened as the footsteps retreated. Pulling apart, Joe cupped her cheeks, wiping at a lone tear.

“I love you Aaliyah.” He smiled, eyes glossy before his lips pressed to hers with prominence. Aaliyah kissed back with distinction, whispering “I love you” numerous times frantically against his lips. They separated when the engine of the car outside was heard.

Time seemed to stop. Two lovers, hurt by one another. Standing in the foyer of the home they once called theirs. Six years of history. Over half a decade of Aaliyah and Joe. Joe and Aaliyah. The good, the bad. The lovely, the horrible. Aaliyah watched Joe’s jaw tense before he spoke words she was hoping to hear.

“Whatever you decide Aaliyah, whatever it is you want to do, I will always love you.”

All too quickly, Joe kissed Aaliyah perhaps one last time, and embraced her as if he would never hold her again. Before turning the knob, he caught one last glimpse of her. Bare-faced, those dreamy big brown eyes, luscious lips, and rosy cheeks.

Aaliyah. Forever and always his Aaliyah. 

Aaliyah leaned against the door frame as the door opened, exposing the outside world. Joe bent down, removing the key from underneath the mat. Without a word, he placed it in the palm of her hand.

It was his silent way of saying “Please don't go.” Her fingers ran once through her hair, her eyes closing as his lips pressed against her cheek.

She watched as he walked down the driveway. Farther and farther until he turned to her with the most painful smile. With all her might, she smiled in return, wiping her tears and sending him a small wave.

Joe watched her shut the door. Him on the outside. Her on the inside. He hoped to find her there Sunday night. He prayed they become one again.

Aaliyah slid down the door holding the key in her hand. Listening till the car could no longer be heard, she wiped another tear before turning to the ottoman. The roses were long gone, her coat hung on the rack. Her heels were placed on the shoe rack. She recognized Joe’s scribbles on a piece of paper pinned to the wall next to her coat.

Standing up she walked over pulling it off the wall. 

“Please stay.” Do I stay?

If it hurt so much to lose someone, why did it hurt to unite again?

Should I stay?

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