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starsinthesky5 · 8 months ago

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make me juno* || joe burrow x reader

description: he loves you right and he wants your touch for life too. you realize one of you is cute, but two though? you just might let him make you juno ;)

a/n: surprise! felt the urge to write this so here we are. ALSO, I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I SAW JUNO PREFORMED LIVE. LIKE BITCH. I CANT.

i hope this doesn’t suck lol. i’ve been in a slump lately and i feel so bad for keeping everyone waiting like this ;(

warnings: SMUT. it’s alot. ALOT. & language. MDNI

word count: 16.1 k

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

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“God, he looks so hot when he gets out of the shower,” you murmured under your breath, feeling a rush of heat rise from your toes to your head. “If he just grabbed me by the hips and threw me underneath him, pressed that mouth against my ear…put that hand on my stomach, holding me in place like I’m his entire world…oh god I would–…,” you daydreamed. Your breath hitched at the thought and your eyes screwed shut from the images you were seeing, it was almost too much, the way just the sight of him could set your mind and body on fire.

And then you heard his voice, soft and teasing. “You okay over there?” he asked you because of how quiet you had been since he came out of the bathroom.

You opened them a few seconds later, your cheeks red because you thought he caught you red-handed but when you glanced over at the cause of your friskiness–your husband–he was innocently sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to you. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends and a few stray water droplets clung to his golden skin as he squeezed out the final dab of his favorite lotion–cucumber scented, something you put him on–and began massaging it into his collarbone. He looked so relaxed and at peace, but your mind was far from the leisurely place he was likely in. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to share the idea that had been swirling in your head all evening since he came home from practice.

When he first walked in with that Bengals beanie on his head, those gray sweats hanging low around his waist, and that adorable baby pink Nike sweatshirt clinging to his frame, you nearly fainted. How could he look so adorable yet so sexy at the same time? Like he was one second away from holding a little baby in his arms or one second away from putting a baby inside of you.

You were already teetering on the edge, your hormones wreaking havoc inside you after he left you high and dry this morning, so his post-practice look made it much worse. He’d skipped out on a quick, pre-practice rendezvous, leaving your needs painfully unmet. What started as a soft, gentle good morning kiss quickly shifted to a sloppy, breathless makeout session, his hands pulled you closer as you begged for his touch–or anything–to bring relief to the ache in between your thighs. But his multiple alarms had other plans.

So as he made his swift exit, you were left to fend for yourself. There were several things you could have done while he was away to experience that delicious ecstasy coursing through your veins. However, you rarely took matters into your own hands because you didn’t want to take away Joe’s right to see you reach that blissful state—the one he was responsible for inducing for the rest of his life ever since he slipped that beautiful diamond ring onto your finger. He prided himself when it came to bringing you to that heavenly place, so you never wanted to strip him of his right. It was the way he carefully watched your every reaction to know what you liked and didn’t like, his focus persistent, as if your pleasure was his biggest accomplishment. It was his right, his privilege, to unravel you in that way.

So, you did your best to push those heated thoughts to the back of your mind, even if they lingered long enough to leave you flustered for the rest of the day. And it felt like every little thing was working against you; the graze of your clothing against your skin, the way your mind would wander back to the last time his hands were on you, and even the painfully innocent texts from him that asked how your day was going.

You were so fucking horny and there was nothing you could do about it.

And then when you saw him once he came home from practice, those hormones went into overdrive fast. It’s as if every sense was heightened. Every time his fingers would graze over your clothed shoulder, you felt like ripping your clothes off. Whenever his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual, you felt like pouncing onto him. Every time he curled up on the couch to work on the pac-man arcade Lego set you bought him, you daydreamed about him building a Lego set with his little one, his child, your baby…one day.

Those daydreams had become quite frequent, to be honest.

You and Joe had been married for a little over a year now, and married life was everything you had dreamed of. Maybe even more. It still felt as though you two were dating because the spark between you hadn’t dulled; it only deepened. Everything about your life as husband and wife felt easy, natural, and light, almost as if you two were perfectly in sync.

Your home became a safe space filled with reminders of your love; framed photos from your honeymoon lining the walls, the scent of his cologne lingering on all your clothes and blankets, and a daily habit of finding tiny notes he left for you in the most random places. It was like living in your own little bubble of love, unbothered by the chaos of the outside world. Those evenings when you’d lounge together on the couch, his arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you watched the latest episode of some trashy reality TV show, were your favorites. Those nights when you’d cook together, teasing each other about who was better at chopping the vegetables, which would eventually turn into a food fight because neither of you would admit defeat, was maximum domestic bliss for you. And other nights, when you’d order takeout and slow dance in the kitchen, barefoot and carefree to “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, reassured you that you made the right choice by saying yes to spending forever with your favorite person in the entire world.

Everything was perfect with just the two of you, yet in those quiet moments when you caught Joe’s soft gaze lingering on a family, or the way he playfully messed up your nephew’s hair, or like earlier, when he’d come home looking like he was coming home to his wife and baby, you couldn’t help but wonder what life would look like if it was the three of you.

The thought came unprovoked sometimes, like when you’d be in the grocery store, lost in thought imagining the faint pitter-patter of tiny feet across the hardwood floors because you walked past the baby clothes, or picturing Joe cradling a baby in his strong arms because you saw his teammates doing so with their families. You wondered what it would be like to have your own little one–a perfect blend of the two of you.

There was no rush, of course. Life with Joe felt full and beautiful just the way it was–just the two of you and football, a rhythm you’d fallen into easily and had been dancing to since LSU. But lately, the thoughts of Joe talking to your baby bump had become more common and it made your heart ache in the best way. You could almost imagine waking up in the morning to his cheek pressed against your belly, whispering promises to his little tiger who was growing inside of you. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you breathless.

You had talked about wanting kids together before you got engaged and you two were on the same page about all of it, like you were about everything else in your relationship. But the one thing you had never talked about was when.

The idea of Joe as a father made you want to kick your feet back and forth like a little girl; the image, the idea of it, was absolutely adorable and tooth-rottingly sweet. You wanted to see his hands, the ones that clung to you, cradling a tiny bundle of joy that you both created through your love for one another. You wanted to hear his adorable little laugh as he played peekaboo or watch his face light up the face time your baby wrapped their little fingers around his.

You knew it wasn’t about if, only when. You wanted it, him, and everything that future could hold so badly that it made you ache in ways you couldn’t even put into words. He was your home, your safe place, your everything. Joe had this way of filling every corner of your heart, making you feel so cherished and complete, and the thought of sharing that love with your child was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. You adored him more than you thought it was possible to adore anyone. You had no doubt he’d make the best father and the way he cared for you, for the people he loved, was proof enough.

You needed this with him. God, you’d do anything to have it with him.

“...Joe?” you finally said, snapping out of your thoughts.

He turned around slightly to look at you, placing the bottle of lotion to the side and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”.

You felt a wave of nervousness come over you, but you were already too lost in those thoughts to go back. “Here goes nothing,” you thought as you flipped onto your back, your head leaning against the bed frame as you held your phone close to your chest, “...H- Have you ever thought about…spicing things up a little?” you asked, your voice so faint and gentle, almost trying to sound innocent.

Joe tilted his head in confusion, “Spicing things…up?” he echoed. “What do you mean?” he added with a small chuckle.

You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing deepening, and your palms becoming sweatier by the second. You sat up, still clutching your phone, “Like new…positions? I- I was doing some late-night research,” you said, trying to remain casual but you couldn’t help but wince at the burning sensation in your cheeks.

Joe’s lips shifted into a smirk as he turned to face you fully, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist and his bare chest basically an open invitation for you to mark him up. “Late-night research, huh? Even late at night, you’re thinking 'bout me?” he wiggled his eyebrows and said. “What exactly did you find?” he chuckled.

You quickly unlocked your phone and pulled up the image you had saved earlier–a diagram of a particularly intricate position that had you on edge for the past few hours because of the mental image it gave you. “Have you ever tried, this one?” you asked, holding your phone out to him.

Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the screen, “Wowwww,” he said, dragging it out with a giggle. “This looks… ambitious,”.

You broke out into a laugh, sitting up on your knees and moving closer to him, “You mean to tell me, Mr. Quarterback doesn’t think he can handle it?” you teased.

His eyes snapped up to yours, a playful yet challenging sparkle in them, “Oh, I can handle it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But can you?”.

You eyed him up and down for a second, feeling the heat in your belly grow with each glance at the little happy trail below his belly button which led to what you were craving. “Don’t underestimate your wife, Burrow. She’s got moves,” you said, running your hand up his muscular chest, your ruby-red nails leaving light scratches as you inched toward his neck.

“Oh, does she now?” he smiled, moving closer to you.

“Yes, she does. Maybe you should let her show you?” you whispered, moving closer to him, your lips planting a few light kisses along his jaw to finish your sentence.

Joe pulled back, meeting your tell-tale eyes to see if you were serious, and the unwavering fire behind them told him you were. He grabbed your phone from your hand, setting it down on the nightstand, his grin widening, “Alright, challenge accepted. But don’t get mad if this turns into an Olympic-level workout,”.

“Gotta go for the gold, baby,” you winked. “We’re too skilled to back down,”.

—

A little later, the two of you were naked and sprawled across the bed, Joe holding the phone up for reference as you tried to untangle yourselves from the failed first attempt at the intimate position. “Wait,” he said, squinting at the screen. “Is your leg supposed to go over my shoulder or–,”.

“Your leg!” you cut him off, giggling as you pointed to the diagram. “It’s definitely your leg! But wait, I think we have it all wrong because no leg needs to go over a shoulder. Is the photo upside down?”. You were even unsure of it yourself, you never really switched it up like this in the bedroom so this was equally as hilarious as intimidating.

Joe groaned as he dropped his head, then flopped onto his back dramatically, “This is starting to feel like a TikTok challenge, babe. Sex should not be this difficult,”.

You grabbed the pillow from underneath your head and whacked him with it as giggles fell from your lips, “You’re the one who said you could handle it!”.

He caught the pillow, tossing it to the side as he rolled back toward you, “I know, but whoever made these positions clearly is against getting laid because half the time would get wasted just figuring out whose leg goes where. Maybe we should just stick to what we do best? That always works best for us and things…things are already super spicy whenever you end up underneath me, why try to change it?” he winked as his smile softened.

“You’re probably right. I don’t feel like being more sore than usual for no reason and that looks like something that’d make me pull a leg muscle or two,” you laughed.

“You still up for it? Or did you just want to do something different tonight and you’re over it now,” he asked, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to push you into doing something if you weren’t feeling it anymore, he only cared about your pleasure and he was worried that not being able to figure this out would put a dent in your high.

“Oh, yes,” you groaned, waving away his worries. “I’ve been about 5 seconds away from letting go ever since you left me high and dry this morning,” the words falling out of your mouth instantly with no shame or hesitation.

Joe’s face dropped slightly, “Sorry about that,”. He really did feel bad for leaving you this morning, but he knew better than to be late to today’s practice. The day before, you woke up similarly, except Joe’s head was stuffed in between your thighs for ten minutes before he held you on top of him for another twenty. The extra thirty minutes in bed–although blissful and oh-so-delicious–caused him to be the last one in the facility and the last one to get to the morning meeting, and everyone was on his ass about it. Especially, because of that pretty golden tattoo you left on his neck that he forgot to cover up.

“Damn, Joe. Ever since you got married it’s like you became even more pussy whipped than you were before,” Ja’marr teased.

“God Damn, Joe. Give Y/N a break before she starts sleeping in the guestroom. She’s probably tired of your ass,” Tee laughed, earning a chuckle from Ja’marr.

“Listen, son. I know being young and in love and newly married is…uh…exciting and…*cough*...thrilling..but you have a job and as the team leader, it doesn’t look good to walk in here with your shirt on backward and those marks on your neck. Bad example for the guys,” Zac awkwardly whispered to him.

“Ah,” you interjected, pushing a finger to his pink, plump lips. “I’m not mad. I’m just so fucking horny and the way you looked when you came home plus the way you looked after your shower made it worse,”.

He wishes he could show this to them right now. It would be the perfect, “Loserrrrr” moment for him to tease his guys about. You would and could never get tired of him, or this.

He raised an eyebrow at your cheeky confession, “Really?”.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I don’t care how we do it, I just want you,” you said softly, your hand shifting into his hair as you pushed him closer to you, close enough to press your lips against his.

Joe melted into your lips the moment they collided, his hands naturally found your hips, gripping them firmly, pulling you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go. In one swift motion, his body shifted and he was on top of you again. His movements were unhurried but filled with a desperate kind of tenderness that made your heart race. He wanted you just as badly, if not more. Ever since he slid that gorgeous ring onto your finger, something in him shifted. Joe had always been obsessed with you, but now? Now, it was like he literally couldn’t function without you. Just one glance at your face, whether you were freshly awake with a bedhead or dressed up for a night out, his composure would crumble. You’d catch him staring at you every so often, his eyes dark and filled with lust, and before you knew it, you were pushed against the closest surface and his name was falling from your lips over and over.

It didn’t take much to push him over the edge, the mere sound of your laugh and the curve of your smile were enough to drive him crazy. Joe might have been many things, but with you? He was a man utterly and unapologetically consumed by love, and by you.

“Just hold me and explore me, baby. Stick to what you do best, that’s more than enough,” you murmured between kisses, your voice soft and laced with affection. His lips stilled for a second as he absorbed your words, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with a familiar promise of love and devotion. Without breaking the kiss, his hand reached back for the white sheets, tugging them over the two of you.

You felt his thick erection slide against your slick folds, each slip and slide sending a flutter throughout your belly, the sensation prompting you to pull away. “Please,” you hissed, “I need it,”.

“I know, baby,” he chuckled, pushing your lips back to his as he pressed you further back into the cloud-like bed. “You’re so wet…wonder what got you like this,”.

“You,” you whimpered, feeling his lips slide along your jawline, then to that spot on your neck that he loved, and then anywhere they could go to hear your pretty, soft, open-mouthed moans. “J- Joe,” you whispered, feeling him position his cock right at your entrance while he suckled on the spot below your ear.

“Hold on for me,” he groaned, then pushed into your warm, dripping core in one strong movement.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, fingers digging into his taut muscles as you clung to him with everything you had.

His body moved against yours with a fast, frantic need, every thrust igniting a fire that burned hotter with each second. His rhythm was raw and relentless as if he couldn’t bear to have an inch of space between you. The sound of your bodies moving together, skin against skin, became a beautiful, intimate soundtrack as he pushed into you with a force that stole your breath. The way his eyes were glued to yours and how his arms caged you in, creating a safe yet electrifying cocoon, was another thing that you loved about him. He focused all of his attention on you at all times, it felt like you were the only thing in his world.

“Tell me I’m the only one, baby,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as his cock grazed that perfect, sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips.

His breath was hot and rough against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, fuck, baby…fuck, yeah…you’re the only one,” he moaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure. “The. only. one. who. has. me. like. this.” his words were punctuated by the unwavering rhythm of his thrusts, each one powerful and deliberate, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that, baby,” you whimpered. The way your walls clenched around him made his head fall to your shoulder, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper. “So good for me, angel,” he groaned, his voice turning into a low growl as he thrusted harder, his movements exact yet full of raw desperation. Every push and pull of his body against yours sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your senses completely overwhelmed by him.

Another moan escaped your lips, louder this time, as his pace quickened. “Oh, oh…oh, fuck, Joey. I can’t…,” you cried out, your nails digging into his back, your entire body trembling beneath him.

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist to angle you even closer to him. The shift made his cock hit even deeper, and your cry of pleasure turned into a near scream as he drove into you relentlessly, chasing both of your releases.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gritted out, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips snapped against you with a rhythm that left no room to think–only to feel. “You’re mine, angel. All mine,”.

The way he claimed you, the way he adored you, held you, and explored you, the way his body pressed against yours so completely, was intoxicating. The sound of his deep groans, the slap of your bodies meeting, and the way his hand slid up your waist to cup your face was too much, and yet, not enough. “I’m so close, baby,” you whimpered, your legs shaking as you clung to him, overwhelmed by the mere passion in his voice.

“Let go for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as his thrusts became harder, deeper, his movements rough yet perfectly attuned to your body. “I’ve got you, angel. Let go. I’m right here,”.

And with one final thrust, his body pressed against yours, the band in your belly shattered, your cries of pleasure filling the room as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. “Joe…oh my god! Joe!” you moaned, panting as the aftermath of your high vibrated throughout your body. “You feel…you feel so- so good, fuck. Joe,”.

Joe’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his release, his groans getting louder and more uneven in your ear. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his body tensing against yours. “Baby, fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his voice strained with need. But then, his hips faltered for just a moment as the realization hit him. “Shit…I forgot the condom,” he muttered breathlessly, his thrusts slowing slightly. “I’ll pull out, I swear–,”.

His words barely registered in your brain as they were drowned out by the heat building inside you and the idea that suddenly sparked in your mind. Your heart raced, but not from nerves–it was something else. A lightbulb moment. This could be the start of what you’d been wanting, what you’d been dreaming of for so long. This could be a way to have that conversation with him later…maybe even act on it before talking about it…

“No,” you murmured, your voice trembling but stable enough to catch his attention. “Don’t pull out, Joe. It’s okay,”.

Joe rarely ever came inside of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was more so that back then, having a kid in college or while he was trying to make a name for himself in the NFL wasn’t exactly ideal. You both had sex like this a lot, raw and with no barriers, but he found other spots to push out his release other than being inside of you. So right now, when you said that you wanted him to come inside of you, he was slightly confused.

His eyes widened, his movements stuttering as he processed what you said. “Baby…you’re not on anything,” he said hesitantly, his forehead pressing against yours. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, even though his body was trembling with need, his will hanging by a thread. “Are you sure?”.

You nodded, your hands sliding up his back to hold him closer, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “It’s okay, Joey,”.

Maybe he would take the hint? That you weren’t just saying this because you were too caught up in the lust to think straight, but that you actually wanted this…wanted more than this.

His breathing hitched, and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to argue. But the way you gazed up at him, your words full of love and comfort, completely untangled him. His hesitation melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire and trust. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping back into rhythm, harder and more desperate this time. “You’re gonna kill me, baby…fuck, I can’t hold it,” he growled, his thrusts turning frantic as he buried himself deeper, chasing his release.

You moaned loudly, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling into pleasure once again. The thought of him spilling into you, of this moment potentially being the start of something new, pushed you over the edge. “Do it, Joey,” you urged breathlessly. “I want you to. Please. Give it to me, baby.”

With a choked groan, he finally let go, his body tensing as he gave in. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, his hips jerking erratically as he came inside you, his release hot and overwhelming as he pressed himself as deeply as he could, holding you tightly as he rode out his climax. His breaths were shaky as he came down, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Shit, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe we just…,”.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your tone soft and reassuring. “I’m okay. You’re okay,”.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any doubt, but all he found was love and certainty. Slowly, a smile broke through his post-climax fog, and he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

“No, you are,” you smiled, leaning back in and dropping two kisses on his lips.

—

A little later, the two of you lay tangled together under the sheets. You both were a little too wrung out to do anything else, so you decided to stay like this. His hand slid up and down your side, his touch as usual, soft and comforting, but your mind was moving at the speed of light.

He hadn’t said a word.

You kind of expect him to bring it up, maybe even tease you about the heat of the moment, or tell you how he felt about it. Instead, he seemed so relaxed and at peace, especially with how his head was resting in the crook of your neck as if nothing unusual happened.

You felt the urge to say something, but how? You couldn’t just blurt it out, “That might get me pregnant and I want that, but do you want that?”. So, you decided to test the waters.

“That was… intense,” you mumbled, your voice laced with coolness as your fingers traced shapes on his bare back.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, pressing a wet, lazy kiss to your shoulder. “You drive me fucking crazy, Y/N,”.

“I love him. God, I love him,” you thought to yourself, but your mind was still stuck on it. “I mean…we don’t usually…,” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

“We don’t usually what?” he asked while propping himself on his elbow to look at you, his tone giving away that he really was clueless.

Your cheeks felt like they turned red again as you hesitated to answer his question. You took a deep breath, “You know, we usually never…skip the condom,” you said, your voice soft as you searched his face for a reaction.

Joe blinked, and for a second you saw a spark behind his eyes, but then it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He shrugged slightly, “I guess we got caught up in the moment, huh?” he said casually, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your disappointment. He wasn’t getting it. Either that, or he wasn’t ready to go there, and you definitely did not want to push. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to bring it up?

“Yeah,” you murmured, forcing a smile as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. “Caught up in a moment,”.

He dropped another kiss on your lips and mumbled an ‘i love you’ before settling back beside you, his arm draping over your waist as his eyes fluttered shut. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with a million thoughts. “Maybe I should let it go for tonight. He must be tired,” you thought, letting out a breath as you relaxed against him.

But as you lay there, another idea formed. If your adorably clueless husband isn’t going to bring it up, maybe you’d start dropping hints–little comments here and there, planting the seed in his mind like he did inside of you. He was the smartest person you knew, but when it came to subtlety, he sometimes needed to help.

You smiled to yourself, already thinking of ideas on how to ease the idea into his mind. But for now, you let it go and allowed his steady breathing to soothe you to sleep.

A few days later – Bengals Bye Week Day 1

The living room was calm, the soft light of the TV cast a gentle glow over the room as the quiet pitter-patter of the rain added to the comforting ambiance. Joe was sitting next to you on the couch, one of his arms lazily resting around your shoulder as your legs were stretched out in front of him. You were as usual, curled up next to him, the large hoodie you stole from his closet hiding most of your body as a fluffy Bengals blanket covered you both to protect you from the cool winter air. Your eyes fell to the coffee table in front of you, half-empty pizza boxes and freshly popped popcorn scattered across the surface, a reminder of the cozy night you two were having today during night one of the Bengal’s Bye-Week.

The movie on the TV was a cheesy rom-com, clearly your choice since your husband would’ve picked and preferred some action movie that you would’ve been too lazy to focus on. Rom-coms were perfect for cozy nights because you didn’t really need to put all of your focus on what was happening. However, this time, you were glued to the screen. There was a little family moment playing right now–a dad chasing his toddler around the living room and swooping them into their arms as their laughter filled the room. It was a classic scene that had been done a million times before in the movies, but this time, something about it made your heart swell with a familiar ache.

You shifted slightly, reaching to the side table to grab your water glass to take a small sip, the dad’s laughter in the movie echoing through the room, and without thinking twice, you blurted, “You’d make a hot dad, you know that?”.

Your cheeks instantly heated up, “Oh, shit,” you quickly thought after you said that. “Where the hell did that come from? I thought I was easing him into this…talk about subtle”.

Joe, who had been scrolling through his camera roll for a few minutes to find a photo of a pair of shoes he wanted to show you, froze mid-swipe, his eyes darting to you and then to the TV screen. “W- what?” he sputtered, confused and dazed like a deer in headlights by what you had just said.

“Play it cool, Y/N. You said it, no going back now,”. You took a sip of the cool beverage, then laughed, “You good there, Burrow?” you teased, watching as his cheeks turned a shade of red you knew he didn’t like to admit. He always has that adorable blush on his face when you say something about his physique. He knew he was gifted in the looks department, but he was never one to say it out loud himself. Another reason for this blush was what you said after that.

The word dad.

“What did you just say?” he muttered, a playful twinkle in his eyes as the redness spread to his ears, not being able to believe what you just said.

You grinned, “I said, you’d make a hot dad. I mean, look at you. You’re already so good with kids and I bet you’d be the one to carry one around in a baby carrier, all rugged and sexy,”.

