#joe burrow fic

[jburrgf]

SHE CHOSE ME , JOE BURROW.

“the most beautiful girl that i’d ever seen and she chose me.”

◦pairing: !bengals¡joe x !nurse¡reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship, first love, athlete x nurse.

◦description: after joe and y/n met at the hospital ER, the “first date” day has arrived.

◦n/a: 1. this is kind of a part two from Easily! 2. you can access joe x nurse at the # ▮ !bengals¡joe burrow x !nurse¡ reader ▮

I clipped the second earring into place, then leaned back slightly to look at myself in the mirror.

It was one of those little gold hoops I barely wore anymore—simple, elegant, and just understated enough to not look like I was trying too hard. Which was ironic, because I’d already changed my outfit three times and curled my hair twice, only to settle on letting it fall in loose waves the way it always did when I didn’t overthink it.

The soft hum of music played from the speaker in the corner of my bedroom, something low and slow that made the room feel like a movie scene. Outside, the sun was setting, streaking the sky with deep purples and oranges, casting the first shadows of evening across the walls. And inside, I was still trying to calm the fluttering in my chest.

A date. With Joe Burrow.

After all these years, after the hospital, the kiss, the way he’d looked at me when he said he didn’t want to let me slip away again—here I was, standing in front of my mirror, feeling like I was sixteen again and he’d just smiled at me across the school cafeteria.

But this wasn’t high school. This was real. Grown-up. And somehow even more terrifying.

I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress—navy blue, soft and silky, the kind that moved when I walked—and forced myself to take a breath. My heart was racing like I was about to walk into a job interview or jump out of a plane.

He was picking me up at seven. I glanced at my phone: 6:42. Great.

My stomach flipped again as I reached for my perfume, giving myself a quick spritz behind the ears, then grabbed my purse and took one last look in the mirror. I looked… fine. Maybe more than fine, actually. The butterflies in my stomach refused to settle, but I reminded myself that this wasn’t just any guy. This was Joe. The kid who used to steal my fries and challenge me to see who could hold their breath longer underwater. The boy who turned into a man overnight, who stood in front of me in a hospital gown and kissed me like we were starting something important.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

I froze.

He was here.

I stepped out of my bedroom and crossed the small hallway, heart in my throat. When I opened the door, there he was.

God help me.

He looked good.

Not just “famous football player” good—but good in a way that felt completely unfair to the rest of the male population. He wore a fitted charcoal sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a watch glinting on his wrist, and dark jeans that made him look annoyingly perfect. His hair was still a little tousled, like he’d run his hands through it a few times before picking me up.

And then he smiled.

His eyes swept over me. “Wow.”

I laughed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Hey.”

“You look… beautiful,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud.

“And you look better than the last time I saw you,” I teased, motioning to his healed-up face.

He grinned. “Yeah, hospital gowns don’t exactly scream charm.”

“Come in for a second?” I asked, stepping back to let him into the entryway.

Joe nodded, and as he walked past me, I caught that faint scent of him—clean, warm, a little bit like cedarwood and something else I couldn’t name. I closed the door behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of how small my apartment felt now that he was inside it.

“So,” he said, glancing around and then back at me, “ready for that date?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, grabbing my coat and slipping it over my shoulders. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Dress was the hint. You nailed it.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at my lips. “Fine. Lead the way, Burrow.”

[...]

His car was warm, the dashboard glowing softly in the fading light, and the drive was quiet at first, comfortable. We listened to music for a while, the kind of mellow stuff you’d hear on late-night road trips, and then he started talking—telling me about his nephews, how the game with them had gone sideways fast, how they’d made him play wide receiver even though he was clearly a quarterback.

“They ganged up on me,” he said, laughing as we pulled off the freeway. “One of them said, ‘Uncle Joe, you’re not even fast.’ I had no choice but to prove them wrong.”

“And ended up in my ER,” I reminded him with a pointed look.

“Worth it,” he said without missing a beat, and when I looked over, he was watching me with a soft smile, like maybe he wasn’t talking about the game anymore.

I felt my breath hitch, but then he turned into a narrow road flanked by trees, and I realized where we were going.

“No way,” I whispered as the headlights illuminated the edge of the place.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thought it might feel familiar.”

The restaurant was tucked into a quiet street downtown, one of those places with warm lighting, vintage brick walls, and the low hum of conversation that made you want to stay forever. It was cozy but elegant, and the second we stepped in, the hostess gave Joe a look that made me want to roll my eyes. But he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

He kept his hand gently at my back as we followed her to a table near the window, and once we were seated, he leaned across the table just a little, eyes scanning mine.

“Nervous?” he asked.

I smiled. “A little.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “But… in a good way.”

There was a pause, the air between us warming with unspoken memories.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I said, glancing around. “This feels surreal.”

“I’ve thought about this more times than I’ll admit,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the edge of his water glass. “Not this restaurant, specifically. Just… you. Us. Getting a second shot.”

Something tugged at my heart.

“You really thought about it that much?” I asked, voice quiet.

He leaned back slightly, looking out the window before turning back to me.

“You were the first person who ever saw me—not the quarterback, not the athlete. Just... me. Back when I was awkward and pale and had that dumb bowl haircut.”

I laughed. “It was pretty bad.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But you still wanted to hang out with me.”

I bit my lip, feeling the honesty of the moment settle between us.

“You were easy to be around,” I said. “You still are."

Joe watched me from across the table, his hand still loosely wrapped around his water glass, the dim lighting from the candles casting soft shadows on his face. There was something calm about him tonight—different from the way he carried himself last night at the hospital. Less guarded. More open. Or maybe I was just seeing him for real now, without the adrenaline of an emergency room night shift in the way.

“So…” he began, swirling the ice in his glass. “How did you end up working nights at the hospital? You always wanted to do that?”

I tilted my head. “The night shift? Definitely not. But nursing, yeah. Always. I liked the idea of being the calm voice in chaos. Of showing up when people are at their worst and making it… a little less terrible.”

Joe smiled like he wasn’t surprised. “That sounds like you.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “You were always the one dragging me off the ground when I scraped my knees playing tag. And yelling at me when I refused to let someone else win at Mario Kart.”

I laughed. “You were insufferable about winning.”

“I still am,” he said, grinning. “But only in games. Real life’s a little harder to dominate.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Funny, coming from the guy who’s won a Heisman.”

Joe shrugged. “I’ve won a lot. Doesn’t mean it was easy. Or fun, all the time.”

There was a flicker of honesty in his eyes, something deeper, heavier.

“What’s it like?” I asked softly. “Being… you. Famous. Always being watched.”

He exhaled, leaning back into the booth. “It’s weird. You get used to it, kind of. But it’s also lonely. I think people think you stop being human when your face ends up on a billboard.”

I rested my chin on my hand, watching him. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is. You’re constantly expected to perform. On and off the field. Smile, pose, shake hands, give the right quote. But sometimes you just want to be...”

“Joe.”

“Exactly.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Do you ever regret it? The path you took?”

His eyes lingered on mine. “Not the path. But maybe the people I lost along the way.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“You mean... me?”

He didn’t look away. “Yeah. I mean you.”

There was a silence, long but not uncomfortable. I let it wash over us before speaking again.

“I always wondered why we drifted,” I admitted quietly. “I mean, I know life happens. But part of me thought... I don’t know. That you just forgot.”

Joe shook his head. “Never. I thought about you all the time. Especially at night. When things got hard. I’d think about those summers in your backyard, or the time we skipped class and built that fort in your living room.”

“Oh my God,” I laughed, covering my face. “We got grounded for a week.”

“Totally worth it,” he said. Then added, softer, “You were my first everything, you know?”

I blinked. “Everything?”

Joe leaned in slightly. “Yeah. First best friend. First person I told about my nightmares. First girl I held hands with. First time I realized what love actually felt like.”

The words hit me like a wave.

“I was your first love?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “I told you about it... I was Fourteen. I remember it exactly. We were lying in the grass after biking around your neighborhood all afternoon, and you had that awful cherry Popsicle melting all over your hand. You looked over and told me that the sky was your favorite color that day, and I swear to God, I fell right then.”

I covered my mouth, stunned. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know how,” he said. “And then everything got… fast. Football took over. Recruiting trips. Camps. And by the time I figured it out, we were already living separate lives.”

I stared at him, heart racing, feeling all those memories flood back—him sleeping on my couch during sleepovers, passing notes in class, daring each other to jump into freezing cold lakes, building a bond that never quite frayed, even when it disappeared for a while.

“Joe,” I whispered. “I think I might’ve loved you too. Back then. I just didn’t know what to call it.”

He reached across the table, slowly, like he was asking permission. I placed my hand in his before he even had to.

“I'm happy that we met again,” he said, thumb brushing against mine. “So... I’m gonna ask, and you can say no if this feels too fast, but—I want to take you out again. Properly. As many times as it takes for us to find what we missed.”

I smiled, unable to hide how warm I felt inside. “You already found it.”

[...]

We stepped out of the restaurant into the quiet hum of the city night.

It was late—later than I realized—and the streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional car rolling by or the distant echo of laughter spilling out from a bar down the block.

Joe was walking just behind me, his hand grazing the small of my back as we made our way toward where his SUV was parked. The air had cooled, and I instinctively folded my arms against the breeze.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, his voice low in the stillness.

“Just a little,” I replied, looking over at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

That soft tone again. Gentle, sincere.

I paused, the city light catching on the curve of his jaw as he looked at me like he was memorizing something.

The moment stretched—quiet and charged.

“Tonight was…” I started.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It really was.”

Then, almost bashfully, “I was nervous, you know. Coming tonight.”

I smiled. “You didn’t seem nervous.”

“I was. I didn’t want to screw this up.”

“You didn’t.”

The sidewalk was glowing faintly under the warm orange of the streetlights, and everything around us slowed again. Just the two of us in this little pocket of silence.

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching for mine as I stood in front of the open door. “Can I—?”

I didn’t wait.

I leaned in, catching his mouth with mine in a kiss that was softer than the night air, warmer than the jacket he’d just given me. His hands gripped my waist gently, pulling me just enough that I had to lean into him, into the feeling I hadn’t let myself fully acknowledge until now.

Joe just pressed his forehead against mine, his hand still resting gently at my waist. I could feel his breath—warm, steady—and for the first time all night, I stopped thinking. About the years we lost, about what this might mean, about whether it was too fast or too much. None of that mattered when his eyes were this close to mine.

“I thought maybe I imagined you,” I whispered, because the words were there, rising up like a truth I hadn’t even known I’d been holding in. “That night at the hospital. That whole thing.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, brows knit. “You didn’t.”

“I know,” I said, smiling softly. “Now I know. But I’d convinced myself I made it bigger than it really was. That maybe I just wanted it to mean something.”

Joe shook his head, thumb grazing the side of my face. “It meant something to me.”

I felt my throat tighten again, this time not from nerves or anticipation, but from something deeper. The kind of ache that comes from realizing someone had missed you too, all along.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice low, like he didn’t want the night to overhear. “Us. Sitting somewhere quiet. You looking at me like this. It’s wild, how life pulls people apart and then… puts them right back in front of you.”

I blinked up at him, heart completely undone. “What happens now?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Well, I walk you to the car like a gentleman. Try not to fall in love with you too fast. Probably fail.”

That made me laugh, but it caught in my chest, delicate and unexpected.

We stood together, reluctant to break the moment, and when I finally stepped away, his hand trailed down my arm before letting go.

The walk back to the car was quiet in that comfortable, end-of-the-night way.

The city around us had dimmed a little more, grown stiller, and the cool air carried the scent of rain that hadn’t yet come.

“I’ve got a heater in the car,” he said as he opened the passenger door for me, “but I like the chivalry points.”

“Oh, definitely adding those to your scorecard,” I teased as I turned to sit down in the SUV.

But my ankle wobbled slightly on the uneven sidewalk, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, one hand on my waist, the other guiding me gently by the elbow.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

It was instinctual, the way his hands found me. Not possessive, not performative. Just natural. Like they belonged there.

I looked up at him, and the smile faded from both our faces—not because anything was wrong, but because the moment shifted. Slowed. Softened.

Joe tilted his head slightly, eyes searching mine.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I hesitated, then reached up, my fingers gently touching the collar of his shirt. “I think I’m more than okay.”

That was when it happened. When the space between us collapsed.

He kissed me again—this time with more certainty, more heat beneath it. I felt his hands grip the sides of my waist like he didn’t want to let go, and I reached up to cup his jaw, feeling the slight scratch of stubble under my fingers. The world blurred a little—nothing but us and the night, and the press of his body against mine, solid and warm.

When we finally broke apart, I leaned my forehead against his chest, laughing breathlessly.

“This is surreal,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, arms still around me. “But it’s real.”

I nodded against him. “Thank you. For tonight.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me again. “This is just the beginning.”

I smiled. “So what’s next?”

“I pick you up for another date. We find out all the little things we missed about each other. You tell me all your secrets, and I tell you mine.”

“Oh yeah?” I teased. “Like what?”

“Like…” he leaned in closer, brushing his nose against mine, “how I used to write your name on my cleats with a sharpie before games.”

I pulled back in disbelief. “You did not.”

“Swear to God.”

“That’s… weirdly adorable.”

“Only for the really important games,” he added with a wink.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I slid into the passenger seat. He closed the door for me gently, walked around to the driver’s side, and got in.

We sat there for a second, both looking straight ahead, neither of us ready to end the night.

But then he reached over and took my hand again.

Just held it. Quietly. Like he had all the time in the world.

And I sat there, in the passenger seat of Joe Burrow’s black SUV, his jacket around my shoulders, his fingers laced with mine, and thought:

Yeah.

I wasn’t going to miss it this time.

[starsinthesky5]

ok so like how often does songbird get manhandled? (please tell me thwt made sense)

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

frequently.

buttttt...respectfully, lovingly, and often without warning.

joe’s so gentle with her emotionally, but physically? he cannot help himself. he’s so in love with her, and he’s huge, and she’s his girl so of course he’s gonna throw her around a little.

some common moments of manhandling 😋 :

picking her up mid-argument to stop her pacing and force a calm cuddle. she’s ranting, pacing the living room, and he just scoops her up, drops onto the couch with her in his lap, and holds her there until she cools off.

guiding her around with a big hand at the small of her back, or a light grip on her waist/hip. “babe, this way,”.

flipping her over in bed like she weighs nothing. she giggles every time. he acts like he’s not proud of himself but he definitely is.

grabbing her by the thighs to pull her into his lap. especially when she’s teasing him or being a brat. he just tugs her forward and says, “say that again,”.

lifting her up to sit on counters, cars, kitchen tables. he does it without a second thought. she loves the way he never asks, just knows when she needs to be closer.

carrying her to bed when she falls asleep on the couch. even if she insists she can walk. “no you can’t, sweetheart, you’re dead weight. just let me,”.

the classic, throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman when she’s being difficult. he's half-joking, but he holds her like that for a little too long every time.

after a long trip or a big time win, he’s ravenous. tosses her onto the bed like she’s weightless, knees pressed wide open, and tears his shirt off like he can’t get undressed fast enough, “been thinking about this all damn day,”.  when he’s feeling especially rough, he grabs her by the jaw, not harsh but commanding, and makes her look at him while he fills her. doesn’t let her look away even when she’s overwhelmed.

he’s got those quarterback hands, too. big enough to wrap around her thighs, her waist, the back of her neck. and he always uses them. not always sexual. sometimes it’s just the quiet, possessive way he tugs her closer, or rests one hand heavy on her hip while she’s talking to someone else.

and she loves it. every second. it makes her feel small, claimed, loved. every time he does it, she melts a little. especially when it’s not in the bedroom. just everyday softness wrapped in subtle manhandling.

[honeydippedfiction]

Quarterback Chaos {JB9}

Navigation

Synopsis: Sometimes the press is right, sometimes they're wrong but what happens when their words spark a possesive streak that somehow leads to a secret becoming revealed that flips Joe's and Y/N's arrangement upside down.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes, Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Mature Themes, Mild Public Attention, Angst, & Betrayal.

Themes: Situationship, Jealousy, Possesiveness, Fame & Performance Pressure, Flirtation & Tension, Modern Romance, Group Dynamics, Female Empowerment, “No Strings” Situationship, & Luxury Lifestyle.

WC: 10.7k

A/N: y'all finna hate me for this?😅

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Previous Part

Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed in nothing but her robe, staring at the message from Carmen. Her phone lay in her palm, but her mind was racing a mile a minute.

Billboard wants a digital cover.

And they know who the song’s about.

She flopped backward dramatically, the oversized robe riding up her thighs as she groaned toward the ceiling.

From the bathroom, Joe’s voice floated out. “You good out there?”

She called back. “Define good.”

The door creaked open, and there he was — towel gone, now in black sweats and still toweling off his damp hair. His chain glinted against his chest, skin still dewy from the shower. And of course, smug.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What happened?”

Y/N held up her phone like it was a fire alarm. “Billboard knows the song’s about you.”

Joe blinked. “Wait, for real?”

“Carmen just texted me.” She sat up, tossing the phone onto the bed. “They want a digital cover and promo stuff. And if they know, the rest of the industry is about to connect the dots the second the single drops.”

Joe walked over, plucked the phone up and read the message. His brows lifted slightly. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” Y/N exhaled and looked up at him, one brow raised. “So, Mr. QB1, how does it feel to be a muse?”

He shrugged one shoulder, grin creeping in slow. “I mean... can’t say I’m surprised.”

Y/N threw a pillow at him. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss to her cheek, “you’re still letting me stay.”

Before she could fire back, ding! — another message.

Kayla 🧨:

Sooooo… when can I leak the BTS footage of you making out with him in your jersey? Asking for the timeline. 😇

Y/N stared at it in horror.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t record anything… obvious,” Kayla added immediately when Y/N didn’t reply fast enough.

Joe peeked over her shoulder and burst out laughing. “She’s a menace.”

“She is the worst.”

But Y/N was grinning. Because underneath the chaos, the teasing, the slightly unhinged energy of her best friend and the very shirtless man beside her — something felt right.

Her phone buzzed again.

Carmen 💼🔥

Cover shoot rollout starts tomorrow. I want a promo photo. Something real. Something intimate.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The studio space had been transformed into a moody, sexy dream: low lighting, sheer curtains filtering the sunlight, a king-sized bed set in the middle of the room like a stage, draped in white and gray linens. The camera crew moved efficiently, setting up angles while the glam team added final touches.

Y/N stood in the center of it all — legs long, confident, commanding the room in nothing but an oversized football jersey and thigh-high stockings. Her hair was tousled, makeup sharp and sultry, the gloss on her lips catching the light every time she moved.

And Joe?

Joe was sitting on the couch just off set, arms crossed, jaw tight, doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t watching her like she was the main event at the Super Bowl.

Kayla plopped down next to him, sipping her iced matcha with a straw and way too much glee.

“Your face is screaming,” she whispered.

Joe didn’t look at her. “What?”

She leaned in like they were courtside. “That ‘I know what’s under that jersey and I wanna start a war over it’ face.”

He exhaled through his nose. “She looks good.”

Kayla’s eyes widened. “Good? Sir. That woman is out there looking like a dangerous decision wrapped in a highlight reel.”

Joe finally glanced over at her, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Kayla kept going. “Like, I know y’all said this was casual, but the way your eyes just followed her when she turned around? That wasn’t casual. That was national security threat. I saw a twitch.”

Back on set, the photographer called out, “Y/N, give me that ‘you know I’m the one they warned you about’ energy.”

And she did.

One hand resting at the top of her thigh, chin tilted down, lips slightly parted. Her expression said: I’m not the fantasy, I’m the reason you stopped sleeping.

Joe shifted in his seat, clearly fighting for composure.

Kayla clocked it immediately. “Oop. There it is. That was your 10-yard penalty for unsportsmanlike thoughts.”

He groaned quietly.

Y/N glanced over between takes and caught his eye for a split second. Her smirk said she knew. Her fingers played with the hem of the jersey — the one that looked suspiciously familiar — and she winked.

Joe was done.

Kayla cackled. “Go ahead. Fumble. She’s gonna break your whole playbook.”

The photographer called, “Last setup! Just lean forward on the bed, one knee up. Make it intimate but still powerful.”

Joe leaned back, dragging a hand over his face like it would ground him.

Y/N did as directed, her knee sliding up the bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, gaze smoldering straight into the lens. Every flash lit up her silhouette like a dream that didn’t come with a warning label.

Joe muttered, “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

Kayla grinned, raising her cup. “Cheers to that.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

A few weeks later…

Y/N sat cross-legged in her dressing room, scrolling through her phone as her glam squad touched up her makeup. Her new single had dropped just two days ago — and it was already climbing the charts. TikTok edits, fan theories, thirsty reaction tweets, and memes were everywhere.

The promo shot of her in the jersey? Iconic. Ubiquitous. Dangerously reposted.

And Joe?

Still silent online.

Still in her phone.

Still in her life… in the quiet, complicated, dangerously casual way they’d agreed on.

“Okay,” Carmen said as she stepped into the room, tapping her iPad. “You’re up for Billboard in fifteen. It’s not a live shoot — just the digital cover and feature interview. Keep it sexy, keep it vague, keep it... you.”

Y/N smirked. “So basically don’t admit who the song’s about.”

Carmen grinned. “Exactly. Let the internet keep guessing.”

Kayla popped into the room, sunglasses on indoors — like a true menace — and dropped onto the couch dramatically. “The internet doesn’t need to guess. They know. Every shot of your thighs in that jersey had Joe’s fanboys punching air.”

Y/N gave her a look through the mirror. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to help,” Kayla said, propping her feet up. “I’m just here for the tea and to make sure Mr. QB1 doesn’t go ghost when this interview hits.”

“He won’t.” Y/N said it a little too fast. A little too firm.

Carmen raised a brow. “You sure?”

Y/N paused.

The truth? Joe had been around — not as much as before, thanks to off-season training picking up again, but he checked in. Late-night FaceTimes. Random selfies. One-word texts that made her laugh in the middle of a studio session.

She hadn’t seen him since he left her hotel bed two weeks ago… but he never really felt gone.

Still, something about this next step — the Billboard interview — made it all feel very real.

And maybe that scared her a little.

Before she could spiral further, Carmen’s assistant knocked on the door.

“They’re ready for you on set, Y/N.”

She stood, smoothed her jersey-dress combo (again with the subtle nod), and took a breath.

Kayla smirked and whispered behind her, “You’re giving heartbreak with a touch of ‘he ain’t going nowhere.’”

Y/N chuckled under her breath. “That’s the goal.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile…Joe sat in the lounge of the Bengals facility, headphones around his neck and Y/N’s single quietly playing through his phone as he scrolled.

The Billboard teaser post hit his feed.

Y/N. In that damn jersey again. Posed on the bed like she owned it — like she knew he was going to see it. The caption was simple:

"No names. All feelings." — Y/N for Billboard Digital Cover.

Joe let out a breath, shook his head.

This girl…

His phone buzzed.

Y/N:

👀 Don’t choke.

He smirked.

Joe:

I already did. And it wasn’t from football.

His phone buzzed again seconds later.

Kayla 🧨:

I KNOW you saw the jersey. And yes, she still has it. You’re welcome.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Billboard feature dropped that Friday morning.

Y/N was mid-latte, sitting in her robe at the edge of her hotel bed, when Kayla burst into the room holding her phone like it was a detonated grenade.

