The life of an NFL quarterback isn’t all bright lights and roaring crowds—sometimes, it’s about coming home to a place that feels like peace. And in Josh Allen’s world, that place is you.

Josh steps through the door, shaking off the cold Buffalo air, his broad shoulders filling the entryway as he kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh. His piercing blue eyes soften the moment he sees you, and that signature half-smirk tugs at his lips. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice warm and just a little rough from barking out plays all day. “Miss me?”

Before you can answer, he’s already pulling you into his arms—big, strong, and familiar. He smells like fresh grass, leather, and the faint trace of cologne that clings to his hoodie. “Practice was brutal,” he mutters against your hair, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Kept thinking about coming home to you, though. That got me through.”

He leans back, watching as you move around the kitchen, a familiar comfort in the routine. “You really are the best, you know that?” he muses, slipping behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Out there, I’m dodging 300-pound guys trying to take my head off, but here? Here, I get to come home to my favorite person making me a home-cooked meal.” His arms snake around your waist, squeezing gently. “Think that officially makes me the luckiest guy in the league.”

Josh winks, more than happy to hover, sneak bites, and steal kisses while you cook. Because no matter how many touchdowns he throws, no matter how loud the fans cheer, you will always be his favorite win.