Joe’s brows furrowed as a smile threatened to tug at the corner of his lips. He leaned back against the couch, returning to the position he was in before, “You’re insane,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he laughed at your “joke”.

“Please,” you raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve got major ‘dad energy’,”.

“Dad energy?” he snorted, the crinkles around his baby blues at full display, “I can’t believe you just said that,”. His hand traveled to your thigh underneath the cozy blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze that matched the tone of his voice despite the fact he was brushing off what you were saying as if it was a silly joke–which it wasn’t.

“Um, why not?” you asked innocently. “It’s a compliment, babe. You’d be the guy, the one who’s always there for his family. The fun, loving dad who’d give anything to make sure his kid knows they’re loved. That’s so hot,”.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds while his gaze lingered on you, the mood shifted as if he was processing something. “You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter, the playful teasing gone.

You nodded, “I do. You have this…calm about you, you know? Like your life is so chaotic but no matter what, you make room for those little moments, the ones that matter most. You hardly get overwhelmed and manage to give everything your 110%,”.

There was a longer pause this time, the only sound in the room being the faint background noise of the movie. Finally, he let out a soft exhale, his eyes moving down to your lips for a moment before moving back to yours. “You’re making me blush,” he said, almost a little shyly.

“Good,” you teased, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, “I’m not done yet,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your answer, “What, you going to tell me I look like I’d be good at changing diapers next?”.

You laughed, the nature of the conversation was serious but the little jokes and playfulness added a lighter touch to it. You leaned in a little closer so that your lips were just an inch from his, “You kidding?” you whispered, “I think you’d be amazing at everything, Joey. Not just dad stuff. Everything,”.

Joe’s breath hitched, and before he could say something, you kissed him softly, just enough to make your point clear. When you pulled back, his hands moved to the back of your neck to pull you back in, this time with more urgency. “Alright,” he mumbled against your lips. “You’ve got me now but don’t go giving me too many ideas, or I might start thinking you’re serious about this,”.

You grinned, feeling the heat between you both rise, particularly in your belly. “Who says I’m not serious?” you thought as you pushed your lips against his again.

Two days later - Bengals Thanksgiving Dinner

The air buzzed with energy as the dinner unfolded in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the room. Families mingled with players, and the mood was warm and festive. You had so much to be thankful for, but the thing you were most thankful for was the man beside you who hadn’t left your side since you got here.

Joe was his usual charming self, offering warm smiles and handshakes to everyone who approached. He was the star of the show as usual, but even in a crowded room, he had a way of making you feel like the only person in his world.

Joe loved you right.

Even when his life demanded so much from him, he never let you feel like you were anything less than his top priority. Whether he was drowning in the chaos of the football season or navigating the plethora of public appearances, he had a way of grounding you, making sure you knew you were the center of his galaxy.

He always paid attention, even when you thought he wasn’t. If his eyes were glued to game film, he’d still reach over and rest a hand on your leg, his thumb would be rubbing little circles as if he was saying ‘I’m here with you’. If he was caught up in a conversation, he’d make sure to check in with you through a quick glance or a wink, a silent acknowledgment that he was thinking of you.

Joe didn’t just love you; he made loving you feel like the easiest thing in the world.

If you were tired, he’d insist on carrying you to bed, no matter how much you resisted. If you were upset, he wouldn’t rest until he made you laugh again. And even on days he had nothing left to give, he’d still find a way to make you feel seen–a quick kiss on your forehead, a few ‘i love you’s’, or the way he’d hold you just a little tighter at night.

“You’re my everything,” he’d tell you, his voice steady and sure like it was the most obvious truth in the world. And you believed him. Because Joe had a way of showing his love in the little things, the quiet gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight was another example. He was the center of attention and had everyone approaching him for conversations, oftentimes overlooking you. But he made sure to rope you into the conversation each time, to hold you by your hip and keep you against his chest, and to constantly keep his attention on you whenever he had a free moment.

Currently, you stood close to Joe as usual, your fingers loosely entwined with his as you both sipped on your drinks and soaked in the atmosphere. Not far from where you were, Evan McPherson sat on a plush couch, bouncing his baby girl on his knee. Merritt was all smiley and giggly, her tiny fists pumping in excitement as she watched the world around her.

“Having fun?” Joe murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You turned to him with a soft smile, “I am,” you smiled, your gaze lingering on his baby blues. “What about you?”.

His lips curved into a familiar, boyish grin that made your heart flutter every time. “When I’m with you? Always,” he said simply, though his sincerity shone through every word.

Before you could respond, your attention moved to Merritt when Evan leaned down, letting her waddle on her tiny, unstable feet toward Joe. “Looks like another girl has eyes for you, Joey,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

Joe laughed softly, setting his drink on the table as he crouched down to meet her at eye level. “Hey there, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft in a way that melted your heart instantly. He reached out a hand, and instantly, her tiny fingers latched onto his index finger, gripping it tightly like it was the most important thing in the world.

Your eyes lit up with a kind of sparkle that said a thousand words, and your heart swelled with warmth at the sigh of Joe, utterly fascinated by the innocent gesture. “Wow, she’s got quite the grip,” Joe said, his eyes twinkling as he gave her hand a little shake, earning a blubbering laugh from the little baby. “She been spending time in the receiver room?” he joked.

Evan laughed, “Ja’marr better watch out,”.

You crouched down to where Joe was, leaning closer so that your words were just for him, “Look,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “She knows you’ve got dad vibes,”.

Hello, hint number two.

Joe turned to you, both eyebrows raised in surprise as a blush crept up on his face, “Dad vibes?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your eyes darting between him and the baby still clutching his finger. “She can sense it. It’s a thing, you know,” you nodded, trying to sound credible so that another hint would be dropped.

Joe chuckled, shaking his head but not pulling his hand from Merritts. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his eyes filled with a kind of soft love that you’d never seen before.

Was this the look he’d have in his eyes when his own baby would be holding his finger like that?

“Oh my god. Please. PLEASE,” you thought to yourself, feeling an overwhelming amount of fluffy thoughts fill your mind. Would his baby cling to his finger like that while they walked? Would his baby laugh like that at his adorable faces and jokes? Would his baby look at their daddy with that same look of love?

You were so far gone thinking about Joe and your future baby that you didn’t even realize that you were mumbling lyrics to the song you’d heard earlier on the drive over to the event. “You make me wanna make you fall in love…,”.

It was exactly how you felt watching Joe. He made you want everything–a family, a future, a life filled with moments like these.

Joe glanced over at you, catching the dreamy look in your eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice quiet and curious.

“Hmm?” you blinked, realizing you’d been caught humming.

“You were singing something,” he said, his lips shifting into that little half-smile that always made your knees weak.

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice was soft and a little shy, “It’s just a song. Made me think of you,”.

His smile widened as he leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve got that look again,” he murmured.

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as he smirked.

“The one where you’re plotting something,” he teased. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”.

You shook your head, holding back a grin. “Nothing,” you said, your voice light but your heart full. “Anyway, I know what I’m talking about,” you teased, giving him a cheeky grin. “She can feel the vibes,”.

His attention shifted back to Merritt, who had started babbling as if she was trying to have a full-blown conversation with him. And Joe being the sweetheart he is, started playing along by nodding and murmuring things that made her giggle even harder. Watching him like this, so natural and soft, made you want to scream. The image of him holding your baby like this flickered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same image and feeling tugged at his heart.

After conversing with Joe, Merritt was eventually scooped up by Evan, and she whined in protest as her grip on Joe’s finger was forced loose. “Sorry, bud. Looks like you’ve got competition,” Joe joked, earning another giggle from Merritt.

“She’ll stop when I bribe her with a slice of the pumpkin pie that Y/N brought,” Evan smiled, glancing back as he heard Gracie call out for him. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Husband duties call,” he waved before walking back to his wife.

Joe straightened up, brushing off his knees as he turned back to you, “Dad vibes, huh?” he said again, this time with a little smirk.

You shrugged, trying to keep it cool despite the butterflies in your belly. “Just saying. She didn’t grab my finger like that,”.

Joe laughed, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, a softness in his voice but there was also a flicker of something unspoken lingering between you.

Maybe, just maybe…the seeds had started to plant in his mind.

The next night - Home

You both lay intertwined in the afterglow of your highs, his body pressed close against yours as you watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You both were still trying to catch your breath, a comfortable silence developing between you. You turned your head up to look at him, your lips morphing into a teasing smile as you traced a finger along his chest. “Mm, I like the way you fit,” you lazily murmured the sexual innuendo, your voice soft and teasing as you slid your fingers down his chest.

Joe raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what you were talking about. “Fit, huh?” he chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk. “I could say the same about you, babe. You were made for me,”.

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in to kiss him. “I mean, it’s not like I have to tell your hot ass a thing,” you said between kisses, “Yeah, you just get it,” you nodded.

Joe’s eyes darkened with a familiar hunger, the kind that always seemed to fire up when you whispered little things like that. “Get what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the countless times he groaned and moaned your name just a few minutes ago.

You trailed your hand over his body, your touch slow, purposeful, as you let the words fall from your lips. “The whole package, babe,” you smirked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so hot and you know it and you have the full package–the brains, the looks, the athletic ability, the sweetness. Damn, I like the way you fit, god bless your dad’s genetics,”.

He laughed again, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a twinkle that told you he was just as aware of the subtle comment as you were. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you forward for another kiss. “I guess your dad did something right, too,” he teased, laughing at your silly comments, his lips brushing over yours as he moved to kiss your jawline.

“I’m serious, Joey,” you said as he pressed light kisses around your face. “You’re so sexy and I just…ugh. It hurts,” you whined.

He pulled his face up from your neck, a confused grin on his face, “...You..alright?” he carefully asked.

“More than alright,” you breathed out with an almost drunken lovesick look on your face. “I’m just so in love with you,”.

Joe smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy lips, “And I’m just sooooo in love with you too, wifey. More than I can ever put into words or physically show. You’re the best thing in my life and fuck, I’m obsessed with every part of you,”.

"You know,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile as you gazed up at him. “I think I really like this version of you,”.

His brow arched, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? And what version is that?”.

“This one,” you said, your fingers gliding down to brush his jawline. “The one who looks at me like I hung the stars. The one who can’t stop touching me, even when he’s half-asleep,”.

Joe chuckled, his warm laughter grumbling against your chest as he pulled you closer. “Can you blame me? Look at what I get to wake up to every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make it way too easy to fall for you all over again,”.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. His lips, once again, moved down to your cheek, then your jaw, planting soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” you teased, your voice light and playful as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Only for you, angel,” he replied, his lips now hovering just above yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. He kissed you then, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you ended and he began. When he finally pulled back, his hand moved to rest on your lower belly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the soft skin there. The touch made your breath hitch slightly, a quiet spark of excitement lighting up inside you because of where his hand was.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection as you reached up to brush a stray curl from his face.

Joe’s smile softened, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said simply, his tone full of confidence.

Your heart swelled, and before you could think twice, you let the words slip out, casual and subtle. “Well, you better not forget that when you’re the future father of my children,”.

Joe froze for a moment, his hand stilling on your stomach as his eyes widened slightly. “What’d you say?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You smiled, pretending like nothing happened as you leaned up to kiss his jawline. “I said you’re good at spoiling me,” you replied, your tone light and innocent, as if you hadn’t just dropped a hint that made your heart race.

Joe narrowed his eyes playfully, clearly catching the change in your tone but deciding not to push it. Instead, he smirked, his lips twisting into that familiar mischievous grin that always made your stomach flip. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I plan to keep doing it. Forever,”.

And as his kisses deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Another subtle hint was planted and there were many more to come.

You wondered if he was starting to catch on…It’s not like you had been giving the dad-and-baby talk a break…

A few nights later - Dinner at Home

The faint sounds of the music filled the kitchen as you and Joe sat at the table you’d set up for dinner. Plates of half-finished food sat between you, but the focus wasn’t on eating anymore. It was on the way Joe kept leaning closer to you, stealing kisses between bites, and the way his adorable laugh filled the air every time you tried to swat him away.

You’d set your playlist to shuffle earlier, but when Sabrina Carpenter’s “Juno” started to play, you couldn’t help but grin. “Perfect timing for another hint,” you thought to yourself. The beat was light and playful, the melody so addictive it became hard for you to sit in your seat. You quickly got up from your chair and grabbed your untouched spoon to use as a microphone, twirling around the kitchen as you mouthed the words to yourself while you watched Joe. He was now sipping on his drink and watching you with curiosity, but also amused at the pop-star-like show you were putting on.

“I know you want my touch for life, If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno. You know I just might let you lock me down tonight. One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby. You make me wanna make you fall in love,” you sang, pointing straight to Joe as your beautiful voice echoed through the house.

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, his form pausing mid-air as a slow, knowing smirk face spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, comfortably crossing his arms, and his baby blues sparked with wonder. “Oh, really?” he said, his tone laced with intrigue. “You might let me make you Juno, huh?”.

You blinked innocently, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away, “It’s just a song,” you replied casually.

“Mmhm,” he nodded slowly, clearly not convinced. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table as his grin widened. “Seems like a pretty specific song to sing along to while staring right at me, don’t you think?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool even as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “It’s a catchy song, Joey. Don’t flatter yourself,” you said while slipping back into your seat.

“Oh, I’m flattered,” he teased, his smirk turning devilish as he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “So, what’s the deal, huh? You trying to tell me something?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to avoid answering. But Joe wasn’t letting it go. He reached out, gently tugging your hand away from your mouth, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Come on, angel,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t just drop a line like that without explaining yourself,”.

Your cheeks burned as you finally met his gaze, the warmth in his expression melting your resolve. “Maybe I just like the idea,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your confession. “The idea, huh?” he repeated, his hand traveling down to your thigh. “And what idea is that, babe?”.

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his ear, your voice a soft, sultry whisper. “Guess you’ll have to keep loving me right to find out,” you teased, pulling back with a wink that left him grinning.

The next morning

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as you sat on the counter, scrolling through the notifications on your phone while Joe leaned against the kitchen island, sipping his post-workout smoothie. He had just come out from the gym, his hair still damp from his quick rinse-off, and wearing one of those fitted shirts that hugged his chest and shoulders just right. The sight of him standing there, effortlessly attractive and completely unaware of how sexy he looked, made you feel lightheaded.

“Literally fuck me. He looks so sexy and daddy right now,” you thought to yourself, feeling your panties dampen at the thoughts filling your head. “I swear to god, he better get these hints fast. I’m so ready to be the mother of his beautiful children,”.

Your staring wasn’t exactly…unnoticeable either. You were practically drooling at him when he looked up from his smoothie. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, his brow rising as he questioned your motive.

You smirked, holding your phone up and sneakily snapping a photo of him before he could notice, “No reason,” you replied, trying to hide your true feelings by sounding soft.

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head, wearing an almost bashful expression; however, that didn't stop you from sending the photo of the man who was hotter than the sun to your group chat.

you: guys…tell me this man isn’t giving “sexy future dad vibes” right now.

maya: girl, STOP. he looks like he’d change diapers and still have the energy to fix the sink or something.

lacy: i swear he’s the type to pull out the “dad voice” for bedtime stories and have the kids begging for more.

emma: not even kidding, he’d probably rock a baby carrier like a runway model. wait..he basically is after that vogue thing. damn, y/n…you really got the whole package with joe

you: stoppppp, i’m blushing.

lacy: oh, YOU’RE blushing? meanwhile, we’re all over here swooning by just thinking about little joe and y/n babies

maya: dead serious, if you don’t have his baby, i’m applying for the job (im kidding. james would kill me)

emma: same. like, does he have a brother?

you: calm downnn. he’s mine.

lacy: we know. we’re just living vicariously through you.

emma: no joke, though. aand i bet he’s already thought about it…you should ask him

maya: yeah, casually drop it during pillow talk. like, “hey babe, how do you feel about onesies?”

lacy: LMAO. or say, “you’d look so hot holding our baby. thoughts?”

you: …well, I may or may not have *just* said something like that a few nights ago

maya: OMG, WHAT DID HE SAY?

you: i acted like i didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask…just joey being beautifully clueless as usual ;)

emma: LOL. iconic.

lacy: he’s probably in the bathroom googling “how to be the hottest dad alive” right now

maya: he’s already got that title on lock, y/n you just gotta make it official

you: you guys are insane. but also not wrong

lacy: we live to hype you up. now go make him earn that sexy future dad title

emma: and then report back. details, queen. detailssss

maya: high five for locking that down, y/n :) you seriously won at life and just know im waiting for the pregnancy reveal…get to it.

lacy: mhm. i want to be called auntie lacy NOWW

You couldn’t control your laughter, the sound vibrating through your chest and bubbling out of you in uncontrollable waves as you read your friends’ ridiculous–yet accurate–texts. Eventually, Joe noticed your behavior as it was pretty hard to ignore. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he set his smoothie down, then slowly approached you.

“Nothing!” you chirped, holding your phone to your chest to hide the incriminating messages.

“Oh, it’s something,” he replied, his hands landing on either side of you on the counter to cage you in. He leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your lips as he mumbled, “Come on, angel. Spill,”.

You were still giggling at the situation, practically loopy from all the laughing and teasing, which prompted you to give in. “Fine, I may have told my friends that you’d look hot holding a baby…and that you give off sexy future dad vibes. There also may or may not be a photo of you involved,”.

Joe froze for a second, then leaned back and blinked at you in disbelief. “You sent that…to your friends?”.

“Hey! They agreed with me,” you defended, holding up your phone to show him the texts.

He scrolled through the text thread, his ears getting redder and redder with each tease from your friends. Once he reached the end, his jaw was on the floor and it almost looked as if he was fighting a smile. “Seriously?”.

“What?” you grinned unapologetically. “It’s true!”.

He let out a bashful whine, sliding a hand down his face though the playful twinkle in his eyes showed you he was enjoying this. “You objectified me to your friends,”.

You laughed, “Sorry if you feel objectified,” while sliding your hands to his chest. “But I mean…come on. Look at you,” you added with a kiss to his jaw. “It’s the truth, Joey. Can’t help myself. Hormones are high,”.

He let out a throaty laugh, shaking his head, “Hormones, huh?” his hands slipping to your waist as your legs opened to accommodate his large body. “You know…I could do something about that,”.

Your breath hitched as you felt his crotch against yours, another rush of heat radiating through your body, “Could you now?” you challenged as your fingers played with his shirt.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips brushing your ear before he dropped a soft kiss to the corner. “But first,” he said, suddenly pulling away and raising his hand with a goofy smile. “Your friends high-fived you for this…Where the hell is mine? I think I deserve to be recognized for locking down the sexy, breathtakingly gorgeous, angelic woman in front of me,”.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked at him with that look again–the dreamy one that spoke a thousand words. “I love you,” you breathed out without realizing it because you were so caught up in his ocean-blue eyes to the point where it felt like everything around you had faded away.

He chuckled, “I love you a lot more,” while earning a high five from you.

“There. Happy now?” you said while batting your lashes at him.

“Mmm. Not yet,” he replied, his grin turning devilish as he quickly hooked his strong arm around your waist and lifted you off the counter, then spinning you around until your back pressed against the cool surface of the island. “But I’ve got some ideas on how to fix that,” he mumbled, his voice laced with heat.

“Joe,” you breathlessly whispered, feeling the cool countertop against your back but all you could focus on was his tight grip on your waist, the warmth of his body, and the heated look in his eyes.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Me?” you teased breathlessly, your fingers curling into his shirt to pull him back in. “You’re the one that has his hormonal wife sprawled out on the kitchen counter right now. Who knows what you’re about to do,”.

Joe chuckled, his lips grazing your jawline as he kissed his way down to your neck. “You started it, babe,” he muttered against you, his teeth nipping the soft skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “And now I’m gonna finish it,”. His hands slid down to your thighs, each squeeze and scratch drawing a gasp from your lips, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he settled between them. His lips found yours again, this time more ravenous, more demanding, as his hands roamed over your body.

“Joe,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down your throat and over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips again, his thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your hips arching toward him as heat pooled in your belly. “I want you,”.

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a blur of movement, your clothes were tossed, his shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. The cool air hit your skin, but Joe’s heated gaze and the way his hands stroked your body made you forget everything else. He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips lingering for a moment as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. His mouth met yours again as he positioned himself, the thick tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Joey, please,”.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with desire as he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

A gasp escaped you, your hands clutching his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and calculated. The cool surface of the island under you countered deliciously with the heat of his body as he set a tempo that had you melting beneath him.“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen. “You feel so good,”.

“Joe,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit just the right spot, over and over, pulling a string of frantic moans from your lips. “Oh. My. God,”.

His hands moved to your hips again, holding you firmly in place as he pounded into you, his pace showing no sign of mercy. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through your tired body, building higher and higher until you felt like you might shatter. “So tight,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as he pushed himself deeper. “So fucking perfect for me,”.

Normally you’d be fully against doing this in the kitchen, especially this bright and early in the morning. But you weren’t lying when you said that the hormones were high. He looked like an absolute god and you just wanted him to take you to heaven right then and there. He made you so insatiable, losing all forms of decency and innocence.

And you fucking loved it.

He moaned again, his hips snapping harder and harder into your soaking core, “I’m so…so close,” he breathed out, his voice strained from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. His hand slipped between your sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit as he circled the bundle of nerves with practiced ease.

“Fuck, Joe. Oh…fuck!” you screamed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as your body arched into his. Your walls clenched his thick cock, causing a guttural moan from his lips as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back for support.

The sight of you reaching your high under him, the way your body shook, and the sound of his name on your lips, was all it took to send him over the edge after you.

“On me, Joey,” you whispered, your voice laced with need. “I want to see it, on me. Mark your territory,”.

The raw need in your voice sent a jolt of electricity through him, his jaw clenching as he groaned deeply. “Fuck..you drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling out at the last second, his hand wrapping around himself, his motions desperate and fast.

And with a final moan, he gave in, his release spilling out in thick, hot streams across your soft belly, painting your skin and claiming you as you asked. “Oh…,” you moaned at the sight of his pearly cum spilled out on your belly. The slickness against your skin made you hiss, and the sight of it pushed you into a whole other world.

His body trembled with the force of his release, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he caught his breath. "Holy shit, babe. I can't get enough of you," he panted as you slowly rubbed his back to help him down from his high.

"Me too, Joey," you lazily chuckled, panting as you stared up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of what felt like being brought to the gates of heaven.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of labored breaths, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and satisfaction. Joe used his other hand to reach for a towel nearby as his breathing steadied out, and then he carefully cleaned you up.

His touch was so soft and gentle, each wipe of the towel over your skin was filled with care and attention, and it made your heart explode. Watching him like this, so attentive and loving even after the dirtiest moments, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of satisfaction.

You really deserved to be high-fived for locking him down.

“Future dad vibes,” you teased under your breath.

“Hm?” he hummed, brows furrowed as he glanced up at you.

“Ohhh, nothing,” you sang, grinning mischievously.

His eyes narrowed in suspicious, placing the towel to the side and leaning over you again. His eyes pinned you with a soft, curious look. “You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” he said. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“Just the usual thoughts,” you smiled, “Like how lucky I am to have you,”.

His face softened, his hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, “I’m the lucky one, mama,” he said, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was intoxicating.

Mama?

“Oh my god? Is he catching on?” you thought to yourself as you smiled into the kiss. You quickly pulled away, “Did you just…call me mama?” you asked, trying to keep your cool as you stared into his captivating eyes.

Joe leaned back, a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “Uhhh…maybe?” he said, his voice a little casual but also a little…nervous? “I don’t know…it just felt right,”.

It’s a sign. A sign from the universe.

He had to be catching on…right?

You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned up to him. “Well, it’s cute,”.