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”

Y/N blinked. “Is this a ‘the internet’s on fire’ problem or a ‘you left the straightener on and burned your hoodie again’ problem?”

Kayla shoved the screen in her face.

Big bold text at the top of the Billboard article read:

“Y/N’s Breakout Single Has Everyone Guessing… But Fans Are Convinced It’s About Ja’Marr Chase 👀🔥”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “I—what?”

Kayla was already pacing. “Girl. They pulled up the game footage from that Ravens vs Bengals matchup — the same one you sang at — and now they’re convinced you and Ja’Marr had a moment.”

She kept scrolling.

“There was definite chemistry in the photos after the game,” one fan tweeted. “I’m just saying… #ChaseHer.”

Another theory connects the lyric “watching from the sideline, but he still got a front-row seat” to Ja’Marr’s injury that week. The internet was running with it — TikToks, memes, and fancams galore.

Y/N’s phone buzzed.

Carmen 💼🔥:

Tell me you didn’t write this about Ja’Marr. Please.

Then another.

Ja’Marr 🏈👟:

LMAOOOO why am I trending?? Did I miss the part where we’re dating???

Kayla was practically cackling now. “This is so messy. Like A+ mess. But also… iconic.”

Y/N dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t. Joe’s gonna see this.”

Cue: another notification.

Joe 🧊🏈:

Cute interview. Didn’t know you had a thing for wide receivers.

Y/N: paused.

Then came the follow-up.

Joe:

Should I be jealous? Or are you just trying to get me to break our ‘casual’ rule?

She stared at the text for a second too long.

Kayla peeked over her shoulder. “Ooooh, he’s pressed. That’s a lil possessive for someone who said, and I quote, ‘let’s keep it chill.’”

“I didn’t even say anything in the interview!” Y/N argued. “I kept it vague! The fans ran wild on their own.”

“But your eyes were screaming Joe the whole time,” Kayla said smugly. “And now he’s having a lil ego bruising moment. Honestly? I like this timeline.”

Y/N tossed a pillow at her.

Her phone buzzed again.

Joe:

I’ll be in your city tomorrow. Don’t worry, I won’t bring Ja’Marr. Unless you want him. 😏

Y/N smirked, fingers flying.

Y/N:

You’re hilarious. But you should know — the only one who got me out of that jersey… was you.

Kayla screamed in the background like the ghost of chaos incarnate.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The set was minimal but sexy — warm-toned lighting, sleek white couches, and gold accents to match the gold-certifiedenergy that surrounded Y/N these days. She looked the part too: soft glam, overlined lips, oversized jersey dress (a different one, not the one), and heels sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room.

The interviewer leaned forward, legs crossed, iPad in hand. “Y/N, this single… whew. You’ve got everyone talking.”

Y/N smiled, legs crossed, hands in her lap. “That’s what we want, right?”

“We have to ask—who was the inspiration?”

Y/N smirked. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“But you can tell us this,” the interviewer said with a wink. “Was he an athlete?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Maybe.”

“Was he at the game where you sang the national anthem?”

“…Maybe.”

The interviewer leaned in. “Fans are connecting a few dots. That Ravens-Bengals game? You were spotted in photos after the anthem with Ja’Marr Chase, Tee Higgins, and Joe Burrow.”

Y/N just smiled. “I meet a lot of people.”

“Ja’Marr Chase, though…” The interviewer grinned. “There was a picture floating around — you two looked close. One of the lyrics is, ‘He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at me said more than enough.’ Fans are convinced it’s him.”

Y/N gave a single, low laugh. “People see what they want to see.”

“Are they wrong?”

That was when she slipped — just for a second. Her gaze flicked off-camera. Her smile twitched. Not at the mention of Ja’Marr — but at the memory of another set of eyes. Cold, blue, unblinking. Joe’s.

The interviewer didn’t miss it.

“That look right there,” they said playfully. “There’s something behind it.”

“I’ve said too much already,” Y/N teased, shifting in her seat. “Let the lyrics do the talking.”

“Speaking of which,” the interviewer continued, “That line — ‘front-row seat even when he's benched’ — fans think that’s about Ja’Marr being out that week.”

Y/N blinked. “Oh… was he?”

That little slip-up? Chaos. Because that meant it wasn’t about Ja’Marr. Or maybe she was just deflecting. The ambiguity was delicious.

The interviewer grinned like they knew they had gold. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying,” Y/N interrupted smoothly, “it’s a song about a feeling. About someone who got under my skin at the wrong time… but left a mark anyway.”

And boom. That was it. That was the moment that Twitter took and ran like it was 4th and goal.

Later that night, as the internet burned…

Kayla threw her feet up on the hotel ottoman, scrolling TikTok.

“She blushed when they brought up Ja’Marr,” one clip said.

“No, she hesitated when they asked about the anthem. It was Joe. You can see it in her eyes,” argued another.

Kayla shook her head and looked over at Y/N on the bed. “You’re a menace.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her phone. “I said nothing.”

“Exactly,” Kayla said, grinning. “And the girls heard everything.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The rumors hadn’t died down — if anything, they’d gotten louder.

Fan edits were everywhere. Headlines spun daily.

“Is Ja’Marr Chase Y/N’s Mystery Muse?” “New Pop Starlet Might Be Fumbling the NFL’s Finest Wide Receiver” “Y/N’s Song About a Bengal… But Which One?”

Even sports blogs had started dissecting her lyrics. It was out of control.

So her team did what any smart team would do: book a high-profile appearance with a built-in audience and just enough playfulness to control the narrative. Enter: Jimmy Kimmel Live.

Y/N walked out in a stunning burgundy leather two-piece — a cropped jacket and matching mini skirt that screamed I’m expensive and unavailable. Her heels clicked with confidence, her hair framed her face in soft waves, and that same smirk she gave Joe before walking away from him weeks ago? On full display.

The crowd cheered wildly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jimmy grinned, “it’s the woman who broke the internet, broke the charts, and apparently broke half the Bengals’ locker room—please welcome, Y/N!”

The crowd lost it.

Y/N laughed as she sat down, crossing her legs with practiced ease. “Y’all are messy already.”

“Oh come on,” Jimmy said, flipping through his note cards. “I had like seven questions about your music and thirteen about who the hell that song’s about.”

Y/N shook her head, teasing, “You better ask the music ones first.”

They bantered, joked, laughed through a few light questions about her rise, her upcoming acting role, and how she balances both careers. Then… Jimmy went for it.

“So, this single—huge hit. Gorgeous vocals. Lyrics that cut a little deep,” he said, leaning forward with a knowing smile. “And obviously the fans have questions… Are you dating a football player?”

Y/N smiled — smooth, radiant, and untouchable.

“I’m dating my career,” she said, crossing her arms gently. “That’s the only relationship I’m focused on right now. Music, acting, creating things I love. That’s it.”

“Oh come on, not even a lil sideline crush?”

She tilted her head. “I mean… football players are cute. But no. It’s not about that for me. Not right now.”

Jimmy grinned. “So you’re saying the entire internet is wrong?”

“I’m saying I’m enjoying my life,” Y/N said with a shrug. “And people can enjoy the music without turning it into a dating show.”

Cut to: the internet immediately turning it into a dating show.

Meanwhile, back in Cincinnati…

Joe was on the couch, phone in hand, watching the interview replay from a clip on Twitter. His lips twitched when she said football players are cute, and again when she dodged the dating question like a pro.

But that last part?

“It’s not about that for me. Not right now.”

He leaned back, dragging a hand down his face.

Then picked up his phone.

Joe 🧊🏈:

Cute interview. Liked the part where I don’t exist.

A minute later:

Y/N ✨:

I didn’t say that. I said “no relationships.” You and I are… whatever we are. No label needed, right?

Joe:

…So not even a lil sideline crush?

Y/N:

You’re more like a halftime distraction. A very enjoyable one.

Joe:

You’re gonna be the death of me.

Y/N:

That’s the goal.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Bengals practice field was buzzing — late morning drills, cleats hitting turf, coaches shouting over whistles. But over on the sideline? The real action wasn’t on the field.

It was between Joe, Ja'Marr, and Tee.

“Yo,” Ja’Marr jogged up, towel slung over his shoulder and a grin wide enough to be disrespectful. “You saw Billboard’s follow-up post, right?”

Joe didn’t even look up from his stretching. “Which one?”

“The one with my face on it,” Ja'Marr said, smirking. “Caption was, ‘Still think she’s not talking about him?’” He pulled out his phone and showed it to Tee, who barked out a laugh.

Tee leaned over. “Yo, you tryna tell us you were just chillin’ in the background and accidentally bagged the hottest rising star in the game?”

“Man, I was just standing there,” Ja’Marr grinned. “The vibe did the rest.”

Joe arched a brow, unfazed. “So you think a five-second interaction got you a charting single?”

“I mean, the footage don’t lie,” Ja’Marr said, patting his chest. “Apparently, I got that stare.”

Tee snorted. “Y/N saw his stats and said bet.”

Joe finally stood up, rolling his shoulders. Cool as ever. But the smirk tugging at his lips? Lethal.

“Cute,” Joe said. “But last I checked, she didn’t leave your hotel room in the morning wearing your shirt.”

Ja'Marr's mouth dropped open. Tee just let out a “DAAAAMN” loud enough to make one of the trainers look over.

“Nah,” Joe added, grabbing his helmet. “But keep enjoying your little fan theories.”

Tee wheezed. “You didn’t even deny it with your chest, bro. You said that like it’s classified intel.”

Joe shrugged, slipping his helmet on. “You know what they say… game recognizes game.”

“And yours is on the field, huh?” Ja'Marr teased.

Joe turned back over his shoulder, eyes glinting. “It’s everywhere, baby.”

They lined up for drills, but the jokes didn’t stop there. Every time Joe dropped back to pass, Ja’Marr muttered something about “writing another verse,” and Tee kept humming Y/N’s single under his breath like it was his own personal theme song.

And Joe? He played through it all. Laser-focused. Locked in.

But under that helmet?

He was thinking about that interview. About her.

And the fact that no matter what she told the public, she was still texting him under the table.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Two weeks later. L.A. heat. Cameras rolling.

Y/N was back on set — not for music this time, but filming for a lead role in a buzzy, soon-to-be-everywhere streaming series. Something sexy. Something serious. And just like everything else she touched, she was nailing it.

She was mid-scene, dressed in a sleek jumpsuit and heels, eyes locked on her scene partner — another actor from the industry’s rising elite, a known heartthrob with just the right amount of charm.

And Joe?

Joe was standing just outside the soundstage doors. Hat pulled low. Hoodie up. Arms crossed.

Watching.

Unannounced.

Uninvited.

Exactly how he planned it.

“You’re really out here playing roles with Mr. Movie Star?” he muttered to himself, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Damn right she is,” came a familiar voice behind him.

Joe turned to see Carmen, Y/N’s manager, arms full of coffee and her sunglasses pushed up in her curls. She raised a brow. “You stalking or supporting today?”

Joe smirked. “Both.”

She snorted and handed him a coffee. “At least be hydrated while you pine in silence.”

Inside, the scene wrapped. Applause. Y/N gave a gracious little smile and walked off toward her dressing room. She was halfway through unzipping her jumpsuit when Carmen stuck her head in.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Y/N blinked. “Kayla?”

“Nope. The other quarterback in your life.”

Y/N groaned and fell back dramatically onto the couch. “Lord, give me strength.”

Carmen cackled. “He looks like he’s ready to fight that scene partner of yours.”

She stepped out of her trailer in bike shorts and an oversized hoodie, hair pulled back, makeup only half gone. Joe was leaning against the wall like a Calvin Klein ad come to life. His arms folded. His eyes on her.

“You didn’t say you were filming love scenes now.”

Y/N smirked. “Didn’t realize I owed you my call sheet.”

He didn’t move, but his jaw flexed. “Just interesting. You can play lovers on camera, but you can’t admit you have one off it?”

She stepped a little closer. Close enough to smell his cologne.

“We said no labels,” she reminded him, voice soft but sharp. “You made that rule, remember?”

Joe didn’t respond. Just looked at her. Long. Intense. Unblinking.

And damn, if that look didn’t do something to her.

“Relax,” she added, playful now. “You’re the only one who’s seen me without my wig glued down. That’s gotta count for something.”

He cracked a smile at that. “That’s… fair.”

She turned to walk back inside, but paused.

“And for the record? The song was never about Ja’Marr.”

Joe raised a brow. “No?”

“No,” she said, biting back a grin. “But keep getting jealous. It looks good on you.”

Then she disappeared into the trailer.

And Joe? He stayed there a little while longer.

Just long enough to know this thing between them wasn’t cooling off anytime soon.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

It was mid-afternoon when Kayla stepped out of her rideshare, iced coffee in one hand and sunglasses sliding down her nose. She was dressed like she owned the lot — which, in her mind, she kind of did. Being Y/N’s ride-or-die and unofficial bodyguard-slash-dance-captain had its perks.

She was halfway to Y/N’s trailer when she paused, squinting.

There he was.

Mr. QB1. Leaning against the production truck like he was about to drop the hottest verse on a Drake feature. Hoodie pulled up. Hands in his pockets. Eyes glued to the door Y/N had just walked into.

Kayla blinked. Then smiled. Slowly. Like a villain in a romcom.

“Oh, this is good.”

She pivoted hard, sneakers squeaking on the pavement as she changed direction and strutted right up to Joe.

“Well, well, well,” she sang. “If it isn’t the emotional support quarterback.”

Joe side-eyed her, smirking. “I thought I had at least ten more minutes before you started.”

“You wish. Boy, what are you doing lurking like a boyfriend with no press pass?”

“Just watching,” he said smoothly.

Kayla sipped her coffee with a dramatic slurp. “Oh, you watching alright. Watching her co-star touch her arm in that scene. Watching her kiss him on camera like she meant it. Mmm. I know your little competitive spirit is trembling.”

Joe’s smirk dropped just a little.

“She’s an actress,” he said, too even.

“She’s also the girl you’re fake not catching feelings for,” Kayla teased, stepping closer. “And yet here you are. Pop-ups, surprises, mysterious man in the shadows energy.”

“I’m supporting her.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” She leaned in with a smirk. “'Cause it’s giving boyfriend-lite.”

Joe didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed again.

“Relax,” Kayla said, patting his chest. “I’m not judging. I’m proud of you. You’re out here pretending not to care while being fully in your feelings. Growth!”

“I’m not in my feelings,” Joe said, straightening up.

“Sure,” Kayla said sweetly. “And I’m not about to go inside and tell Y/N her quarterback’s out here looking like he wants to throw hands at her co-star.”

Joe gave her a look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she grinned. “But only because I love chaos.”

Before he could respond, the trailer door opened — and Y/N stepped out in leggings, an oversized tee, and a top knot. Glowy. Barefaced. And completely oblivious to the standoff that had just happened outside.

“Hey!” she called to Kayla. “You bring my smoothie?”

Kayla turned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Better. I brought drama.”

Y/N blinked, looked over Kayla’s shoulder… and saw Joe. Still standing there. Still watching her.

That damn smirk tugged at her lips again.

“You still here?” she asked.

Joe tilted his head. “Guess you're hard to walk away from.”

Kayla groaned loudly. “Lord, if y’all don’t go somewhere and kiss in a janitor’s closet already.”

“Janitor’s closet?” Y/N repeated with a sharp look at Kayla. “Girl, what is wrong with you?”

Kayla just smiled sweetly and sipped her coffee. “Nothing. I just believe in locking people in tight spaces until they work out their unresolved sexual tension.”

Joe coughed, trying not to laugh, but that smug grin was fully back on his face now. Y/N caught it. And she hated how much she liked seeing it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned him.

“Like what?” he said innocently, but his eyes were already undressing her again.

Kayla fake-gagged. “I’m gonna leave before y’all start making heart eyes and pretending you’re still just ‘friends who have fun.’”

She turned on her heel and walked off, but not before calling over her shoulder:

“Y/N, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do—which means you’ve got, like, two options. And Joe?” She tossed a wink. “Keep it light-skinned romantic, okay?”

“BYE, KAYLA,” Y/N and Joe both yelled at the same time.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence.

The kind that wasn’t empty—it was loaded.

Y/N turned slowly, arms crossed over her chest. “You really just pulled up to set without telling me?”

Joe stepped closer, eyes steady on hers. “Didn’t think I needed an invite.”

She tilted her head, unbothered on the surface, but her heart was thudding beneath it. “You usually that bold, Burrow?”

He took another step. “Only when I know it’ll work.”

Y/N blinked, but didn’t back up. “This whole possessive energy you’ve got going on today? Kinda funny for a guy who says he doesn’t want anything serious.”

Joe’s voice dropped, smooth and edged. “I don’t want anything serious. Doesn’t mean I like people thinking someone else is touching what I—”

He cut himself off.

Y/N raised a brow. “What you what?”

Joe looked at her. Really looked. His jaw set. His eyes flickered from her lips back to her eyes like he was calculating whether to say it or show it.

“I’m not used to sharing,” he said instead.

Y/N tried not to let that hit too deep. She’d built a career out of discipline, focus, knowing when to walk away. But the heat radiating between them right now?

It was impossible to ignore.

“So what do you wanna do about that?” she asked.

Joe stepped in again. Now they were toe-to-toe. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me where the nearest closet is.”

Y/N laughed, soft but breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned in just enough that she felt his breath on her skin. “But you’re not walking away.”

“No,” she said, cheeks flushing. “I’m not.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile…

Kayla sat outside in a folding chair, sunglasses on, watching the door like she was waiting for fireworks. She scrolled Twitter absently and muttered to herself:

“Five minutes. I give them five minutes before someone’s shirt comes off.”

A voice from behind startled her.

“Talking to yourself again?”

It was Y/N’s co-star. All tall smiles and magazine covers and just enough swagger to set off exactly the wrong alarms.

“Oh,” Kayla said, standing slowly. “You again.”

He smiled. “Just finished ADR. You waiting on Y/N?”

Kayla tilted her head. “Always.”

His eyes lingered a little too long on the trailer door.

And suddenly, Kayla’s instincts kicked in.

Something about his tone. The way he looked at the trailer. Like he knew who else was inside.

Like he wanted to know.

Kayla narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, this just got interesting…”

Kayla narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses, watching Co-Star Boy lean a little too casually against the side of a production cart. He was scrolling, but his eyes kept darting back to Y/N’s trailer.

Twice now.

And Kayla caught both.

She slid her phone from her pocket and fired off a text to Carmen: “Tell me why Mr. Netflix is hovering like he knows who inside that trailer. We watching him now too.”

No sooner had she hit send, the trailer door swung open. Joe stepped out first, hoodie still on but tension clearly in his shoulders. His eyes flicked across the lot—immediately clocking the co-star nearby.

His jaw ticked.

And of course, Co-Star Boy just happened to glance over and offer a half-smile.

Not a hello.

Just a smug little “oh, it’s you” nod.

Joe stared for a beat too long. Then walked off without a word.

Kayla stood and met him halfway. “Soooo…”

“She’s inside,” he said simply.

Kayla lowered her glasses. “And Co-Star Boy’s been giving whole villain arc vibes since you walked out.”

Joe gave her a look. “You watching him now?”

“Watching everybody. My girl’s a prize, and I don’t trust Mr. Tall and Touchy.”

Joe’s lip twitched into something between a smirk and a warning. “I’m starting to feel the same.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Inside the Trailer…

Y/N was finishing a touch-up in the mirror when Kayla walked back in.

“Your walking dildo made eye contact with your scene partner like he was about to call an audible and drop him on the concrete,” she said casually, kicking off her shoes.

Y/N snorted. “Why are men like this?”

Kayla shrugged. “Because men. But also, I don’t like the way Mr. Co-Star was looking at the trailer.”

Y/N paused. “Wait, for real?”

“Mmhm. Not he-likes-your-music looking. Like he-knows-something-he-shouldn’t looking.”

Y/N frowned, the edge of tension coming back. “I’m not about to do a whole scandal just because I look good on screen with someone.”

Kayla nodded, then smirked. “Well, you do look like you’d ruin lives in that jumpsuit. So, yeah. Be careful, sis.”

Y/N bit her lip, already reaching for her phone.

To Joe: You good?

From Joe: Fine. Watching. Still not sharing.

The tension in the air was palpable as Joe’s message hit Y/N’s phone, and she couldn’t help but feel a slight smile tug at her lips. Still not sharing? That one line felt like a challenge — like a spark was being lit. And he was clearly watching.

But as the minutes ticked by and Y/N finished up her prep, the soft buzz of the door opening snapped her back to reality.

Kayla sauntered in, her eyes dancing with mischief. “So, are we still pretending this whole thing isn’t about to turn into a full-blown soap opera?”

Y/N glanced at her phone, reading Joe’s message one more time, and then put it face down. "I’m not pretending anything. I just want to finish this session and get the hell out of here."

Kayla raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And you’re not about to call Mr. QB1 to handle whatever drama’s brewing with your co-star? Because that look he gave you earlier? Very I’m ready to run some interference energy.”

Y/N let out a breath, her gaze flicking back to the mirror. “I don’t need anyone to handle anything for me. I’m good. And the last thing I need is more heat on me right now.”

Kayla grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos. “You’re acting like you’re not into the heat.”

Y/N gave her a side-eye. “Just keep it cute, Kay. We have a show to get ready for.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Outside the trailer…

Joe was still lingering, eyeing the scene with her co-star and a few others. His phone buzzed in his hand, but his eyes were focused on the subtle interaction he was witnessing.

There was no mistaking it now — Co-Star Boy was definitely stepping into that territory. His posture, his words, everything about his vibe was just a little too much.

Joe didn’t respond to the message that just came through. Instead, he pocketed his phone and took a few more steps in that direction, his jaw tight.

"Yo," he called, getting the attention of one of the production assistants who was walking past. “Tell me, who’s the one in charge of keeping the boundaries around here?”

The assistant raised an eyebrow. “You talking about the co-stars? Or the cast?”

Joe grinned. “Both. Preferably the ones who think they can cross a line.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back in the trailer…

Y/N was in the zone now, headset on, earphones in as she tested the sound for the upcoming session. The world outside felt distant as she got lost in her own head, humming lightly along with the beat.

But as she opened her eyes and looked up to check the mirror again, there he was — Co-Star Boy, standing in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N froze.

He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms. “You know, I think we need to have a real talk about how much time we’re spending together. Can’t have you getting too cozy with your other favorite guy.”

The words hung in the air. And for a split second, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She didn't know if it was his bravado or if it was the fact that he seemed so sure of where her focus was.

Before she could even respond, Kayla was at her side. “Excuse me,” she said with a false sweetness, “You’re gonna need to leave her alone for the next hour. It’s time for work.”

Y/N shot Kayla a grateful glance as Co-Star Boy took the hint, looking a little too cocky for someone who was about to be shut down.

“Whatever you say,” he drawled, turning to leave. “Just don’t forget who your real competition is.”

Y/N didn’t even flinch, though her mind was racing. She felt a rush of adrenaline at how easily the tension could snap between her and him — just like that.

Once the door closed, Kayla shot Y/N a look. “He’s got some nerve.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “But I’m not about to entertain it.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that day…

Joe was waiting by her trailer door when she stepped outside, looking like he hadn’t been there long. His smirk was back, more dangerous now, and it made her pulse race.

“You good?” he asked casually, stepping toward her as she walked to him.

“Fine,” she said, matching his tone. “Just… work stuff.”

Joe didn’t seem convinced. “Work stuff?” he repeated, his voice low. “Or ‘another guy trying to pull a stunt’ stuff?”

Y/N stopped and looked him in the eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

He stepped even closer, closing the space between them. “I don’t like the idea of anyone trying to push you around, Y/N.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of his words.

Before she could respond, he leaned in slightly, his breath just brushing her ear. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

Y/N stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, and before she even knew it, she was pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m not your problem to fix, Joe.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that night…

Kayla couldn’t stop laughing as she flipped through Y/N’s phone, watching the messages come in. “Girl, I know you’re about to lose your damn mind with all this tension.”

Y/N tried not to look too amused. “No. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Uh-huh,” Kayla said, her eyes glinting. “And that text I just saw? Definitely not ‘friends with benefits’ territory. That man is hanging on by a thread.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed again.

From Joe: You need anything tonight? Just say the word. I’m waiting…

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, a part of her heart skipping. But her mind remained sharp, refusing to let the lines blur… for now.

Kayla looked over, sensing her moment to strike. “Tell me you’re not going to text him.”

Y/N looked up from her phone and gave her best friend a wicked grin.

“I’m just playing the game,” she said softly. Then, to herself, added with a knowing look, “And it’s a hell of a game.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N was sitting comfortably on the plush couch in the dimly lit, iconic studio of The Graham Norton Show, the warmth of the spotlight hitting her as the crowd eagerly awaited her arrival. She had her game face on—smiling, poised, answering questions about her latest song and the buzz around her new series. The promotional circuit had been a whirlwind, but she was used to it by now.

The camera flashed, and the host, Graham, leaned in with a grin that could only mean one thing: he was about to ask her something she wasn’t prepared for.

"So, Y/N," Graham said, leaning forward with his trademark cheeky smile. "We’ve been hearing a lot about your new music, your new show, and let’s not forget, the little bit of controversy that seems to be following you around. But there’s something that has really got the internet buzzing lately. A picture that was shared—"

Y/N’s stomach dropped, and she knew immediately what he was referring to. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come up, but of course, it did. The picture. That damn picture.

Graham clicked a button on his remote, and suddenly, the giant screen behind him lit up with the image: Y/N and Co-Star Boy locked in a passionate kiss. They were on set, caught in the heat of a scene, but the fans had no idea—it was just a scene for their show. They didn’t know that. All they saw was a snapshot, and the internet had run wild with speculation.

The crowd gasped in reaction, some of them giggling, some murmuring with curiosity. Y/N’s eyes flicked from the screen to the audience, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for people to misinterpret this as anything other than work.

Graham chuckled, his voice playful but with a hint of mischief. "Now, Y/N, can you shed some light on this for us? Is Co-Star Boy your new man? The internet seems to think so. You’ve been pretty private about your relationships, but this—well, this tells a different story."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the tension in her shoulders rising. She knew this was coming, but she didn’t expect it to hit so suddenly. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged into a headline about her personal life. She wasn’t ready for this kind of exposure.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled and leaned forward slightly, trying to maintain control. "Look," she said, her tone measured but with a subtle edge of annoyance. "That picture is from the set of my new series. It’s a scene between two characters. Just two actors doing their job, okay? So, no, I’m not dating Co-Star Boy. It’s all part of the role."

The crowd quieted for a moment, and Graham raised an eyebrow. "But you can see why people would get the wrong impression, right? I mean, look at the chemistry in that picture!"

Y/N laughed, but it was a little forced. "Well, we’re actors, Graham. That’s our job—creating chemistry, making the audience feel something. But off-screen, it’s just business."

She didn’t miss the way Graham’s eyes flicked to her, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let her slide by with it for now.

"Fair enough," he said, flashing his trademark grin. "But you’ve got to admit—there’s something going on, right? I mean, look at you two. The way he looks at you—"

Y/N shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air. She couldn’t quite escape the feeling that Graham was pushing her into a corner, trying to get a reaction out of her. She was determined not to give him one.

"Again," she said, leaning back and crossing her legs with a graceful motion. "It’s just a part of the job. And as for my personal life, I’m very private about it. I don’t need to share everything with the world. I’m just focused on my career—my music, my acting. I’m really proud of the work I’m doing right now, and that’s all that matters."

Graham gave her a knowing smile. "Of course, of course," he said, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. "But you can’t blame us for wanting to dig a little deeper into the mystery that is Y/N, can you?"

Y/N laughed, but it was tight, controlled. "I’m not a mystery, Graham," she replied, a playful yet pointed edge to her voice. "I’m just a woman who’s trying to make it in this industry, and I’m doing my best to keep my personal life private."

The tension was palpable, the crowd waiting for more, but thankfully, Graham moved on to the next topic.

As the interview continued, though, Y/N’s mind was still racing. The picture. The kiss. Her heart ached a little at the thought of how quickly the world would assume things. Her fans didn’t know the context—hell, she barely knew how to handle the situation. She was just doing her job. She wasn’t ready for this kind of drama.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that night, as the interview wrapped up and Y/N was back in her hotel room, her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. She glanced at the screen, seeing dozens of tweets, Instagram posts, and articles tagging her in the kiss photo. Among them, a tweet stood out:

“Y/N and Co-Star Boy: New Couple or Just a Publicity Stunt? 🤔”

Before she could process it, another message came through.

It was from Kayla. “So… did the world just confirm your new relationship? Because, babe, I swear if you don’t call me right now…”

Y/N groaned and grabbed her phone, dialing Kayla’s number.

"Girl, I’m gonna lose it," Y/N muttered when Kayla answered. "This whole damn thing has spiraled out of control."

Kayla’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement on the other end. "Tell me about it. I’m already seeing the memes. There are thousands of them."

"Shut up!" Y/N replied, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "This is a mess."

Kayla’s laughter filled the line. "At least it’s a fun mess. I’m sure Joe is having a blast watching all of this unfold, huh?"

Y/N’s stomach tightened at the mention of Joe. She hadn’t heard from him since the interview earlier, and she wasn’t sure how he was taking all of this.

“Kayla, please don’t even bring up Joe right now," she said, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation. She didn’t need the added stress.

But Kayla wasn’t having it. “Look, I know this whole Co-Star Boy thing is messy, but the real tea here is Joe. What’s his take on all of this, huh?”

Y/N bit her lip, glancing out of the window. Joe. Her mind wandered back to their last encounter, to their heated moments in her hotel room. The tension between them had only grown since then. But this situation, with the public eye on her and the press creating a narrative about her and Co-Star Boy… it felt like everything had shifted.

"I don't know, Kayla. But I’m not thinking about Joe right now," Y/N replied, though the words felt like a lie as soon as they left her lips.

Kayla chuckled knowingly. "Right. Sure you’re not."

Y/N rolled her eyes at Kayla’s teasing, her phone still buzzing with notifications about the kiss. She knew she’d have to deal with it at some point, but right now, she needed to focus on something else. "I’ll call you back, okay?" Y/N said, trying to keep her cool despite the turmoil of her thoughts. "I have to take this."

Kayla’s voice was muffled with amusement on the other end. "Uh-huh, sure. Taking him call, huh?" she said, before Y/N hung up, already knowing her best friend was probably laughing her ass off.

The phone screen lit up, and it was a FaceTime notification from Joe.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before swiping to answer. She didn't want to deal with more chaos, but seeing Joe’s name pop up had her stomach flipping in anticipation, even though she was trying so hard to keep it casual. He was probably watching the same mess unfold online, and she wasn't sure if this conversation would be another tension-filled one or something more... comforting.

She took a deep breath before answering.

The screen flickered as Joe’s face appeared, grinning as usual, but there was a noticeable glint in his eyes. "Hey," he said casually, his deep voice sending a rush through her. "How’s it going, beautiful?"

Y/N let out a breath, trying to keep her expression neutral. "It’s been better," she replied, a little quieter than she intended. "You saw the interview?"

Joe’s smile faltered for a second, and Y/N couldn’t quite place what she saw in his eyes—something between concern and amusement. "Yeah, I saw it. That picture, huh?"

She scoffed and leaned back against the bed, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t think this would happen. Of all people, why Co-Star Boy?"

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, his smile creeping back in. "You think I’m worried about that? Nah. It’s whatever." He looked like he was about to say something else but paused, taking a deep breath. "But, Y/N, I need to ask… do you want me to, I don’t know, clear the air or something? Let people know they've got the wrong guy?"

Y/N blinked. That wasn’t exactly the direction she thought this conversation would go. "Honestly, I don’t think I need you to do that. I mean, we’re both grown, right? I don’t need anyone to explain my personal life for me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides, I don’t know what the hell this is anymore with Co-Star Boy, so I can’t expect you to play PR for me."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t care what they think. I mean, you’re definitely not with him. You know that, right?" His eyes softened slightly, his playful tone now carrying something else—something more intimate, like he was reminding her of the truth they both knew.

Y/N chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to decide if she should address the obvious tension between them that no one could ignore. Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door.

She froze.

It was late. No one was supposed to be stopping by. Her heart skipped a beat, and she wondered if it was another interview request or—

"Hold on," she muttered, standing up and walking cautiously toward the door, eyes glancing back to Joe on the screen.

She cracked the door open, expecting to see a hotel staff member or someone else she didn’t recognize, but as soon as the door opened, her breath caught in her throat.

There, standing in the hallway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, was Joe.

A small, teasing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed some company," he said, his voice laced with playful confidence, the way he always said things that made her heart race.

Y/N stared at him for a moment, her mind spinning as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that Joe had shown up in person, out of nowhere. She’d been half-expecting this conversation over FaceTime, but now that he was standing there in front of her, the energy shifted completely. The tension that had been simmering between them since last night seemed to bubble to the surface, and she couldn’t ignore it.

"Joe," she said slowly, looking back at her phone. He was still grinning at her through the screen, watching the whole thing unfold. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He leaned casually against the doorframe. "What? Didn’t you miss me?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were more serious than usual. "I figured we could talk... face to face."

Y/N quickly pulled Joe inside before anyone could spot him, slamming the door shut behind them with a sharp thud. Her heart was racing as she stared at him, her pulse quickening at the realization that Joe Burrow had just flown across the globe to be here, in her hotel room, at the exact moment when everything was spiraling out of control.

“Joe,” she breathed, still trying to wrap her mind around it. “You seriously came all the way here?”

He gave her a smirk, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, stepping into the room and standing a little too close for comfort, his presence as overwhelming as ever.

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind reeling from everything that had happened over the past few days. The kiss with Co-Star Boy, the mess with the media, her private life being scrutinized—now Joe was here, standing in front of her, adding to the chaos.

Her gaze flicked back to Joe on the phone, a part of her wanting to back away from this situation altogether, but she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. "Kayla's gonna have a field day with this," she muttered under her breath, but Joe heard it.

"Let her," he said confidently, his voice low. "This is between us."

Y/N stood there for a moment, trying to decide if she was really ready to dive into whatever this was between them. But when Joe’s eyes softened, and his playful expression shifted into something more intense, something that made her pulse quicken, she found herself stepping aside and letting him into her room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and as Joe closed the distance between them, the air thickened with unspoken words. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, their tangled emotions, and whatever this thing was that had been building between them since the moment they met.

Y/N didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she did know one thing: with Joe here, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

And yet... maybe that was exactly what she needed.

The tension was undeniable.

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to keep her cool, but she couldn’t ignore the rush of emotions swirling inside her. “Why are you here, really?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve been busy with the season. You didn’t have to drop everything for... this.”

Joe’s smile faded just a little, and he stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. “I don’t like sharing, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Especially when it comes to you. So, I’m here to make sure that this whole ‘Co-Star Boy’ thing doesn’t get out of hand.” His eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign that she would deny whatever was between them.

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, though it was a little more nervous than usual. She rolled her eyes, trying to ease the tension. “Co-Star Boy?” she repeated, shaking her head. “There’s nothing between us, Joe. I’d rather swim with jellyfish than let that situation get any deeper. Trust me.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it. “Jellyfish, huh?” he teased, a smirk dancing across his lips. “Guess that’s one way to get stung.”

She met his teasing smirk with a playful shrug. “I mean, I’d survive it. Probably get stung a few times, but I’d come out fine.” She stepped back slightly, trying to keep her distance, but it was hard with him standing so close, his presence so commanding.

Joe’s eyes softened, but only for a split second before the playful teasing returned. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to make her heart skip a beat. “But I think you’re enjoying this tension a little too much. You like the chase, don’t you?”

Y/N felt her breath hitch, but she tried to keep herself composed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but the slight tilt of her lips betrayed her. The tension between them was palpable, a thick, electric buzz in the air, and she could feel it building again.

Joe laughed softly, his eyes flicking down to her lips for just a moment before looking back up at her. “You’re good at pretending, Y/N. But not that good.” His fingers brushed lightly against hers, the touch almost innocent, but she could tell it was anything but.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to focus. “I’m not pretending anything, Joe,” she said quietly, but there was a vulnerability in her voice that she couldn’t hide.

Joe’s smirk faded again, replaced by something deeper, something more genuine. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “I know what’s going on between us. We both do.”

For a moment, the air was thick with silence. Y/N stood there, torn between wanting to keep up the banter and not wanting to let the conversation get too real, too quickly. But the pull between them was undeniable, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was caught in it.

She finally broke the silence, her voice softer than before. “I’m not ready for all that drama right now, Joe,” she said, though she knew he could probably see right through her. “I’m focusing on my career... not a relationship.”

Joe nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “I get it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?” he said, his tone a little lighter now, though there was still that undercurrent of intensity.

Y/N was taken aback by how easily he was slipping back into their usual rhythm. But she wasn’t ready to go down that road yet. Not in front of the cameras, not with all the noise around her personal life. Not yet.

“I’m not trying to complicate things,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe stepped back slightly, giving her some space. “I’m not either,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his words. "But I'm not just going to sit around and pretend like there’s nothing between us. I want more than just… what we have. Even if it’s just for now."

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. Was she ready for this? To let the lines blur even further? She wasn’t sure.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Joe,” she said, her voice almost breaking. “Not you. Not anyone. Not like this."

Joe stepped forward, his hand gently brushing against her cheek. “You’re not hurting anyone, Y/N. You’re just living your life, and so am I.” He tilted his head, his voice softening. “But when it comes to you, I’m not backing down.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t know where this was headed, but the way Joe was looking at her, the way the tension between them was thick enough to touch—it was impossible to ignore.

And just like that, she felt everything shift.

“You should stay,” she said, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for Joe to catch the underlying invitation.

His eyes lit up, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something else—something more than just playful teasing. Something deeper. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, almost like a promise.

Y/N nodded slowly, not trusting her own emotions in that moment, but giving in anyway. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not tonight.

And so, as the tension finally snapped between them, they both knew that this was just the beginning of whatever it was they were about to dive into.

The questions, the drama, the back-and-forth—it would come, but for now, they had this moment. And neither of them was about to let it slip away.

Joe stepped closer, his fingers brushing hers once more. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmured, as he leaned in to kiss her, the room filling with the tension that had been building for weeks since the last time they seen each other.

But for now, neither of them was thinking about anything but the here and now.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her outfit for the night, her mind still preoccupied with Joe's text from earlier. The flirtation was still fresh, but her and Kayla had made plans for a much-needed girls' night out, and Y/N was trying her hardest to focus on the fun ahead instead of the inevitable tension she and Joe had been dancing around for weeks.

Kayla was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a wicked grin plastered on her face. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she heard her best friend snicker from behind her.

"What now, Kayla?" Y/N asked, her tone half-impatient, half-amused.

Kayla looked up from her phone, her grin only widening. "Girl, you are ridiculous," she said, sitting up and tossing her phone onto the coffee table. "Joe is literally insatiable. And you’re playing hard to get. Come on, what did he say in that text? You still haven’t told me." She waggled her eyebrows, nudging her best friend with her elbow. "I bet it was something hot, wasn't it?"

Y/N scoffed, but the tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "It’s just him being himself," she replied dismissively, as she grabbed her bag and started to head for the door. "He sent some stupid thing about me keeping him on his toes. But you know how he is. He thinks he's funny."

Kayla wasn’t letting it slide, of course. She stood up, trailing behind Y/N as she headed for the door. "He is funny, but that man’s got some serious need for you. I mean, come on, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it."

Y/N rolled her eyes again, not wanting to get too caught up in her own feelings—or the fact that, deep down, she did feel it. She was just too busy juggling everything—her career, her acting, her music—to get wrapped up in whatever Joe was trying to offer.

"Okay, enough," Y/N said, practically dragging Kayla out the door. "Let's just get to this girls' night and forget about all that for a while. I need a drink."

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Hours later, after plenty of laughs and drinks with Kayla and a few others, Y/N found herself back at the hotel, attempting to decompress after the whirlwind of the night. She was about to change into something more comfortable when she felt her phone buzz on the bed. A quick glance told her it was a message from Joe.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, curiosity getting the best of her. She typed a quick reply, something casual—“What’s up?”—and tossed the phone aside. But her heart skipped a beat when she heard it vibrate a few minutes later.

This time, the text was different.

"Still thinking about you... I’ll make it worth your while next time we’re together."

A smirk tugged at Y/N's lips, but she had learned by now not to get too attached to these types of conversations. She casually sent back, “Maybe, but I’m not sure you deserve it yet.”

She set the phone down again, finally sinking into the plush hotel chair with a sigh.

That was when the phone rang—FaceTime, the screen flashing with a familiar name.

"Joe?" Y/N answered, expecting his smiling face. But instead, her heart nearly stopped when she saw a woman’s face pop up on the screen.

Her smile was wide, almost too wide, and her eyes glittered with a mixture of confidence and something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“Hello, Y/N,” the woman said, her tone smooth as silk. “It’s so nice to finally talk to you.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She blinked a few times, her breath caught in her throat as her mind scrambled for answers.

“Uhm… Who are you?” Y/N managed to get out, her voice shaky despite how hard she was trying to sound cool.

The woman smiled again, her lips curling slightly as if she had anticipated this reaction. “I’m Michelle,” she said, her tone laced with an almost polite mockery. “Joe’s fiancée.”

The room seemed to shrink around Y/N as the words hit her like a punch to the gut.

"Fiancée?" Y/N’s voice came out barely a whisper as her heart stuttered in her chest. "Joe… is… engaged?"

Michelle’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something cold in her eyes. "Yes, we’ve been together for a while now," she said smoothly, her voice like honey, but there was an edge to it. "But I’m sure he’s told you we’re very open about... certain things."

Y/N’s blood went cold, and her fingers tightened on the phone, a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief swirling inside her. She had no idea how to respond, her mind racing.

Michelle seemed to be enjoying the uncomfortable silence. "Don’t worry," she continued, her tone almost amused. "I’m not here to cause drama. Joe and I have an understanding. He enjoys… his little distractions. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t come back to me at the end of the day."

Y/N's mind spun, trying to process everything, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t just some casual situation like Joe had led her to believe. She had been used for something more than what she was told, and that sting was like a slap across her face.

Before she could respond, the screen flickered, and Michelle’s face disappeared. She was left staring at the dark screen, her heart pounding in her chest.

The room felt suffocating now. She didn’t know whether to be furious, heartbroken, or just utterly disgusted.

Y/N stood up abruptly, the phone slipping from her hands as her mind swirled with confusion and emotions. What had she gotten herself into?

Meanwhile, Kayla, who had been texting a certain someone back and forth all night, had been watching from the other side of the room, and she’d noticed the sudden change in Y/N’s demeanor. Her teasing smile faltered, as she picked up on the tension in the air.

"Girl, what just happened?" Kayla asked, standing up from the couch, her voice low with concern. "That wasn’t Joe, was it?"

Y/N looked up at her, still reeling from what she’d just heard. She didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“Yeah, that was Joe’s fiancée.” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I guess I wasn’t the only one he was playing with.”

Kayla froze for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Wait… what?!"

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9, @irishmanwhore

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Heart of the Matter--Chapter 3: Vivification

Joe meets his rather elusive football icon, Trey Dominic, and worries he might barely be able to get a sentence out. But what waits for him is so much bigger than one singular first impression.

With matters of the heart on the line, every play will count.

Black Female OC x Joe.

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Joe Burrow Masterlist | Main Masterlist

____________________________________________

Joe is tired of cuming into his hand. 

Utterly sick of the feeling of his own palm. But he knows he can’t risk it with Marlowe, can’t cross that boundary even remotely as it currently stands. He hadn’t even had the gall to ask her if she was dating someone, let alone to think to ask if was interested in him. Even if he’s acting like a horny teenager now, Joe’s not one. So he knows when he needs to take things slow. And this thing with Marlowe, is a thing he needs to take slow. Needs to ease his way into that territory. Even if that leaves him most nights to a cold shower and his fist. 

Marlowe and Joe have only managed mostly text conversations. But even with that limited format, Joe can hear her replies in her slightly rough voice now. He waits for those replies now, hungry to hear anything from her. He likes hearing about her day, as simple as it sounds. He really likes Marlowe. But even if Joe is sick of cold showers and rubbing one out damn near nightly to the thought of Marlowe’s shy grin and perfectly pouty lips, he can admit that his text to Paige is phrased so poorly for what it really needs to convey. 

“Thinking with your dick right now is going to get you into trouble,” Joe mutters aloud. His house is quiet, even with the TV on the volume is muted. 

And Joe’s a fucking idiot for texting, I need to see you, to Paige. He knew it was a bad idea the second he tapped onto her thread. Paige is easy, willing. But she’s not the one Joe wants and even if Joe is terrified of fucking it up with Marlowe, that does not mean he should go diving dick first into Paige just because he’s sick of rubbing his aching cock raw his damn self. 

“So fucking stupid,” Joe growls at himself, tapping the corner of his pone to his forehead. 

But Paige’s reply has already been sent--damn near instantly to confirm if he was home or not. Which he is. Joe does want to have the conversion about ending their dynamic in private, to give her and him both privacy for the moment because Joe knows it’s only going to go south. But I need to see you is not the way to convey, I’m about to end this fling. 

The frustrated shout rips over his throat and leaps off his teeth and tongue. He’s already done it though. He’s already probably gotten Paige’s hopes up, has probably already made all the wrong turns and now there’s nothing to do but to face the consequences. 

It makes him a fucking asshole--the biggest kind. But there’s nothing to do now but to face the music. His phone chimes again--off the silent buzzing that it’s usually on. He turns the device too fast and loses his grip on it. The screen lands smack dab onto the bridge of his nose. But Joe’s quick to get the phone back into his hand. 

But it’s only the text from Paige, the one he hasn’t actually opened, only read the preview. On my way, Joey. 

Joe wants Marlowe to text him back. And he’d gotten Paige. 

Marlowe warned him last week that she was already gearing up to leave town again but needed to focus on Korey, her niece, until her parents returned from their mini vacation to celebrate their anniversary. Marlowe was taking over as primary caregiver. Joe wondered where the kid’s father was, or where Marlowe’s sister is. But he hadn’t asked. Something in his gut kept pulling the word back. Joe had drafted a couple texts with the questions. And each time he did, his bones would go a little cold. So he never pressed send. 