“Cute, huh?” he murmured, pulling you closer. “You like it, mama. I can tell,”.

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname again. The thought of how close you were to that becoming a reality filled your body with the most extraordinary feeling. “...Maybe,” you responded with that dreamy look in your eyes again.

A week later - Friday Night

The two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by takeout containers and half-empty bottles of sparkling water. Today was a rest day for Joe as he was playing Monday Night Football this week, so you decided to take it easy and have a little date night at home. Back in college, a lot of your date nights looked like this because you both preferred comfort over glitz and glamor. You just needed each other, some good takeout, and an entertaining movie, and you were set.

You two did simplicity better than any other couple. For you, the extravagant dates and expensive gifts didn’t matter nearly as much as the way Joe made you laugh with his dry humor, how he’d shower you with kisses after a long day, and just those little moments your hopelessly romantic heart craved.

The way he looked at you right now, all cozy on the floor, served as a reminder of how lucky you were to have built a life where you could just be.

Joe had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you both were settled on the plush rug, laughing over another silly rom-com you’d picked out. The soft hum of the TV was barely audible over the few crunches of takeout and the shared laughter between you two. He had one hand lazily reaching for another spring roll, while the other gently ran up and down your arm, his thumb brushing your skin in slow strokes. “I don’t know why we ever do anything else,” Joe murmured with a lazy smile, taking another bite of his food before glancing at you. His eyes were warm like he’d never want to be anywhere else in the world but here, with you. “This is perfect”.

You grinned, stretching out next to him and letting your fingers trace the outline of his chest through his soft, Bengals t-shirt. “I don’t know either,” you teased, your voice light and playful. “I could definitely get used to this for, like, forever,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he caught your gaze. “Forever, huh?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as his lips brushed softly over your temple. “You sayin’ you’d be okay with being stuck with me for the rest of your life?”.

You giggled, the sound soft and genuine, as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I mean, you did already put the ring on my finger and say your vows at the altar….but yeah,” you smiled. “Just you, me, some food, and our couch... maybe some babies one day,”.

Here we go. Final hint. This has to work.

You had been dropping hints almost every day for the past week and a half, there was no way he was that oblivious, right? As each day passed, you got more and more restless. You just wanted him to get what you were implying and make it happen. It was that simple.

You wanted him to make you Juno.

It may have just been a cute little song you had been obsessed with lately, but Sabrina really spoke to your heart with every lyric. The way the song casually danced around love, intimacy, infatuation, and that perfect type of connection–it made you think about your own future, what it could be, and how, deep down, you felt ready. You were already so in love with Joe, and that love was only growing stronger. The thought of starting a family, of being his partner in something even more beautiful, was controlling all your thoughts.

Joe’s hand paused on your arm for a second, and you could feel the shift in his energy. His gaze, once playful, turned thoughtful as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “You’ve been talking about that a lot lately,” he murmured, a hint of something deeper in his voice. “Having babies?”.

“Oh my god,” you thought, your heart racing in your chest. This was it. He was finally catching on.

You bit your lip, feeling nervous but trying to keep your cool. “Maybe,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. Your voice suddenly became more stable as you continued, “I think about it a lot. About us...and a future,” you paused, watching his reaction. “You, me, and…a little one,”.

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in that comforting way he always did when he was about to say something important. “I think about it too,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. “I think I’ve always wanted that. Wanted to be a father. With you,”.

“Oh my GOD,” the voice in your head was screaming with excitement.

He wanted it too.

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his voice. He continued, his eyes locking with yours, the gravity there too clear to ignore. “I watch the way you are with kids. The way your vibrant laugh fills up the room when you’re spinning my niece around at a family gathering. The way your whole face lights up when a baby looks at you and waves,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I see how natural you are, how much love you give to them, and it just...makes me want that. I want to give that to you, to build that with you,”.

A warm flush crept across your cheeks, but your heart swelled with tenderness. He wasn’t just saying these words–he was feeling them, and it made everything feel even more real.

He sighed softly, his gaze softening as he spoke again, his voice heavy with something deeper now. “I’ve always wanted this, but I didn’t want to pressure you. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rushing you into something before you were ready. But I see the way you look at them, and I can’t ignore it. It’s like…everything inside me knows that you’re the one. The woman of my dreams. My wife, obviously, since I married you,” he said with a laugh, earning one from you too. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a father with you by my side,”.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, and you were overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in his voice. He wanted this with you, too. He didn’t just want to create a family with anyone; he wanted to create it with you. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Joe,” you whispered, “I want it, too. More than anything,”.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Your hints were definitely hinting,” he said with a kiss to your cheek.

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks. Joe’s easy laugh made you feel safe, loved, and seen in a way that only he could. The weight of the moment was still heavy, but now it felt full of hope, not pressure.

“You caught on, huh?” you teased, your voice still a little shaky with emotion.

“How could I not? I think what did it was that night when you sang Juno and pointed right at me, you had that dreamy look in your eyes,”.

You beamed with excitement, “Imagine a mini version of you running around–blonde curls, big blue eyes, tiny cleats. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t be adorable,”.

Joe paused, “A mini version of me?”.

You nodded enthusiastically. “One of you is cute, but two, though? Give it to me babyyyy. Game over. The world wouldn’t be ready for a mini Joey B. I honestly think I’d give birth to your twin,”.

Joe chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch with a smirk. “You’ve really thought this through, huh? Even the fact that we’ll have a boy first?”.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, leaning closer, your hand resting on his thigh again. “I mean, you’d be the fun, cool dad, teaching him how to throw a perfect spiral. All his friends would be so jealous because his daddy and coach is THE Joe Burrow. And me? I’d be the mom who packs the best snacks for football practice and wins everyone over with my charm. Total dream team,”.

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”.

“And you love it,” you shot back, tipping your head with a grin.

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I do,” he said simply, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone that always sent shivers down your spine. “And you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your heart suddenly thumping as he leaned closer.

“I think you might be onto something,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Two of me? Could be kind of fun,”.

Your breath hitched, your hands moving to his shoulders as his lips captured yours in a kiss that made your whole body feel lightweight. He deepened the kiss, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, his hands settling on your waist. As you broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes glistening with a mix of naughtiness and love. “But you know,” he added, his voice teasing now, “Two of you wouldn’t be so bad either. Imagine how bossy and adorable that kid would be,”.

You gasped in mock offense, smacking his chest. “Excuse me! I’m not bossy–I’m assertive. I always get everything done just the way I want, and that, my gorgeous lover, is a talent everyone wants to have,”.

Joe laughed, pulling you closer. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” he dragged out. "But if we’re really doing this…like really doing this right now. I guess we better get started,”.

Your cheeks blushed as his hands tightened on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. “Oh, you’re serious now?” you teased, though your voice lingered with excitement.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression soft but full of determination. “Completely fucking serious,” he said. “You ready for two of us?”.

Your answer came without hesitation, your lips finding his again as you whispered, “More than ready,”.

—

The house was still, the air filled with the quiet buzz of the night, interrupted only by the sound of Joe’s breathing and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath him. He carried you through the house as if you were weightless, his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, your body snuggled against his warmth. He moved slowly, taking his time to bring you to the bedroom as if he was savoring every second, every beat of your hearts in sync.

When he placed you onto the bed, it felt like the world had slowed, almost stopped. He hovered above you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his gaze heavy with desire but also a tenderness that took your breath away. His lips pressed against your skin, soft at first, leaving a trail of warmth across your collarbone as he kissed his way down your neck. Each touch, each press of his lips, felt like a slow fire building inside you, the heat of his mouth sending shivers spiraling through your body.

His hands traced over your skin, following the curve of your waist before settling on your hips, pulling you closer. Everything felt like a blur and before you knew it, you both were completely bare, physically and emotionally.

His voice, was deep and soft, as he spoke against your skin. "You know, baby, if we're really going for two of me…," His words were teasing, but there was a sweetness in them, an undeniable affection. "We're going to need to take this slow. I want to feel every inch of you,".

You shivered at his words, the sensation of his breath against your neck leaving you with a rush of desire. Your fingers slid up his back, feeling the tight muscles under his skin, every inch of him hard and firm as he braced himself above you. "You think I can’t keep up?" you teased softly, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of his touch.

Joe’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled back to look into your eyes. His blue eyes darkened as he gazed at you with such intensity it made your heart race. “Oh, I know you can,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “But I’m not in a rush. We’re going to take our time. I want to make sure you feel everything,”.

He lowered his body again, pressing his chest against yours, his lips finding yours in a slow, soft kiss that deepened as he slowly sank into you. Every movement, every brush of his lips was purposeful, as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt with each touch, each kiss. His body moved over yours like water, slowly and fluidly as his hands slid to your hips, fingertips digging in, pulling you closer as his lips trailed down to your neck, biting softly. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against your ear. “So perfect, baby. I’m going to give you everything,”.

Joe’s hand slid between your bodies, pulling you closer as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck. “I want to hear you, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of desire. “Tell me how much you want me,”.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers teased you with slow, deliberate strokes. Your body arched into his touch, desperate for more, your nails lightly dragging down his back. “I want you,” you breathed, your voice shaky, filled with need. “I want all of you, Joe. Please,”.

He groaned in response, pressing his body closer to yours as his lips captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His movements grew more urgent, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust deeper and slower, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, but all you wanted was more, to feel him even closer. “God, you feel so good,” Joe whispered between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect. I’m going to take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good,”.

His rhythm was steady and deep at first, savoring every moment, each thrust building slowly as his muscles flexed with every movement. The heat between you two was growing, his breath becoming heavier as he pressed you closer, meeting your body with more urgency. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust. “I can’t get enough of you. You feel incredible, baby.”

His cock grazed over your sweet spot, each push and pull causing gasps to leave your lips. “Oh, Joe…fuck…fuck me,” you moaned.

Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, your hands tracing his back, feeling every muscle ripple with each thrust. His pace picked up, but he kept the rhythm slow, savoring the moment, his eyes dark with desire but soft with affection. “You’re going to be so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as he kissed you again. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby. I’ll give you everything, Y/N. Everything,”.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your body trembling with the intensity. “Joe…I-...you feel so good. I love you, I love you so much,” you whimpered, your brain clouded with lust and love for the man above you. He shifted his position, his hands pushing your legs further apart as he deepened each thrust, his rhythm slow but powerful, pushing you to the edge with every motion. “You feel amazing…fuck- I love you,” he panted, his voice strained.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whined, feeling his large hand on your belly.

“I know, baby. I know,” he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he continued to pound into your slick core. With each movement, he drove deeper, his body moving in sync with yours, filling you completely. His hands traced every curve of your body, his lips whispering more praise, more sweet words. “You’re so perfect. So perfect for me, baby. Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low with hunger. “Tell me you want this,”.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body shaking beneath him, the pressure building inside you. “Yes, I’m yours. All yours, Joe,”.

His pace grew faster, more urgent, his body shaking with the effort to hold back as he neared his high. “Take it all, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion. “Take all of me,”.

With one final deep thrust, he jerked, his body trembling as he buried himself deep inside you. The thick band in your stomach snapped at the same time as his hot seed spurted into your core, coating your walls. His grip on your hips tightened as he whispered your name, his voice full of love, desire, and a promise that lingered in the air between you two.

—

A little while later

“You think we did it?” you asked, your voice soft, yet a playful interest lingered in your tone.

Joe chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating against your cheek as you lay in his arms. The sound was like a secret melody that only you two shared. He let his fingers glide through your hair, the gentle touch sending a calm warmth through your body. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his voice low, teasing, yet laced with affection. “But just in case… I wouldn’t mind practicing a few more times…you know…for the sake of our little team,”.

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, full of joy and love. You shifted your head up slightly to look at him, catching the look in his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re eager for two of you?” you teased, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Joe tilted his head, his grin growing wider, and you saw the admiration flicker in his eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. “If they’re anything like you, how could I not be?” his voice was sincere, his words filled with warmth and something deeper, a promise that made your pulse quicken just a little.

The simple, genuine way he looked at you sent a wave of love rushing over you, and before you even realized it, your fingers were threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was soft, lingering, as if you both were savoring the sweetness of this moment, the quiet intimacy between you. “Good answer, Burrow,” you murmured against his lips, your heart gushing with affection. “Let’s see if you can keep up this energy, though,”.

His grin widened, and there was a glimmer of playful challenge in his eyes as he shifted, his strong hands finding their place on your waist. Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, the sudden shift leaving you breathless, a shock of ecstasy rushing through you. His lips found yours again in an instant, the kiss more passionate, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel his heat, his body pressing against yours, and it sent a wave of excitement rushing through you, making everything else fade away. “Oh, don’t worry, babe,” Joe whispered between kisses, “I’ve got plenty left in the tank.”

The way he said it, the promise in his voice, made your heart race again. Everything around you faded as the moment pulled between you–soft and full of meaning. His hands slid down your body, finding your hips, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to leave. The warmth of his body, the softness of his touch, and the way you fit together perfectly made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

As he held you, the thought of what could come next–the idea of him being the father of your children–filled you with quiet excitement. This wasn’t just a brief moment. This was the beginning of something real, something you couldn’t wait to experience with him. The thought of carrying his child, of building a life together, made everything feel even more intimate, even more meaningful. You both knew this was only the start of what was to come, and that thought alone made everything feel even more precious.

And he wanted it just as bad as you.

5 Months Later

Five months later, you and Joe found yourselves navigating the world of baby shopping–something you’d never quite imagined would be this overwhelming, but here you were, standing in the middle of a store that seemed to have every possible baby item under the sun. The shelves were stacked with tiny clothes, soft toys, cribs, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and honestly, you were starting to lose track. Your baby bump was prominent now, a constant reminder that your life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic–and you couldn’t wait.

Joe, of course, was hilariously lost in the sea of options. He stood in front of a shelf of baby pacifiers, holding up two identical ones, squinting at them as if they were the most complicated decision of his life. “Babe, I swear…they look exactly the same. Why are there so many of these?” Joe muttered, a confused frown crossing his face. “What’s the difference between a giraffe pacifier and a…regular one? Are these for actual babies or are they just toys?”.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of him, standing there like a man on the brink of a breakdown. “Joey, they’re just pacifiers, it’s not that deep,”. You moved over and picked up the giraffe one he was holding, smiling as you handed it to him. “This one has a cute giraffe on it. Baby Burrow is going to love it,”.

He made a dramatic face, clearly trying to comprehend how pacifiers were even a thing in the first place. “Okay, but like…why so many giraffes? Can’t we just stick with one? There are a hundred versions of the same thing in here,”.

You laughed and stepped closer to him, your hand resting on your growing belly. “Welcome to parenthood, babe. The options never end,”.

Joe stared at the shelves again, now starting to feel like he might have made a huge mistake agreeing to this shopping trip. “This is… way harder than any game-winning play,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he scanned the baby aisles. “I don’t even know where to start. Look at all this stuff. Baby clothes, diapers, wipes–combo wipes–isn’t one pack enough?”.

“I can’t believe you’re comparing diapers to football plays,” you teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “But I’m starting to see it now..you’re overwhelmed. I knew this was going to happen,”.

He finally turned to you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “So, this is what you meant by making you Juno, huh?” his voice had a light, teasing edge, and you could see the twinkle in his eye as he tried to make sense of the madness.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him for a second. A slow smile spread across your face as you realized that, yes, this was your life now–the pregnancy, the baby stuff, the chaos–and it felt absolutely right. You walked over to him, shaking your head with a smile. “Exactly. You loved me right and I let you make me Juno. Congratulations,”.

Joe’s grin only grew wider as he took a step closer to you, his arms slipping around your waist and his hand resting on your bump. “Well, if I’m the cause of this, I guess that makes me the one who has to do all the heavy lifting when it comes to baby gear, huh?” he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hide his playfulness behind mock seriousness.

“Oh, you better believe it,” you said, holding your belly with one hand while you wrapped the other around his neck. “That means carrying all the baby stuff from the car to the house. You ready for that, Burrow?”.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on an overly confident tone, even though you could see his inner panic behind his eyes. “I’ll carry everything, no problem. I’m ready to be a dad,”.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see how ready you are when the baby actually gets here,”.

Just as you said that, Joe leaned down to kiss you softly, a kiss that was sweet, slow, and full of promise. He pulled away after a moment, his lips twirling into a grin. “I’ll be ready, babe. You know why?” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying this moment. “Because I’m gonna be the best damn dad there ever was and I have the best damn mom by my side,”.

You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. You rested your head against his chest for a moment, the soft buzz of the slightly busy store around you fading. “You’re already the best, Joe,”.

He hugged you tighter, his hand gently brushing over your bump, and then he looked at you with a soft smile. “You’re the best too, babe. And this whole baby thing? I think we’ve got this, I’m serious,”.

The two of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by aisles of tiny socks and stuffed animals, but it didn’t matter. At this moment, nothing else was more important than the two of you and the new life you were about to bring into the world. The future felt as bright as Joe’s smile, and there was no one else you’d rather do this with.

As you both walked toward the checkout with your cart full of baby things, Joe glanced down at you with that same, goofy grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Okay, maybe one more pacifier…just in case,”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re already thinking ahead, huh? I guess we should just buy the whole store,”.

“Well,” Joe said, pulling you close as you reached the register, “We might as well start preparing for the chaos. But hey, at least we’re in this together,”.

“Always, Joe,” you said, smiling as you leaned in for another kiss. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be with right now. Nobody else I’d rather have make me juno,”.

–The End–

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #juno #sabrina carpenter #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #Spotify

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starsinthesky5 · 4 months ago

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you are in love V part 1 || joe burrow x reader

description: this upcoming week will be monumental for you and joe. both of you have a chance to get to the top of the mountain in your respective careers, and for the first time, you are by each other's side through it all, and the whole world is watching

a/n: im baaaaaackkkkk! well, did I ever really go anywhere LMAO? anyway, sorry this one took so long ;) hope you enjoy it. this is part 1 of 2. the corresponding social media fic will hopefully be up this week!

warnings: SMUT mdni, fluff, hint of angst here and there

word count: 29.9 k

YAIL masterlist || YAIL lore → (this might clarify some things in terms of albums)

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @softburrow @yelenasbraid @burrowbarbie @lovelyburrow @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @definitelynotdomanique

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I'm so in love that I might stop breathing, Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling, No, I didn't see the news, 'Cause we were somewhere else

Scrolling through your latest track recordings always felt like the most rewarding part of your exhausting day in the studio—a chance to sit back and revel in the magic that had poured out of you. But tonight? Tonight, it felt different. It felt better. You know why? Because this one was a glitter gel pen song. Every take, every note, every perfectly stacked synth—it all fit together like a dream. It was carefree, light, the kind of song that twirled you around the room in a haze of champagne bubbles and whispered secrets. The type of song that felt like the drunk girl in the bathroom at a party, grabbing your hands and telling you that you looked like an angel. You leaned back, tapping your fingers against your wooden desk as the track played through the speakers, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Damn,” you muttered to yourself, satisfaction settling deep in your chest. “That one’s it. Two for two on those blends, Jack would be proud,”.

The way the melodies melted together, the shimmering production weaving through every lyric—it was magic. The kind of song that didn’t just sit in the background, but demanded to be felt. It had all the makings of a smash hit.

That is, if it ever saw the light of day.

Your album had already been finalized for a few months now and there were no intentions to add to it, but the thing was, you just couldn’t stop writing. It’s like every little thing was inspiring you; from his laughter, to his knee silently rubbing against yours under the table—teasing, comforting, constant—to the way he looked at you before you fell asleep in his arms. Hell, even the cheap wine you pretended was champagne which he had picked up in a haste before coming back home to celebrate you inking the deal with Vogue to be on their cover for the May edition.

Words. Lyrics. Poems.

That was all that filled your mind when you were with him—which, at this point, was quite often.

And there’s only one person to blame for that.

Joe.

The song you had been working on tonight—Paris—was loosely inspired by your little adventure across France last month. From the dazzling waters of Cannes to the stylish Parisian streets, it was a trip filled with firsts & so many moments that had you thinking of song lyrics like it was second nature (which it was). Every stolen glance, every drunken whisper while stumbling down the dimly lit hallways of your hotel, every moment that felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you—it all poured into the song effortlessly.

We were somewhere else

You could still picture it. The way his fingers laced with yours as you wandered through the cobblestone streets, the city lights reflecting in his oceanic eyes making him look ethereal. The quiet laughter over dinner in a tucked-away bistro, the kind of place that felt like a secret. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he pulled you close on the balcony, the Eiffel Tower glowing in the distance. You really were somewhere else with him, it felt like you two were separated from the world, so immersed in your bubble to the point where you didn’t know what was going on around you.

Privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours

Love wasn’t something you needed to prove to anyone. You had learned that the hard way.

During this trip, after months of speculation, silence, and blurred paparazzi photos, the world finally knew—you and Joe.

The pop star and the athlete. The girl with the guitar and the boy with the game ball. The lyricist and her muse. The songbird and her falcon.

The headlines were persistent, dissecting every past lyric, every old interview, every possible connection they could make between the lovers. But they couldn’t pinpoint what it was, how someone like you had ended up with someone like him. Two different worlds. Two different crowds. Yet somehow, your hearts found each other and something extraordinary was etched in the stars as a result.

It was a big step, terrifying in a way that only fame could make it. Because for the first time, you were willingly letting in the same people who had spent the last year ripping you apart piece by piece.

But you weren’t scared. Not this time.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t give a damn.

Because romance isn’t dead—not if you keep it yours. You had spent so long believing love needed an audience, that it had to be constantly flaunted and performed to be real. But now, you knew better. Love was in the quiet moments. In the space between heartbeats. In the way Joe looked at you when no one else was watching. You kept that privacy sign up—on the door, on your page, on your entire world—because peace was priceless, something valuable and unattainable for the ill-fated that once you found it, you’d do anything to protect it. The outside world might try to crack open the doors, to pry into your life, but you didn’t owe anyone that access. Some things were too sacred to be shared, and that was perfectly okay. You were only going to let them see things on your own terms, without any need to prove something to someone. You were unbelievably happy with your life with Joe, and you wanted people to know—but never once should it have to come off as forced. And that’s what was so different about your relationship.

Nothing about it felt forced.

Which is why Paris was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. It was so easy, it all felt so natural—like the two of you had stepped into a world where time slowed down just for you.

The city had always been romanticized in your mind, but being there with Joe had turned every moment into something straight out of a movie. Fashion Week was his grand debut into that world—his first time on the runway, and you’d never been prouder. He and Justin had taken the stage like they belonged there, breaking barriers with each confident step. You still remembered standing off to the side, watching as Joe walked with that signature focus of his, the same intensity he carried on the field. Except this time, instead of pads and cleats, he was draped in high fashion, and god, did he wear it well.

The fittings had been an adventure in themselves. You had spent hours in designer showrooms, watching him try on pieces that ranged from effortlessly cool—Joe Cool—to downright ridiculous. At one point, he came out in a look so wild you couldn’t help but fall over laughing, clutching your stomach as he just stood there, unamused. “Babe,” he deadpanned, turning to the mirror. “I look like a rejected boy band member from 2003,” and you only laughed harder.

When you weren’t wrapped up in the whirlwind of Fashion Week, you had slipped away to explore the city together. Mornings were spent wandering through art museums, fingers laced together as you admired centuries-old paintings. Joe had a way of tilting his head when he looked at something he didn’t quite understand, brow furrowed in concentration. “So…this is just a bunch of dots?” he had murmured as you stood in front of a Seurat painting, and you had to bite back a smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s called pointillism, babe,”.