Even in the limited replies he’s gotten from Marlowe, when he’d learned that the little girl on her hip was not in fact her kid, there was relief— immediately relaxing him off the edge. The information came a couple days after her birthday, when she expressed her gratitude again to Joe for the dessert and he’d instantly replied that he was more than happy to do it and that he hoped that she’d celebrated the occasion the way she wanted. It took Marlowe a couple days to come back with, Can’t say birthdays are my favorite. But my sweetest (and only) niece handmade me a card, so I’ll be sobbing over this for the next two weeks.

Joe figured that in the interim, her replies might be slow. Though, it’s more like all her replies are a little slow. But they always come. Even if it takes her a couple days to get back, she’d have something, some sort of question or quip to carry on the conversation though, to keep it interesting. Her most recent update, aside from her parent’s safe travel and her gearing up for a flight to Atlanta, had been about longing for a local sunflower festival, not due until October, but she’d been going through photos and videos recently to post and came across the photograph of her and Korey in the fields, surrounded on all sides from last year’s run. A photograph Joe would kill to see. Yet, the photograph taken of Marlowe, resting on a bench with a bouquet of them in hand, had been a welcome addition. 

Joe’s text about hoping Marlowe had a safe flight for her work out in Atlanta—a hair showcase she agreed to do the makeup for a stylist she’d befriended—is the one still unanswered. Joe replied a couple hours after Marlowe told him she was headed to the airport. And instead of waiting to worry about Paige, who’d been on his radar to text, until after he got word from Marlowe, Joe decided to text Paige near immediately in all his infinite fucking cock induced wisdom just after he’d been damn near drooling over the picture of Marlowe with the sunflowers he saved. 

He wants the crush not to crush him. Though he knows he’s too far gone for someone he’s hardly had conversations with, it does feel easy with Marlowe. She makes it easy, thoughtful in her replies. Thorough and considerate when she knows that she might be away from her phone for longer than she usually is. She’s busy in more ways than Joe thinks he could ever truly understand. Yet, right now, it still feels like he matters. That even in the chaos Marlowe’s still carving out time for him.

The knock on the door raises the hair on the back of his neck. Joe turns to the sound and can see in the shadow of Paige. She’s shorter than Marlowe. “Fuck,” Joe mutters to himself. 

But there’s no turning back now. So he stands and crosses the foyer to the door, easing it open slowly. Praying all the while that he can find some way not to be an asshole. But Paige, with all her thin strands, long over her shoulder, and a shimmery professional dye job blonde with a shadowy dark brown root, pushes in through the inches of the opened door and loops her arms around his neck. 

Joe rears back, holds his neck stiff as she stretches up for him. 

The seconds are thick and long. He could give in. Paige is right there. But even the thought makes his chest ache and his stomach queasy. It’s not Marlowe and he can’t do it. So he eases the door close behind Paige and leaves his hands hovering at his sides. “I, uh,” he starts. 

“Oh, uh, your text sounded like this was different.” Paige scrambles away from him. 

“I need to talk to you,” Joe starts, like he should’ve fucking did from the start. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“You thirsty?” Joe offers, leading the charge to his kitchen. Kitchens are a good place to have this conversation, right? Except for the knives. But he’s pretty capable. 

“Uh, is everything okay, Joey? You seemed distant there lately. Distracted, maybe?” The nickname grates at his teeth from her lips. Paige’s voice is too sweet, too thin, and runny in a way that gets under Joe’s fingernails. 

“Just…a lot on my mind lately.” A thin answer, barely holds back the truth as he cracks open his fridge and pulls out the glass bottle of water for Paige. 

It’s all Marlowe on his mind, and some about football given the return nearing. But always Marlowe. Like right now, the ringer is still on Joe’s phone. And though he puts it face down on the counter, he keeps it close to him just in case Marlowe texts back that she’s made it safely. 

“A lot,” Paige repeats back. Her nails are short, painted with a clear base and white tips. Unlike the long rounded tips Marlowe wears. 

“Yeah, I-it’s important,” Joe settles on, tucking himself even further into the corner, up against the dishwasher. 

Paige nods. “Well, I’m all ears.”

He clears his throat, unsure of how to start this. Should he rip the bandage off? Should he ease her down slowly? The thing though is that Joe needs to put it all out on the table. So he starts with clarity. “I know it’s been a few months. And I have to ask just so we can get on the same page. Are you looking for something more? I know when this first started we agreed to keep things casual--”

“Yes, yes, I am,” Paige rushes out. 

Joe wonders if he can bring that guillotine to life. If it would hurt less than the way her face drops. Joe can feel the pinch in his brows, minute as it is, folding the skin of his forehead. Paige started around the corner of the kitchen island but has stopped and Joe knows it’s because of his face, his reaction. The way he’s folded his arms over his chest, eased back just a fraction even more into the corner. 

“Oh, wait, I thought—,” 

“We agreed on casual. That hasn’t changed for me, but I had a feeling it changed for you. And I just wanted confirmation.”

“Then what the fuck was your text, Joe? I need to see you, that’s what you said.” Paige’s voice raises, doesn’t hit the ceilings but it’s high and hurt. 

“Admittedly I wasn’t thinking with the right head when drafting that text.”

“You don’t fucking say so, Joe. Eight months. Eight fucking months with you and what? You’re going to throw it away.”

There--that’s what it is. The thing that’s been crawling under Joe’s skin, that’s been whispering at the base of brain but he couldn’t get his fucking finger on it. “We were never together, Paige.”

The words seemingly sting, cut because Paige takes a step back. “So it really was just sex. And what? Now you want to be a saint or something? It can still just be sex, Joey.”

“No, Paige. It was never just sex for you, was it?” Her chin wobbles and she can’t met his gaze. The answer lies silently between them.  “You can admit that here. To me now. I want the truth. But I can’t continue to see you knowing you want that level of commitment. I don’t want that level of commitment with you.” 

Joe won’t pull the it’s not you it’s me line. Because it’s both of them. It’s Joe wanting Marlowe and it’s Paige being desperate for him. And that’s messy, messier than it needs to be for anyone involved if Joe’s attempts to keep the facade up with Paige. 

“So that’s it?” Paige questions. “Just like that.”

“I don’t want to keep seeing you like that, no.”

“Like that?”

Joe tilts his head, unsure of where Paige is going, but clearly she sees something, hears it because she stares at him, eyes darting over his face down to his phone and then back to his face again. 

“Who else did you meet? Who is it?” Paige whispers. Like if she gives it too much volume it’ll shatter her chest. 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Because he won’t. Joe won’t give her the satisfaction or the ammunition. If Paiged obsessed over Joe this much, he hates to think what she could do if she learned about Marlowe. 

“Spare me the good guy act,” Paige spits. “I deserve the truth. Who the fuck is it?”

“I’m not answering that.” He can see the swirling, the hurt and the anger brimming in the shaking of her hands. 

“Fucking asshole. I gave you everything! Everything you wanted. A fuck? I did that. A shoulder to cry on? I had that to give.”

Paige and Joe don’t talk--that’s why it worked. They could, at least in theory, get what they wanted without commitment. That’s what it was supposed to be, but clearly not to Paige. It had always been more for Paige. Probably from the inception. Maybe she hoped that Joe would eventually come around. 

“I didn’t ask for anything more than sex,” Joe returns. Even if Paige interpreted his actions that way, even if she hoped, Joe hadn’t done or said anything more than sex. That part is he sure of. At least, he thinks so.

“But letting me spend all the nights over here, that meant nothing? The way we’d wake up sometimes cuddling? The texts, the calls about how good I looked, how you couldn’t wait to see me again, that’s all what? Just you asking for sex?”

“I wanted to treat you like a human being. I did treat you like a human being. Was that wrong of me?” Joe implores, ears still waiting for the chime of his phone. Brows still knitting in the middle of his face at Paige’s indignation. “It’d be 1,2 am by the time we’d finish. So yeah, I’d offer to let you spend the night so you could get home safely the next morning. Yeah I text you about the night before or that I did want to see you again. What would you have preferred? That I treat you like a machine? Kick you out at 2 am? Text you, ‘Hey, I need my dick sucked. When are you free?’ Is that what I should’ve been doing? I’ve never asked you about anything more.”

“You’d ask me about my day!” Paige defends. 

“I was being polite.” It’s small talk. The kind of stuff people do all the time. And even if it kills Joe just a little to do it, he knows how to play the game. He wants to cringe at the realization, wants to say he’s leagues better. But, maybe, in the entire process Joe knew better than he suspected. That he knew better than he’d let himself settle in with. He was, in ways, trying to appease Paige just enough to keep her strung along.

“Fuck you, Joe. Fuck you and the high horse you think you’re on!”

It’s all Paige says before she turns. Her steps are stomps. They echo throughout the first floor, just like the slamming of his front door. The few decor pieces rattle, tapping against the walls at the force. He waits, though. Joe listens to see if the shattering of glass will come next. The seconds fall slowly. He follows the time with the thumping of his heart. Perhaps Joe was playing them both--stringing both him and Paige along on a ride that should’ve ended weeks if not months ago. 

His phone chimes.

Joe hurries to pick it up from the counter. Please let it be Marlowe, he chants to himself, please. 

He sighs at the sight of Marlowe’s name on his phone. Arrived with all limbs intact. We shall see if I leave here with all my digits and my wrist in working order though. Received the final run down the faces I’m working on tomorrow evening and it is a marathon. The text is paired with a string of crying emojis, the pale yellow face on screen a mixture of the tears and exhaustion. 

Lucky for you, I have wrist rehab exercises that I can pass along. 

Please do, if you still have them. I have a wrist brace but sometimes it’s not always enough if I’m working on a large volume of people. 

Of course. Let me find some videos and I’ll send them over to you. 

After Joe sends the last video, he creeps back to the front of the house. The little rack he installed next to the door for keys is a little crooked. But thankfully not much looks out of place or broken. The glass panes are all intact, which is a relief. His phone chimes again from inside his short pocket. 

You’re a lifesaver, Joe! 

Joe knows he’s not a saint. He couldn’t ever really be one either. But god, for Marlowe, he wants to be. 

__________________

Airports simultaneously bore and terrify Joe most of the time.

They’re monotonous, crowded, and tense on good days--a battle of dodging the rolling wheels, skirting around backpacks and duffle bags, listening for delays and cancellations. There’s an endless waiting at airports, the drag of carrying his bags on his shoulder. There’s an exhaustion from how late or how early it is that makes time feel unreal, moving at a snail’s pace inside and yet outside it’s moving all too fast. The seats on the plane and in the gates are uncomfortable to sit in for too long. They’re good for people watching, but an agony for a man like Joe who’s used to going, and going, and going. Throw in the obvious second glances, the photos he gets stopped and for Joe airports can feel a little bit like a rated PG-13 nightmare--boring but still jumpscare inducing at the right times. 

Yet, Joe’s not bored or terrified. The mid morning arrival coupled with a shockingly long TSA Precheck line should’ve grated at Joe’s patience, should’ve made his eye twitch because the one time he doesn’t boot for more lavish and private travel accommodations and he’s getting the shittiest luck. But, on this particular trip, with his suitcase at his heels, Joe’s more than happy to wait, to have to watch the line in front of him move inch by measly inch. Because just on the other side, just beyond the black ropes, is his gate. And just beyond his gate is the airplane and just beyond the airplane is her. 

The likelihood that he and Marlowe could get together while they were both in California looks rather iffy. She’s out there for her own work. He has his own work to attend to out on the west coast. At the very least though, they’ll be back in the same time zone. There’s hope simmering under his skin that Joe is desperate to keep in check. Her promise still echoes in his ears, “Yeah, if schedules align, I’d like to catch up in person.”

Joe plans to use California to his advantage. Though Marlowe seemingly only had a few days between her return from Atlanta before leaving for California, they’d managed a quick call. Her in the midst of laundry and sitting with Korey while Korey colored and Joe in the midsts of, well, not much. His weekend was pretty wide open. He’d been preparing for his own travel, but still had a few more days than Marlowe before he started the mad dash of packing, triple checking his flight information and travel accommodations. He was still in the bit of the zen before travel. And their conversation lasted a little over an hour. He asked her how the hair show went, she asked him about what he had planned in California. That simple question opened up the door even wider for Joe. 

And Marlowe agreed, “Yeah, if schedules align, I’d like to catch up in person.”

He could and would use California to his advantage. If the universe allows. God, does Joe hope the universe allows. The three days Joe lingered in Ohio after Marlowe left for California were filled with ache. She was three hours behind him and at every shake of his phone, Joe prayed it was Marlowe, hoped it was her sending even the simplest Hope you have a good day text. He wanted to know about her day, wanted to see how it was going, wanted to know that he floated on the edges of her days and awareness like she did for him. Joe will take anything at this point. 

At his gate, hat pulled down to cover his eyes, Joe watches the ticking minutes--knows Marlowe is probably still asleep while he’s contemplating how much caffeine he can safely consume, with the smell of it wafting from the nearby coffee shop storefront. He’d managed to make a cup before leaving the house, but it doesn’t feel like it’s kicked in. Even though Joe’s buzzing, he’s still under sleep’s spell. 

Joe stares down at the last few text threads--Marlowe’s is at the top. Just under it was the family group chat. Third and forth were the individual threads with Ja’Marr and Tee. And under that sits Paige. His last text-- I’m sorry again for how I handled ending things and things in general between us. I understand I didn’t handle it perfectly and I apologize for hurting you.-- it sits in green even though all the ones previous are in blue. Joe’s not sure Paige will ever forgive him. Yet, there’s still a sting knowing that even if he was attempting to take accountability it seemed to be falling flat. 

Joe had done the right thing and ended it, even if it was imperfect. Even if part of him does wish he’d handled it better, it was done. Joe swipes on the thread and selects to delete the entirety of it. It’s done, dead, like he said. There’s no use in dwelling on a past that wouldn’t serve him in his future. 

The muffled voice ever heads calls for his flight and his boarding group. Joe finds Marlowe’s text thread. Her hearted reaction to Joe’s text about promising he was hitting the bed early before his flight being the last notification he has. Save a little sunshine for me, Joe fires off—hitting send without so much of a second thought before shuffling to slipping his carry on onto his shoulder. 

The blossoming California morning sun is bright when Joe lands. When he finally peels himself out of the airport and into the sun, it warms his skin. His phone shakes—which feels like all it’s been doing since Joe landed, forgoing in flight WiFi and nestling in for a rather laborious task of using inflight entertainment from First Class. It’s not a habit Joe does often, but with the flight he wanted to catch just a couple extra hours of sleep given timezone hop and didn’t want the shaking of his phone to disturb him. Suspended up thousands of miles in the air should come with just a little bit of peace, if anyone asked Joe—space to be disconnected even if just for a few messily hours. Amongst the littered notifications is one, about an hour ago, from Marlowe.

How does that song go again? I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine. Attached to the text message is a video. With his Bose earbuds nestled into his ear still, Joe taps on the gray play icon. The wind whips through as the camera focuses in the open pocket of a dark golden yellow skirt or maybe it’s a dress; Joe can’t tell. He just knows it’s Marlowe’s wrist, her fingers--nails painted a soft pale blue this time--reflecting back into the camera with the gold rings and bracelets. Just faintly in the background, he catches her voice, a soft hum to the melody she texted. Then her giggle cuts close to the microphone now, “Does this count, Joe? You caught me unprepared. Hope you had a safe flight.” 

It definitely counts, Joe replies. 

It sure as hell counts if just the sound of her recorded voice saying his name makes his heart race like this. Joe plays the video again, glancing every so often to the top bar, to see if he’s got another alert about the car on its way to pick him up. Joe holds his breath when Marlowe’s giggle echoes again. Does this count, Joe? 

Joe drags the bar backwards. Does this count, Joe?

Does this count, Joe? Like it would ever really be a question. Like his name could ever sound better in his entire life either. Like Joe really shouldn’t be contemplating when Marlowe got her nails done to change up the color, and he shouldn’t find himself liking both colors against her dark skin equally. But he thinks the red might edge out the soft blue just a hair. And he wonders how Marlowe picks those colors, if she rotates based on seasons, and if somehow Joe could get the glory of choosing a color, a style of nail that could turn his skin red if she pressed hard enough. 

Like he’s a horny fucking teenager. Get it together, Joe reprimands himself. Yet, the giant smile on his face remains even as the car eases to a stop in front of him. 

It’s not until evening, deep after dinner for Joe, that his phone shakes. How well do you do with slashers?

Joe spies Marlowe’s name as the sender. His body is tired, eyes already blinking with exhaustion from the time zone change--his body keeps telling him it’s 11, but the clocks only reflect back a measly 8PM. But where exhaustion had set up camp, it disappears as the words burn back into Joe’s retinas. He sits up in bed, the pillows against his back expanding with the release of his weight. This could not be what he thought it was--no way, no fucking way. He’d considered reaching out to make solid plans with Marlowe while he ate dinner, but it’d seemed way too soon. He’d just gotten into town and she’d been, from what Joe could tell, pulling some long days. 

I can protect you, if that’s what you’re asking. Not an actual answer, but casual enough. Yeah, casual enough--or at least that’s what Joe tells himself. 

Funny, she quips back. The addition of the eye roll emoji makes her sarcasm clear. But, there’s a rooftop cinema in town. They’re playing Scream tomorrow night. We could catch up. Get dinner first and then head over to watch? 

With a flurry, Joe heads over to his email. He remembers the wrap time being in the evening, but not excessively late. With a double, and then triple check as another text from Marlowe comes in, Joe swears his chest might combust. Marlowe was asking him. And it’s not a date--Joe would never allow himself an ounce of delusion to call it that. But it still makes him giddy. She was initiating. 

Movie’s at 10:45, so dinner at 8?

Though it would hurt just a little, Joe thinks he could sacrifice the extra hours of sleep just for her. Sounds good to me. 

Shoot me an address to pick you up at. And it shouldn’t make him blush, dear God, it shouldn’t. Yet it does. As Joe sends the address of the house rental he’s in, he can feel the burn creeping up on his chest and cheeks. 

It’s decidedly not a date, neither one of them had called it that. It wouldn’t be a date either. Yet, after Joe’s showered, towel still tied around his waist he finds himself hating everything he’d packed for his trip. He’d planned for casual ventures out, the shooting days, days where he’d venture through the city with no real agenda but time to kill. Joe had even considered how he’d make it work clothing wise should the opportunity to meet up with Marlowe arise and now that it’s here, he hates every single piece of clothing he’s packed. 

His phone chimes from the nightstand and Joe turns from the closet to look at the device. Should take me about half an hour to get to you. Leaving from here in 10. Forty minutes. Joe has forty minutes to make something happen and this will not be a last quarter grinder, that’s for sure. 

Marlowe’s punctual--the kind of punctual that feels too punctual to be happenstance. But at 7:45 PM on the dot, the agreed upon time she’d get him to make their dinner just a few minutes from his room, there’s a knock on the front door. Joe pauses his pacing, glances down to his phone and notes just how on the dot she is. But there’s no going back now. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Joe double checks he has everything to get back inside the house. He double checks his bag for his wallet, phone, mints, and hand lotion, before he slips the sunglasses on top of his head. All items accounted for, Joe then cracks open the door. 

There Marlowe stands, a shy smile pulling at her lips. The jersey is big on her, the opening of the arms, triple the size they need to be for her. The 56 in white across her chest, her father’s number. Joe would know it blind damn near. And now, looking at how she’s dressed in the jersey and jeans, Joe’s glad he went for an elevated but still casual look in his black wash jeans and black sweatshirt sweater hybrid. He’d nearly worn a boxy casual button down but decided--at the least minute--to swap. 

“Hi, Joe.”

God, his name has never sounded better. “Hey, Marlowe.”

“You ready? Or do you need a minute?”

Joe could take as many minutes, as many seconds as he could be given, but he’s really not sure he’d be ready for the eagle eyed glance. Even if it is soft, even if she is smiling, hands shoved into her back pockets, Marlowe’s look feels all knowing, all seeing. Like she could see into the marrow of his bones if she looked long enough.

“Yeah,” Joe nods. “I’m ready.”

“Cool.” She hazards a step down and Joe flicks off the lights before ensuring that as the door closes, it locks. 

Marlowe’s agile down the steps, Dominic blasted across her back in white against the navy blue jersey. The headlights on the SUV blink as they approach. “I didn’t take you as someone to drive in LA. Traffic is horrendous,” Joe quips. 

“I like driving.” A simple return--easy, a factoid. One that Joe saves away, files it for all the things he’s learning about Marlowe. Things like, how Marlowe goes nowhere without jewelry--even in the baggier fitting jeans and her father’s jersey, her wrist and fingers are still dripping with bands and rings. Like the fact that she likes driving. Like the fact that her lips roll together into a flat line that make her nostrils flare when she’s embarrassed and though the blush isn’t evident against her skin, the face she makes says it all. 

“It’s cute,” Joe starts as she pulls away from the curb. “That you wear your dad’s jersey.”

“I like to keep a little piece of home with me, wherever I go. That and so they can identify my body. Dual purposes.”

Joe chokes on his inhale, a bit thrown off by the dark humor pouring from her lips. Not how he had her pegged, but he doesn’t hate it. Marlowe snorts, “Sorry. It’s a little dark up there.” She taps the side of her head, right at her temple to emphasize her point. Her collection of bracelets jangle at the action. 

“Preparedness is a useful trait. So, I can’t say I’m mad at it.”

The lights of the road make the one hand she has on the steering wheel—high at the top as Marlowe reclines back in her seat—dance. the bracelets and gems blink with every passing row of lights. The cabin of the car falls almost silent. The soft echo of the radio keeps them company.

“How’d the first day go for you?” Her question nearly gets lost in the echoing of the singing--an R&B station by the sounds of it. Songs that Joe can’t place immediately, but likes how they sound. This just feels right, feels like the music that Marlowe would listen to; music that just makes sense for her.  

“Pretty good. It’s, uh, hard to have a bad day when people are just sort of filming you doing stuff you’d normally do.”

“That’s good to hear. You sounded a little nervous, maybe? About coming out to LA.”

It’s not that Joe gets nervous about coming to California. It’s what California means for him--how much he is famous. Fame feels fleeting in Ohio. It’s tangible in all the ways Joe can’t go about his normal life, but California means he’s confronted full force with it. It’s how for a couple weeks in his life he’s more aware of every head that turns his way more so than he usually is. Not helped by his own habit of people watching, of scanning the crowd. Joe’s not nervous about the state or the city, he’s just trying to find the right way to breathe in his life, how much of an inhale he should take and how much of an exhale he needs. 

“It’s still all new to me. Trying to get comfortable.”

“What’s still new to you?”

Joe exhales, staring back out the front windshield. The city lights are dazzling, bright neon that are just starting to reflect off the asphalt in the setting sun. The horizon’s growing dark around them, sunset hitting about twenty minutes before Marlowe arrived. Marlowe wouldn’t think it’s silly. Or maybe she would, maybe she’d hear Joe’s reply and tell him to grow up, relax. It’s not that Joe doesn’t want to tell her, it’s that he’s not sure how to say, how to convey that sometimes when he wakes up, on bad days in particular, he wishes at times that the random order of the universe had chosen someone else. 

“Fame. I’m just a kid from Ohio, you know. I dreamed big but at times, it feels like I dreamed too big.”

“You’re where you’re supposed to be. If not, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah,” Joe agrees. It’s what he tells himself when it feels too big, too heavy to carry. There’s some kid looking at him, who sees that he did it and believes they can do it. But sometimes Joe’s not strong all the time. “Sometimes, though, I do miss just being anonymous.” Sometimes Joe has to put it down; he can’t carry it all the time.  

“I understand that. I don’t think humans were built for fame, like mentally we’re not built for it as a species. I think it’s easy to forget just how fragile humanity is. The glitz and the glamour are alluring.”

“Sounds like you like fame?” 

“Fame only likes the parts of me I give it.”

Joe turns back to her. Marlowe’s pushed forward just a hair in the driver seat as she peers for the right turn she’s signaling for. When she looks back in Joe’s direction, her gaze briefly sweeps over his face and there’s an eerie seriousness to her words that reflects back in the down pull of her pouty lips--glossy and bright even in the blooming dark. 

“So who has all of you?” The question feels too heavy the second it’s done leaping from his lips. But even with her gaze not directly on him, Joe can’t help it. There’s an earnesty, something magnetic about her face that makes Joe want to ask, that compels him with little regard for any consequences. It’s her, it’s Marlowe that makes Joe just want more. Intoxicated isn’t even a strong enough word for it. It’s compulsory. Like there’s no way for him to pull out of her orbit. A gravitational pull he’s too weak to resist. 

“Alive or dead?”

Joe thinks back to the video--the one that started and almost ended his late night spiral--her grandmother who cackled with her, asked to be beat for the gods. Joe recalls the never seen Malia--his suspicion about being too close to the bear rises again. Would this make Marlowe run? Yet now, face to face, Joe can’t stop himself. He can’t fight against it. Like an infant who’s not yet learned that dancing next to the fire could get him burned. 

“Both,” he answers, breathless like he is after a gruesome run of suicides. 

“Family. Both alive and dead.”

Family. Such a final word, a damn near ear ringing answer as realization dawns over Joe. The question burns at Joe’s tongue, even as Marlowe pulls into the parking space, even as they’re seated. Joe shouldn’t, even as he’s studying the menu in front of him, he can’t shake Marlowe’s answer. 

I hope she and Malia get to catch up in heaven. I want in on the gossip, girls, when we’re reunited again.

“Is Malia your sister?” He almost thinks maybe ‘was’ is the better tense, but can’t bring himself to use it. Wouldn’t reduce her family to a past tense, when Joe knows that death wouldn’t end the bond for him or his brothers. 

Marlowe exhales long and hard, menu dropping to the table at the action. “How’d you find out about her?”

Joe ducks his head. That’s one way to put his foot in his mouth. Her discomfort is clear in his words, shaky as she asks the question. All his chances are probably ruined so he looks back up to at last face his sure destruction head on. When he takes her in again, Joe sees Marlowe staring him down, a tight gaze, lips pursed together. “I watched a couple of your videos on Instagram. You mentioned her in the post about your grandmother. I’m sorry though, about your loss, and for making you uncomfortable. You just-when you answered that family had all of you alive and dead, I was curious. You talk about Korey all the time.”

“Malia’s my sister,” Marlowe answers, seemingly able to unthaw just a little at the mention of her niece. But it’s all she says. All she gives Joe. She’s looking in Joe’s direction, but not seemingly at him anymore. The tight and stinging gaze now lost and unfocused. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. How is Korey?” Divert, divert, divert. That’s what Joe needs to do. 

But even though he’s desperate to change the subject, Marlowe seems less interested in that. Her gaze still not quite seeing Joe, still far away. “And Malia’s dead now. Like my grandmother.”

The confirmation Joe didn’t need to get this way. The thing he’d suspected. The very thing that got him into this mess. “We don’t have to talk about them.” He offers it softly, a way for her to change the subject entirely if she wants too. 

Marlowe blinks, eyes moving up just a little and when his chest feels tight again, Joe knows she’s seeing him again. “It’s hard to talk about them.”

“No worries; I get that.” Joe stretches, reaching across the table--half of him hesitating as the tips of his fingers brush over hers, a touch so light that Joe’s not sure it was real. Until she curls fingers up and around his briefly, and his whole right arm feels like it’s been shocked, a shot of warmth crawling up his nerves and tendons. 

Then Marlowe releases his fingers, just as fast as she embraces them. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. You can bring them up next time, whenever you’re ready.”

“You-you asked about Korey, right?”

Joe nods, but doesn’t pull his hand back, not until she starts to retreat. “Yeah,” Joe answers, voice still soft as he can tell Marlowe’s coming back to the surroundings. “I did.”

“Her birthday is next week,” Marlowe laughs just a little, like remembering something that Joe can’t see. But her twinkle is back, the light on her face shining again. “I can’t believe she’s going to be three. The irony is that I’m surrounded by fire signs.”

“Three? Before you know it, she’ll be running off to college.”

“Don’t say that, Joe. Oh.” Marlowe falls back into her seat, a hand pressed to her chest. “I can’t. No, I can’t. She’s gotta stay little forever, my little stinkabutt. It was just yesterday I was taking the night shift with Dad to help get Korey to sleep through the night.”

Joe tries not to picture Trey with a tiny baby on his hip, or posed half asleep with baby Korey nestled into his arms. But Joe fails, and finds himself engrossed in how tightly knit the family sounds. “Was Korey a terror to get sleep trained?”

“Worse than me, according to Dad. But we all banded together to do what we could. You know? You do just about damn near any and everything for family. Or--at least the way we grew up.”

“I respect that. Family is important. So what is Korey into? Third birthday is pretty big news.”

“Bluey. So much Bluey. Gracie’s Corner. And sunflowers.”

Sunflowers are an interesting addition, the kind of thing that kids could love, but only if taught, only if they’ve seen someone they love liking them. “Did she pick up sunflowers from anyone in particular?”

Marlowe raises the menu. Her chin disappears, then her lips. Her nose slips behind the red leather covered menu. But her eyes are bright and the skin around them crinkles, giving away the smile tucked away. She shakes her head. “What would give you that idea?”

Joe can’t help his laughter, the sound bubbling from his chest. He shakes his head. “No, nothing would ever give me that idea.”

Besides the fact that Joe thinks Marlowe was built to love sunflowers and maybe, he’d even go so far as to say sunflowers were built for Marlowe. A bright and tall presence, once seen cannot be unseen. He is glad, now, that their drinks are ordered and the conversation around them is lighter to see Marlowe laugh. He can’t imagine how it must feel to lose people so close to him. Can’t begin to fathom how Marlowe’s getting through each day when it feels like everything that’s ever mattered is gone. 

But Joe notices, as they continue to talk, that Marlowe in the videos is vibrant and loud and Marlowe in person is much softer spoken. Still magnetic, just a tad shier than she appears in her videos. Fame only likes the parts of me I give it. The bubbly, upbeat parts. The parts of her that she lets fame get, and the rest is striped back, or maybe left bare. But even if she’s quieter than he’d originally guessed, she’s no less witty, effortlessly funny. 

Their plates are slow to be consumed--a conversation so easy to settle into now Joe can almost forget his earlier blunder. He’s sure he’ll always remember distant and foggy look in her eyes when talking about her sister and grandmother. 

“If you say Star Wars, I’m going to leave,” Marlowe warns after asking about his favorite movies as a kid. They still have an hour before the movie starts and as the conversation meanders, the intrigue about more personal details crept up higher and higher. 

“What’s wrong with Star Wars?” The offense is thick, but Joe can only laugh at the exasperation painting Marlowe’s face. 

“My father, that’s what’s wrong with Star Wars. That man has a marathon of it every fucking year. Right around fall, he plays the entire series, in order of film release and in chronological order. Jabba the Hutt terrified me as a kid. Scared Korey too, unlike her mom. I can’t handle Star Wars anymore.”

Joe knows that his childhood bedroom still holds a few posters up on the wall for the franchise. And he shouldn’t, Joe absolutely shouldn’t file away that information for the next time he does get to speak with Trey to bring up the franchise. Joe hisses, “So, you’ve got this whole thing, right? Because I won’t stand for Star Wars slander.”

“Actually, I think you should pay, to cover emotional damages,” Marlowe mutters. 

“Emotional damages, you say? You’re the one hating.” 

“An insignificant detail,” Marlowe huffs, grinning as she speaks. 

“Insignificant?” Joe replies with faux indignation. “You certainly know how to kick a man when he’s down. What about you? What were you watching?”

“You don’t look down to me.”

Joe couldn’t be down, not with Marlowe around. “I’m pretty tough. But seriously, what about you?”

“The Little Rascals. Before I fell in love with horror. We’ll see how tough you really are later tonight.”

She offers it so easily, like she’s not even trying and when the server comes back around and Marlowe asks for the check, Joe’s still sitting with his mouth gaping--a hole for a bird to nest in. But he’s so shocked by her. Enamored like seeing a constellation in the sky. “Horror?” Joe parrots back, like somehow he still can’t believe the answer. 

“Horror,” another singular word response. Like there’s nothing else to explain. Maybe there isn’t. But Joe wants more, wants to find out what drew her into the genre. What is it about horror that she likes so much? But she beats him to the punch, “So what is it about Star Wars that you like?”

The server returns with the check and Marlowe smiles up with a soft thank you before she’s reaching into her pocket. Joe’s stretching before he realizes, fingers just caching the lips of the black folder but Marlowe’s shockingly quick to pull it just out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?” she laughs. 

“Paying?”

“No, I suggested dinner and the movie, so I’m paying. For everything. Keep those fingers off your wallet. Anything you want, I’ll get it tonight.”

It’s right there, dancing on his lips to question how much she means that, if anything really means anything. But Joe refrains, more taken aback by Marlowe’s assuredness. As if she would never dare make Joe pay for a thing when it was her idea to come out, though it’d been Joe’s desperation when he suggested getting together for an evening. 

“Now, Star Wars, talk to me about it,” Marlowe urges.

Joe doesn’t miss the way she slips her card inside and holds the check to her stomach, ensuring Joe won’t reach for it. But he might. Joe thinks he would fight for it more if this were a date. And maybe not even then. Maybe he’s hoping to just touch her again, feel the radiating warmth one more time. 

“Well, I guess, it made me feel like I could be the hero too. That and space is pretty neat too.”

Marlowe’s lips peel back into a grin, some of the gloss has worn off thanks to eating, but her lips still look soft and so plump. And Joe shouldn’t be doing this. He lifts his gaze back to her eyes as she speaks. “So, you like space.”

Joe nods. “It’s pretty cool, I think. Unlike boats.”

“I like the stars,” Marlowe offers in return. “Boats are okay for short periods of time.”

And Joe’s done for, he is utterly done for. Enough so that when the check is collected, he can’t help but blush at Marlowe’s pause to make sure there’s nothing else he wanted off the menu first. “No, I’m good,” he whispers, voice softly reaching through the chatter of the restaurant.

“Good.” She hands the check over and the one word melts Joe’s innards. There’s so much earnesty in the answer, like Marlowe wouldn’t want anything less. It makes him wonder what would happen if he did want something else, what she’d do if he wasn’t satisfied. 

Joe fills the small gap with a soft question, “What was it about The Little Rascals? I can’t say I’ve seen it myself though.”

“It was silly, charming, and romantic in the way best suited for kids. And it made me fall in love with pickles.”

“Pickles?” Joe questions, his sip of water interrupted by his laughter. “What do pickles have to do with a movie?”

“Watch it. Then you’ll see.” Not quite a command, and not a demand. A quiet offering. Like the film will speak for itself and she need not interject over it. 

“I’ll keep you updated.” He wants it to sound promising but not desperate. Though he’s already mentally mapping which streaming platform to try first tomorrow after his shoots. 

“Just make sure it’s the film.”

“I will. But we have like forty minutes until the movie now, and I hate being late.”

Marlowe only smiles, but nods. The server returns with the receipt and her card and she’s swift to add the tip and sign all the receipts. “Let’s not keep you waiting any longer.”

It’s more intimate than Joe accounted for, or assumed a rooftop movie could be. But the heater is clicked on with just a few twists, the singular blanket is handed over by the employee who leads them to their seat. There’s rows and scattered bodies of other singular seaters. But Joe stands in front of the singular lounge chair built to fit two people and two people only with limited space between them. “There were limited tickets,” Marlowe explains. 

They are a little early to the movie. Plenty of others could be on their way or could’ve had a last minute change of plans. So who’s to say what was left when she grabbed the tickets. And who’s to say that maybe Marlowe’s not trying to keep fate, but she looks at him a tad apologetic. So Joe takes it as the truth. 

The thing is that Joe’s not opposed to the intimate setting. In fact, the longer they stand next to each other, the more Joe is sure it’s not the fire heating his skin anymore. But he is still trying to find the lines, isn’t sure what this means to Marlowe or what she wants it to mean and he doesn’t want to send the wrong signals. Doesn’t want to go too hard on showing his interest in her if it’s not what she wants and doesn’t want to seem too aloof if she is interested. 

Admittedly, Joe could probably just ask. It was the easiest thing to do. But this is just catching up. That’s what Marlowe called it after weeks of texting, a couple of phone calls. They were catching up but catching up didn’t come with a manual, so Joe’s left here, watching as Marlowe slips into one corner of the chair. She peels back a corner of the blanket, still fluffing at her side of it. 

“Or are you too scared?”

It’s a challenge, playful, but still a challenge. Joe’s never going to back down from one. So he’s mindful, slipping the pouch to the front of his chest so he can recline fully back into the seat and takes the offered up end of the blanket and settles it across his lap, though the night’s not that chilly to really need it. 

“So you and horror?” Joe questions, unsure of where to put his arms. They’re not squished in the seat, but there’s inches, and probably not even enough to be considered inches anymore, between them. Marlowe eases into the corner of her section and Joe feels stiff as if he makes one wrong move the whole evening will fall apart a second time. 

“Yeah, me and horror.”

“What about it? Do you like being scared?”

“Relax, Joe. I don’t bite.”

Joe watches the shy tuft of laughter escape her, as it shakes her shoulders. The tease bashes at his teeth, Would you if I asked? He’s not going to fuck this up. Joe’s not going to cross that line. He swallows it back down, and instead comes back with, “That sounds like the very thing someone who does bite would say to create a false sense of security. You took me out to see a horror film. I have to remain vigilant.” 

“I like horror because I feel like if I pay close enough attention the thing meant to scare you is evident all along.” 

“So you don’t like being scared,” he tuts. More information to log away.

“Being scared means I haven’t paid close enough attention.” 

The words are heavy though. Joe watches as she picks at the corner of the blanket, her nails a soft click, click, click, as they meet with her worried fretting. Joe’s not sure if Marlowe is older or younger than Malia. But he can already see behind her eyes, the way she probably wishes she’d seen more before her sister’s death. A responsibility she’s not supposed to be carrying. Death comes for them all and when it wants someone, it will take. 

Marlowe would ever be a singular force strong enough to stop it. But clearly, as she sits here, she still wishes she could. That she berates herself for not being able to do such an asinine thing like influence the universe. Without hesitation, Joe reaches for her hand, the one picking and covers it with his. His thumb stroking over the joint of her thumb. The last click is soft.  

“You’re sharp though. A deadly eye,” Joe encourages softly. 

“Thanks.” 

The night hardly stands a chance against the soft yellow of the projector, the roaring fires that echo around them. As the film starts, Joe starts to pull his hand back, his chest radiating the warmth of her skin. But Marlowe flips her hand, making them palm to palm. Her fingers cup the space between his thumb and forefinger in a light hold. Grounding but light. 

“In case you get scared,” she whispers, leaning in just a hair to Joe so he can hear it.  And Joe is scared. But not about the film. He’s scared she’s going to feel the erratic thundering of his heart just in his palm. He’s terrified just how quickly Marlowe’s able to disarm him. Everything he’d normally do, all the rules he had—abstaining from touches like this in public, abstaining from the public in general unless it’s to build his brand—don’t matter in the presence of Marlowe.

[joeyfranchise]

cuz you know that it’s delicate

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: what happens when joe’s teammate slips a joke about your size difference and it sends you spiraling? being in love with joe since college has been tough but what happens when he starts figuring it out and trying to unravel you more?

warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, MDNI. heaaaavy size kink, joe being a smartass should be it’s own warning, language, p in v, fingering, oral (f. receiving), roughness. probably more? this one was so much fun, plzzz stick around til the end. 🤭

word count: 3.1k!

note: heyyy everyone! my first joey smut 🤭 i hope y’all love it and again MDNI!! (shoutout to my boo @slimshiesty, hate me later and that stray ball part is rotting in my brain, so i snuck a lil of it in here as an ode to you. ily bbg. 💗) (also another taylor swift title bc i fr couldn’t think of anything else plus i used it a bit.. i swear i’m not trying to steal anyones thing i love all the joey swifties)

tags: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 (plz message me or send an ask to be added!) part 2

sexual frustration has to be one of the worst things in the world. sexual frustration at the hands of your best friend, however, takes the cake.

it started at a party two weeks ago when you were invited out by joe, the star nfl quarterback, certified dweeb, and your very best friend all wrapped into one.

flashback

you were sitting around with joe and some of his teammates, listening in on their conversations and people watching the rest of the time. it was easiest for you to hang out with joe and ja’marr since you knew them from college, but the rest of their teammates and their teammates partners were really cool too, and all so welcoming to you.

everyone was laughing and joking, having a laid back time, picking on each other for random things. that was, until, someone mentioned how funny it was to see you standing next to joe, being that he was well over a foot taller than you.

“what? how’s it funny?” joe asked, glancing between you and his teammate. “because you make her look so tiny! like a little doll. get up and stand next to each other.”

you were reluctant to move from your seat, hating where this was leading. it was already hard enough having feelings for your best friend over the span of a few years, but this was crossing dangerous territory. kink territory.

for you, there was something about how much bigger than you joe was. he towered over you. his body was lean but built with thick muscles. he could quite literally pick you up and sling you around like a rag-doll. (and honestly if he did, you’d thank him.)

you hoped his teammate pointing out your size difference wouldn’t be turned into a big deal, but once joe pulled you out of your chair to stand next to him, it was like the gates of hell opened.

you stood side by side, your head barely even reaching his armpit. everyone around the table laughed, including joe. “damn, i guess i never really focused on how little you are, y/n.” joe laughed, and placed his forearm on top of your head like an armrest.

alarms went off in your head. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.

you cleared your throat quickly, and came to your senses, shoving joe off before getting back into your seat. “maybe i’m not small, maybe you’re just a freakishly large man.” you remark, trying to keep your voice even.

“nah,” he replied, sitting down next to you again, “you’re sooooo tiny.” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you flipped him the finger. “fuck you big bird.” you snarked before downing the rest of your drink. god knows you need it. you hoped that your pink cheeks would be chalked up to the alcohol and that nobody else had caught on.

the next instance came a few days later, on a sunday, and it was much worse than the first. so, so much worse.

flashback to sunday

you came to the bengals’ home stadium to watch their game, and since it was early you figured you’d go down to the field to say hi to joe and some of your other friends on the team.

you made it down and waved hi to ja’marr, tee and sam before making your way to joe. he spotted you and smiled, walking in your direction to meet you halfway.

you decided on wearing one of his jerseys and a pair of jeans, something simple and comfortable. as soon as he made it to you, the first thing he did was look you up and down and then pick up the sleeve of the jersey before chuckling.

“damn, this thing is swallowing you!” he comments. you playfully smack at his arm. “shut up, joey.”

“it’s cute, though. you look nice. are you excited for the game?”

you don’t give yourself much time to process that “cute” comment. wtf does that even mean? who cares. ABORT MISSION.

“of course i’m excited! i can’t wait to watch you guys kick some ass today—“

your sentence is cut off abruptly as joe grabs you and lifts you, turning your bodies so his back is now facing the opposite direction on the field. his grip on you is so tight that your chest is pressed into his stomach. you look up at his face, his expression a mix between anger and concern. you can feel your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen in disbelief.

“um, joe, you’re bear hugging the hell out of me right now. wanna put me down and explain what happened?”

he lets you down gently, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “stray ball was coming right at you. i didn’t want it to hit you, it would’ve hurt you pretty bad.”

you reach a hand up and pat his chest, feeling the thick muscles. “thank you!” you respond, once again monitoring your tone. “i’m gonna head up and talk to everyone, ok?” you ask, already moving to leave. “yeah, ok.” joe says, focusing his attention on the ground. you can tell he’s contemplating something, but you don’t want to ask. you want to get out of there as quickly as possible.

the final instance came a few days later when you went to joe’s house just to hang out and have dinner.

flashback to wednesday night

you park your car in joe’s garage and step out, tucking your phone and keys in your pocket before heading up the stairs. before you make it to the door, joe’s already opening it and waiting in the doorway.

“hi bub!” you call, pushing past him and stepping inside, kicking off your shoes by the door. he greets you back sweetly and the two of you go sit on barstools in the kitchen, just catching up on things that have gone on this week. you rant to joe about your job and he listens intently, offering what advice he can.

he rants back to you about things going on with the team, and frustrations he’s having on the field. you try to return the favor and offer him some advice, but you know you aren’t of too much help. joe appreciates it regardless.

soon after your food arrives, you find yourselves in the living room, sitting on the couch side by side as a movie plays. you and joe always loved just being around each other, you had so deep of a connection that oftentimes words didn’t need to be shared at all.

you both enjoyed those moments.

you felt yourself starting to doze off until joe laughed at something in the movie, the sound waking you a bit.

“oh, sorry. you can go to sleep.” he whispers, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. you appreciate his warmth and you rub your head on his shoulder as you get comfy. you hear joe chuckle.

“what’s funny?” you mumble, your eyes still closed. “it’s like i’m hyper-aware now of how small you are next to me. it’s so cute.”

you make no outward moves or sounds, but inside you are screaming. yelling. this is the worst one yet.

you don’t know it yet, but joe’s figured it out. he’s seen you get flustered three times now over these comments, and he knows something is going on in your brain when they’re said. he isn’t aware if you have feelings for him like he does for you, but he knows you liked when he picked you up so easily on the field the other day.

it was effortless to him, despite what you might think of yourself.

you sit next to him in silence, eyes still closed, trying to control your breathing. just try to fall asleep again you tell yourself, hoping that joe has no idea. if you only knew.

when you wake in the morning, you’re still snuggled on the couch with him as the soft morning light shines gold around the living room. you shake him awake.

“joey, i gotta get going. i need to go home and get ready for work and you have thursday practice.”

he pulls you in closer for a moment, hugging you bye, and then wishes you a good day at work. you bolt out the door and to your car as fast as you can, heading home to wash the previous day away in the shower.

end of flashbacks

so, this is where you are now.

it’s been almost a week since you’ve talked to joe, avoiding him because you aren’t sure what to say or do. part of you knows he has something figured out, but you don’t know what or how much.

you’re terrified to let him in on your feelings, what’s going on in your head, because you’re delicate and you don’t want to ruin something that has always been there for you.

the other part of you knows you have to tell him, you need to tell him. you love him, you lust after him. the comments that keep being made about your sizes are driving you to the point of insanity that nothing will fix it unless joe manhandles you as rough as you can take it and he fucks it out of you.

you’re pretty sure your vibrator is gonna be on its last leg soon.

alright, i gotta call him. i gotta get this over with.

you grab your phone off the kitchen counter and dial his number, listening to it ring for a few moments.

“hello?” he finally answers, sounding a bit upset.

“hey joey. sorry i haven’t been talking to you this week. i just— i think i need to talk to you about some stuff and.. would you mind coming over later?”

he says nothing for a moment, but you hear him blow out a long breath. “yeah, of course, y/n.” he finally says. “i can be over around 7?”

you check the clock on the stove, it reads 4:34pm.