Afternoons were for indulging in every pastry Paris had to offer, for letting him feed you bites of pain au chocolat, for stolen kisses between sips of espresso at a quiet café. And the nights…well, the nights belonged to just the two of you. Quality time in the hotel room, tangled limbs beneath silk sheets, whispered words and soft laughter echoing against the walls after he had just finished drilling you into the soft mattress.

But outside your little Parisian bubble, the cameras had followed, the questions had lingered, the online buzz had been relentless. The world now knew about you and Joe, and they had plenty to say about it. Some were supportive, some skeptical, some downright nasty. But none of it mattered when you were with him.

And now, here you were, back in your studio, lost in thought, lost in Paris, lost in him.

Paris wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. One that lingered, even now, as you sat in the dim glow of the studio, layering harmonies over a melody that already felt like nostalgia. This song wasn’t just about your time in the city of love. It was about him. The feeling he made you feel.

And you were dancing to the beat of that feeling, letting it guide you wherever it wanted, just as you let him guide you through the unpredictability of love.

After going through the recordings, you decided to head back to the drawing board. The soft hum of unfinished melodies filled the room, blending with the distant city noise outside. You absentmindedly tapped your blue glitter pen against the pages of your notebook, eyes scanning over the lyrics you had scribbled down earlier. The scent of coffee and warm studio air surrounded you, holding you in this moment—just you, your thoughts, and the music waiting to be shaped into something real.

Wrapped in your Bengals blanket, you sighed, sinking deeper into the plush velvet couch. A new verse was forming in your mind, the words almost there. You took the pen from your lips, pressing it to the page, ready to chase the feeling. But then, your phone buzzed beside you, pulling you from your thoughts.

The screen lit up, casting a soft glow in the dark studio, and a smile rose at the corners of your lips. Your lock screen—a snapshot of a moment that felt like home.

Well, because it was.

Last November. A slow morning wrapped in golden light. The photo had been taken in bed, the white sheets tangled around your bodies, the warmth of sleep still lingering in your limbs. Joe had snapped it—his arm extended, his messy morning hair barely in frame, but the focus was on you, tucked into his chest, your cheek pressed against his bare skin, eyes still heavy with sleep, while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t even know he’d taken the photo until later that afternoon when he changed your lock screen himself, grinning like a kid who just got away with something. “You looked cute,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And now, every time your phone lit up, it was there—a reminder of warmth, of love, of the kind peace you never thought was possible to possess.

You then read the message below, seeing it was from your assistant.

Jen: new interview was released from paris! looks like lover boy had a few things to say about his lover girl ;)

“What…,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat as another message popped up, this time with the link to the interview clip. You were aware that Joe had his own media run during your time in Paris, as the highlight of the trip was Joe’s Vogue World debut with Justin. It was something unique, something that broke the glass ceiling as these two American football stars took on the world of fashion and Anna Wintour like a hurricane. They were the center of attention during Fashion Week, so it was a given that there’d be an inquisitive microphone shoved in his face and a camera following his every move. Every step they took, every outfit they wore was analyzed and dissected by the press, but Joe seemed unfazed despite his initial nerves before the trip.

Your eyebrows knitted together out of curiosity, the only thought you had was, “He didn’t tell me they asked him about me,” and then you clicked on the link without hesitation, and there he was. You recognized the surroundings—seeing the racks of clothing, glam vanities, and cameras—and realized this must’ve been a BTS interview during his fitting that morning before he walked the runway.

You tapped play, and within seconds, his familiar, eye-crinkling laughter filled the studio, intoxicating and so freaking adorable, making your heart flutter all over again.

“What do I think of Y/N?” he repeats with a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite put it all into words. There’s a blush creeping onto his cheeks, undeniable, even under the bright studio lights. “I mean, she’s great…honestly, she’s more than great. She’s magic. The literal best thing that has ever happened to me. She’s everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She’s everything to me. A constant source of support, someone who understands the pressure I’m under because she’s in the same position as me but in her own career, someone who can make me smile and laugh harder than I ever have before,”.

He pauses for a second, running a hand over his jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. “Having her by my side over the past year has been nothing short of incredible. It’s been a blessing, a learning experience, a constant source of happiness in my life. Aside from being the most talented person I know—like, truly, watching her work, seeing her create, it’s inspiring—she’s also the most kind-hearted, down-to-earth person I’ve ever met. The way she carries herself, the way she navigates everything that comes with her career, it’s admirable. it’s one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place. I’ve learned a lot from her about how to manage my life in the NFL, privacy is a big thing for me and it’s rare…but she knows how to maintain it better than anyone,”.

His expression softens, voice dipping into something more intimate, like he’s forgetting for a moment that the cameras are rolling. “The world sees her as this superstar, this powerhouse who sells out stadiums and breaks records, but I see the girl who hums under her breath when she thinks no one’s listening. The one who stays up late, perfecting lyrics because she wants to make sure every word matters. The one who gives everything to the people she loves, no matter how exhausted she is. And somehow, I am lucky enough to get to be the person she comes home to,”.

The interviewer smiles, clearly intrigued by the connection between Joe and you, and then asks, “It’s clear you’re incredibly proud of her, but with both of you being in the public eye, do you ever feel the pressure of all the attention, especially when it comes to your newly public relationship?”.

Joe’s eyes flicker with thought as he ponders the question. His posture shifts slightly, and his expression softens as if the weight of it all settles in. He lets out a small sigh before responding. “I mean, yeah, there’s definitely pressure. We’re both in the spotlight, and people always want to know about us—about what we’re doing, what we’re feeling. It’s hard to escape that, sometimes. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about the noise around us. It’s about what we have. And we’re not afraid to show that,”. He lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “You know? Like…that’s my girl, that’s my lady. I’m not afraid to show that and own that. I’m proud of her, of us. I think when you have something that’s as real and rare as what we have, you should never take it for granted. You should protect it, yeah, but you should also be proud of it. Be happy. Show people how happy you are, but not so much that it feels forced and like you’re doing fan service. Do it for yourselves,”.

His grin turns a little playful, but the gravity never leaves his eyes. “She deserves that. She deserves everything good in this world, and I’ll spend forever making sure she knows that,”.

And then, the video ends, and the studio is once again filled with silence. But if you listen closely, you can hear the soft splosh of the teardrop hitting your phone screen.

You blinked, startled by your own reaction, swiping at the tear with the sleeve of Joe’s sweatshirt—the same one you’d stolen from him last night and refused to give back. A watery laugh bubbled from your throat as you stared down at your phone, the weight of his words still settling in your chest.

He called you magic.

He called you the best thing that ever happened to him.

He called you his girl. No. His lady.

You sucked in a shaky breath, pressing your lips together to keep from completely sobbing. You weren’t new to grand gestures or poetic declarations—hell, you wrote about love for a living—but this? This was different. This was Joe. And for the first time in your life, you were being loved out loud, without hesitation, without restraint.

No vague answers. No dancing around the truth. Just him, speaking about you the way you’d only ever dreamed someone would.

You replayed the video, just to hear the way his voice softened when he talked about you, the way his smile lingered long after he finished speaking. And maybe you played it a third time. A fourth. Okay…five times, but who was counting?

“God, I love you,” you murmured to the screen, even though he couldn’t hear you.

But he would soon.

An hour later

You wrapped up your work shortly after watching his interview, that giddy feeling in your stomach making you dizzier by the second. You planned on staying for at least another hour, but the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him until his lips were swollen and breathless overpowered every other thought in your mind.

The entire drive home, he was all you could think about.

The way he talked about you, with so much admiration and certainty…that he was your’s and you were his, like loving you wasn’t just something he did—it was something he was made for. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when answering personal questions, that adorable little hesitation before he said something sweet, as if he still got shy about admitting just how much he adored you. Not because he didn’t want to accept it, but because he was so obsessed with you, it was so hard for him to stop talking once he started.

It had been nine months since your world had been turned upside down by the man who taught you the true meaning of love, yet every single day felt like the first. The excitement, the awe, the gratitude that you got to be his and he got to be yours—it never dulled.

And as you pulled into the driveway, barely remembering how you even got home in one piece, one thing was certain: you were completely and utterly wrecked for him.

Once you made your way inside, you slipped off your cream-colored Ugg slippers and padded toward the kitchen island, dropping your bag onto the cool marble countertop. Your eyes flickered to the stove, where two pots and a pan—ones that definitely hadn’t been there when you left—rested on the burners. The faint scent of garlic, butter, and something rich and savory still lingered in the air.

“He must’ve cooked dinner for us,” you murmured to yourself, a smile tugging at your lips.

Of course, he did.

He knew you’d be coming home late, probably exhausted from hours of staring at a screen, adjusting vocal layers, and maneuvering the microphone until everything sounded just right. He knew you’d be too tired to even think about eating, let alone cooking something for yourself.

You felt warmth bloom in your chest as you ran a finger along the cool surface of the pot, already picturing him standing right here, sleeves rolled up, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully followed a recipe. Because while Joe wasn’t exactly the most confident chef, he tried for you. He always tried for you.

Even if he was working with the irrational fear that he’d give you food poisoning or burn the kitchen down.

Your eyes scanned the living room, and to your surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Normally, around this time he’d be sprawled out against the couch with a blanket, reading or watching some dumb movie to pass time before you came home.

Because that’s when the real fun started.

He couldn’t wait to wrap you up in the plush blanket with him, put on one of your favorite shows, and listen as you told him about your day—his favorite part being when your fingers found his hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands while he soaked up every word.

But tonight was different. He wasn’t following his little routine.

You wandered toward the stairs, assuming he was in your bedroom or office, slowly climbing each one as you felt the dull ache in your thighs return, a pleasant reminder of what transpired in the backseat of his Porsche last night on the way to visit his parents’ for dinner. One look at you in that denim mini-skirt and gray polo quarter zip sweater, and he was gone.

Flashback to last night

He exhaled sharply through his nose, “Watch it,” he mumbled, watching as your hand trailed up his thigh.

You grinned, loving the way you got under his skin, how easily you could make him spiral. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, but the way your fingers crept higher on his thigh told another story. You’d been teasing him all night, ever since you caught him watching you a little too closely, his gaze lingering on your ass when you leaned into the mirror to fix your hair. That hungry, distracted look in his eyes told you exactly where his mind had wandered—and your choice of skirt wasn’t helping.

He was trying, really trying, to be good tonight. To focus. To not think about how easy it would be to slip that tiny thing up and bend you over the nearest surface.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. Not one bit.

Joe let out a quiet curse, his free hand darting out to grab your wrist, stopping your movements. “You really wanna play this game right now?” he asked, voice laced with something dangerous.

You just shrugged, leaning closer. “Depends,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “What happens if I win?”.

Lucky for both of you, the highway was long behind, and now you were on the quieter, more familiar roads of his hometown. When he spotted a deserted shopping complex up ahead, the parking lot empty and a thick cluster of shrubs tucked away behind it, he didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he swerved the car into the lot, the tires skimming over the road with a satisfying screech. He threw the car into park and immediately turned to you, his eyes darker than the night around you—stormy, almost predatory.

“Get in the back,”.

A thrill shot through you at his tone, and you didn’t waste a second before climbing between the seats, settling against the cool leather as he followed closely behind.

You two had danced this tango quite a few times in the past, so you knew exactly how this was going to go. Flashes of the two of you, sprawled out in the backseat after picking him up from practice, his sweaty tank still clinging to his body, your legs spread over his lap as he groaned into your mouth, filled your mind. The thrill of being caught only added to the fire between you, his hands rough and impatient as they gripped your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing your back against the cool leather.

You knew exactly where this was going, just like all the other times—the way his lips would drag down your neck, the way his breath would hitch when you reached for him, the way his self-control would snap the second you rolled your hips just right.

His grip on your hips was ironclad as you straddled his lap, your denim skirt bunched up around your waist, the thin barrier of your panties already pushed aside. His head rested against the headrest, his lips parted, breath ragged as he watched you roll your hips against him, grinding your soaked core along the length of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin, barely holding himself together. “You’re such a tease, aren’t you?”.

You smirked, leaning in to brush your lips over his, teasing, taunting. “Maybe,”.

He sighed, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you even closer, making you feel just how hard he was for you. The teasing was short-lived, though—you both wanted it too badly. You lifted up just enough to line him up, his tip rubbing against your entrance, and then you sank down, inch by inch, until he was seated to the hilt.

A short gasp left your lips, your hands bracing against his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch, the fullness of him buried deep inside you. Joe cursed under his breath, his hands flexing against your waist as he fought the urge to thrust up into you. “Shit, baby,” he rasped, his head tilting back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they snapped back open. “You feel so fucking good,”.

You rolled your hips slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing beneath you. Taking full control, you lifted up slowly before slamming back down, drawing a strangled moan from his lips. “Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers bruising against your skin, his need for control slipping with each bounce of your hips.

You set the pace, riding him hard and deep, your movements messy and so calculated as if it was muscle memory.“Mm, fuck,” you whimpered as the windows fogged up, the car filled with the sound of your moans, his deep grunts, and the filthy slap of skin on skin. His hands roamed under your sweater, pushing it up to expose your chest, his warm palms immediately cupping your breasts through your black lacy bralette, thumbs flicking over your hard nipples. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and biting as his hands greedily explored your body. “So perfect,”

You moaned in response, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing that high that was rapidly approaching. He felt it too, his hips snapping up to meet your thrusts, taking control in that way only he could.

“God, Joe—,” you gasped, hands flying to his hair, tugging as your body trembled.

“I got you, baby,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic, his thrusts rough and deep. “Gonna cum for me?”.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you and the coil in your belly snapped, your walls clenching around him, dragging him right to the edge with you. His grip on your waist tightened, and in one swift motion, he lifted you just enough to slip out. “Gonna…fuck—,” he cut himself off with a deep grunt, his fingers digging into your sweaty skin as he pulled you flush against him, his faint—but there—abs flexing as he spilled onto your stomach, painting your skin in hot, sticky ropes of his release.

And god, you lost it.

Your fingers swiped through the mess on your stomach, bringing it up to your lips, licking the taste of him off your skin, moaning around your fingers as you locked eyes with him. “Holy fuck,” Joe choked out, his blown-out pupils darting between your mouth and your stomach, his jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break a tooth.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging your fingers back to your lips, his breath heavy as he whispered, “Do that again,”.

End of flashback

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath, a rush of heat rising in your body just at the mere thought of last night. You’d so kill for a repeat, but you were about two seconds away from passing out and sleepy, tired sex wouldn’t be enjoyable for either of you.

Once you reached the bedroom door, barely making it because your legs felt like they were about to collapse, the faint melody of an extremely familiar song wafting through the frame had you tilting your head in curiosity. The synth, the voice…the bass…it was so....

You slowly nudged the door open, and—oh.

Joe was sitting on the floor, shirtless, clad in just a pair of black sweats, glasses perched on his nose as he focused intently on the pile of Legos in front of him. Your breath hitched.

Oh my god.

The glasses.

He never wore them unless he absolutely had to, always opting for contacts since they were convenient, but he must’ve needed to give his eyes a break. And the fact that he was sitting there, all casual and domestic, building one of the many Lego sets you both had drunkenly ordered on the boat in Cannes?

You were instantly, irreversibly feral.

“God, dammit. He always does this,” you sighed and thought to yourself, the heat pooling in your lower belly.

But you kept it down. Barely.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted with an easy smile, still focused on clicking a piece into place on the Milky Way set he’d been working on. He looked so boyfriend right now. Too boyfriend. You didn’t even think—you just met him on the floor, crawled into his lap, clinging to him, burying your face in his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hands instinctively landed on your hips, completely forgetting the Lego’s in front of him as he steadied you. “You okay?” his voice was softer now, laced with quiet concern.

You nodded, exhaling against his skin. “Yeah. More than okay,” you whispered. “I just love you,”.

You felt him relax under you, his arms wrapping fully around your waist, pressing you closer. “I love you too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face, and his expression was nothing but warmth. And god, he just looked so soft and babyish in those black glasses. He never wore these out in public, which is why you felt so special because he only lets you see him like this. This was the real Joe. Your Joe.

“I saw the interview,” you admitted, using your thumb to brush lightly against his cheek.

He hummed, a knowing look flickering in his eyes since he knew exactly what you were referring to since his own assistant had also alerted him. His thumb traced soft circles against your hip as he stayed silent. He didn’t need to say anything. He just held you, knowing how much moments like these meant to you.

Quiet love.

“You out-do yourself every time,” you muttered in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of coconut & hibiscus—your bodywash which he surely had stolen again. “Just when I think you can’t possibly be more perfect and sweet to me, you take it to the next level without breaking a sweat. And it’s so natural for you to just talk about me, like me. I’m such a mess but you see past all of it and somehow find all the redeeming qualities in me and I…,”.

As you trailed off, his hand slipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, pressing against the cool skin of your bare back. His fingers pushed into your plush-like skin, a subtle way of showing you that he was here, he heard you, and he felt you. “You deserve it,” he whispered in your ear, his other hand pulling you further into his lap.

“You deserve all of it, Y/N. I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it when I say you’re magic, because the way you lit up my entire world by just existing in it? That’s some houdini shit right there. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. And I’m gonna make sure everyone with an ear hears about it. You spent way too long clawing and fighting for someone to see you the way you deserved to be seen,” he said. “But baby, you don’t have to fight anymore. I see you. And I’ll never stop making sure the whole damn world does, too. If you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,”.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, capturing his lips in an all-consuming kiss. You poured everything into it—every ounce of gratitude, every whisper of love, every unspoken promise that you’d never take a single moment with him for granted. Joe sighed into the kiss, his grip on you tightening as he melted into you, like he was just as desperate to hold on to this feeling as you were.

When you finally pulled back, your breath came in soft, uneven pants, your forehead still pressed against his. “You’re so good to me. You are literally magic, forget me,” you whispered, a breathless little laugh escaping you.

He grinned, his fingers brushing against your jaw, his thumb tracing that faint love-bite he left last night. “I love you,” he cooed, tilting his head, his nose nudging yours. “I’m gonna love you ‘til the end of time. That’s all. No magic, spells, witchcraft…even voodoo. Just love. My love,”.

You pushed your face back into his neck, his hands returning to their spot on your waist as you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the serenity that he brought to your life so easily. By just holding you close, letting you listen to the lulling thrum of his heartbeat. “Thanks for cooking tonight, by the way. You were a busy bee, weren’t you? Cooked and worked on the Legos,”.

He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You’ve had a jam-packed week…long studio sessions, rehearsals for your performance on Sunday, finalizing everything for the weekend. I, one, wanted to take some of the load off you, spoil you a little, and make one of your favorites—,”.

Your ears instantly perked up. “Chicken Parm?” you interrupted, eyes wide with excitement.

He chuckled, shaking his head at how easy you were to please. “Yes, I made you Chicken Parm,” he confirmed, barely getting the words out before you started peppering grateful kisses along his neck, murmuring little hums of appreciation against his skin.

“And two,” he continued, voice slightly strained from the distraction, “I needed to keep myself busy because I missed you,”.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “Missed me?” you teased, tilting your head playfully. “Damn, Joey, are you that attached to me?” your tone was light, teasing, but the truth of it made your stomach flip. The fact that he could barely go an hour without hearing your voice, three hours without seeing you—it was adorable. It was everything.

His grip on you tightened as he exhaled through his nose, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do I really need to state the obvious?” he murmured, before slowly pushing himself off the floor, lifting you effortlessly with him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as warmth bloomed in your chest.

He led you both over to your massive California king bed, the plush duvet, which usually would be neatly folded, was now slightly messed up, evidence that he had been lounging here before getting distracted by his Lego project. He sat down on the edge, keeping you firmly in his lap, his hands roaming up and down your back in slow, comforting strokes. “In case you forgot,” he murmured, his lips attaching to your neck while he spoke. “I’m extremely obsessed with you,”.

Your hand found its way into his bed-head hair—soft, messy, with a lingering scent of rose—as you dragged your nails across his scalp. “Yeah? Is that why you were listening to my music before I walked in?” you teased, a confident smirk rising on your face as you gently pulled him away from your neck to meet his eyes.

You knew it was familiar—the production, the vocals—because it came from you.

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve.

The magic you had created that dreadful night in New York, when the only way you knew to get your feelings out was through music. When the only thing you could do was either cry until your eyes shrunk, or sing until your voice was gone. When you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your phone, because every single headline popping up reminded you of the betrayal, the heartbreak, the way the world seemed to turn against you overnight. Every notification felt like a fresh wound, every cruel word from strangers a dagger to your already shattered heart.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do—you poured it into your music. You sat in that dark studio, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the piano keys, your voice raw and aching as you sang the truth you could never bring yourself to say out loud.

Before you could get lost in the past, Joe squeezed your waist, transporting you back in the present, away from the place you so narrowly escaped. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s different now. You’re different now. I’m here now,”.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled a slow, steady breath, calming yourself before the nerves could creep in and drag you under. You had fought too hard to climb out of that darkness, clawed your way back piece by piece. And he—he had fought just as hard to hold you steady, to be your anchor when the waves threatened to pull you under.

No.

You couldn’t let yourself spiral. Not now. Not when you had come so far.

“I’m better than that. I’m better now,” you reminded before taking another breath. Once you opened your eyes to meet his, you sighed, “I know,”. His eyes were soft, yet behind them were the faint remnants of the pain you’d been carrying for nearly a year. The pain he took upon himself because he couldn’t bear to watch your heartache alone. He had carried it with you, every step of the way, shouldering the weight even when you tried to tell him it wasn’t his burden to bear. But that was just who he was; loving you meant feeling everything with you, for you.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch so light, so reverent, like he was trying to soothe away the ache that still lingered beneath the surface. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured. “I get it,”.

Joe hesitated, caught in the push and pull of his own thoughts. His mind pushed him to press further, to dig into the remnants of pain left behind by the smallest man who ever lived—to make sure not even a trace remained. But his heart? His heart told him, No. She’s happy…truly happy. You know that, and she knows that.

And when it came to you, Joe never listened to his mind. He always followed his heart, let it lead him like a compass pointing true north. Because if he did listen to logic, to the voice in his head that warned him to guard himself…well. Who knows whose hand he’d be holding right now?

Instead, he chose you because his heart did. Every time, in every lifetime.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm against your cool lips. “We’re both going for the gold, you know,” he smiled, his voice a mix of pride and promise. “Nobody does it like us. Literal IT couple. And it’s not even close. They wish they were us…this successful and hot,”.

This was his attempt at making you smile again, to shift the focus from your wounds to your wins. Because that’s what mattered now; not the past, not the pain, but the triumph waiting just on the horizon. This week was going to be intense, to say the least. Sunday, the Grammys, where your last album was nominated in every major category—including Album of the Year. Wednesday, the NFL Honors, where Joe was up for MVP. A whirlwind of milestones, each one a testament to the blood, sweat, and relentless dedication you had both poured into your crafts. And yet, success had never come without its shadows. Doubt, tension, the watchful eyes of those who lived to speculate, to pick apart your every move. But despite it all, you rose. You both did. Because nothing—not the noise, not the pressure, not the skeptics—could overshadow the truth: you worked for this. You earned this.

You internally screamed at his effortless transition, grateful for his ability to sense your nerves before you even voiced it. He knew that this would bring up something you didn’t want to think about again, and he wasn’t going to let you go there. Your fingers began toying with the collar of his sweatshirt as you focused back on what he was saying, “So you’re saying we’re untouchable?” you winked.

“Untouchable and Unstoppable,” he corrected with a smirk, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pushing into the skin and watching it pop back into place. “No one comes close,”.

And they didn’t. Nobody could come close to the level of stardom you two had, and combined?