“7 sounds great! see you then!” you say, hanging up quickly. now you play the waiting game.

all your chores are done, and you take a lovely everything shower to help calm your nerves, and you make sure to drink plenty of water and have a snack as you tell yourself affirmations.

it’s going to be okay, he’s my best friend. he will understand. he will still be my friend regardless, he’s always been there for me. if he rejects me, nothing will change that.

you sit on the couch and scroll your phone as you wait. there’s still just a bit over an hour before joey will arrive, so you waste time scrolling tiktok, cozy on the couch.

soon enough you hear the doorbell, and you jump off the couch to answer it, stepping aside to let joe in.

he sits on your couch, waiting for you to join him and start speaking. “joe, i, um.. i hav-“

he cuts you off. “you have feelings for me? you like it when people compare our sizes because it turns you on?” he smirks, leaning back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. he’s manspreading now, his thick thighs on full display. your mouth falls open for a moment.

“yeah. essentially exactly that.” you finally reply.

“so what are we gonna do about that?” he questions, pulling you into his lap. you place your hands on his chest instinctively, and before you know what’s happening he‘s pulling you in for a heated kiss.

his lips are soft against yours and he gently prods at your bottom lip, sliding his tongue past as you open it. he tastes like mint, it’s intoxicating you. one minute his large hands are splayed over your back holding you to him, the next he’s lifting you off the couch by grabbing underneath your armpits and carrying you down the hall, roughly body-slamming you on the bed.

“dude, save the UFC moves for ja’marr!” you groan, sucking in a large breath. joe jumps on the bed, caging you in by placing his knees on either side of your hips and his hands next to your head.

“no, i don’t think so.” he smirks, leaning in closer until your noses are nearly touching. you felt your cheeks heating up at his close proximity, and his eye-contact with you was starting to feel intimidating, even though you had just been sharing such a passionate kiss. you hated that you could feel your wetness soaking through your panties just from him trying to wrestle you.

he blows gently on your face and you shove at him. he laughs you off and leans even closer, pressing the tip of his nose to yours before moving away and leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“this would be a lot easier if you’d just admit that you want me to manhandle you. you want me to go rough, right?” he teases. you’ve had enough of his smugness. you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss, tugging at his hair and nipping his bottom lip. he groans into you. he stands from the bed, picking you up again, carrying you across the room before roughly slamming your body against the wall.

you let out a strangled moan, loving the feeling of him using all his strength on you.

“can i take your shorts off?” he asks, looking into your eyes.

“fuck yes, please.” you breathe out, exhilarated.

joe yanks your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion, kneeling down in front of you. he’s able to keep your body held up and pressed against the wall. he looks up at you with questioning eyes, making sure this is okay. you give him a soft nod in response.

he leans in and throws one of your legs over his shoulder. he starts by pressing the smallest kiss to your clit, and then licks a slow, languid stripe up your core. you hiss, your body arching off the wall at the new sensation. when you look down, you find him looking up at you, his beautiful blue eyes trained on your face.

your eyes roll back in your head as he continues his ministrations. you feel the hand that isn’t holding you against the wall rubbing circles on your inner thigh before joe slowly slips a finger into you.

you quickly approach your orgasm, your stomach tight with anticipation. joe doesn’t let up, working you there until your body feels like it’s being dunked into warm bath water, the feeling covering you from head to toe. it takes you a minute to regain your sense of self. joe pulls his fingers from your core and removes your leg from his shoulder, standing back up before lifting you so your legs are around his waist.

you waste no time pulling him in for a kiss. “holy shit, joey!” you moan, baffled at what just happened. he smirks into your kiss.

for the second time, you’re thrown onto the bed. you sit up, propped on your elbows as you watch joe stalk closer, his erection very obvious in his shorts. he pulls his shirt over his head and you do the same, unclasping your bra just after so that you’re completely bare for him.

you chalk your forwardness up to being comfortable with him, normally you wouldn’t have the confidence to act this way. neither would joe, actually, but you shrug it off.

you don’t remember seeing him strip his shorts off or climb on top of you, but you know you’re kissing him again. you can’t get over how good his lips feel. one of his hands traces your curves, he runs his fingers along your body until his large hand is cupping your breast.

he moves his kisses to your neck and you gasp, reveling in the feeling of him kissing and touching you softly and sweetly.

you look down at his throbbing cock and suddenly you feel intimidated. joe hears you gasp. he lets out a soft laugh.

“don’t talk a big game and then act scared of it, baby.” he teases, pressing light kisses to your cheeks. you swallow thickly.

joe reaches down and strokes himself, spitting on his hand to slick himself up. he looks at you once again for confirmation, and you nod to him. he helps you get comfortable beneath him, positioning your legs around his waist as he pushes his tip in. you suck in a harsh breath.

it stings, but it isn’t the worst thing. he moves against you slowly, sliding in inch by inch until he bottoms out. he looks down and you, your faces inches apart, and you giggle.

“what is it bub?” he asks, smiling softly. “they weren’t kidding calling you big dick joe.” you laugh out. joe laughs too.

after giving you a few minutes to adjust, he starts moving hips, rocking into yours slowly. you think this is what the peak of euphoria feels like.

he leans back down to kiss you, his hand finding your throat and squeezing ever so slightly. your back is arched, your chest pressed to his as your hands tangle through his hair. his hands move down, finding your hips and holding them down to the bed. you moan at the rough grip.

he starts going harder, his hips pistoning into yours as you continue kissing, both of you moaning out your pleasure.

“joey, i-i’m close.” you warn, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. you felt it again, you were so close to that warmth once again pulsing over your body.

until.

knock knock knock.

what was that? you thought. you tried to focus on joe but everything seemed to be slipping away.

then, there it was again. the knocking. and the shrill of your phone ringing.

you startled awake, sweat covering your body. you looked at your phone screen. 7:10pm. one missed call from joe.

you threw your throw blanket off, trying to gather your thoughts. what the fuck? what is happening?

you thought you’d just had the best fuck of your life, that everything would be okay with you and joe but… it was just a dream? you dozed off and you didn’t even know it.

“y/n, let me in!” you hear joe yell from the opposite side of the door. you’re panicking, your body is hot, your clothes are stuck to you. still, you get up and almost sprint to the door. you open it, taking in his appearance. just like your dream.

black shorts, black shirt. backwards cap.

“can i come in? are you okay?” he asks. you watch as he takes in your appearance. sweaty hair stuck to your neck, your eyes glazed over.

“um, yeah joe. i’m okay. come in.” you step aside, inviting him in, just like your dream. he sits down.

“so, what did you wanna talk about?” he asks. you sit down next to him, blowing out a long breath. this was gonna be a longggg conversation.

[eternalsunrise]

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

[goldfades]

joe burrow pro bowl weekend sneaking into his hotel room at night

aaaaa yes... pro bowl weekend joe has lived in my rent free and im so glad u requested this. hope you enjoy!

warnings: NSFW, minors pls dni! oral (fem. receiving), overstim if you squint, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!), rushed writing... sorry yall im trying a new style, lmk if yall like it 😌

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft hum of the ice machine down the corridor and the faint click of your heels against the plush hotel carpet. You’ve timed it perfectly—late enough that most of the players are either asleep or too busy nursing overpriced cocktails in dimly lit lounges, and early enough that the night shift staff haven’t started their rounds. The key card burns in your palm, a flimsy piece of plastic holding the weight of your impulsive decisions.

You hesitate for a beat outside his door, heart thumping like it’s trying to escape your chest. The gold numbers gleam under the flickering sconce light, mocking you with their simplicity. It’s just a door. Just Joe. But there’s nothing simple about the way your stomach flips when you think of him, or the way his voice has been echoing in your head all day, low and lazy, threaded with that soft drawl.

The lock clicks with an almost conspiratorial softness as you swipe the card. You slip inside like a shadow, the door snicking shut behind you with a whisper of finality. The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city seeping through the crack in the heavy curtains. You can make out the broad outline of him, sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his head, the sheets tangled around his waist.

He stirs when you kick off your shoes, the faint rustle drawing his attention. His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, low and familiar in a way that makes your skin prickle.

“Took you long enough.”

His words are lazy, but there’s an edge to them—a sharpness tucked beneath the warmth. You don’t bother with an excuse. Just step closer, letting the distance between you shrink until it’s nothing at all.

You can feel the heat emanating from his body as you stand over him, the dim light casting shadows that dance across his features. The room is charged with an electric tension, palpable in the air between you. Joe's eyes, half-lidded and sleepy, focus on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. He shifts slightly, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt that clings to him from the heat of sleep.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" His voice is a husky murmur that sends shivers down your spine. Despite the casual tone, there's a question in his gaze, a probing, searching inquiry that seeks your deepest intentions. It's an invitation and a challenge all at once.

You respond not with words but with action, crawling onto the bed with a grace that belies your pounding heart. The mattress dips under your weight, and Joe watches your every move, his gaze tracking the sway of your hips as if mesmerized. You straddle him, feeling the solid strength of his thighs beneath you, and for a moment, you just sit there, drinking in his presence, the reality of him.

His hands come up to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing small, slow circles through the fabric of your dress. There's a tenderness in his touch that contrasts with the iron strength of his fingers, and it's this duality that fascinates you, draws you in.

"I... needed to see you," you confess, the words tumbling out in a breathy rush. The truth feels like a liberation, freeing something tight and coiled within your chest.

Joe's smile is slow and warm, spreading across his face like dawn breaking. "Well, then," he murmurs, his hands tightening on your hips, "Let's make it worth your while."

He flips you beneath him with a swift, practiced move that leaves you breathless. His body pins yours to the bed, his weight a comforting pressure that envelops you completely. His lips find yours in the darkness, the kiss deep and consuming, tasting of sleep and desire. The world narrows down to the feel of him against you, around you, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the silent room.

--

Joe's relentless pursuit of your pleasure leaves you gasping, teetering on the edge of coherence. His tongue is masterful, delving with precision yet infused with an artistry that makes each touch feel like the first. His fingers grip your thighs, holding you open, exposed to his hungry gaze and insatiable mouth. The dichotomy of tender in his actions drives you insane, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins.

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the slick, wet noises of his tongue lavishly exploring, tasting you with a ravenous need that belies his earlier laziness. You're overwhelmed by the intensity the relentless pleasure, your hands tangle in his hair, pressing him closer, silently pleading for more, for that sweet release that hovers just out of reach.

"Joey," you moan, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please."

He responds not with words but with a deep hum that vibrates against your clit, his tongue brushing over the sensitive. It's the final stroke of your arousal, and it sends you spiraling over the edge into blissful oblivion as the knot in your stomach snaps for the second time that night, all from his tongue.

Your body arches off the bed, a silent scream etched across your features as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shattered in the most exquisite way.

But Joe isn't done.

As you flutter back down to Earth, spent and panting, he rises up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your climax. When you open your eyes, meeting his gaze, he's settled in between your thighs, his hands on your hips.

His eyes burn with an insatiable fire, his own desire palpable as he positions himself at the crux of your thighs. "You taste incredible, baby," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "but I'm nowhere near done with you."

With that, his cock slides into you, filling you in one smooth, deep stroke because of your soaked cunt. The sensation is intense, a delicious stretch that reignites your desire. His movements are deliberate, powerful thrusts that drive you both toward a precipice as Joe's hands move everywhere, his touches igniting flames wherever they land.

Joe's movements become fervent, almost frenzied as he plunges deeper into the warm, welcoming depths of your cunt. His pace is relentless, each thrust deeper than the last, driven by a raw hunger that seems to consume him entirely. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with his slurred, lust-laden words.

"God, so good... so perfect for me, baby," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. The words are barely coherent, a string of adoration and pleasure mumbled as he loses himself in the sensation of you enveloping him. His hands roam over your body with wild abandon, tracing the curves of your hips, squeezing your tits.

"Feel so good," Joe murmurs against your ear, his voice a husky drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. "Can't get enough of your pussy... so wet for me." His words are a mantra, spoken between labored breaths and deep thrusts.

His rhythm staggers as he starts to feel his impending orgasm, his thrusts uneven but no less potent. Each movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, pushing you both closer to the brink again. The mattress creaks under the force of his movements, as Joe's praises continue to spill from his lips.

His fingers find your clit, thumb circling with a rhythm that matches his thrusts. The dual assault on your senses is overwhelming, and you can feel another climax building within you, the coil in your stomach tightening like a spring.

"Fuck, I’m gonna—" Joe's words cut off as his control snaps, his body tensing as he reaches his own climax. He buries himself deep inside you as he comes, his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide with the raw intensity of his release. The sight of him, so utterly undone, so vulnerable and yet so powerful, pulls you over the edge with him.

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave of bliss, crashing through you with such strength that you cling to Joe, your nails digging into his sculpted back, as if anchoring yourself. Together, you ride the waves of pleasure, each pulse and throb of his cock inside you extending your climax, intertwining it with his.

Joe's body shudders above you, each tremor mirroring the aftershocks that ripple through your own form. His breath, hot and ragged, brushes against your neck as he struggles to catch his breath, his chest heaving against yours.

As the final waves of pleasure ebb, Joe collapses beside you, his arm instinctively pulling you close. In the dim light of the hotel room, his face is painted with satisfaction and a touch of awe. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the fervor of moments before.

[burrowlvrr]

— MORTGAGE MISCHIEF, joe burrow.

PAIRING: Joe Burrow 𝔁 Black!Wife!Reader

GENRE: Husband & Dad Joe

SUMMARY: In which — Y/N caves in and makes a TikTok account, and it doesn't take long for her to try to prank her unserious husband.

NOTE: I love this trend on TikTok so freaking much, bro, I just couldn't help myself. I wish there was more pranks going around TikTok so I could write another one lol! Feel free to send me more ideas and suggestions, enjoy!

UNIVERSE: Tenderhearts & Touchdowns!

Y/N had never been the kind of person to keep up with social media trends. Her Instagram was mostly filled with family snapshots, vacation photos, and the occasional throwback post from her college days. TikTok, though? That was a whole different ballgame.

She’d heard the buzz about it, of course—the dances, the memes, the endless rabbit hole of videos that could steal hours of your day—but it wasn’t really her thing.

That is, until some of Joe’s fans started flooding her DMs.

It wasn’t unusual for her to get messages from fans, most of them kind and supportive, occasionally sprinkled with the usual social media chaos. But after a family photo Joe posted went viral—a candid shot of the two of them laughing while their kids played in the background—her inbox blew up.

Several people had suggested she start a TikTok account, saying things like, “Your family is so cute, we’d love to see more of you guys!” and “Please post more videos of Joe being a dad; it’s the content we all need!”

At first, she brushed it off. The idea of putting her family out there in such a public way made her hesitant. Their life was private, cozy, and real—did she really want to open that up to the internet? But the messages kept coming, and her curiosity eventually got the better of her. One evening, after the kids were asleep and Joe was watching game highlights, she downloaded the app.

It didn’t take long for TikTok to reel her in. The first few days, she lurked quietly, scrolling through endless videos of clever pranks, hilarious parenting fails, and, of course, a whole section of TikToks dedicated to football wives and girlfriends. It was the pranks that hooked her.

Women were pulling the funniest, most creative stunts on their unsuspecting husbands—pretending to be mad over made-up arguments, mispronouncing their favorite athletes’ names, and her personal favorite, casually dropping bombshell “confessions” to see how their partners would react.

She couldn’t resist.

“This would be perfect for Joe,” she’d said to herself one night, already grinning at the thought. He was so even-keeled most of the time, but his sass came out when he was caught off guard, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d say.

So, Y/N started posting. At first, it was just lighthearted videos of their kids, like Hudson and Elijah racing each other in the backyard or Sawyer trying to crawl after their dog, who always managed to stay just out of reach. The comments poured in, full of love and laughter, and she started to feel less nervous about sharing these little moments. And then came the pranks.

She eased into them, starting small—things like pretending to forget what day of the week it was or asking Joe if she could switch his game-day hoodie with one of hers. His reactions were gold, and her videos started gaining traction. She didn’t know how many people would find it so funny, but apparently, the internet loved Joe Burrow getting pranked as much as she did.

Which is how she found herself, phone in hand, ready to execute her latest and possibly best trend yet: the “I can’t pay the mortgage this month” prank.

The living room buzzed with the quiet hum of family life. Hudson and Elijah were seated cross-legged on the rug, their faces scrunched in concentration as they connected Lego pieces, the colorful blocks scattered across the coffee table like a mini construction zone. Sawyer, their youngest, was on the floor nearby, rolling lazily on her playmat while holding her bottle with both hands, occasionally babbling nonsense to herself.

Joe was stretched out on the couch, the epitome of relaxation in his gray hoodie and sweatpants, his wife’s legs comfortably draped over his thighs. His focus was glued to the MMA fight playing on the TV, and he absently stirred his spoon around a bowl of cereal balanced in his hand.

Every so often, he’d let out a low, “Oof,” reacting to a particularly hard punch or takedown, his body slightly tensing with the action on screen.

Y/N sat beside him, phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok. She stumbled across the trend a few hours ago, and decided that now was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Glancing sideways at Joe, she smirked to herself. This will be fun.

She adjusted her phone subtly, angling it to record, and cleared her throat dramatically. “Joe?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen as he scooped another bite of cereal.

“I need to tell you something,” she said softly, injecting a hint of nervousness into her tone.

Joe didn’t look up. “What’s up, baby?”

“Don’t get mad at me, okay?” she added, biting her bottom lip to suppress a grin.

That got his attention. Joe’s hand froze midair, his spoon hovering over the bowl, and he turned his head toward her, squinting slightly.

“What? Why would I get mad?” His sharp gaze shifted to the phone in her lap. “Wait… why’re you recording? You pregnant again?”

Y/N burst out laughing at his assumption, unable to keep up her serious facade. “What? No!”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause that’s how you told me about Sawyer,” he replied with a smirk, leaning back on the couch and rubbing his free hand over his face.

“You just pulled out your phone, started recording, and bam—‘Congratulations, you’re gonna be a dad again!’” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help giggling. “I’m serious, Joe. This is important.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, setting his cereal down on the side table and shifting so he was facing her fully. “What’s going on? And why are you being all dramatic about it?”

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself before delivering her line. “I, uh… I won’t be able to pay the mortgage this month.”

Joe blinked at her, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Girl, what are you talking about?” His tone was casual but tinged with disbelief.

She tried to keep her composure, clasping her hands together as if pleading. “The school’s on winter break, so my paycheck isn’t going to be enough. I just—ugh, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Joe stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Okay, wait. How much is the mortgage?”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Uh… like… $2,000?” she guessed, feigning confidence.

Joe’s mouth twitched, and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Babe. You don’t even know how much it is, do you?”

“Well…” she stalled, trying to recover.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms. “You’ve never paid the mortgage.”

“I know!” Y/N blurted, throwing her hands up dramatically. “I was going to as your Christmas present, but my paycheck won’t be enough now!”

Joe’s brow furrowed again, but this time his lips quirked upward, unable to hide his amusement. “So let me get this straight. You don’t know how much the mortgage is. You’ve never paid it before. And now you’re stressed because your Christmas present was gonna be paying it, but you can’t?”

“Exactly!” she said, doubling down.

For a moment, Joe just stared at her, then he broke into a deep laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You’re crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head. Grabbing his cereal bowl, he leaned back against the couch.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I got it.” He scooped another spoonful and took a bite like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she nearly dropped her phone.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, still chewing. “What’s so funny now?”

“It was a TikTok prank!” she wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Joe’s smirk deepened as he shook his head. “Yeah, I figured. There’s no way you were being serious.”

“You were so calm about it, though!” she said, still laughing. “I really thought I’d get a bigger reaction out of you!”

“Nah,” Joe replied, reaching over to pinch her ankle playfully. “You’re too bad at lying, babe. Next time, at least Google how much the mortgage is first.”

From the floor, Hudson looked up from the Lego set with a curious expression. “What’s a mortgage?”

Joe snorted, pointing his spoon at his son. “Something you don’t gotta worry about, buddy.”

Elijah chimed in without looking up from his Legos. “Mommy’s bad at pranks.”

Sawyer let out a happy babble from her playmat, almost as if she agreed.

Joe laughed, pulling Y/N closer with one arm. “Looks like the jury’s unanimous, babe. Better luck next time.”

[v6quewrlds]

❝ pretty little thing, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it is a rare quiet morning for you and joe. while you plan to sleep in and take it easy, your husband has other more active plans.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: my first joe fic, everybody cheer!! i did not plan for it to be this long but she's fresh, she's cute, i like her. i hope you all like it <333 requests are open for headcanons, texts, blurbs, fics, etc.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, penetration, very slight praise kink, fingering, joe is pussy drunk fr fr.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x black!wife!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.7k.

You stirred in the bed, the morning light creeping through the blinds. The soft hum of the city outside barely registered in your sleep-laden ears. The bed shifted as Joe's arm snaked around your waist, gently pulling you closer. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his playful gaze. "Mornin'," you mumbled, still clinging to the last vestiges of sleep.

Joe leaned in, kissing you gently. "No meetings today?"

You yawned, stretching languidly. "Nope, not a single one."

Joe's grin grew wolfish. "Perfect," he said, his hand sliding down to your thigh. His voice was low, his eyes dark with desire.

You giggled, swatting at him playfully. "What are you doing, you hornball?"

Joe's grin only grew wider. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied, his hand continuing its journey under the covers.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "It's barely seven in the morning, Joe."

"Exactly," Joe said, his hand reaching its destination and squeezing at your ass, causing you to gasp. "We've got all day to do whatever we want."

"And what is it that you want to do?" You asked, your voice teasing as you felt his fingers dance along your skin.

Joe's eyes lit up with mischief. "I want to fuck my gorgeous wife," he said bluntly, his voice thick with lust.

You rolled your eyes again, feigned annoyance lacing your tone. "Always so romantic," you teased, even as your body responded to his touch.

"Well, it's been a while since we had a morning like this," Joe said, his hand moving between your legs, stroking you lightly. "I want to make it count."

Your giggles turned into moans as Joe's fingers found their mark, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body as they danced over your sensitive pearl. "You're insatiable," you murmured, your manicured hands gripping the strands of his blonde hair as your lips found each other again in a heated kiss.

Your foreplay grew more intense, Joe's hand working your body with the precision of a maestro, drawing out your pleasure with every stroke. Your breath hitched as his thumb circled your clit, your legs trembling against his muscular thigh. You could feel him growing hard against you, his arousal pressing into your side.

"Fuck me, Joe," you whispered, your voice needy as the ache between your legs grew.

With a low growl, Joe complied, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself above you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours, as he entered you in one smooth thrust. You arched your back, your nails digging into the bed sheets as Joe began to move. He was rough and unrelenting, your bodies slapping together in a rhythm that filled the room with the sound of passion.

Joe's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze matching the force of his movements. "You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "I can't get enough of you."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Joe's words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. "You talk too much," you gasped, your own voice laced with desire.

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he said, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crazy with want. His hips slammed into yours, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady beat that echoed your passion.

You wrapped your legs around Joe's waist, pulling him deeper, urging him faster. You were wet and ready for him, your body responding to his every touch like a finely tuned instrument. He groaned, the sound vibrating through you as he picked up the pace, your bodies moving in a symphony of need.

Your lovemaking was raw and uninhibited, a dance you'd perfected over the years. You knew each other's bodies so well, every curve and dip, every sensitive spot that could send the other spiraling over the edge. As Joe thrust into you, your eyes locked, a silent communication passing between you that was as intimate as your joined bodies.

“Come on, baby, take this dick,” Joe urged, his voice gruff with desire as he pumped into you with a fervor that left you gasping for air. You could feel the tension building within you, your core tightening around him with every powerful stroke. The bed creaked in protest under your combined weight, the sound melding with your moans and gasps.

“You’re going to make me come, Joey,” you panted, your eyes glazed with passion.

“That’s the plan,” he replied with a wicked smile, increasing his pace. He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, your breaths growing shallower with each thrust.

Your walls tightened around him, your moans turning into a high-pitched whine. Her nails dug into his back, leaving trails of fire on his skin. The sight of your pleasure, the feel of your body clamping down on his, was too much for Joe to resist. He bit his lip, fighting to hold back his own climax. But as your cries grew louder, he lost all control, driving into you with a fierce growl.

“Shit, baby.” Joe groaned as his climax neared, his hips moving erratically. He felt your body tense, your legs quivering around him. “You gonna come for me?” he asked, his voice thick with passion.

“Fuck yes, Joe, I’m coming!” Your moans only served to push Joe further into his trance. “Wanna come for you,” you whined into his ear.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, be a good girl for me, aren’t you baby?” Joe whispered, his eyes gleaming as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. You nodded, your breaths coming in short pants, your eyes fluttering closed.

The tension between you grew palpable, until finally, your back arched off the bed with a scream of pleasure. Joe’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt you tighten around him, your muscles pulsing in a delicious rhythm that sent him hurtling over the edge. He filled you with his seed, your bodies shuddering in unison as you reached your peak.

You lay there for a moment, panting and spent, your hearts racing in sync. Joe’s chest heaved with the exertion, his body slick with sweat, as he collapsed onto yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, savoring the feeling of his warmth against your skin.

"I love you," Joe murmured, kissing your neck softly.

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice still trembling from your orgasm.

As you lay there, Joe’s mind drifted to his morning routine, his thoughts of a hard workout fighting against the post-coital bliss. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. "You coming to the gym with me?"

You groaned, playing coy. "After that performance, I might need a nap first."

Joe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on," he said, kissing the tip of your nose. "It'll do you good."

You sighed dramatically, but the twinkle in your eye gave you away. "Fine, but you're carrying me there."

With a smirk, Joe didn't need further prompting. He hoisted you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, your squeals of surprise turning into laughter. Her long coils cascaded down his back as he marched towards your closet, his bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. You playfully slapped at his backside, trying to wriggle free, but his grip was firm.

"You're not getting out of this," he said, his voice filled with good-natured determination.

"Put me down, Joe," you giggled, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you attempted to squirm away.

"Nope, you said you'd come with me, so you're coming," Joe said with a smug grin, his muscles flexing as he set you down in the walk-in closet, turning to find your workout gear.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that shot through you. It had been too long since you'd had the energy to keep up with Joe's intense workout routines. You watched him rummage through your neatly organized space, his toned ass on full display in his boxer briefs. Despite your protests, you felt a familiar stirring of excitement.

He pulled out matching sets of black workout clothes, tossing yours onto the bed. "You can thank me later," he said, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

With a mock pout, you slipped into your gear, your curves hugged tightly by the spandex. You had to admit, it felt good to be out of your business attire and into something that allowed you to move freely. Joe couldn't help but steal glances at you as you made your way to the home gym. You caught him looking and shot him a playful glare, which only made him grin wider.

Once in the gym, Joe turned on his workout playlist, the bass-heavy beats filling the space and setting the mood. You warmed up together, stretching your muscles in a tug of flexibility and strength. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you watched Joe move with such grace and power. He'd always been fit, but his dedication to his career had sculpted him into something truly awe-inspiring.

You began your workout, Joe lifting weights that seemed impossibly heavy while you hit the treadmill. Despite your initial hesitation, you found that your body was responding well to the exertion. You pushed yourself, the endorphins flooding your system as you picked up speed, feeling the burn in your legs. The scent of sweat and effort filled the air, a heady mix that was oddly intoxicating.

Joe caught your eye from across the room, his own workout taking on a more intense edge. You were both so focused on your routines, yet couldn't help but steal glances at each other. The way your breasts bounced with each step on the treadmill, the way Joe's biceps bulged with every curl. You were both aware of the effect you had on each other, the sexual tension building again as the minutes ticked by.

You stepped off the treadmill, your body glistening with sweat. You grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped your face, watching Joe from the corner of your eye. He was doing lunges now, his thighs flexing with each powerful movement. You couldn't help but lick your lips, remembering how those same muscles had felt under your fingertips earlier.

"You okay over there?" Joe called out, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught you ogling him.

You laughed, snapping out of your daze. "Fine, just admiring the view," you said with a wink, grabbing a set of dumbbells.

Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Keep that up, and I might have to show you some more of the view," he teased, not missing a beat in his lunges.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away. You began your dumbbell routine, the clanking of the weights a metronome to the pounding bass of Joe's playlist. You worked out in tandem, your movements synchronized despite the different exercises. Joe couldn't help but admire your dedication, and the way you pushed yourself despite your initial protests. You'd always been strong, not just physically, but mentally as well. Her resilience was one of the things that had first drawn him to you all those years ago.

The air grew thick with your exertion, the scent of sweat and pheromones a potent cocktail that only added to the tension. As Joe moved to the bench press, he watched your ass dip as you did squats, your toned muscles flexing with each descent. His eyes traced the lines of your body, memorizing every curve, every inch. It was all he could do to focus on his own workout, his thoughts wandering to the delicious ways he'd like to explore your body again once you were done.

You felt his gaze on you, and you couldn't help but push yourself harder, a smirk playing on your lips as you caught his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. You knew exactly what he was thinking, and it only served to stoke the fire within you. You'd always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and the idea of Joe watching you, wanting you, was incredibly arousing.

You pushed through your routines, the room echoing with the sound of your breaths and the clank of metal. Your muscles began to burn, but you didn't stop, your eyes never leaving Joe's reflection. You could see his own workout was taking its toll on him, his face a mask of concentration and effort. Yet, you knew he was just as aware of you as you were of him. It was a silent game of seduction played out amidst the grunts and groans of exertion.

As Joe finished his last set of bench presses, he looked over at you, who was now doing some ab work. Her stomach muscles rippled as you worked through the last of your crunches. With the final crunch, you sat up, catching Joe's eye and sticking your tongue out playfully. He chuckled, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. You'd always had this playful, competitive streak in your relationship, and it was clear you was enjoying pushing his buttons as much as he enjoyed pushing yours.

You decided to take a quick break, chugging water and wiping the sweat from your faces. You couldn't help but lean into Joe's side, feeling the heat of his body against yours. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly. "Shower?” he suggested, his voice low and filled with promise.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Race you," you said, taking off at a sprint towards the bathroom. Joe chuckled, following close behind. You stumbled into the shower, your laughter echoing off the tiles as you both struggled to get the temperature just right. The water cascaded down your bodies, washing away the grime of your workout and leaving you gleaming.

Under the spray, Joe's hands found your body, his touch gentle, cherishing the casual intimacy as the warm water hit your skin. You leaned into him, your head tilting back to allow the water to run down your neck and over your breasts. The shower was a cocoon of steam and sensuality as you took turns washing each other, your eyes locked, smiles playing on your lips.

“Alright, what’s going on up there?” You asked as you looked at Joe, your eyes twinkling with loving concern, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’ve been avoiding having any real conversation all morning, Joe.” Her voice was soft, not accusatory, just curious.

Joe sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned against the shower wall. The hot water beat down on his broad back, the steam obscuring the tension in his face. There was no point in hiding his thoughts from his wife. You knew him better than anyone else, and you’d be the first to call him out on his mood swings. You knew exactly what made him tick.

"It's the team," Joe began, his voice echoing off the tiles. "We're playing like shit." He paused, his eyes closing briefly as the warm spray washed over his face. "The defense is a joke, and the coaching...it's just not there."

Your eyes softened, and you reached out to gently rub his chest. You knew how much the game meant to him, how much he put into it. "You're doing everything you can, Joe," you reassured him, your voice soothing. "Everyone can see that you're playing out of your mind. best QB rating in the league, over 80% completion, anyone with a brain knows you’re not the problem Joe.”

Joe leaned into your touch, his eyes still closed. "It's just...frustrating," he admitted. "I feel like I'm carrying the whole team on my back."

Your hand stilled on his chest, your expression serious. "You know I'm here for you, right?" you said, your voice steady. "Through all of it."

Joe's eyes snapped open, meeting yours. "I do," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'm sorry for taking it out on you. I know I’m a dickhead sometimes with my moods. It’s just hard not to let it get to me."

"You are a dickhead sometimes," You teased lightly, your fingers tracing the contours of Joe's abs, eliciting a chuckle from him. "But, unfortunately, I love you for it. I love seeing how passionate you are about your work.”

The warm water cascaded over you, mixing with your laughter as Joe leaned in to kiss you. It was a gentle kiss, one that spoke of your deep connection and understanding. It was moments like these that made you realize how much you'd missed in your usually hectic lives. You pulled away slightly, your gaze searching his.

"Thank you," Joe murmured, his eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. "For everything."

You nodded, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "Always," you said softly. “I’d do anything just to see you at peace. You know that."

Joe's arms tightened around you, his eyes searching yours. "I know," he murmured. "You’ve stuck by me through everything, even when I didn’t deserve it." He leaned in to kiss you again, his hand sliding down to cup your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“From the minute I touched down at LSU, you were there, pushing me to be better, supporting me when I doubted myself,” Joe said, his eyes filled with gratitude. “You’ve been my rock through all the shit, babe.”

Her own eyes misted over, you leaned into him. “And you were there for me when I needed it most,” you whispered. “When my whole world was falling apart.”

Joe nodded, remembering your darkest days, post-surgery. The pain, the doubt, the fear that you’d never play your sport again. He’d held your hand through it all, encouraging you to keep pushing, to find a new passion. And you had, in him and in the success of his football career.

You stood there, bodies entwined, the water beating down on your skin, sharing a moment of quiet understanding. It was in these moments that you felt closest, stripped of your public personas and your individual ambitions, just two people in love.

"You know," you began, your voice still soft, "You could always talk to someone about it. Maybe it's time to have a sit-down with the coaches?"

Joe sighed, his eyes closing briefly. "It's complicated," he said. "I don't want to be the guy who throws the team under the bus."

You nodded, understanding his dilemma. "But Joe, you're not throwing anyone under the bus," you said, your voice firm. "You're expressing your frustration, and that's okay. It's not about blame, it's about finding a solution."

Joe looked at you, his gaze intense. "I just want to win," he admitted. "For the team, for the city, for us."

"I know," you said, your voice soothing. "But you can't carry the weight of everyone's expectations on your shoulders. It's not fair to you when you’re playing your ass off and they can’t give you some help."

Joe nodded, his grip on you tightening slightly. He knew you were right, but it was hard to let go of the pressure he felt. "I'll talk to them," he said, his voice a little defeated. "But I can't promise anything."

You leaned up to kiss his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. "That's all I'm asking, baby," you murmured. "Just talk to them. Maybe it'll help."

Joe nodded, his resolve strengthening as your lips moved down his body. He knew you were right. He couldn't keep carrying the weight of the team's failures on his own. He had to trust that his voice would be heard and that changes could be made.

You stepped out of the shower, the cool air a stark contrast to the steamy warmth you'd just shared. You reached for a towel, wrapping it around your body and releasing your hair from its confines underneath your shower cap. As Joe toweled off, he couldn't help but appreciate the artistry of your singular tattoo, the way it danced over your muscles as you moved. It was a constant reminder of the fierce strength that lay beneath your softness.

"Come on," he said, taking your hand. "Let's get dressed and order some breakfast. I'm starving."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, but no more distractions," you warned, swatting him playfully on the ass.

"Scout's honor," Joe said with a grin, his eyes lighting up mischievously.

In the bedroom, you quickly dried off and threw on your clothes, your bodies still humming with energy from your workout and the passionate kiss you'd shared in the shower. Your mind wandered to the kitchen, picturing the ingredients you had in mind for a hearty breakfast to fuel Joe for the day ahead. Heading downstairs, you felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of cooking for him. It was a small gesture, but one that you knew meant a lot to Joe, especially when his days were packed with practice and meetings.

Joe followed you, his eyes tracing the way your hips swayed in the oversized LSU Football shirt. Despite his earlier promise to behave, he couldn't resist slipping his hand under the fabric to squeeze your ass as you walked in front of him. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, but your smile gave away your amusement. You knew he was just teasing you, trying to get a rise out of you. It was a dance you'd been doing for years, and you found it both infuriating and endearing.

“Instead of ordering, let me cook for you today," you offered as you descended the stairs, the plush carpet cushioning your bare feet. "It's been too long since I've had the chance to take care of you."

Joe's eyes lit up. "You don't have to, babe," he protested weakly, knowing full well that he'd lost that battle the moment you'd suggested it.

"I know," you said with a smirk. "But I want to make sure my man eats good. You give it to me so good, I wanna reward you. Now sit down, I'll handle it," you instructed as you pushed him onto one of the high-backed chairs at the kitchen island.

Joe obeyed, watching as you tied your hair back in a messy bun, revealing the nape of your neck. He found himself craving another taste of you, but he knew he had to be good for now. He leaned back, his eyes tracing the curves of your body as you moved around the kitchen, pulling out pans and ingredients with the ease of a seasoned chef. The sound of sizzling bacon filled the air, and his stomach growled in anticipation.

You began to prep a feast fit for a king. You whipped up eggs, topped with cheese and chives, crispy bacon, and a side of avocado toast. You knew Joe's diet was strict, but today was a day for indulgence. Plus, you knew he had earned it.

“Ja’Marr’s been complaining about that dinner we had to reschedule last week, says you owe him a home-cooked meal next home game,” Joe said, scrolling through his phone. He watched your expression as you cracked eggs into the sizzling pan, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration.

You chuckled. “Tell him to wait his turn. I’ve got my hands full cooking for one hornball Bengal today. I don’t need another one begging me for food,” you teased, flipping the eggs with a practiced flick of your wrist. “Matter of fact, tell him to bring his child next time he wants to eat my food. Maybe he’ll learn some manners from his son.”

Joe’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, his eyes never leaving his wife as you worked your magic. You had always been so fiery, so full of passion and sass. It was one of the things he loved most about you. “You’re gonna have to text him that yourself, babe,” Joe said, holding up his phone. “But maybe save the hornball comment for when we’re alone. I don’t need to hear it from him all week at practice.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips. You grabbed your phone from the counter and shot a quick text to your friend. “Consider it done,” you said, setting the phone aside to focus on the meal. The kitchen was alive with the sounds of sizzling bacon and the occasional clang of a pan. The smell of breakfast filled the room, a comforting aroma that seemed to melt away the last of Joe’s tension.

As you moved around the kitchen, Joe’s eyes followed you, taking in every movement, every curve. Her body was a testament to your dedication to maintaining your health, your strength and grace evident even in the simple act of cooking. He felt himself growing hard again, his body eager to claim you once more.

"I swear, if you don't stop looking at me like that, this breakfast is going to be ruined," you warned, tossing a piece of bacon at him. He caught it with a grin, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes still glued to you.

Joe couldn’t resist. He slid off the chair and approached you, his bare feet silent on the cool kitchen tiles. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against him. You giggled, trying to shoo him away with the spatula, but your protests were weak.

"Joseph," you scolded, but your voice was playful, not stern. You could feel his arousal pressing into your backside, and you had to admit, it was tempting.

"Come on, honey," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. "Just a little taste," he begged, nibbling at your ear.

Your resolve wavered. You could feel his hands roaming over your hips, his fingers inching closer to the apex of your thighs. "Joe," you warned, your voice laced with amusement. "I'm trying to do something for you."

"And I'm trying to do something for you," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He pressed closer, his erection nudging against your backside. "Let me just return the favor."

You felt the heat pool in your belly, the flames of desire flickering back to life. "Baby," you warned again, this time with a hint of a whine.

Joe chuckled, his grip tightening as he kissed your neck. "Please," he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

You tried to resist, but Joe's hands were already working your magic. He reached around and cupped your breasts, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples. You gasped, dropping the spatula as you leaned back into him. He took that as the invitation it was meant to be and ground his hips against yours, his length pressing into you. "See?" he murmured, his teeth grazing your ear. "I know exactly what you need."

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. "You're so annoying," you managed to say, but your voice was thick with need.

Joe chuckled, his hands sliding down your body until they found the hem of your, or rather his, t-shirt. He began to lift it, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin as he revealed your stomach. You squirmed, trying to focus on cooking, but it was a futile effort. His touch was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming.

"Joe," you said, your voice a breathy whisper. "The food."

"Fuck the food," he growled, his hands continuing to lift the shirt from your body. He tossed it aside, revealing your bare breasts and a black g-string he didn’t recognize. His cock twitched with approval. "What’s this? New lingerie for me?"

You turned in his arms, your own desire flaring up at his words. You pushed him back playfully, your eyes dark with passion. "If you want to eat, you'll let me cook," you said, your voice a seductive purr.

Joe's smile didn’t reach his full expression. His blue eyes darkened as he took in the sight of his darling wife, half-dressed and flushed with arousal. He stepped back into his position behind you, giving your ass a firm spank before squeezing a toned cheek in his large hand. Your head fell forward with a gasp as you tried to compose yourself, a moan slipping past your lips involuntarily at the sudden roughness.

If he heard your challenge, he paid it no mind. Hand coming up once more to deliver another smack to your ass, he watched the flesh jiggle before bending down to kiss the tender spot he’d just abused. His tongue darted out to taste your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched, the heat between you palpable as Joe’s hands wandered further down, his fingertips tracing the damp fabric that barely covered your sex.

“We can multitask,” Joe murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot where his hand last made contact with your ass. His fingertips danced over the fabric of your underwear, teasing the entrance to your warmth.

Your hands tightened around the handle of the spatula as you bit back a moan. "Joe," you protested again, though your voice was less steady this time. You knew he could feel you tremble against him, could see the way your pussy was already growing wet. You tried to push him away, but your legs felt like jelly, your resolve dissolving with every touch.

"Cut the stove off," Joe said, his voice a low growl. "I'm gonna have to eat something else." His hand slipped the g-string to the side, his fingers finding your slick folds. Your knees nearly buckled as he began to circle your entrance, your eyes fluttering shut. You knew you had lost.

Your hands scrambled to turn the stove off, the sizzle of the bacon fading into the background as Joe’s touch grew more insistent. He didn’t wait for permission, sliding the panties down with a groan of appreciation that echoed through the kitchen. Your slick heat was all he could think about, all he wanted to taste. He dropped to his knees behind you, his eyes feasting on your bare ass and the smell of the glistening pussy he could already see fluttering with desire.

“Put your knee on the counter,” Joe whispered, his breath hot against your skin. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his intense gaze before you complied, your heart racing. You knew where this was heading and you couldn’t wait.

Joe swore to himself as he watched your pussy spread for him. Your hands grasped at the counter for balance as your pussy continued to flutter with anticipation. He hummed in appreciation as his strong hands gripped your ass, pulling you even further apart. His tongue flicked out, tasting the sweetness of your arousal as you gasped, your body taut with need. He took his time, savoring the moment, exploring every inch of you with his mouth.

You couldn’t help but lean further over the counter. Her pretty little pussy was on full display to him, almost begging for his mouth. Joe took full advantage, burying his face in your wetness. He sucked eagerly at your clit while one of his thumbs circled your entrance, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your moans grew louder, echoing through the kitchen as you lost yourself in the sensation. Her hand reached back to grip his hair, pulling him closer, silently demanding more.

Joe was more than happy to oblige. His tongue delved into you, tasting you deep, feeling your muscles tighten around his thumb. Your hips began to rock back into him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure. You were so close, so beautifully close to the edge, and Joe could feel his dick throb with the anticipation of watching you fall over the edge. He picked up the pace, his tongue flicking faster against your clit, his thumb pressing deeper into you.

Your legs began to wobble as the intensity grew, your knuckles turning white as you clutched the counter. "Baby," you gasped, your voice strained. "You’re so good."

Joe groaned in response, his mouth never leaving you as he felt your orgasm building. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you scream his name. And scream you did, your body convulsing as you came, your juices flooding his mouth. He drank you in, loving the taste of you, loving the way you felt as you lost control.

When you finally went still, panting and trembling, Joe stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fuck, you taste good," he murmured, his voice gruff with desire.

You turned to face him, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction. "Are you going to let me cook now?" you asked, though the playfulness in your tone suggested you didn't really mind the interruption.

“Nope. I need you to squirt that goodness all over me again, baby,” Joe said, his eyes glinting with mischief as he stepped closer to you, his own length straining against his sweatpants.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his audacity. But as he stepped closer, you felt your resolve melt away like butter in the pan. You leaned back against the counter, your body still humming from your orgasm. Joe stepped between your legs, his erection pressing against your stomach as he kissed you deeply. He gently lifted you up onto the counter, laying you back as his hands drew your long legs to rest on his broad shoulders.

He slid your thighs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. His cock throbbed in anticipation as he leaned in to kiss you again, his tongue delving into your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your hips raising to meet his as he rubbed his clothes cock against your wet folds.

With a groan, Joe reached into his sweatpants and freed his erection, the tip already slick with pre-cum. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes glued to your pussy. You nodded, your breath coming in ragged pants as you gave him the unspoken permission he needed. With one swift movement, he slid into you, filling you completely. You both gasped as your bodies connected, the heat and friction setting off sparks that seemed to light up the kitchen.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me,” Joe growled, his voice thick with need as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your hands reaching for your breasts to pinch and squeeze your nipples as Joe’s rhythm grew more intense. You could feel your orgasm building again, the sensation coiling in your belly like a tight spring.

Joe’s grip on your thighs tightened, his hips moving faster, the slap of your bodies filling the kitchen. He leaned down to whisper dirty words in your ear, his breath hot and ragged, his eyes never leaving yours. "You like that, don’t you? Being fucked like this?"

“Yes, baby, yes,” you moaned, your eyes fluttering closed as Joe’s cock filled you completely, his strokes hitting all the right spots. You felt your climax approaching, your body tightening around him like a vice. “Fuck me.”

Joe’s eyes darkened at your words, his pace quickening as he pounded into you. He could feel your pussy grip him, your walls pulsing with each thrust. The sight of you spread out before him, your legs trembling with pleasure, was almost too much to handle. He leaned in to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he whispered more dirty words into your ear.

“Come for me, baby,” Joe urged, his voice strained with his own need. His strokes grew faster, more erratic, as he felt himself approaching the brink. “I wanna feel you come around me again."

Your eyes snapped open, your gaze locking onto Joe’s. You could feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles flexed with each thrust. You knew he was close, and that knowledge only served to push you closer to the edge. With a cry, you shattered, your pussy clamping down on Joe’s cock as waves of pleasure crashed through you.

Joe groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt your orgasm wash over him. He didn’t hold back, giving in to his own need as he thrust into you one final time, his cock pulsing with his release. You held onto each other for a moment, your breathing ragged, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.