Forget NFL QB and Pop Star, you were The Royal Couple of America. The world had been obsessed ever since your relationship went public, and the frenzy hadn’t died down one bit. If anything, it had only grown stronger. With every new detail that was shared, every photo, every little crumb from your time together, they fell even more in love with the two of you.

A soft sigh left your lips as you melted into him, your head resting against his shoulder and your body shifting closer to his. “Are you excited?” you asked, voice quieter now. “For everything coming up?”

“Excited?” he scoffed, pulling back to meet your gaze. “I’m fucking hyped. I get to watch you set the stage on fire, and I get a front-row seat. Does it get any better than that?”.

You bit your lip, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Announcing the album, stepping into this new era…I’ve been waiting for this. I need this. To really turn the page. I just hope it goes the way I want it to. I really really love this album and I hope they don’t get caught in the revenge gimmick of it all when truthfully, this album is a love letter to you,”.

Joe’s eyes softened as he cupped your face gently.

A love letter.

A love letter to the man who had shown you the kind of love you’d always dreamed of, the kind you never thought you deserved. The way he’d supported you, held you up when you felt like crumbling, and how every moment with him felt like coming home. A love letter to those late nights, when the city was asleep, and all you could taste were his lips…your idea of luxury. A love letter to days in the sun, when you were drinking on the beach, with him all over you. A love letter to the king of your heart. To your endgame. To your Karma. To Daylight in human form.

“I promise it’s going to go the way you want, okay? You’ve worked so hard, put your heart and soul into every song, every little thing with this one. I can feel how special it is to you, and your fans, the ones who’ve stuck by your side since day 1…they’re gonna see it,” he assured you. “You’re about to kill it, baby. This is your moment,”.

A slow smirk spread across your face as you traced your fingers over his chiseled jaw. “And what do I get if I win?” you asked, your voice laced with heat, a kind of heat that sent a thrill through Joe’s body.

His expression turned mischievous as he dipped his head closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a deep murmur. “Lots, and lots, and lots of time in bed,” he rasped, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he gave it a teasing tug.

A breathy gasp left your lips as you pulled back slightly, your eyes flickering up to his. “Perpetually horny,” you whispered, your hands sliding up his bare chest underneath his hoodie, nails dragging along his belly, teasing him until he couldn’t handle it anymore.

Joe only grinned, completely unapologetic because he really didn’t care. He meant it. Every damn word.

“You love it,” he shrugged, his hands slipping beneath your sweatshirt again, fingertips tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His hands slowly inched closer to your bra clasp, and you weren’t going to stop him.

Because he was right. Damn, you loved it.

You loved the way he’d rile you up like this…subtly, with the most gentlest of touches. You loved the way he’d cover every inch of your skin with his mouth, like worship, like devotion. You loved the way he fucked the feelings out of you, made you forget about everything except him—except the way he felt inside you, the way he made you unravel, the way he whispered your name like a promise.

You loved when you got caught up in a moment with him, with lipstick on his face.

You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, wherever he wanted, and whenever he wanted. Because with him you were safe. With him, you didn’t care. With him…you let things go they way they were meant to go.

Flashback

It was late. Way too late. But you didn’t care. The studio was dimly lit, the warm glow of the soundboard and the neon sign on the wall with your name casting soft shadows across the room. It was just you and Joe—your favorite kind of recording session. No producers, no distractions, just the two of you.

And so it goes…

You adjusted your headphones, eyes flickering to the glass separating the recording booth from the lounge area. Joe was sprawled out on the couch, his black hoodie slung over his shoulders, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He had his hood up, but you could still see the glint of his baby blues as he watched you intently, lips quirked up in admiration.

You pressed play, letting the instrumental flow through the speakers. The bass thrummed low, sultry, the beat crawling under your skin as you let the music take over.

I'm yours to keep, and I’m yours to lose…

Joe let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, that’s my girl,” he grinned, dimples flashing. “Fuck, that sounds sexy as hell,”.

You bit back a smirk, running a hand through your hair before stepping back up to the mic. You tried to focus, but it was hard when you could feel his gaze on you—hot, unwavering, dripping with pride and something else that sent a spark of heat straight to your core.

You know I'm not a bad girl but I, do bad things with you

Joe groaned from the couch, shifting slightly as he felt a growing tent in his sweats. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Those lyrics…the implications of what you were saying. That’s what drove him mad. You weren’t a bad girl, but with him? It was as if you lost every shred of decency and shame in your body. From the risky late-night escapades after dinners in New York, to the way he’d press you against the wall of whatever storage closet you stumbled into at the facility just because he wanted to taste you—the primal urge taking over every one of his senses—to the way you’d scream his name as loud as you could while shaking underneath his sweaty body in the privacy of your hotel room…on a very public floor. You didn’t give two fucks with him, and that solidified the effect he had on you.

He was like a drug, blocking out every one of your senses and making you feel euphoric and untouchable.

Your lips curled into a smirk, taking note of his obvious discomfort, “You okay over there?”.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze dark and hooded. “No,” he murmured. “I’m struggling,”.

Your stomach flipped.

You tried to keep it professional—you really did—but when you stepped out of the booth, something in the air had shifted. Joe was already pushing himself off the couch, eyes locked onto yours as you met him halfway.

“This is soundproof, right?” he murmured, referring to the studio room, his hands finding your waist, tugging you flush against him.

You smirked, dragging your nails down his chest. “Mhmm. You’re dating a singer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips against his jaw. “We can be as loud as we want in here,”.

That was all it took.

In an instant, he had you bent over the soundboard, your palms splayed against the cool surface. He shoved your leggings down, not even bothering to take them off completely—just enough to give him access. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he smirked, dragging his hands over your ass, gripping the plush flesh hard enough to make you gasp. “Standing up there, looking like a fucking dream. singing those lyrics? You knew what you were doing,”.

“Joe—,”.

Your words cut off in a sharp moan as he slid two fingers between your folds, teasing, spreading your arousal. “So wet,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Always so fucking wet for me,”. You whimpered, pushing your hips back against his hand, but he pulled away, leaving you desperate and empty.

Then, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Your breath hitched, your nails scraping against the console as he pushed in, slow at first, making you feel every inch as he stretched you open.

“Oh…fuck,” you gasped, head dropping forward. Joe groaned behind you, hands gripping your hips tight as he bottomed out. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, voice strained from pleasure. “Always so goddamn tight for me,”.

He pulled back, just a little—then slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. “Joe!” you cried, your voice bouncing off the soundproof walls.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

He set a ruthless pace, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your desperate moans and his intense, breathless groans. Your ass bounced against his pelvis with each deep thrust, the force making the soundboard shake beneath you.

“Yeah, that's it,” he gritted out, watching the way your body responded to him, how you took every single stroke like you were made for him. “Look at you, baby. Taking me so fucking good,” your legs trembled, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as he hit that spot deep inside you, over and over again.

“Joe, please—,”.

“Please what, baby?" he chuckled, his hand moving down to your ass, kneading the flesh as he continued to rut into your dripping heat. “C'mon, baby. Tell me what you need,”.

“More,” you sobbed, rocking back against him, chasing your release. “Fuck me harder—,”.

His groan was guttural, almost pained as he watched your eyes roll back, your jaw slack and your hand gripping the console like your life depended on it. “Yeah? You need it?” he murmured, gripping your hips even tighter before fucking into you with reckless abandon, dragging you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust.

The pleasure was too much. Your body burned, feeling growing so intensely that all you could do was hold on, your moans turning into broken cries.

Joe loved it.

“Listen to you,” he groaned. “Screaming for me, just like that. Fuck, baby, you sound so good. So fucking good,”. His hand trailed down your back, nails leaving faint scratches to amplify the sensation you were feeling in your body. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and he knew it. “B- baby p..please, I can’t…agh,” you whimpered, the coil in your stomach tightening with each snap of his hips into your core.

His hand slid down further, fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. “Cum for me,” he panted, his pace relentless. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, baby. Let me have it,”.

Your whole body tensed, a high-pitched moan ripping from your throat as the pleasure snapped—your orgasm crashing over you in a white-hot wave. “Ohhh, fuck. Joe, mmph,” you panted, his rhythm faltering as you walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” Joe rasped, “Fuck, I’m gonna—,”. He thrusts in one last time, burying himself deep, spilling into you with a soft, lustful groan before loosening his grip on your hips. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, slowly coming down from his high while he remained buried inside of you.

The only sounds filling the studio were your ragged breaths and the low hum of the track still playing through the speakers, looping in the background like the soundtrack to this moment. your vision blurred, the dim glow of the LED panels above molding into something cosmic—like the city skyline outside, like the stars you and Joe traced with your fingertips whenever you stayed up too late on the balcony.

Joe finally pulled out, a soft kiss pressed between your shoulder blades as his hands soothed over your hips where his grip had definitely left bruises.

“So it goes?” you murmured breathlessly, looking back at him, your voice strained with the aftershock of your orgasm.

He chuckled, still breathless, forehead resting against your spine. “Yeah,” he nodded, pressing another lingering kiss to your bare skin. “So it fucking goes,”.

But he wasn’t done with you yet—not like that. Before you could even process it, he was moving, slipping out of your in search of something, leaving you cold and fucked-out against the console.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice softer now, filled with tenderness. A few seconds later, he returned with a small towel from the corner of the studio, one of the ones you always kept here for potential food or drink mishaps. He crouched between your legs, cleaning you up with the utmost care. “You okay?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, a lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,”. He kissed your temple, helping you adjust your clothes before handing you a half-empty water bottle from the table. “Drink,” he told you, before pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you. His fingertips traced slow, absentminded patterns over your thighs as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I missed you today,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, like this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d told you that.

You hummed, nuzzling into him, the warmth of his body grounding you. “You’re insatiable,” you teased, but the way your fingers curled into him, the way you melted against him, told a different story.

End of Flashback

That night was the perfect example—messy, unrestrained, all-consuming. Whether it was those late hours in the studio, tangled up in the haze of music and lust, or the nights spent wrapped up in each other beneath the sheets, it was always like this. Intense. Perfect.

Like everything was falling right into place, just for the two of you.

His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, his touch featherlight, teasing, like he had all the time in the world to tease you. But the heat pooling between your thighs begged to differ. You needed him, now.

“Tell me,” he murmured, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, purposely stopping himself from kissing you which he could see you so badly wanted. “Tell me how bad you want it,”.

Your breath hitched, fingers curling against the hard planes of his stomach. “Joe—,”.

“Nah, baby,” his voice was a low rasp, his hands sliding underneath the straps, fingers massaging your skin. “Say it. I know you were thinking about it, I can see it in your eyes,”.

Busted.

A soft whimper escaped you as you absentmindedly rocked against him, chasing the friction you craved. He chuckled smugly, that signature cocky confidence you fell in love with practically dripping from his body.

Because he already had you exactly where he wanted you.

And that was his favorite part.

—

A few days later — Los Angeles, California

Sunset Boulevard.

The Hollywood Sign.

The Walk of Fame.

Those same paved streets you used to stroll down years ago, when your innocence and naivety were still fully intact. When your dreams…well they were just dreams at that time. When the closest you’d got to stardom was accidentally being mistaken for a celebrity because you’d walked into a coffee shop on Sunset with those navy blue Prada shades perched on your nose and the matching bag around your shoulder.

Your first big girl purchases.

You remember how back then, you sat in your shoebox apartment in Studio City, textbooks and notebooks stacked high on the coffee table, mocking your so-called ambitions. Reminding you that a degree, a stable job, a normal life was your best bet. That making it in this industry was a long shot. That you’d never get there.

With the stars.

You spent hours refreshing your inbox, praying for a response to your audition tape…hell, even acknowledgment of the demo you’d sent out. Because back then, you thought acting was your best shot. That music—the real dream—was too far out of reach. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because here you were now. In the heart of the city of angels. Sitting in a vanity chair with your name stamped across the back. Your team buzzing around you in your dressing room, makeup brush in one hand, a tablet with your schedule in the other, your custom Versace dress hugging your body like a second skin. At the Grammys.

Because you did make it. And you weren’t just with stars. You were the star.

Coming back here…to this city…the place that once was your dream, after everything? It was evoking a number of emotions within you. This was the city where you fought for every opportunity, where the recording booths and studio lots held your wildest dreams. But once you had it—once you lived it—you realized this wasn’t how you wanted to exist. That you couldn’t stand the constant pressure and spotlight on you.

You loved SoCal, the picture-perfect beaches, the electric pulse you’d feel while cruising down Beverly Hills. But beneath the glitz, the sparkle, the promise of it, this place was hell. The paparazzi lurking outside your house, trailing your every move, digging for dirt. The relentless scrutiny, the hidden jealousy that was deeply rooted in the people you considered your friends, the constant hunger for more.

So you did what you knew how to do best. When things got hard, when they stopped feeling right, when the life you built started to feel more like a cage than a dream—you bolted. Like hell. Straight to the city that never slept, hoping its restless energy would drown out the noise in your head. But in your rush to run away from it all, you didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to question if you were running toward something better or just away from the chaos you left behind. Your judgment was poor, and New York? It was the worst place you could’ve chosen to find peace.

You wanted to escape the loudness of LA, but New York was even louder. The flashing lights, the rapid pace, the way it swallowed people whole without a second thought. You tried to lose yourself in the towering buildings, the crowded streets, the music that pulsed through subway tunnels and rooftop bars. You tried to convince yourself that this was where you belonged, that the city would be your saving grace. And in a way, it was. It helped your career soar.

But at an irreplaceable cost.

Your happiness.

When the version of New York you had in your mind faded—the romanticized dream of it all—you realized that this place wasn’t for you either. The loneliness and chaos here was just as loud as it was in LA. Surrounded by strangers who moved with purpose, who seemed as if they had it all figured out, you felt like the outlier. The straggler. The one who had wandered too far from home, only to realize she had no idea how to find her way back. And the lingering question in your mind this entire time was…where was home? And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, everything you’d built came crashing down—because of him. The biggest mistake of your life.

Those green eyes you once considered your safe haven? They were darker than you ever could’ve imagined. Like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was as if, with one swift motion, he had taken his hand and wiped the chessboard clean, sending every carefully placed piece tumbling to the ground. The rules no longer applied. The game was his to control. And you?

You never even stood a chance.

But then, you felt it—the eerie calm in the thick of chaos, the kind that only exists in the eye of a storm. The world around you was still spinning, the remains of everything you’d been running from circling just out of reach, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t being pulled under. It was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that made your ears ring, but the kind that coaxed you to open your eyes, to really look, to really see.

And when you did—when you finally dared to lift your head—there they were.

A pair of piercing blue eyes, steady and unwavering, cutting through the destruction like a lighthouse in the middle of a stormy sea. Eyes that didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. They just watched you, saw you, held you in place when everything else threatened to slip through your fingers.

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t lost anymore.

He took your hand in his and suddenly, the storm that had raged around you didn’t seem so terrifying. He didn’t just pull you from the wreckage; he became the place you could run to, the shelter standing strong against the winds and relentless downpours.

With him, the chaos dimmed to a quiet hum. The weight of the world didn’t sit so heavily on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a refuge; he was a promise—one that whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore,”.

You found yourself going back and forth, sneaking into his bed from that point on. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel—like you were more than the world made you out to be. In his arms, you were whole. You were more than just a name or a face; you were someone deserving of peace, of love, of calm in the storm. When the cameras wouldn’t stop poking. When the headlines and comments became too sharp. When you needed to be held, to be reminded that you were still flesh and bone, not just a brand. You’d run to him. To his bed.

And in the blink of an eye, that bed became your home.

He became your home.

Joe became your home.

“Joe…,” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, barely audible. You were so lost in your own daydream that you didn’t even realize you’d said it out loud.

Jen—your assistant—noticed the way your gaze had drifted, your fingers toying with the fabric of your dress. She knew that look all too well. It meant one of two things—you were nervous, or you were thinking about him. And judging by the soft, faraway expression on your face, she already had her answer. She smirked knowingly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the vanity. “He’s really got you in a chokehold, huh?”.

Her voice snapped you out of it, your eyes refocusing as you blinked a few times. “What?”.

Jen let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in amusement. “Joe. You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “I was just…zoning out,”.

“Mhm.”.

She wasn’t buying it. Of course, she wasn’t buying it. That’s because she was Jen.

Jen was an enigma—impossible to define with just a few words. She had a little bit of everything in her: sharp wit, relentless determination, and a heart big enough to carry the weight of all the people she cared about. She was kind, but with an edge that guaranteed she was never underestimated. Brilliant in her work, yet always a step ahead, using her cleverness like a well-honed weapon. And most importantly, she would do anything for you—not just because she was your assistant and PR manager, but because she was one of your best friends.

She’d been with you since day one, witnessing every mistake, every triumph, every late-night breakdown, every whirlwind romance, and every gut-wrenching fallout. She knew the struggles you had tolerated to get here, the price you paid for your success. And no matter how messy, chaotic, or impossible things got, she never walked away.

Her job wasn’t easy. You knew that. And sometimes, the guilt of it sat heavily on your shoulders.

But Jen? She never let you carry it alone.

And that meant everything to you.

“Zoning out about your football-playing lover, I assume,” she winked, knowing all too well what that glint in your eyes meant. When you and Joe first started hanging out, in that ‘get to know each other’ phase, you had carefully hidden it from everyone in your life. Friends, family, your manager, even Jen. But this woman could read you like one of her many floral notebooks, filled with detailed notes and perfectly color-coded tabs. She had a knack for spotting the things you tried to keep buried—especially when it came to him.

You should’ve known better than to think you could hide it from her. It was in the way your phone never left your hand, the way your smile lingered a little longer after a text, the way your eyes darted toward the door whenever he was supposed to be near.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, shaking your head as she smirked. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

“Maybe,” she hummed, reaching for your lip gloss on the vanity, “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

“She knows me way too well, ugh,” you thought, sighing and finally conceding. “I just…this is a big night, you know? And it’s our first red carpet together. It’s…a lot. Tonight is a lot for more than one reason,”.

Jen nodded in agreement, her teasing smile softening into reassurance. “It is. But you’ve done this a million times, Y/N. And now, you get to do it with him. You finally have someone with you who wants to support everything you do, wants to be on your arm, and wants to let you have center stage. But you also have someone who wants to shield you, protect you, be that steady hand that won’t ever let go of you. That safety net that’s always ready to catch you.,”.

That part was true. You weren’t walking this carpet alone. You weren’t facing the flashing lights, the screaming reporters, the endless scrutiny by yourself. Joe would be right there, his hand in yours, standing beside you like he always did. But he wouldn’t do anything to make this about him. No. He’d never steal your moment, never even think about doing something to outshine you.

That’s what separated him from the rest. And that thought alone made everything feel a little easier.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the vanity table. You glanced down and felt your heart do that stupid little flip it always did when you saw his name.

joe: almost go time. how’s my girl doing?

You bit your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress your smile as you typed back. God, the way he sent butterflies through your stomach by sending such a normal, typical boyfriend-like text to you made you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream like a teenage girl.

you: nervous. excited. wish you were here already though. i miss you

Seconds later, the three little dots appeared.

joe: i’m on my way, promise. it’s just this stupid ass LA traffic like why are we just sitting here. they act like there isn’t multiple routes to get to the arena

you: welcome to grammy weekend in LA baby. get used to it ;)

joe: i wish i could just fly like superman or some shit. but i’ll be there. trust me. i’ll run all the way if i have to

The thought of him actually doing it—sprinting down the streets of downtown LA in a perfectly tailored black suit, breathless, sweaty, that wild determination in his eyes—sent a shiver down your spine. The image alone was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m so fucked tonight—especially because he’s wearing the suit,” you thought to yourself.

It had been your wish for the longest time—to see Joe in a suit, crafted by one of your favorite designers. You’d pictured it so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The sharp lines, the way it fit him just right, the way he carried himself in it. It was almost unfair how good he looked.

You knew he preferred comfort, especially at events like this. He was never one for the glitz and glam, never one to trade comfort for something too flashy. And the last thing you ever wanted was for him to feel like a fish out of water. But tonight was different—tonight was important to you. And he knew that.

So when you casually brought up the idea, expecting at least some resistance, he surprised you. He didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate. He just agreed. Because if it mattered to you, then it mattered to him. Sure, the scratchy fabric and tailored fit would probably have him fidgeting all night, but he had you by his side. That was all the comfort he needed, the only thing that truly mattered.

As you got lost in the whirlpool of thoughts regarding how amazing and rewarding it would feel to peel his suit off his chiseled body tonight, after the hectic and tiring experience of it all, you saw another message bubble appear from him.

joe: which by the looks of it, i will be ;) good thing me and dak worked on cardio last off season

joe: but you know i got you. always. i’m gonna be with you soon. i promise

A smile rose on your lips at his last message, “He’s on his way,” you told Jen, admiring his text for a second more before sending him a white heart emoji and placing your phone back on the table. “I didn’t show him the look for tonight so…make sure you have an AED on standby,” you joked, settling back into the chair as your makeup artist finished applying the last bit of highlighter to your rosy cheeks.

Jen shot up straight, her movements suddenly precise and efficient, as if a switch had flipped in her brain. The moment your words registered, a silent alarm seemed to go off, setting her into motion. Without a word, she spun around on her heel and walked toward the couch, where your travel bag sat. You watched, brow furrowing, as she crouched down and carefully unzipped the side compartment with the kind of focus that made it seem like she was handling something far more serious than, well…whatever it was she was looking for.

Your curiosity grew as she rifled through your belongings, her fingers moving with purpose. “Uh…Jen?” you said, your voice laced with amusement. “What exactly are you doing?”.

She didn’t answer instantly, too busy locating exactly what she was looking for. When she finally pulled it out, she held it up like it was a crown jewel.

The thigh chain.

It was a gorgeous gold chain decorated with a pattern of diamonds and black jewels, which shimmered under the dressing room lights. The delicate ‘J’ charm at the center catches every glimmer.

This was the most important piece you had custom-made. The one you’d kept a secret, just like your dress.

Jen grinned triumphantly. “This,” she said, holding it up for emphasis. “This is going to be the thing that sends him over the edge,”.

You laughed, shaking your head as she handed it to you. “You think?”.

“Oh, I know,” she smirked. “You’ve been killing him with these little touches lately, and this? His initial wrapped around your thigh? He’s going to malfunction on the spot,”.

You bit your lip, glancing at the delicate chain in your hands before looking at your reflection in the mirror. The final touches were coming together, and you couldn’t have been more excited for the carpet. For the chance to show everything off now that you were coming back into the limelight. Your dress—custom Versace, stunningly sculpted to your body—was already a showstopper. The blacks, the golds, the silvers…it was as if you were wearing your album in clothing form. The snake ring and the stack of gold and diamond chains around your neck matched the aesthetic you were going for perfectly.

Oh, and how could you forget?

The bracelet.

The one he had custom-made for you by Cartier and had gifted you during your trip to Cannes. It sat around your left wrist, his initial and yours shining brighter than any piece of jewelry you were adorning tonight. It was the only personal addition to your look, partly because you never took it off, but mostly because you wanted just about everyone to know how much this meant to you. How much he meant to you. Show them how—just like the bracelet said inside the band—the stars all aligned. They aligned for you both and this moment you were sharing, and you were ecstatic to share a glimpse of that with the world.

But this? The thigh chain…this was even more personal. A quiet, intimate detail meant just for him. And well…whoever else’s eye it caught. Your fingers traced over the black and gold ‘J’ before you looked back at Jen. You knew he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you with this on, let alone remain standing after he saw you in this dress. You felt awful for getting him so flustered by wearing things like this—whether it was a new bikini, a new dress, or a pair of jeans that hugged you just right—because you knew he paid attention to every little detail of your body. Every curve he ran his hands along, every expanse of skin he pressed his lips to, every crevice he was allowed to cherish.

But that was what made this so exciting.

“...Alright, help me put it on,” you grinned, your fingers sliding the fabric off your thigh to disclose the skin where the slit was.

She smiled, placing her hands on your shoulders and giving you a reassuring squeeze, “With pleasure,”.

—

Safe to say…Joe was in need of immediate medical attention when he walked into your dressing room.

The moment he caught a glimpse of you, everything else seemed to fade into the background for him. Like the world was draped in a dark cloak, and the spotlight was shining just on this beautiful figure in front of him—you. His blue eyes widened, his jaw slackened just enough to make you smirk, and for a second, he just stood there, taking you in like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

And when you did a little twirl—letting the dress cling and shimmer in all the right places—he damn near lost it.

“Holy—,” he started, but his voice cut off as he raked a hand through his hair, exhaling with a sharp breath. But then…then he saw the chain. The delicate gold and black diamond ‘J’ draped around your thigh, catching the light with every subtle movement.

“Is that—,” he said a little quieter, slowly walking toward you as his eyes remained glued to that specific piece of jewelry. You bit your lip, watching his reaction play out with pure satisfaction. Then, with the smallest tilt of your head, you shifted the dress slightly, unbuttoning the slit just a bit to let him see it better. His breathing hitched. “Is that…my initial?”.

He was right in front of you now, close enough for you to see the way his pupils had blown wide, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard to keep his composure. But he was failing.

Miserably.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joe let out a low curse under his breath, dragging a hand down his face before shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, without a single warning, his hands found your hips, gripping tight enough to make you gasp.

“...Joe—,”.

He leans in, lips hovering just below your earlobe, “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers, voice strained and raspy, which combined with the way he was hand was firmly placed on your hip, only meant one thing.

He’s horny.

Slowly, a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips as you felt the heat of his breath against your skin, his grip on your hips tightening like he was using every ounce of restraint not to lose himself right then and there. His nose brushed against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and you swore you felt him shudder. “Wearing my initial on your thigh like that…you knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?”.

You tried to stop a giggle from escaping your lips, but it came out as more of a breathless hum. “Maaaaaybe,”.

Joe groaned, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, heavy with something deep and unfiltered. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your hips before he sighed heavily like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running wild in his head. “You expect me to just carry on after this? This dress is insane on you, and you’re already gorgeous as is but…damn, Y/N. Makin’ me feel a lot of things right now. You look so…so gorgeous, and I swear I’m about to short-circuit,” he muttered, looking at you like you were the sole reason for his downfall.

“You managed to make it here in one piece,” you teased, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the fabric of his suit jacket. “Maybe that means your self-control isn't as bad as you think,”.

Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah? You think so?” his fingers trailed lower, brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh, just above where the chain rested. His touch sent a shiver up your spine. “Because right now, all I can think about is how fast I can get us out of here,”.

You raised a brow, pretending to consider it even though you knew that you couldn’t skip this even if you begged Jen on your knees. “That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? After all, I did put this whole look together just for you. Made sure I showed off just enough of everything to keep you on edge all night…so you wouldn’t get bored,”.

Joe's head tilted, his lips twitching in frustration. “You’re evil,” he muttered, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he forced himself to step back. He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna need a damn miracle to make it through this night without ripping your dress off at any given chance,”.

You slouched your shoulders, feeling a little more at ease now that he was by your side. “And I’m gonna need a miracle to make it through tonight without having a manic breakdown,” you nervously chuckled, grazing over his suggestive joke and suddenly feeling the reality of the situation as if you hadn’t spent weeks preparing for this specific moment.

You’d have to face the buzzing cameras, the invasive questions, deal with the whispers and the constant attention—good or bad—for the first time in nearly a year. You’d been away from all this, and although you had slowly made your way back into the limelight during Cannes & Paris last month, treated it as a quiet reintroduction, this was the biggest test.

Because not only were you just walking the carpet, you were making a statement. A statement that you were back, not going anywhere anytime soon, and you were happy. Your smile would be brighter than the stars, genuine and heartfelt. But most importantly, the pristine image they created of you would finally crumble.

You could finally just be you.

This was the first time you were putting yourself back in the game, pushing yourself back into the fold of the business you lived for. The last time the world saw you, you were a ghost of yourself, swallowed whole by the weight of everything that had gone wrong. They had watched as your life unraveled in real-time, dissecting every misstep, every crack in the facade you had so carefully built. You had become their favorite tragic storyline.

But now, you were coming back—stronger, sharper, more in control than ever. Reclaiming your throne with more confidence, talent, edge, and zero fucks to give. And yet, not giving a fuck was what made this so terrifying. It was a constant tug of war inside your mind between the girl ready to make that statement and the girl who cowered in fear of the idea of this backfiring.

The sharp sting of those words echoed in your mind, rumbling through your chest, threatening to dim the light you had fought so hard to reclaim.

“Because when people fall out of love with you, there’s nothing you can do to make them change their minds. They just don’t love you anymore,”.

You had said it once. Spat it out like poison on a night when sleep was the last thing on your mind, in the dim glow of his living room, wrapped in the kind of grief that felt like it would never leave your bones. And those words were all you could think of currently.

Joe's expression softened instantly as he carefully watched your movements. He could see it—the way your fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, the slight tremble in your breathing, the way your confidence wavered just for a second. And that second was enough for him to step in, to remind you why you were here, why you were meant to be here. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. His thumb traced soothing circles along your skin, a simple but significant gesture. “You don’t need a miracle, baby. You’ve already got this,”.

You huffed out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about the screaming paparazzi or interview questions designed to make you slip up. I swear to god if I hear one of them pass a single disrespectful comment or ask me about him. I’m walking right out,”.

Joe smirked, squeezing your hand. “And as you should. But you know, I do have to make sure I don’t black out the second I see you step onto that carpet, looking the way you do,”.

That earned him a small smile, but the nerves still lingered. He could feel it. He had become an expert at seeing right through you, even when you tried your hardest to hide your emotions from everyone around you. He’d only been with you for a short amount of time—compared to some of your friends and family—but somehow, he knew you better than they ever could.

So, he did what he knew best. He anchored you to him, his fingers tightening around yours as his blue eyes locked onto yours, and he spoke to you. And if there was one thing Joe Burrow was good at? It was speaking.

He was the best listener you knew, but even better at giving advice. Every word that left his lips was thought out, measured, and laced with a warmth that could bring you back from the deepest trenches of your mind. He had this way of making even the most chaotic moments feel painless, like everything wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed. And when he spoke to you specifically, his words were extra soft. Not once did he lose his patience, raise the tone of his voice, or even utter a word that would rub you the wrong way.

“I know this is big. I know it’s a lot all at once. But you’re not walking out there alone. You’ve got me, you’ve got Jen, you’ve got your team. And more than that? You’ve got the entire world watching, waiting to see you own that carpet and stage he way only you can. Waiting to see you come back and take what was always yours,” he assured while giving you a warm smile. “Remember everything we worked on these past few months, okay? Number 1. They don’t know you. Number 2. They don’t own you. Number 3. They can’t touch you. You control this game, now. They wanted you gone, so you did what they asked and you took your shit and left. Now, you’re back. And now, they’re all waiting out there for you. They follow what you do. They listen to what you say. And they are afraid of what you’re going to do. Not the other way around. You’ve made them wait for months to the point where they need you. You don’t need them,”.

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink into your skin. He was right. You’d spent months away from this world, rebuilding your life, your confidence. Spent all your time refocusing, rewiring everything they’d forced upon you.

He was right. They needed you.

They needed you because they could feel the weight of your absence, the lack of the kind of excitement only you could bring to the table. An empty hole in the industry that many tried to cover, but failed miserably. And that was because there was only one you. You’d taken the time to heal yourself and prepare yourself for the moment when you’d have to come back. And now? Now was that moment. And you weren’t just walking the carpet.

You were taking it back.

Your name.

Your reputation.

Without speaking a single word, you launched yourself forward, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. You inhaled the scent of his expensive cologne, a warm mix of sandalwood, amber, and the faintest hint of something undeniably him. It was intoxicating, comforting, the kind of scent that wrapped around you like a protective shield.

Joe didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight like he was trying to mold you to him, like he could hold you together even when the world threatened to pull you apart. And for a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the flashing cameras waiting just beyond the door, the weight of expectation pressing against your chest. None of it mattered—not when you were here, safe in his arms, breathing him in like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

“You good?” he murmured against your temple, voice laced with concern.

You nodded, but your grip on him tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Liar,” he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You exhaled a shaky breath, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Those blue eyes that had saved you once before. That were still saving you now.

It was almost strange how effortlessly he could pull you back down to earth when your mind started to spiral. Joe excelled at just about everything—football, leadership, and being a role model for his fans. But if there was one thing he was truly unmatched at, one thing he did better than anything else…

It was being your person. And not once did he ever make you feel like that was difficult for him to do.

“Just…don’t let go yet,” you whispered, wanting to stay in the quiet calm of this special moment for as long as humanly possible.

Joe’s lips twitched, but there was something serious in his gaze as he ran a hand down your back, soothing you, steadying you. “Not a chance, baby. Not a fucking chance,”.

—

A half-hour later — Red Carpet

The moment your heels touched the edge of the carpet, a small wave of nerves crashed over you like the first signs of an impending storm. The sight of the flashing lights, the sound of the camera shutters…they were relentless. A blinding, dizzying storm of light and noise. You hadn’t stepped onto the actual center carpet yet since you were waiting for Joe to finish his conversation with Jen, but you could already hear the voices calling your name, overlapping in a chaotic symphony. You could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that sensation made your skin crawl. God, you had almost forgotten how much you hated this part of what you did.

You took a sharp inhale, nervously adjusting the fabric of your dress with your trembling fingers as you waited for Jen to lead you over. Once you felt her gentle hand wrap around your forearm, you knew it was go time. “I’m okay…I’m okay,” you mentally chanted, but were you trying to convince yourself that you weren’t about to burst into tears…or everyone else?

But then, the second your gaze locked with the paparazzi—the eager voices calling your name—something in you shifted. Suddenly, the nerves, the hesitation, the creeping doubt? Gone with the wind.

“Well, that was easy,” you smiled to yourself, surprised at how all it took was the call of your name for you to calm down. But just like how it wasn’t easy for you to reach this point in your life—where you felt secure in the world you’d built, deeply in love with the man of your dreams, excited about your future—it wasn’t going to be easy to just waltz back into this world, despite how seamless it initially felt. And that fact hadn’t hit you just yet.

Like flipping a switch, you straightened your posture, lifted your chin, and stepped forward with a grace and confidence that had taken months to master. Your movements were effortless, your expression poised. This time was different. This wasn’t like the years before when you let them dictate your every move—the way you smiled, how long you posed, how much of yourself you gave away.

No.

This time, you were in control.

“Y/N! Over here!”.

Flash.

“We missed you!”.

“How’s Joe?”.

“A little to the right!”.

Flash. Flash.

“Y/N, look over here!”.

“Gorgeous! Stunning!”.

Joe stood off to the side, just beyond the madness, watching you with pure awe. He had seen you like this before from a distance—poised and radiant under the spotlight—but there was something different about tonight, about seeing it up close. Maybe it was the way the dress clung to your body or the way your presence commanded attention even when you felt like crumbling beneath it. Maybe even the way you were standing there as yourself for the first time, and not the version of yourself the media had created. Either way, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

But unfortunately for you, nice things don’t always last as long as you’d hope. You could feel it—the creeping anxiety, the familiar pressure pressing against your ribs because well, it was too good to be true. Did you really think they’d learned to be respectful and less invasive during the time you were gone? Please.

“Why’d you disappear?”.

Flash.

“What happened between you and him?”.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Did you cheat on him with Joe?”.

“The chain on your thigh, is that for Joe?”.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, and your chest tightened as the chaos began to overwhelm your senses. The cameras, the flashing lights, the sea of eyes dissecting your every move, it began to blur all into one maddening hum. That familiar heat crept up your spine, flushing your cheeks and burning your eyes.

And those questions? Those fucking questions?

Had they just…forgotten? Forgotten how he had shattered you, how he had stripped you down to nothing, piece by piece, betrayal by betrayal? Had they forgotten how it all came crashing down in one disastrous, very public fallout? The leaked texts, the photos, the posts that turned into headlines overnight?

Had they forgotten him? The man who made you doubt everything you ever knew about love? Because you sure as hell hadn’t.

They had the audacity to think you cheated? Did your previous album just write itself? Did you simply disappear for almost a year just because you felt like it?

And then it hit you. You were feeling exactly like how you felt nearly a year ago.

Like history was repeating itself in the worst way possible.

Like you were back in that hotel room, the one you fled to because the paparazzi had opened up shop outside your home, waiting for a glimpse at you. A glimpse at America’s new favorite tragic storyline—who couldn’t keep her picture-perfect relationship or career straight. It was like you were holding your phone again, hands trembling as you scrolled through an endless flood of headlines. What Really Happened Between Them? The Fall of a Pop Superstar. America’s Sweetheart: Not So Sweet After All?

Rumors twisted into daggers, and speculation sharpened into accusations. Each tweet, each article, each dissected frame of your past relationship pushed deeper into the open wound until you weren’t sure where their version of you ended and the truth began.

And now, here you were. Face-to-face with the past.

Your breath hitched.

Your body betrayed you, a subconscious step back—small, but telling. The doubt crept in first, then the fear, then the overwhelming weight of it all. For the first time in a long time, you felt her—the girl you used to be. The one who had crumbled under the pressure, who had let the world convince her she was nothing more than a failed love story.

Then, like instinct, like second nature, like it was all you knew, you turned your head in search of him.

Joe caught your nervous gaze in an instant, and he moved without a second of hesitation. He didn’t even need you to say anything, because he just knew. He saw it happen in real time, how your loose posture stiffened, how you dug your fingernails into your palm, how your radiant smile faltered for a split second.

He saw the way your eyes were slowly softening, crying out for him with a silent plea.

The second he was at your side, his presence wrapped around you like thick armor, shielding you from the suffocating fog that was forming around you, making it harder for you to breathe. His large, warm hand found your waist, fingers pressing into the black fabric of your dress just enough to let you know—I’m here. After he gave you that gentle squeeze, like clockwork, your shoulders dropped, your breath evened, your pulse no longer hammering against your ribs. It was like he turned down the heat just before the water boiled over, keeping everything steady before it could spill into chaos.

But even though you had relaxed a little, the cameras didn’t stop. The voices didn’t stop.

“Are you nervous to see him?”.

Flash.

“Is it true you have an album coming out?”.

“Joe, how does it feel knowing she wrote an entire album about another man?”.

Flash. Flash.

“Joe, how do you feel about her past?”.

Your jaw clenched, but before you could let the words settle in your mind, lose yourself in the nonsense, before the whispers could crawl under your skin, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. With a bold grin he murmured, “I cannot wait to fuck you tonight,” voice rough around the edges in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “After you win everything and steal the spotlight like I know you can,”.

A breathy laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, all the cameras caught it. Thankfully, they couldn’t hear his words because they were being drowned out by the sound of their own relentless questions. God, you’d seriously never show your face again (for real this time) if they heard something that was strictly meant to be spoken in private. When you tilted your head to look at him, you looked straight into his eyes, instantly sensing exactly what he was doing. Calming you, distracting you, making sure you stayed with him instead of plunging into the chaos.

And damn it, it worked. Like a charm.

For once, his cheeky comments and shamelessness were to thank, usually they made you roll your eyes but now they were your saving grace. You still rolled your eyes, however, but smiled because of his silly, maybe even slightly insatiable way of getting through to you. “Watch your tongue, Burrow,” you grinned as you leaned into him for just a second longer, letting yourself relish in the heat radiating off of him, the way his fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, his hand slipping lower and lower. But then…

“Joe! Kiss her for the cameras!”

“Give us something good!”

“Show us you’re not just the rebound!”

Your grip on him tightened, that last particular comment hitting a little closer to your heart than you would have liked. “They just wouldn’t quit, would they?” you thought to yourself, the idea of Joe, the man you’ve been calling your home for 9 months, being a rebound, was sickening. And Joe being Joe, once again noticed your mild discomfort instantly.

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, blue eyes sparkling with something mischievous and entirely too smug. It was the shade of blue his eyes had been all those times he’d motioned for you to sneak off with him to one of the storage closets during practice. The shade of blue his eyes had been every time he pulled you into his childhood bedroom when you were visiting his parents, just because he needed you alone, because he missed the taste of your lips. The shade of blue his eyes were every time he asked you to run away with him.

And then, before you could react—he pulled you close and kissed you. He just kissed you so casually in front of an entire audience of paparazzi, in front of every single person in this room. The man who despised PDA, who hated flaunting his affection, just pressed his lips to yours in front of the entire world.

Not just a quick peck for the cameras. Not just a half-hearted attempt to silence the speculation.

No, this was a soft, warm, slow kiss. A kind of kiss that you two shared in private, away from the rest of the world because it was far too sacred to share.

A statement. The statement.

It silenced the whispers, shattered the doubts, and rewrote the narrative in real time. It wasn’t a rebound. It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a carefully calculated move for the cameras. This was real—undeniably, unapologetically real. It was a declaration, bold and clear, that your love was something to be celebrated, not dissected. That he wasn’t just standing beside you—he was standing for you. He didn’t have to kiss you, he really didn’t. But he wanted to, and he did it with no room for hesitation or doubt. This said that as long as he was here, no one could touch you, no rumor could shake you, and no ghost from your past could haunt you.

It was a testament. To him. To you. To the love you had built; one that didn’t just survive the storm, but came out stronger on the other side.

Your breath hitched, your body momentarily frozen as his lips moved against yours with the kind of certainty that made your head spin. You knew how he felt about things like this, but at this moment, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. The flashing cameras, the relentless voices, the suffocating atmosphere, all of it melted away.

It kind of reminded you of the first time you kissed him.

When he pulled back, there was a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he had just done to you. “Oh,” you breathed out, blinking up at him.

Joe chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist, his voice teasing as he leaned down again, just for you. “What? Didn’t see that coming?” he smiled.

No, you didn’t. That was exactly why your jaw went slack, eyes locked onto his as the butterflies in your stomach turned into a full-blown hurricane. The cameras flashed in rapid sequence, capturing every lingering glance, every effortless touch, every moment between you and Joe that was sure to dominate headlines by morning.

You barely had time to process it before you felt his hand glide back to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into the fabric of your gown as he subtly angled your body toward the cameras. And then, like this was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled you in just a little closer, flashing that signature Joe Burrow smile—the one that had fans wrapped around his finger and the paparazzi eating out of the palm of his hand.

He was giving them a show. Giving them exactly what they wanted while maintaining the wall that prevented them from prying into your carefully crafted safe space. And the thing was? He wasn’t even trying.

You held onto him a little tighter, standing tall beside him, your confidence growing under the ardency of his touch. A few more poses were made, some designed specifically to show off your thigh chain, which was making Joe’s body temperature rise by the second, but also should be doing numbers online by now. You gave them a few more smiles, a few more adorable moments caught in the flashing lights as you made your way down the carpet. But suddenly, as you were nearing the end, it felt like the energy shifted; like the clouds outside had become dark with warning, like the stitches along your heart—the one’s Joe placed—were being picked at.

The yells started again. Louder. More urgent.

“There he is!”. “Y/N, look!”.

You felt your heartbeat come to a sudden pause, your breath hitching and your stomach churning all in one go. It was the feeling of pure dread curling in the pit of your stomach, like ice-cold water was rushing through your veins. Your body tensed instinctively, muscles freezing as your eyes darted toward the paparazzi who were all looking back. The room suddenly felt like it had shrunk, the walls closing in as the once-deafening crowd faded into white noise. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears, and feel the weight of every inhale, every exhale, as if the very air had condensed around you.

Your fingers tightened at your sides, “No. Not here. Not now,” you muttered under your breath. And when you followed their gazes back onto the carpet, your entire world tilted on its axis in a way it hadn’t since last year.

You saw him. He was there. He was here.

Your ex.

His piercing green eyes locked onto yours with an unsettling sharpness, as if he was trying to tunnel his way back into your soul, back into the very place he once claimed as his own. The same soul he had cradled with whispered promises and sweet nothings, only to stab away at it with his insecurities, his flaws, his selfishness.

And you hated it.

What was worse—what made your skin crawl—was the way he dared to smile at you. That same cheshire cat smile he used to flash when he wanted to smooth things over, to lull you into compliance, to make you forget the way he had gutted you time and time again. As if he thought he still had that power over you. As if he thought he had the right to look at you like that after everything he had done—after turning your love into a battlefield, after making you question your worth, after reducing you to nothing but a fractured version of yourself.

And the cameras? They were capturing every second of it.

They weren’t catching the invisible scars he had left behind, the ones that only you could feel. They weren’t catching the nights you had spent fraying in the dark, trying to piece yourself back together from the wreckage he had left behind. They weren’t catching the way he had rewritten your reality, made you second-guess everything you knew about yourself.

No. They only saw the spectacle. The headlines. The narrative. And the worst part? He didn’t even care.

The blissful bubble you had been floating in popped in an instant, a flood of memories hitting you like a freight train. The things he said to you, those poisonous words that you thought were the truth, they came rushing back.

“You’re exhausting, you know that? It’s always something with you,”.

“Nobody actually cares about you in this industry, they just care about what you can give them,”.

“Maybe if you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere,”.

“You act like I hurt you so badly, but you should be thanking me. I made you relevant,”.

“You’re never satisfied. I could give you the world, and you’d still find something to complain about,”.

“You act like you’re perfect, like you never did anything wrong in this relationship,”.

“She’s just a friend, stop being like those other girls, Y/N,”.

The way he made you question yourself. The guilt trips. The gaslighting. The loneliness that had stewed even when you were right beside him. It all came back to you, making you feel like it was just yesterday when your entire world, the only one you knew, crumbled to pieces and went up in flames.

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until you felt Joe’s touch, and when you did, you jumped from the warmth he brought back to your ice-cold skin. “Hey, hey,” his voice was softer now, laced with concern. His fingers brushed over your hand first, then your cheek, coaxing you back to him. “It’s okay, It’s okay. I’m here,”.

He had seen him too, and the anger Joe was feeling was far worse than anything you were. He had to control the urge to walk over there and swing at him, make that pathetic excuse of a man feel the same kind of pain he inflicted on you that had you feeling like this even months later.

Joe didn’t have to say his name for him to understand how you felt. He didn’t have to ask because he knew what you were feeling, because he could recognize the look in your eyes. His other hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in soothing strokes. He dipped his head, forcing your eyes to meet his. “I love you,” he murmured, quiet and soft enough just for your ears to catch. “I’m here now. It’s going to be okay. He can’t hurt you,” he said, the look in his eyes drawing you in. They were endless, like the deep ocean at midnight, swirling with something extensive and unlimited. Small streaks of lighter blue shimmered like stardust caught in the waves, galaxies trapped beneath his irises. There was something magical about them, something that made you feel light, like if you stared too long, you might get lost and never find your way back. But you didn’t want to look away. His eyes held everything—comfort, love, a silent promise that you were safe, that as long as he was here, nothing could touch you.

He had spent the last nine months proving that your past didn’t scare him. That the baggage you carried wasn’t a burden, but something he wanted to help you hold. That love—real love—didn’t come with conditions, ultimatums, or twisted justifications. Joe had seen the cracks in your foundation, the places where love had once lived before it was shattered, and instead of stepping around them, he had sat beside you, helping you piece yourself back together. He didn’t ask you to forget, didn’t rush you to heal—he just stayed and waited.

He loved you when you were radiant and untouchable, standing under the bright lights with the world at your feet. But more importantly, he loved you in those quiet moments, when you couldn’t stand on your own. When you were lost in the shadows of your past, gasping for air under the weight of memories that tried to drag you back.

And right now, that love was all you needed to believe in. “...Okay,” you nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you breathed in his comforting scent and melted under his touch. You needed to remember that he was the past, no longer a factor in your future, a future that was as bright as the light shining on you. No longer something you’d let yourself be defined by because you were defined by the things you loved.

You had healed. You had grown. You were happy.

And you did all of that without him. You did all of that with Joe.

Joe kissed your forehead softly, lingering for just a second before gently guiding you off the carpet, ignoring the chaos behind you and bringing you back to reality. His eyes locked with Jen, who was already rushing to your side along with the rest of your team. You felt her hand gently grab your free hand, a sign of confidence given as she gave a firm squeeze, “You did amazing, Y/N. I had no idea he would be here, let alone get on the carpet right after you. But you did great, seriously,” she assured you, and after taking another deep breath, you returned her sentiments with a soft smile.

“You need to thank Joe, you know,” you laughed quietly, nudging his hand to get his attention as the two of you made your way through the doors toward the entrance to the main hall. The distant hum of the crowd buzzed through the walls, a persistent reminder of where you were, of what was waiting just beyond the next turn. “I may have been toeing around the manic breakdown territory line, but he did what he always does,” you smiled up at him.

“Save you?” he simply asked, tightening his grip on your hand as you both passed more paparazzi, who seemingly took a step back once they saw the look in Joe’s eyes. One that screamed: That’s enough of that. Freak her out again and I’ll throw you across the room like a football.

You stepped through the last curtain, the dim backstage hallway meshing with the electric glow of the arena. The moment you stepped into the open, the mere scale of it hit you like a tidal wave. Hundreds upon hundreds of people filled the seats on the floor and throughout the arena, the air vibrating with excitement and anticipation as this night was known for when musicians left their marks and had their moments at the center stage. The massive stage was illuminated in deep silvers and golds, shimmering under the lights and it stole your breath, just for a second. It was like this was your first time being here, and in a way…it kind of was?

It was your first time here as the new you.

Your fingers tightened slightly around Joe’s as your eyes traced the stage—the very place you had poured your heart out, which felt like a lifetime ago, where your voice had carried through every inch of this arena, where you had left pieces of yourself behind in every lyric. Seeing it now, bathed in light, surrounded by the crowd’s buzz, made something settle in your chest. Pride. Awe. A little disbelief.

Who knew you could have missed the sights and sounds of this place so much?

Joe squeezed your hand, bringing you back to him. “Hey,” he murmured, ducking his head slightly so you’d meet his eyes. “You okay?”.

You nodded, exhaling, your lips curving into a small smile. “You don’t need to save me,” you finally answered, glancing up at him. “You do that thing…with your eyes, and your touch. Like you’re asking me to run away with you without actually saying it…when I get like that. All zoned out and nervous,”.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “And would you?”.

You leaned into him, heartbeat calming, a comforting heat radiating between you as you looked back at the stage—at the place where you belonged. “Every time,” you whispered, a little breathy as if the shimmering lights, open stage, and sleek black microphone had cast a spell over you, making it hard for you to focus on him.

And as he led you toward your seats, his fingers laced with yours, thumb sliding up and down yours out of habit, you knew the past couldn’t touch you here. Not with him by your side. This was your night, and nothing would stand in the way of taking back what was once yours. But most importantly, Joe wouldn’t let anything get in the way. Whether it was your own nerves threatening to take over and strangle your confidence or the ghost of your past trying to cast a shadow over your moment, he was there to shield you.

He had seen you plant the seed of this night long ago, watching you from afar, from the screens, before he got to know the woman behind the art. He watched as you nurtured this album through storms of doubt and heartbreak, as you tended to it with passion and dedication. And now, as it finally bloomed into something magical, something with the potential to be extraordinary, he wasn’t about to let anything ruin it.

You had grown, and flourished despite everything meant to break you. That was the most admirable thing about you. Your strength, your ability to rise from the ashes time and time again—like a flower pushing through the cracks of concrete, refusing to fall—were some of the biggest reasons he had fallen in love with you.

Joe had always known you were special, but watching you now, still standing tall under the pressure of it all, he was reminded of just how unstoppable you truly were. No matter how many storms had tried to destroy you, you had only come back stronger, more vibrant, more you than ever before. And to him, that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

—

The ceremony was in full swing just a half hour later, and once it all commenced, you felt yourself easing into the moment, the tension in your shoulders loosening bit by bit. The spectacle of it all—the glittering stage, the flashing cameras, the sheer magnitude of the night—had initially been overwhelming, but now, surrounded by the best company, it felt a little less daunting.

You were seated with the perfect group—Joe, Jack, Margaret, Taylor, and Sabrina—each of them a pacifying presence in their own way. Laughter bubbled up between sips of champagne, conversations floating effortlessly between catching up and playful banter. For a moment, it almost felt like just another night out with friends—except, of course, for the hundreds of people in the arena, the millions watching from their homes, and the fact that your name had already been called more than once by the presenters on stage.

That’s right…more than once.

Three times to be exact.

Once for Best Pop Solo Preformance, which had you frozen for a good 10 seconds once it was announced, then for Record of the Year, which you nearly missed because you were in the bathroom, and finally—one of the most important categories—Song of the Year.

It hadn’t registered in your brain that this was really happening, that your talent and work were being recognized in the highest regard. You really came into this expecting absolutely nothing, especially after the year you had, and well, pissing off your ex-boyfriend’s dad who happened to be the very respected CEO of your former record label doesn’t exactly increase your standing in the industry. But regardless of everything that happened, the label switch, the breakup, the drama, they were celebrating your piece of work and you without any hesitation. But you were still confused as hell each time you heard your name, like…did they actually care? Because it sure as fuck didn’t feel like they did when you actually needed them in your corner.

That’s why you couldn’t believe it when you heard your name come from the stage…again. You were mid-sip of champagne, fully convinced that Taylor would win for SOTY, already half-turning toward her to celebrate her moment—until the words actually registered in your head.

“And the Grammy goes to...Y/N for ‘Is It Over Now’!”.

For a second, it felt like the world stopped. The golden lights blurred above you, the roaring applause barely reached your ears, and all you could do was sit there, mouth slightly open in shock, processing what had just happened.

Then, Joe was in your line of vision, his eyes wide before they crinkled with a proud, almost cocky smile. Before you could even think, you stood up and launched yourself into his arms, a squeal leaving your lips as he caught you effortlessly, lifting you slightly off the ground. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to your lips. The cheers from your table—hell, from the entire arena—only grew louder at the sight of it.

Joe swayed you side to side, his hands gripping your waist as he leaned back just enough to beam at you. “You did it, baby. 3 for 3 so far, like I told you. Full sweep,” he murmured, his voice filled with so much love it nearly made you tear up on the spot.

You barely had time to catch your breath before you turned, immediately dapping up Jack, who grinned and pulled you in for a tight hug. “I fucking told you!” he laughed, shaking you slightly. “Song of the Year, baby! Look at you!”. When you looked over you saw that Margaret was wiping at her eyes, her happiness for you—someone she considered a sister—coming out in the form of tears. Sabrina was screaming, letting everyone around you know that you just did that, “Look at her!! That’s my fucking girl!”. And Taylor? She looked both proud of one of her closest friends and in awe of how Joe was, once again, openly showing this much affection towards you in front of everyone.

It was perfect. So freaking perfect.

Heart still hammering against your ribs, you made your way to the stage, your entire figure shimmering and dazzling under the lights, and as you took the golden trophy in your hands from the presenter, you exhaled sharply into the mic, still dazed. Still unsure of how the hell you got up here in one piece.

You don’t remember what you were saying in your acceptance speech, almost feeling like your mind was detached from your body and you were moving on autopilot, but all you could sense was that whatever you were saying had everyone in the room looking up at you with a genuine proud smile. The same room of people who you had thought turned their backs on you a year ago, had stabbed you in the back when you were at your lowest, were celebrating you.

The only thing you did remember from your speech was something you wouldn’t normally do.

A dig.

The old you would never shade someone like this, let alone at all. She would quietly accept her award, give everyone their flowers, downplay her role in her own accomplishment—emphasis on her accomplishment—and leave the stage. Because that’s what she had been trained to do.

The new you? Oh, she didn’t care whose feelings were hurt, who was offended that they didn’t get a shout-out, or if he was listening.

Which was why…

“—And of course,” you added, voice laced with a syrupy sweetness that didn’t quite match the glint in your eyes, “A very special thank you to the one who inspired this lovely, lovely Song of the Year,”. You let the words sit in the air for a second, flashing a knowing, almost dangerous smile. “He knows exactly who he is,” you smirked, locking your eyes with the person you had so sweetly called out in front of an entire arena filled with celebrities, studio execs, media, and his own peers. “Thanks for that! ‘Cause now I got one of these,” you smirked, nodding towards the golden trophy in your palm.

The crowd lost it. Laughter, gasps, and even a few whoops filled the arena. They all knew who you were talking about, it’s not like your album and even this song was lacking any clues, and their reactions were doing exactly what you needed them to do. Make him nervous and show everyone your newfound edge.

When you scanned the crowd again, this time searching for something sweeter rather than sour & bitter, you saw Joe, still in his seat, throwing his head back with a laugh, shaking it in pure amusement. “God, she’s so good,” he chuckled to the rest of the table, his heart swelling with pride because he was witnessing the by-product of months and months of deprogramming and healing—unshakable confidence & the balls to grab the bull by the horns.

You grinned, shifting gears as you returned to what you originally meant to do up here. “But really, this means the world. Thank you for letting me do what I love. Thank you for letting my pain turn into something beautiful. And most importantly…thank you for letting me prove that I could still do this,”. You lifted the Grammy slightly in the air, a silent moment of gratitude before nodding at the crowd. “I love you guys. Thank you, again!”.

With that, you made your way offstage, an echo of applause filling the air, your heart still pounding, your hands slightly shaking from disbelief, but the moment you locked eyes with Joe again—all you felt was peace.

After the show went to commercial, you spent a few moments chatting with your peers as they came over to congratulate you, even allowing them a chance to formally meet your date, a few of them even wanted to take a photo with him because well…he’s Joe Burrow. You weren’t paying that much attention to what they were talking to him about because your attention was being held captive by the performance stage, feeling the nerves creep back in as you were soon going to be up there and doing what people came here to do—make their marks on the night where artistry was honored.

Once the conversations around you died down and the crowd dispersed, you eased back into your seat, letting out a breath of relief as you let yourself sink into the familiar fervor of Joe beside you. Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against your thigh, your eyes sweeping over the room, scanning for any trace of Jen. There was only one thought in your mind now, only one sound really.

The sound of the clock ticking.

Then, you felt it—Joe’s hand coming down over yours. The touch alone made your breath hitch, but it was what he did next that made your chest tighten. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His lips were soft, the heat of his breath tickling your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The simple, intimate gesture calmed you, pulling you back from the whirlwind of nerves spinning in your chest.

His voice was quiet, just for you. “That was badass,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Calling him out like that? You had the whole damn place eating out of your hand again,”. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with something intense—something that made you feel like the only person in the room. “You deserve every second of this, and I’m so fucking proud of you,”.

Your stomach fluttered, heat rising in your cheeks. Joe had always been proud of you, and had always been your biggest supporter, but hearing it tonight—after everything—hit differently. It settled deep inside your bones, quieting the self-doubt that sometimes crept in.

“I just spoke my truth,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “And, okay, maybe I had a little fun doing it,”.

Joe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “A little fun?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to that husky, intimate tone that always sent a thrill down your spine. “Baby, you set the whole damn place on fire the second you touched the carpet. I seriously think the entire city will fall after you announce the album. Like triggering an earthquake not caused by the San-Andreas fault line,”.

A breathy laugh escaped you but it was unfortunately short-lived, the importance of what was coming next settled over you once again; the realization that you couldn’t escape the inevitable. The performance. The moment that would redefine everything. The moment you had been waiting for ever since you started recording reputation back in August. Your pulse quickened at the mere thought of being on that stage, singing those lyrics that nobody had heard yet, wearing those colors that were meant to usher you into a new era. You were excited about this, no doubt about that, but you were feeling those jitters again since you hadn’t done this in a very long time.

Joe must have sensed it because he gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at you with the most gentle smile humanly possible. He knew how to handle you in moments like these, with words that held the same kind of intensity his pep-talks to his guys during half-time would, but conveyed with a softness that allowed you to be vulnerable with him.

“I don’t deserve him,” you thought to yourself, a pout forming on your face because of how he could easily tell when something was bugging you. Before you could answer, some movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Jen was making her way toward you, her earpiece in place, phone in hand, her signature smile on her face. “It’s time,” she said, voice stable but laced with uncontrollable excitement as she also had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around Joe’s one last time before you stood. His eyes never left you, steady and sure, his silent way of saying, You’ve got this. I believe in you. You turned back to him before you walked away, your voice softer this time, but laced with that newly developed cocky confidence of yours that he adored so much, “Are you ready for it?” you asked, leaning down to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek.

His smirk deepened, something mischievous flashing in his eyes when he looked into yours after you pulled away. “Let the games begin,” he winked.

You stared into those beautiful blue eyes for just a few more seconds, fully taking in the last few moments of peace you had before you let Jen guide you backstage so you could get changed into your performance look. The moment you stepped behind the curtain, the energy shifted. The bass of the music thrummed in the floor beneath your feet. The buzz of the crowd vibrated through the walls. The anticipation was thick, electric, and ready to explode the second you stepped onto that stage.

“And next, she makes her long-awaited return to the center stage! A special performance by Y/N!”.

A breath shuddered from your lips as the wardrobe team rolled up the rack carrying your performance look—an all-black, sparkling bodysuit that shimmered like something unreal under the lights, knee-high boots—sleek and powerful.

The final nail in the coffin.

You flexed your fingers, rolled your shoulders, breathing through the last lines of nerves. “You got this…You got this,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else, shaking your arms to ease the tension and loosen your body.

Just behind the curtain, the stage was waiting for you. The entire world was watching to see what you were going to do, what your next move was going to be. Would the headlines in the morning be drenched in praise, commanding your return? Or would they drip with disappointment, another story of a star who couldn’t reclaim their light?

You refused to let it be the latter.

Fingers tightening around the edges of the vanity table, you stared into your own eyes through the mirror, searching for the fire that had carried you this far. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself against the whirlwind of nerves and adrenaline crashing through your veins.

Then, with quiet confidence, you whispered to your reflection, “Remember who you are,”.

—

The arena hummed with electricity as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd turning into a haunting silence. They didn’t know what was coming—nobody knew except for Joe and the people at your table. You had kept this a secret, held it close to your chest like a hidden weapon, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They all expected you to perform your hit single, it was the most logical thing to do since it was your leading nomination tonight and the most safe move you could make after coming back to the scene.

But since you were in an era of unpredictability & breaking through the standards people set for you, you were going to do the exact fucking opposite. Safe is great, it’s comfortable and familiar, but risk is even more thrilling. You had been preparing to perform two unreleased songs from reputation for the past month, and this was it. Here it was.

The lights shifted to a dark mix of crimson red and black, the first haunting notes of Don’t Blame Me rang through the speakers as you stepped onto the stage. Your voice was sultry and controlled, your figure cloaked in the shadows as you hummed the opening melody of the song.

And then a few seconds later, the lights around you flickered away, a spotlight shining behind you highlighting your silhouette as the shadows moved in sync with the pulse of the song.

“Don’t blame me, love made me crazy…,” you sang slowly, your body gradually being revealed by the spotlight, cheers and applause ringing through the arena as you came into their lines of vision. “If it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right…,” you continued, now starting to walk forward towards the center of the stage—your stage.

Then, a flurry of background dancers and backing vocalists came onto the set, taking their places behind you as you smirked at the audience, fully immersed in the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. And damn, it felt so good.

Like you were coming home. Like your thirst was being quenched for the first time in a century.

“Oh lord, take me, my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life,” you belted as the backing vocalists made the lyrics echo throughout the room through their voices, your own voice dripping with raw intensity, dripping with power. The bass rumbled through the stage beneath your boots as you continued, vibrating in your chest as the music built, electric and intoxicating. Your dancers moved behind you in perfect synchronicity, their bodies swaying, their movements sharp yet fluid, feeding into the dark, hypnotic energy of the performance.

Your arms stretched out, head tilting back as the lights flashed in perfect time with the crescendo, bathing the stage in pulses of deep crimson, gold, and black. You felt it—the power, the desire, the sheer force of hundreds of voices screaming your words back at you, feeling every single lyric as deeply as you did.

You continued through the song, your vocals had never been better, and you were hitting every move with an effortless ease that drove the entire crowd mad, giving them looks—the pettiness, the confidence, the change all shining bright.

The realization hit you right then and there—Joe was right. You were absolutely untouchable and unstoppable, the crowd goes wild at your fingertips. You surrendered yourself to the music and the choreography, allowing the drug that was performing on stage to overwhelm your senses and the euphoric rush to kick in.

As this song neared its end, you found yourself back in the center of the stage, your breaths coming in pants yet remaining controlled as you continued to the final verse. But just as they expected this game-changing performance to end here, you kept going.

With a wicked grin curling your lips, you let the words drip from your mouth like honey laced with poison. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what you made me do…,”. Your gaze swept across the crowd, calculated, searching. You weren’t just performing anymore—you were hunting.

And then, you found him.

Tucked away at one of the tables to the right of the stage, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. His skin had gone pale, his hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, his entire body stiff as if he had just seen a ghost.

You tilted your head, smirk deepening as you zeroed in. Slowly, you raised a single hand, finger raising like a loaded gun, pointing in his general direction. And then, you moved. A slow, calculated fall, lowering onto your knees with grace, eyes never leaving his. The lights shifted, bathing you in deep crimson again as you let the final words roll off your tongue, each word laced with venom. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what. you. made. me. do,”.

Boom.

The bass dropped, the lights pulsated, and the transition was seamless—Look What You Made Me Do crashing into the track like a strike of lightning, the guitar echoing through the air like thunder, like a second heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

The entire arena erupted.

It was an explosion of sound—cheers, screams, the electricity of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm. Every flick of your wrist, every strut across the stage was met with unrelenting energy from the crowd. This wasn’t just a performance. This was a reckoning. A return. Another statement.

The kick. The power. The sheer, indescribable high of being back where you belonged, doing what you did best. You had missed this—the stage, the heat of the lights, the deafening sound of your own name being screamed by thousands of voices.

You had starved for this moment. You had waited for this. You worked for this. From the looks on their faces, they had too. The question hung in the air, unspoken but loud—Why the hell did she disappear? Because watching you now, with all that fire, all that command, all that untouchable, magnetic presence—it was impossible to believe you had ever left.

You twisted and twirled, your dancers following in perfect sync, the dark, theatrical magnificence of the set shifting around you. Your lips formed a knowing smile, the adrenaline thrumming in your veins, pulsing with the beat, with every perfectly timed pause and drop.

And then, you reach the favorite part of your song. You mimicked a phone with your fingers, raising it to your ear as you looked out to the crowd, “I’m sorry, but the old Y/N can’t come to the phone right now,”. You shrugged, “Why? Oh…'cause she's dead!”. The bass drop that followed sent a bolt of electricity through the room, the strobe lighting, the movement of the dancers, your movements—it all came together. Those lyrics, it was a message to everyone. Bold, loud, and irreversible.

The old you, the one they all knew, she was gone. Your past was gone, and you were moving forward. The cameras caught every second—flashes of the audience, the stunned faces, the way everyone was fully, hopelessly, entirely enthralled.

And the man who supported you in getting here was watching it all. Joe stood at your table, eyes locked on you like you had personally rewritten the stars. He’d never seen anything like it before, the way you commanded the crowd with your enchanting voice, how everyone was stunned by the theatrics of the performance you’d spent hours designing with your team. His heart swelled at the sight of seeing you up there, so confident and sure of yourself, especially because he knew how nervous you had been for this. He had always believed in you, but seeing you like this? Seeing you reclaim every ounce of what was stolen from you—owning it—had him completely, utterly mesmerized.

You smiled when you saw that his phone was in his hand, recording every second of your performance which he would surely watch back with you tomorrow and give all of his adorable commentary. His jaw clenched, his lips twitching at the corners as he mouthed along to the words. The giant smile that played on his mouth displayed his pride, his awe, it was something deeper—something that made you tighten your grip around the microphone.

Then…your eyes met his directly. It was like a slow-motion collapse of everything around you, the world quieting to nothing but a faint hum, the screams and flashing lights fading into the background. It was just you and him. The man who was your anchor, your constant, and your everything. And in his eyes, you saw everything you needed to.

His heart swelled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the look he gave you was filled to the brim with love, making your breath catch in your throat. Seeing how proud he was of you just made your love for him increase to a level you never thought was attainable, it physically hurt.

But in the best way possible.

After the performance — Backstage

“Oh my god! That was perfect,” Jen shrieked as she pulled you in for a tight hug, your breaths coming out in pants as you were trying to take in the moment. You had just finished the performance, your brain still hazy and legs feeling like jelly from everything that had just happened, and you had absolutely no idea how you made it backstage again, but somehow you did.

“Mm, Holy sh- shit,” you breathed out, looking around at the buzzing energy surrounding you. Everyone was beaming, clapping, celebrating like they had just witnessed history being made. And maybe they had? You couldn’t really focus on any of that right now because you were still riding the high you had from the performance. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, heart battering in your chest, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

You reached up, running a shaky hand through your hair, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you tried to wrap your head around it. You had actually done it. You were back back, hadn’t missed a single beat, and somehow you were better than ever before. And it felt even greater than you could have ever imagined. “That was unreal,” someone said, patting you on the back. Another crew member handed you a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted, taking a long sip to soothe your dry throat.

Jen was still gripping your shoulders, eyes lit with pride. “You owned that stage. Every single person in that room is losing their mind right now. Do you hear them?”.

You smiled at her mention of the crowd because you absolutely could hear them. Even backstage, you could hear the lingering echoes of cheers, the mere force of the crowd’s energy refusing to die down. There were probably about a million questions floating through their brains right now, and they’d all be answered soon—hopefully at least.

It sent another thrill down your spine. You let out another breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, I missed this. I really, really missed this,” you said, getting a little emotional as you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. You’d been away from the one thing that you lived for far too long, had to learn to let go of this all because it wasn’t doing you any good, but now you were back. And you were coming back so strong.

Jen grinned, her excitement oozing out of her as she gave you a gentle shake. “And this missed you,”.

Your fingers curled tightly around the water bottle, fingers rubbing against the condensation so you could cool yourself as you let the moment settle in. You could still feel the heat of the stage lights, the pounding of the bass in your chest, and the way the world had disappeared the second you locked eyes with Joe.

You knew that every time you looked into his eyes the world around you would disappear, go fully silent—whether you were quietly staring into them before you fell asleep in his arms or in moments of panic like earlier on the carpet. But you had no idea that it would happen while you were performing, thinking that the rush you would get would overpower everything else. But no, you were wrong.

He overpowered it, overpowered it all. Every single time, it was always him.

“…Joe,” you murmured absentmindedly, your mind drifting just like it had earlier when you were getting ready for the carpet. But the distant sound of the announcer’s voice snapped you out of your haze.

“And coming soon, the award for Album of the Year!”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered under your breath, not wasting another second to get back out there and with him. You knew that you wouldn’t have a lot of time with him before the final award of the night would be presented, no matter the outcome. Whether you win or lose, you’d become occupied by press, media, your team, and peers considering you would either A. announce/heavily tease your album in your acceptance speech, or B. immediately post the announcement on your Instagram page. Both outcomes meant little to no time to just exist with him, time you valued more than anything else in the world. So, after murmuring a quick, “I need to change,” to Jen, you slipped away from the commotion and made your way back toward the dressing room.

You slipped back into your dress, put all your accessories back on, and spent a few minutes adjusting your hair and touching up your makeup, replacing your black performance lipstick with your signature pink/red mix. “That really happened,” you laughed to yourself in the mirror while adding a little more lip liner to your bottom lip, “I…really…I really did it,”.

It took months and months of blood, sweat, and tears. But you actually did it. It was beautiful to see the difference that a year away from all of this could make in your life. For the first time, you felt at ease in every aspect—career, family, relationship, and friendships. You weren’t worried about what people were thinking, what criticism was running through their poisonous minds, you didn’t even care about if they liked the songs you just performed or not. Even better, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought. He spent months tearing your name down in front of the same crowd you just performed in front of, and now? Now it was your turn. And this time, he would sit back and watch you reclaim the land that was always yours.

“That’s the last time I let someone take this from me,” you smiled, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress before walking towards the door, your body filled with that kind of confidence you never thought you would be able to have.

When you made your way back into the main room, the energy in the air was filled with anticipation, which only meant one thing. The final awards were being presented—important ones, no doubt—but they were just the final steps leading up to the moment everyone was waiting for. Album of the Year. The pinnacle of the night.

Navigating through the sea of tables, you felt every brush of a hand, every nod of approval, every quiet applause from your peers as you passed. The high-fives, the murmured words of admiration—it all fueled you, straightened your spine, lifted your chin higher with each step. You had done that, they all were acknowledging it, and you felt like the hottest thing in the entire city of Los Angeles right now. You had earned this moment.

And then you saw him.

Joe was right where he had been before, standing at your table, his back straight, shoulders squared, but his head turning, scanning the room. Searching. For you. The second his eyes met yours, everything about him shifted. His pink lips parted slightly, his eyes softened, but there was something else there too. Something deep. Something raw. A fire burning just beneath the surface. A fire that was lit within him from just watching you up on stage, being effortlessly you.

And just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist...again.

You moved toward him without thinking, your pulse thundering in your ears, but for an entirely different reason now. His hands were on you the moment you were close enough—pulling you in, gripping you like it was instinct, like he had been waiting for this exact second. No words. No hesitation. Before you could even take another breath, before you could fully process the rush of everything around you—he kissed you. His lips moved against yours with a cadence that made your knees nearly buckle, as if he was trying to say everything he was feeling without uttering a single word. His fingers curled around your waist, the tight grip of his hands steadying you as the noise of the room melted into nothingness.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe you were real. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You were insane up there,”.

You exhaled a breathless laugh, still trying to process the way he was looking at you, like he had just witnessed something divine. “Yeah?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, like he was making a promise. “I’ve never seen you like that before. You looked so…in control of everything. Like you could do anything your heart wanted. Like you had something else rushing through your veins, kinda like me when I’m out on the field. You didn’t even miss a single beat, no rust or anything. It was insane, Y/N. You were so amazing. You sounded so good, looked even hotter, and god, the way you were controlling the crowd? I’m in awe of you,”.

He had this twinkle in his eyes when he was speaking to you, like he couldn’t believe what he had seen, like he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this side of you existed. His brain was actively short-circling, and you could see it behind his pupils.

Adorable.

A blush creeped up your cheeks as you let him guide you back to your seat around the table, your hands still tangled in his for just a few extra seconds before you finally let go. But he didn’t. His arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your shoulder, like he needed to keep that connection. “You feel it, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, just for you.

You turned to him, eyebrows raising. “Feel what?”.

His blue eyes scanned over your face, studying you like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He didn’t have to explain. You knew exactly what he meant. That rock—the one that had been pressing down on your chest for the past year—was gone. That heaviness, the burden of expectations, of pain, of loss. It had lifted.

You weren’t carrying it anymore.

“You sound different,” he continued, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, almost in disbelief. “Not just on stage. Right now. There’s…something in your voice,”. He paused, tilting his head, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for the right words. “Like a breeze. Like it’s lighter. Fresh. Cool,”.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by how deeply he saw you, how effortlessly he could put into words something you hadn’t even fully acknowledged yet. But he was right, and that made your heart burst. That ache that had lived inside you for so long was gone. The feeling of everything—the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the doubt—it had lifted the second you stepped onto that stage. And of course, Joe noticed. He always did. “I missed this,” you admitted, voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I missed…feeling like this,”.

Joe’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, his thumb pressing into your skin, promising and constant. “You never lost it,” he said firmly. “You just had to remember it was always yours,”.

A lump formed in your throat as you met his eyes again, thick and unmoving. It was all there—etched into the smooth curve of his lips, the softness of his gaze. The pride, the love, the relentless belief in you. It had never once wavered, not even in the moments you had convinced yourself you weren’t enough. Not even when you had crumbled, doubted, disappeared.

You wanted to tell him something, but you didn’t think you could because if you did you’d never stop crying. But not from unhappiness, but from overwhelming joy.

Thank you.

That’s what you wanted to tell him. Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself.

Thank you for seeing me when I felt invisible, for holding me when I swore I was unlovable, for standing beside me when I thought I had nothing left to give.

These past nine months had been nothing short of a dream—one you had once been too afraid to believe in. From the quiet, stolen moments wrapped in his arms, when the world outside felt like too much, to the nights he stayed up just to listen. To remind you. To tether you back to yourself when doubt became too loud. Every whispered “you got this,” every brush of his fingers against yours, every look that said, I see you. I love you. I believe in you.

Every moment had led to this.

And the truth crashed over you all at once—you wouldn’t be standing here without him. But before you could say anything, before you could even take another breath, the presenter’s voice rang through the grand hall.

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for—Album of the Year!”.

The atmosphere changed in an instant. The quiet murmurs silenced, the entire room holding its collective breath. This was the moment that could change the trajectory of artists’ careers…or solidify their spot amongst the greats. This was the moment when they would declare whose year it had been, and which piece of music had captured everyone’s attention since the beginning. Which artist created something so special that it was impossible to overlook?

The competition was fiercer than ever this year. It had been an outstanding year for music—one that felt like a renaissance in its own right. The category was stacked with diversity, a seamless blend of genres that painted a vibrant picture of the industry’s growth. From pop anthems to soul-stirring R&B, from country storytelling to genre-bending masterpieces—every nominee had left their mark.

This could be your moment, and the thought of that made your stomach twist, your fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of your dress as if it were a pool floatie preventing you from drowning. Your previous album, Woodvale, had won big last time, you were leading the headlines for the entirety of the following week, but the one category that it didn’t win in, was this one. Even the media was stunned that you had managed to win in nearly all the big 4 categories, but somehow missed the mark for Album of the Year.

Back then, it had all been about your rookie year, about proving yourself, about what you could do with your first real shot at greatness. It was about potential, about possibility. About making a name for yourself. But this time…this time, the meaning of it was different. Heavier. More personal. This award wasn’t just about the music anymore. It wasn’t just about the headlines, the charts, or the record-breaking moments. It was bigger than that. It was everything. It was the months spent piecing yourself back together after the breakup, the nights that stretched into mornings as you fought through the doubt, the exhaustion, the voices in your head that told you maybe you weren’t enough. It was every lyric scribbled in the margins of your notebooks, every melody born from the deepest parts of your heart.

It was you. All of you. This award—if it was yours—would be a symbol. A testament to the resilience, the pain, the healing, the love, the sheer force of will it took to make it back to this stage.

And now, it all came down to this moment. Would they hear you? Would they see you?

Joe’s hand slipped under the table, finding yours in the dim lighting. His fingers curled around yours, soft and assuring, lacing them together like they always belonged there. The simple gesture made your chest tighten, your eyes flicking toward him. “You got this,” he whispered, the confidence in his voice pushing out the doubt creeping into your body.

Your pulse pounded against your ribs. The envelope was in the presenter’s hands now, their fingers curling under the flap, tearing it open with deliberate slowness. Your breath felt stuck in your lungs, the anticipation stretching out unbearably, like time itself was dragging this out just to make you sweat. Joe leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, calming you in a way only he could. “I love you regardless,” he murmured, his voice softer now, threaded with something so deep it made your heartache. “You're still number one. You always have been and always will be,”.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his words settled deep in your chest. That was all you needed to hear. Win or lose, the truth remained the same—you had already won in the ways that truly mattered. No trophy, no accolade, no industry recognition could ever measure up to the happiness he gave you, to the love that consumed you. You had already won the greatest prize of all—a life with him.

When you looked back up at the stage you saw how the presenters smiled at each other, dragging out the suspense, the golden card in their hands holding the answer that would either send you soaring or leave you swallowing disappointment.

A pause.

Your fingers tightened around Joe’s.

“And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to…,”.

A heartbeat.

“Is It Over Now! Y/N!”.

For a moment—just one fleeting, impossible second—you didn’t react. It was like your brain refused to process the words, like you had misheard them, like they were meant for someone else.

But then the room erupted.

Cheers. Screams. Applause so loud it shook the walls. The sound crashed over you, a tidal wave of celebration, of validation, of everything you had fought so hard for. Your hand flew up to your mouth as the realization sank in, the camera capturing every second. A choked sob escaped your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes.

Joe was on his feet before you could even move, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him like he had been waiting for this exact moment all night. Like he had always known it would happen. “You fucking did it,” he breathed against your hair, his voice carrying that light, drunken energy that made your cheeks blush—his grip impossibly tight.

Your hands clutched at the back of his suit, clinging to him as the first tears slipped down your cheeks. “I– I can’t believe it. Oh my god,” you whispered.

But it was real.

Your name was being called. People were standing, clapping, cheering for you. Your peers, your idols, the very people who had shaped you as an artist—they were all on their feet, celebrating you.

Joe’s grip on you tightened for a second, like he didn’t want to let go just yet. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice nothing but a breath, a promise. “I told you this was yours,” he whispered. “I told you from the very beginning. And I will keep telling you every single day. I’m so proud of you, Y/N. I love you, superstar,”.

Your heart clenched, and for a moment, it wasn’t the flashing cameras or the roaring applause that filled your senses—it was him. His touch, his belief, the way he had always seen you, even when you couldn’t see yourself. You clung to him for a beat longer, forehead pressing against his, as you leaned in for a kiss. Before you pulled away, his hands slid down your arms, reluctant, but he let you go.

Because this moment was yours.

Jack was one of the first people you saw when you turned, hands in his hair, yelling, “I told you! I told you!” before practically tackling you into a hug. He was beaming, shaking you by the shoulders like he couldn’t believe it, like he could but still needed to make sure this was real.

Margaret was crying, again, hands clasped together in front of her mouth before she reached out to squeeze your arm, whispering, “You deserve this,”. Sabrina was standing a few feet away, eyes glassy but full of joy, nodding at you like she knew exactly what this meant. Like she understood every step it took to get here.

And then there was Taylor. She had been one of the first to rise, clapping, smiling so big her dimples showed, eyes filled with nothing but pride. The second you met her gaze, she mouthed, “Go. Go take it,”. The moment wrapped around you, overwhelming, breathtaking, years of hard work, pain, resilience, everything leading up to this.

And as you turned, taking that first step toward the stage, Joe called after you, his voice laced with everything he was feeling. “Go show them why you deserved this,”.

A breathless laugh bubbled out of you, the kind that only came when you were overwhelmed with happiness. You nodded before turning back and going toward the stage again. Your legs felt shaky, your chest tight with emotion, but every step forward felt like proof. Proof that the sleepless nights, the pain, the doubt—it all meant something. Proof that no matter who tried to break you, you had built yourself back up stronger.

And now, as you reached out to accept the golden trophy, standing under the blinding lights, the applause still booming around you…You knew for certain.

It was never over. It had only just begun.

You stepped up to the mic, “Oh my God. Oh my God,” you say as you clutch the award, trying to catch your breath, voice already shaking. “I…wow. I don’t even know what to say right now,” you laugh tearily, your eyes pooling with tears while you scan the crowd. Every single person was standing for you, smiling for you, you couldn’t believe it.

You took a deep breath, one to calm yourself, before continuing, “This album…this album came from the hardest, messiest, most painful time in my life, as you all know,” you said, watching a few nods come from people in the audience. “I didn’t know if I’d ever feel okay again, let alone be standing here, holding this. When I was making Is It Over Now?, I wasn’t thinking about awards or charts or accolades—I was just trying to…survive. I was trying to put words to the heartbreak, the betrayal, the absolute destruction of everything I thought was real. And now, standing here, looking at all of you, I realize…maybe it all had to happen this way. Maybe this was always how the story was supposed to go,”.

You raised your hand to wipe the tear slipping down your cheek as you continued, “To my team, Jen, my producers Jack and Aaron—every single person who stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk away. I love you. We made something so real, so honest, and I’m so proud of what we created,” you smiled, pointing towards Jack at the table, watching him mouth a “Love you,” back to you. “And my fans…my god, my fans,” you laughed, allowing a moment for applause before continuing. “You guys have been with me through everything. Every high, every low, every moment where I thought I couldn’t keep going, you reminded me why I do this. You screamed these lyrics like battle cries, like prayers, like you knew—you understood me in ways I didn’t even understand myself. You defended me when I couldn’t defend myself. You stood by me when the world pulled me apart. And now, we stand here together. I hope you know that this isn’t just my award—this is yours. Because without you, I don’t know if I would’ve made it here,”.

You pause for a moment, eyes searching the crowd until they find him—Joe. Standing there, his eyes glistening, his hand swiping at his cheek, trying to hide the tears that he can't quite contain. But even through the emotion, his smile is wide, brighter than anything in the room, and it’s like the world fades away when you look at him

You’ve never talked about him like this before—not on a stage like this. Not in front of the world. But here, now, it feels like the right time. The moment feels like it’s meant to be.

Here we go.

“...And Joe…oh, god, Joe,” you laugh through the tears, a smile forming on your lips again as you make eye contact with him. You see his face soften immediately, his hand swiping at his cheek, but the proud, teary smile never fades. His eyes glisten, and you swear you see a flicker of disbelief behind them—like he can’t quite believe this is real, but it’s happening.

“You just waltzed into my life with those signature Cartier shades on your face, looking like the coolest guy in the room, with that grin of yours that’s practically been trademarked by now, and that Joe-Cool persona that’s become a part of you over the years,” you laughed, watching him tip his head back slightly, the familiar chuckle that only he could pull off escaping from his lips. “You came into my life when I honestly didn’t even know if I had one left,”. You paused for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Joe’s eyes softened as they always did when you got emotional, his hand brushing across his jaw like he was trying to hide the way his heart was swelling at every word. “When I thought love was just another lie, when I didn’t trust anyone, especially myself. And you didn’t try to fix me, you didn’t try to change me—you just stayed. You let me fall apart, and then you showed me I didn’t have to stay broken. I will forever appreciate you for that. These past few months with you have been everything I could have ever wanted, filled with so much love, and happiness, and so much carefree energy. Energy that I never knew I needed. You’re the first person to hear every song now, the one who sits on the floor with me at 3 a.m. because I have an itch to scratch and you want to be a part of it, who listens to every rough demo, every messy lyric idea, and somehow, you make me feel like every single thing I create is magic, even if it’s unserious and deliriously written,” you chuckle, the audience laughing along with you, some of them even having their hands over their hearts because of the way you were speaking about him.

“You changed my world the second you walked into it, like literally,” you smiled, remembering the night at the white party, the way he had looked at you with that easygoing grin, as if you were the only person in the room. “You told me I didn’t need to be perfect, like that silly football joke you cracked when we first met. You said, ‘I might throw a perfect pass on the field, but I’m still trying to figure out how to land a date without fumbling the ball’,” you laughed, the memory so clear, his voice, his playfulness, like it was yesterday.

He chuckled softly, nodding at the memory. That goofy, endearing smile that always had the power to light up the room. “You were so wrong, you know,” you teased him gently, “You didn't need to throw any passes. You already had me from the moment you looked at me,”.

You continued, looking at him, your heart swelling. “You made me believe in myself again, in us. And I will spend every single day for the rest of my life thanking you for that. Everything you touch is filled with love, with light, with joy—and I love you more than I could ever find the words to say,”. Joe’s eyes softened at your words, his gaze full of warmth. You could feel his heart in every look, in the way he just was with you, always there. “You know, I’ve got a lot more to say about you...but I think some things are better kept in the music, don’t you think?” you winked, giving him a subtle nod, knowing how much he loved those little secrets. The clear allusion to your next album sends waves of murmurs throughout the audience.

“I think the next chapter will be something special,” you added, a smile creeping onto your lips as you imagined what the future would hold, “And I can’t wait to share it with you. You are everything I never knew I needed, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you…thank you for loving me the way you do,” you finished, feeling the weight of your love for him in the air between you both. And in that moment, it wasn’t the award, the spotlight, or the applause that mattered most. It was him. Always him.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing, but this time, from a place of defiance. “And to the people who doubted me, who called me an industry plant, a one-hit wonder, who said I was only here because of someone else…oops,” you smirk, holding up the trophy as the crowd cheers once again. The specific dig aimed at the haters, the media, and even your former record label, lands with the perfect blend of sweet satisfaction.

You took a final deep breath, your gaze sweeping over the crowd. The applause was still rippling through the room, but now, you felt something deeper—something that had been building for months. “This album, this moment, everything—it's been a journey. A journey through heartbreak, through self-doubt, through finding myself again. I disappeared for a while, didn't I? I had to. To heal. To rediscover what I wanted to say. And it wasn’t easy. But sometimes, you have to step away to step into your truth,” you paused, your voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction.

“I’ve learned that growth comes from the toughest moments. The ones that break you open. The ones that hurt the most. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Every tear, every sleepless night, every song written in the dark, it all led me here, to you. To this stage. To this award. To a place where I can finally say, ‘I’m not afraid to be myself anymore’,”.

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and something else, something new. “This album is a reflection of everything I've been through—the heartbreak, the lies, the lessons I never wanted to learn. It’s a journey from confusion and denial, through the painful realization of what was lost, to finally finding the strength to walk away. It’s about facing the truth, no matter how hard it is, and finding a way to rise from it,”.

The crowd cheered, and you raised the trophy slightly, a subtle nod to the story you'd just shared. “But…if you think this is the end? Well, you’ve got another thing coming,” you grinned, knowing exactly what that meant, knowing what was waiting to be unleashed.

“Because just like any great story, there's always more to tell. And trust me, the next chapter is going to be...unforgettable,” your voice dropped slightly, the weight of what you were hinting at sinking in. “I’ve shed my skin. Now it’s time for you to see who I really am,”. you smirked, the audience was on edge, eager for what was to come. After that, you winked and blew a kiss into the air, stepping back from the mic. “Thank you so much for this award! I’ll see you soon,”.

And just like that, you left them wanting more.

The second you step off the stage, the world behind you simply fades away. Joe’s hands are already around you, pulling you into a tight, all-encompassing hug that nearly makes you fall back. It’s not about the flashing lights, the cameras, or the millions of people still watching from their screens—it’s just the two of you in this moment, and that’s all that matters. His warmth floods through you, grounding you, making everything feel real as he sways you back and forth. “I am so damn proud of you,” he murmurs into your hair, voice laced with emotion, as if every word is a weight he’s been carrying since she walked out there. “You fucking killed it, baby. Congratulations,”.

This was like your Super Bowl, and this was the moment when the significant other would rush on the field to congratulate the champion. He was congratulating his champion.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the tears rise again, even though you thought you’d run out. You exhale shakily against his chest, clutching the award like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. “Did that really happen, Joe?” you ask him, threading your fingers through his hair, your voice soft and shaky, asking him as if you weren’t the one out there just now.

Joe pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hands coming to your face, like he needs to hold you still, to savor every second of this. His thumbs gently brush away the stray tears on your cheeks, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. “Hell yeah, it did. Believe it,” he says, his voice quiet and firm. “No one deserves this more than you, Y/N. You worked so hard for this,”.

The satisfaction in his eyes makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but smile through the tears. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re finally home. He’s not just proud of you; he’s in awe of you. And you can feel it in every touch, every look. You’ve always known he’s your biggest fan, but hearing it from him, seeing it reflected in his gaze—it makes everything worth it. You laugh softly, still catching your breath. “I…thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “You’ve been with me through everything. And I just…I can’t believe you’re here, with me, in this moment,”.

Joe’s smile softens, his forehead coming to rest against yours for a brief second. “I’m always here,” he murmurs, like he’s trying to make you believe it’s true, even though you already know. Then, he smirks, rubbing his hand along the curve of your hip, each press of his fingers sending a jolt of heat through your frame. “Also…that speech?”.

You giggle through your tears, wiping your eyes as you shake your head. “Too much?”.

“Too much?” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Baby, you just torched the place. Hit every topic, addressed everyone you needed to, and hit ‘em where it most definitely would hurt,” his laugh bubbles up from deep in his chest, pure joy in the sound. “That ‘oops’ line? You were perfect. I love this version of you,”.

You can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck, a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Good,” you tease, leaning into his chest, finally letting the tears fall freely. “I’m glad it wasn’t too much. I just had to let them know…,”.

Joe laughs softly, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter. He’s always been so humble, but when it comes to you, he has this way of holding you with such admiration, like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. And in this moment, you know that’s how he sees you. Always.

“You were perfect, baby,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible as his hands cradle your face. His gaze holds yours, soft but filled with that familiar heat you’ve never been able to get enough of. “You know I don’t care about anything else, right? The trophies, the lights, the cameras…none of that matters. I just want you. And I’m so damn proud of you. Of us. I know it wasn’t easy for you to do this, to do this with me, but you did it anyway and for that, I say thank you. Thank you for trusting me, for letting me in, for letting me love you,”.

You lean into his touch, letting yourself get lost in him for a second because in his arms, you don’t need to pretend. You don’t have to hold it together. Here, with him, it’s just love—raw, real, and safe. “I love you,” you whisper against his chest, pressing a kiss to his neck, your voice barely more than a breath. “I love you so much, Joey,”.

Joe’s smile is soft, his lips brushing against your forehead as he presses a lingering kiss there. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. I’m so proud of you,”. Your eyes fill with a new wave of emotion as you step back slightly to look at him. His eyes are so full of love, so tender, and you know that in this world of chaos, the spotlight, and the noise, there is no one else you’d rather have by your side. “Let’s get you out of here,” Joe says softly, pulling you back to him with easy confidence. “Celebrate properly,”.

You smirk, arching a playful brow as you run your hands along his clothed chest, “And by celebrate, you mean?”.

Joe grins, his playful glint never leaving his eyes. “You’ll see,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss, just enough to remind you of how real this love is. He pulls back just a little, his hand resting on your waist, keeping you close. “Trust me, it’s going to be our kind of celebration,”.

And with that, you realize it’s one of those rare moments—etched into your memory, a quiet but monumental piece of your shared journey. A moment that’s entirely yours, carved out amidst everything else. It’s not about the awards or the albums or the headlines. It’s about what you’ve fought for, what you’ve built together, and the future that’s still unfolding.

As Joe’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you close, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. This, this is everything—the foundation of your love, the strength of your bond, the unwavering support you offer each other. No spotlight, no accolades, no applause could ever compare to the certainty that you’re in this together, through it all. And as you walk side by side, you know that this—the quiet moments, the connection, the love—is what truly matters.

And the best part? This was only just beginning.

—To be Continued—

stay tuned for part 2!

you are in love: big reputations part 1 (social media fic follow up)

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