Finally, Joe pulled out, his cock glistening with your combined juices. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your flushed body, still sprawled out on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the sight of you, so beautifully wrecked by his touch. "Fuck," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so sexy when you come like that, babe."

You couldn’t help the smug smile that curved your lips as you watched Joe try to compose himself. You knew you looked a mess, your hair sticking to your face, your body flushed and trembling, but you felt alive, more alive than you had in a long time.

"You think so?" you asked, your voice teasing. "Maybe I should just stay like this all day."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you. "As tempting as that is, we both know we’d never get anything done if you stayed naked all day," he said, his eyes traveling over your body with a mix of admiration and desire. He reached for your hand, helping you hop off the counter. "But I'm not saying we can't revisit the idea another day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Maybe next time, you can actually let me cook breakfast," you said, though the smile on your face suggested you didn’t mind the detour.

Joe leaned in for a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. "Deal," he murmured against your mouth. "But only if you promise to let me eat you out again."

Your cheeks flushed, a giggle escaping you as you swatted his shoulder. "You're so horny all the time," you accused, though the spark in your eyes suggested you liked it.

"Can you blame me?" Joe retorted, his gaze roving over your naked body with a hunger that hadn’t been sated. "Look at you”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile from your lips as you bent down to pick up your discarded underwear. "You're so annoying," you teased, tossing the garment at him.

Joe caught it in midair, holding it up with a grin. "But you love it," he said, stepping closer to you. He stepped into your space, his own body still flushed from your recent activity. "And I'll never get enough of you."

You couldn't argue with that. You stepped into him, your body fitting against his perfectly as your mouths met in a kiss that was as sweet as it was passionate. You felt the heat of his body, the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm as you wrapped your arms around his neck. For a moment, the kitchen and the world outside it faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, your love and your desire.

When you broke apart, your smile was soft, your eyes warm with affection. "Let's get cleaned up and then eat," you said, your voice still breathless. "I didn’t make this food for nothing."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to help you plate the food. He placed a delicate kiss on your shoulder, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. You ate at the island, leaning into Joe’s muscular body as you stood naked together.

The scent of the crispy bacon and the eggs filled the kitchen, making your stomachs growl. You took your first bites, savoring the flavors that melded together perfectly. Despite your earlier distraction, the breakfast was heavenly, a testament to your culinary skills.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sorry For My Actions, All That I Projected (NSFW)

Synopsis: An argument ensues between you and your husband making you pull away from him when you were only trying to lift his spirits. You give him space just as he requested, but he was soon asking for forgiveness and thinking of the best possible way to make it up to you

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The door slammed once again to your shared house with your husband, indicating his frustrations as you were sitting in the living room watching the highlights from the most recent game that he played in. This had been the running theme for what was now three weeks in a row. The lights had been turned down low as you anxiously awaited his return and you already knew that he wasn’t going to be in the best mood. You hadn't been feeling very well and told him earlier that day that you would probably watch the game from home. He nodded his head when you told him as he kissed you goodbye and went on his way.

“Babe…” You started to say once you finally spotted him in the foyer as you sat up and looked in that direction, but he immediately cut you off.

“Not now.” Joe quickly said as he threw his bag to the side of him and let out a sigh.

“I just…”

“Y/N, I can’t right now, okay? I need a minute.”

“Um, okay.” You quietly answered as you went back to looking at the television and quickly decided to change the channel so Joe didn’t have to hear people possibly questioning his abilities. As far as you were concerned, he was the best quarterback ever in the history of the NFL and didn't care what anyone else said about it.

Joe then picked his bag up off the floor before heading upstairs as you continued to sit there and think of ways that you could possibly lift his spirits. He didn't get like this often, but not having a win for three straight weeks after working your ass off in order to get to this point, there was reason for him to be upset. He had confided in you before the season started and this was one of his biggest fears.

But the game that was just played honestly wasn't his fault. He played amazing and you could tell he was frustrated by the actions of some of his teammates. The blame could be put on the defense, but it was well known that it didn't matter. Because of him being the quarterback, the blame would be put on him.

It was now reaching twelve at night and you started making your way upstairs so that you could check on Joe. You found him in your shared bedroom watching the anchors on ESPN practically picking him apart at every chance they got while very few were defending him. You simply tried to take the remote away from him, but he held onto it tighter.

“Baby, this isn’t helping. You don't need to be watching this.”

“I'm fine.”

“No you aren't. You are nowhere near fine, and that's okay. You're frustrated and pissed off and for good reason. I get that.”

“I said I was fine, now can we drop it?”

“I'm just trying to help. I see my husband is upset and I'm trying to make it better.” You told him as you attempted to brush your hand through his hair, but he moved away from you.

The gesture definitely hurt your feelings but you did your best not to let it show.

“I'm going to sleep.” He simply told you as he turned the television off and got under the comforter.

You sighed before making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skin care routine. Most nights Joe would do it with you, but you figured that he would rather not participate tonight and that you were better off not asking him.

While washing the face mask off, a few tears couldn't help but to slip out. The start of the season had been extremely hard on him and it seemed as if nothing good so far had come out of it. You tried not to let it get to you that he was being distant, but all in all it did. You knew he had to focus and having less distractions was important and by now you honestly should be used to it.

Once you were finished and changed into your pajamas, you climbed in bed next to him and could tell that he was still awake from his breathing since it hadn't slowed and debated on whether you should say anything to him.

“Babe?” You softly said and Joe turned around to face you.

“Hmm?”

“Still proud of you.”

It was now Monday night and excitement was evident as you were making dinner and planned to tell Joe after the two of you had eaten about the little one that was now growing in your belly. You hadn't been feeling well for the past two weeks and finally got a doctor's appointment earlier that day leaving Joe at home to sulk and also go to practice which he just recently got back from. After your appointment, you had stopped at the store and got a Bengals onesie along with a tiny football since you also found out that the baby was a boy. The two of you had been trying for a while and it seemed as if when you were about to give up that it finally happened.

Joe had taken up residence at the table once you told him that dinner was ready. You could tell that he was still in a mood, but it didn’t seem as bad as it was the day before and was hoping that hearing the news would turn his bad mood around. You were trying your best to give him space, but also be supportive at the same time. You understood that he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders at the moment.

“Babe, I made your favorite. I was hoping that this would help you feel better.” You told him as you kissed his cheek and he sighed before answering you as you set the plate in front of him before walking back over to the stove to make a plate for yourself.

“Y/N, you seriously don't know how to take a hint do you?”

“What? Joseph, what are you even talking about?”

“You have been all up under me for the past twenty four hours when I want to be left the fuck alone. What is it that you aren't getting?”

Hearing this, you turned around to look at him and noticed that he pushed his plate of food in the middle of the table, indicating that he in fact did not want it.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, looking at your husband in disbelief.

As many games as he had lost in the past and the injuries he had gone through along with the surgeries, he had never blown up at you and you were not understanding what his issue was. Yes, he was frustrated but the last thing he needed to do was take it out on his wife.

“You act like you need to be under me every waking moment of every day and follow me around like some little lost ass puppy when I lose a game. I already have a mother and don't need another one. Last time I checked, you were my wife.”

“I'm only trying to help and want for you to feel better. I understand that you’re frustrated, but this is not the way we go about things and you know that.” You told him as you were trying to do your best to even your breathing. Because it was only a matter of time before you started to yell at him. You didn't want to do that, but he honestly deserved it because of how he was speaking to you.

“Well I guess this is news to you that you're not helping. None of this is fucking helping. What would help is my wife giving me space when I ask for it.”

That was the last straw and you knew that it was necessary for you to walk away when you looked down at your watch to see that it alerted you about a high heart rate.

“Hmm, noted.” Was all you said before walking out of the kitchen and leaving Joe there with his thoughts.

Tears couldn't help but make their way down your cheeks as you walked down to where your mini library was and you angrily wiped them away. It was a gift from Joe last Valentine's day and that was your place of peace when you wanted to get away from everything. A lot of times when Joe couldn't find you, he knew that more than likely that is where you would be and would always cuddle with you while he also grabbed a book to read or he always loved when you read to him.

Curling up in the corner with your pillow, you placed your phone next to you and opened your book at the place where you left off earlier. If he wanted to be left alone, you didn't have any problem with it. But you knew for a fact that he would come crawling back sooner or later asking for forgiveness.

And you weren't sure if he deserved it.

Regret filled Joe instantly when he saw you walk away from him. He debated on if he should go after you, but he knew better. He would give you time and give you your space to cool off. He got up and began putting all the food away so that it could be eaten tomorrow because he simply didn't have an appetite.

He could admit that the last thing that he ever wanted to do was take something out on you, but he did. He knew that you were only trying to help and the blame couldn't be placed on anything except for him being an asshole who clearly didn't deserve you.

The thoughts were running through his mind as he was going through his ideas of what he could possibly do for you in order to receive your forgiveness for how he had acted, but he was coming up short.

He would simply sleep on it tonight and hoped that things would be better in the morning and that you two could talk and be able to get on the same page.

Waking up, Joe reached for you since you were never one to get up early unless absolutely necessary and instantly frowned when he noticed that you weren't next to him and probably weren't for the entire night when he saw that your side of the bed was completely untouched. He got up and immediately went on the hunt to look for you and found you in the kitchen sipping what looked like tea and reading your book.

Joe cautiously approached you before saying anything, anticipating that you were immediately going to shut him down.

“Babe, can we talk?” He quietly asked and you glanced up at him before putting your attention back onto your book.

“For what?” You replied and Joe muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“I need to apologize for how I've been acting towards you. You didn't deserve that when you were only trying to be supportive and help me.” He told you as he came and sat across from you. He wanted to grab your hand, but decided against it since you were holding your book and more than likely you would pull back from him.

“I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay… I get it. But um, later?” Joe wasn't surprised at all by your answer and knew that he deserved it.

“No, I'm busy.”

“With?”

You simply placed your bookmark to keep your place in your book before looking up at your husband and folding your hands as you leaned on the kitchen table.

“When that becomes your concern, I'll let you know. And I have things that I have to do. So, therefore this conversation is now over.”

“Baby….”

“No. Immediately no. You do not get to do that. You were an asshole to me and quite frankly, I don't have to put up with it. So like I said, I don't want to talk to you. Matter of fact, I don't even want to be in the same house as you so I'm leaving.” You replied as you got up from the table, put your cup in the sink and walked out of the kitchen leaving Joe sitting at the table just like you did last night.

It was now Friday afternoon and once again Joe was blowing up your phone and had been for the past three days. You had decided to stay with your best friend Jazmine for the time being to let Joe think about what he did. Besides, he did tell you that he wanted his space, so he got what he asked for. You were sitting on her bed while the two of you were watching The Nightmare Before Christmas which happened to be one of your favorite Halloween movies that Joe would watch with you every year. You could feel her eyes on you as she saw you looking down at your phone.

Husband- Baby, can we please talk? I told you that I was sorry. I understand why you're mad but it's been three days since you've been home.

You- You pissed me off so much so don't be surprised if you don't see me until the playoffs and even then you’d be lucky if that even happens. You asked for space, so that's what I'm giving you. Get off my phone Joseph.

Husband- What can I do to make this up to you? I miss you.

You- Oh, now you miss me? Give me my space. Oh my, doesn't that sound familiar? Goodnight.

Husband- Babe, it's only 1 in the afternoon

You- And? I said goodnight Joseph Lee Burrow.

Jazmine glanced over at you before looking back towards the movie on the screen and sighed.

“He still doesn't know? Does he?” She asked inquiring if he knew about the pregnancy.

“No, simply because I was going to tell him that same night that he decided to have a temper tantrum.”

“Well maybe….” She started to say and you eyed her.

“Maybe what?”

“You need to tell him and the two of you need to make up and make up soon. I am not taking up for him in any way, shape, or form, but he has apologized multiple times and quite frankly, I am tired of him also blowing up my phone to check on you.”

“I'll text him the sonogram picture.” You told her as you shrugged and went to your phone gallery.

“NO Y/N! That is not what I meant.”

“And throw the mini football I got at his throat. It won't hurt, it's soft.”

“Okay, I sense that you're still angry, but you need to calm down and stop being petty.”

“You're taking his side.”

“No I'm not! I'm just saying that man loves you and will do absolutely anything for you. He messed up big time, but wants to make it up to you. It is literally only a matter of time before he shows up on my doorstep.”

“You have a ring camera so you can see him. You don't have to open the door.”

“We are finishing this movie and then you are going home to talk to your husband.”

“You're kicking me out? WOOOOOWWWW.” You exclaimed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You have a literal mansion to go to! Yes, I'm kicking you out.”

“Will you at least feed me first?”

“You're getting McDonald's and that's it.”

“I'll make sure it takes me three hours to eat it.”

Jazmine simply rolled her eyes in response.

It was now around four in the afternoon when you were finally pulling into the driveway of your house. Sighing, you grabbed your bag from the passenger and made your way inside. You went through the garage and then through the kitchen in order to make your way upstairs in the hopes of Joe not seeing you. You still didn't feel ready to talk to him. As you made your way upstairs into your bedroom, you were surprised to see Joe sitting there scrolling on his phone and sighed. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately stood up and walked over to you.

“Only reason I'm here is because Jazmine kicked me out. I am still extremely pissed off at you.”

“I know because I told her to.”

You did a double take and looked at your husband in disbelief.

“I was desperate and wanted you here so we could talk. Besides, she told me you kept eating all of her snacks.”

Rolling your eyes, you dumped your clothes into the hamper and set your overnight bag in the bottom of the walk-In closet with Joe following behind you. You reached up behind a pair of your shoes on the second shelf and got the Bengals onesie along with the mini football and handed it to Joe who looked confused.

“Uh? Who is this for?”

“You. Even though I should throw the football at your head for how you talked to me.”

“I… wait… you're pregnant?”

“Yes and you would have found out on Monday if you weren't busy being an asshole. I was so excited to tell you, but that quickly went out the window.”

“Babe…. I… I'm sorry. I promise that it will never happen again. You were only trying to help me and I took that for granted. And I also ruined this.” He said as he held up the onesie to examine it.

“Hmm.”

“I bought you some peonies. They're downstairs in the kitchen.” He quietly told you as he played with the football you had handed him.

“I'll look at them later. The baby is a boy and I hope you teach him how and how not to speak to his significant other so he can learn from your mistakes.”

It was still awkward between the two of you after you had come back home from being with Jazmine for a few days. Now that he knew about the little life inside of you, It seemed like every waking moment he was asking you if you were okay and getting you anything that you might need and bringing it to you. You could admit that it was nice and he was trying to do his best in order to make it up to you.

Since you had somewhat finally got your nausea under control, you decided that you would go to the game this week and see him play but made sure to have meds and ginger ale on stand by. It was an away game as they were playing the Carolina Panthers and Jazmine quickly volunteered to go with you. She told you that she wanted to keep you company, but deep down you knew it was because of her huge crush that she had on Ja'Marr even though she would probably never admit it.

The two of you had just gotten situated in your suite because you knew for a fact that if Joe caught you in the stands with regular fans that he would have a fit. An incident occurred last season before his wrist injury which included so called ‘fans’ harassing you. He knew how much you liked being near the action, but from that point on, in order to not compromise your safety, you always needed to be in a suite for his peace of mind.

“Oh! There's your man!” Jazmine said as she nudged you, but rolled your eyes.

“You only noticed because of who he's standing next to.”

“I… don’t ever know what you mean bestie.” She replied as she was heavily eyeing Ja'Marr.

“Sure, sure. I need to get you two to go on a date so that we can all be put out of this misery.”

“He's cute!”

“And single, so shoot your shot.” You told her as you felt a wave of nausea come over you and quickly grabbed your ginger ale taking a sip.

“Tell his bestie a.k.a. your husband to put in a good word for me.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“I literally can't wait for the double dates.”

It was nearing the end of the game and it looked like for the first time this season that the Bengals would actually have a win which you knew Joe would finally be excited about.

“You know what you should do?” Jazmine asked as she turned to look at you.

“What?”

“He already doesn't know you're here so surprise him in his hotel room. You know where he's staying so….”

“And he always leaves a key for me at the front desk just in case I decide to come to an away game.”

“See? Perfect. Yall need to have make up sex because both of you are still acting awkward around each other when you've seen each other naked and his private parts have been in your mouth and yours in his which is still so weird to me.”

“Jazmine….”

“Like I remember the first time you told me you deep throated him.”

“Jazmine….”

“Had him seeing stars and shit.”

“Jazmine….”

“Just saying. You need to get dicked down. And his first win of the season? Oh girl the paint on the walls needs to be peeling by the time yall get finished.”

“JAZMINE!” You called her name for the fourth time before you busted out laughing.

“What!? What'd I say!? You know it's true. He might end up putting another one in you.”

“Don't you wish that on me!”

“That man is about to turn you every way but loose. You always said you wanted a lot so don't switch it up now. I'm actually surprised yall don't have ten kids already.” She said as she held her hands up in defense.

You rolled your eyes before laughing at her and unlocked your phone to go to your text messages. You read where Joe had sent you which hotel that they were staying at and saw that it wasn't very far from the actual stadium. If you didn't want to hit the stadium traffic, you decided that you should leave now to give yourself enough time.

“What's that look for?” Jazmine asked as she saw the wheels in your head turning.

“I'm about to head to the hotel. That way it'll be easier for me to maneuver because everyone else is still watching the game.”

“Well don't let me stop you. Go and spend time with your man. Just lay on the bed with nothing on. I'll text you when my flight is about to take off.”

Getting to the hotel and getting the key to his room wasn't a problem and you were waiting patiently for him to get there as you were laying down on the bed and scrolling through your phone.

You then noticed that you didn't have a lot of battery left and stood up to get your charger out of your bag when you heard the door open.

Joe walked in and was surprised to see his wife in front of him and instantly smiled.

“I didn't realize that I was going to have a special guest.” He said as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I decided at the last minute to come and Jazmine volunteered to come with me.” You told him as you stepped back to stare up at him.

“Congratulations by the way. I'm very proud of you. Even though I was proud of you before.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“Thank you. I think because you’re here is why we probably won.”

“I don't know about that. You give me too much credit.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you simply stared at each other before Joe was the first one to break the silence.

“I hate fighting with you and I'm sorry. The entire thing is my fault and you were just trying to help. Are you still mad at me?”

“How many times are you going to apologize? It happened, we moved on from it. And no. It takes too much energy for me to be mad at you.”

“But I still feel like shit. I can't believe that I talked to my own wife like that. I see why you wanted to throw the football at my head. You had a good reason.” Joe muttered and you stifled a laugh.

“You can make it up to me now, though ” You told him as you let go of him and reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra.

“How and what are you doing?”

Instead of you answering him with words, you simply pulled your bra out from underneath your shirt and threw it onto the floor after you had taken it off without taking off your shirt.

Joe simply bit his lip before he reached down to kiss you as he backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently laid you down and told you to move until you got to the top.

“Move up higher for me.”

Once you did and got settled, Joe was playing with the bottom of your shirt which happened to be his jersey before pulling it up over your head leaving your top half bare in front of him.

Soft kisses were placed all along your body starting from your collar bone and working all the way down until he got to your shorts quickly unbuttoning them. You lifted your hips so that he could pull them away from your body along with your panties and spread your legs wide as he placed kisses along each thigh.

“You're so beautiful, baby. You know that?”

“Hmm, I think that you've told me once or twice before. But I always love hearing you say it.”

“And I'll never get tired of saying it.”

As he held onto your thighs, you instantly felt his mouth on you and a quiet moan couldn't help but to escape your lips.

“Shh. Stay quiet for me, baby. The last thing I want is to hear Ja'Marr complaining that you were too loud because his room is next to mine. I won't hear the end of it.”

“You shouldn't make me feel so good then. And it's not like he hasn't heard us before.” You replied as Joe immediately scoffed.

“Like that's ever going to happen. Keep those legs spread for me or I'll do it for you. You’re already so wet and I've barely done anything.” Joe quietly said as he was running his fingers along your folds making you buck your hips forward.

“I think my wife is growing impatient and she better behave herself because if she doesn't I'll edge her all night. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you right back.”

“Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

—

“Oh shiiit.” You blurted out as Joe was pounding into you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you so that your noses were touching.

He quickly took advantage of the opportunity and brought you into a kiss before placing your legs on top of his shoulders.

You had lost count of how many times you had hit your peak that night and was surprised that Joe still had so much energy. Seeing as it was now close to two in the morning. You guess you can blame it on the high from winning the game.

Without warning he slipped out of you making you whimper before he moved down to be face to face with your core once more and began to eat you out again which felt like the millionth time this evening.

“Mmm, baby. Right there, stay right there.” You gasped as he began moving his tongue in and out making you squirm.

Joe could tell you were close as he held you down in place and began to suck on your clit.

“Fuck! Babe, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can. Give me one more.” Joe answered you as he went back to sucking on your clit.

Your back arched off of the bed as no sounds were coming out of your mouth and knew that it was only a matter of time before you came all over his face, as you've done so many times already. Sure enough you felt it building up and tried to push Joe away from you, but he just held onto you tighter.

“I know your ass is not trying to run away from me. I thought you were my good girl. Good girls don't do that.”

Your response to Joe was you squirming all over his face.

“And there it is. I knew you had one more in you.” Joe told you as he placed small kisses all along your thighs. You didn't even bother responding as you were trying to regulate your breathing and Joe crawled back up your body to kiss you before laying his head on your chest.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asked as he nipped at your breasts before taking one in his mouth and lightly sucking.

“Yes, but I had already forgiven you. This was just a plus. But promise me that nothing like that will ever happen again no matter what the circumstances are. We communicate better than that.”

“Promise.”

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes with your arms wrapped around each other when Joe's phone went off. He reached over to grab it while still holding onto you and unlocked his screen to see that it was a text from Ja'Marr.

Ja'Marr- are yall done yet? Because I have YET to go to sleep. I knew she was mad at you, but got damn.

“See? Baby, I told you that you were too loud.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

[starsinthesky5]

The real question is. Has Joe THOUGHT about proposing to songbird 😛. We know they’re nearing their one year but you know how it goes. When you know you know (to quote lana del rey)

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

there isn't a day that goes by where joe isn't thinking about asking her to marry him. sometimes it was fleeting, a quick thought when she was laughing across the room, or when she curled up against him at night, fitting into his side like she was made to be there. sometimes it was heavier, a deep, aching kind of certainty that settled in his chest and stayed there, beating along with his heart.

july 31st was coming up....one year. a full year since they fell into each other’s lives like it had been written somewhere long before either of them even knew. and yeah, joe knew what people might say. it’s only been a year. you’re still in the honeymoon phase. you have all the time in the world.

but to him, a year wasn’t only anything. it was everything. it was enough mornings waking up with her curled into his chest, enough nights falling asleep to the sound of her voice, enough quiet afternoons spent doing nothing at all but still somehow making memories that would stay with him forever. it had been enough to realize what he wanted, what he’d been looking for without even knowing it.

it wasn’t even about the milestones. it wasn’t about the timeline or what anyone else might’ve thought—it was just them. her. only her. always her. it was the way she looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, that he was the only thing that made sense in her life, the way she softened in his arms like she’d found home. the way she laughed when he was being stupid, the way she believed in him when he was doubting himself. the way her hand always found his without even thinking.

he’d never felt like this before. not even close. not even when he thought he had. because with her, everything was different—easy and bright and so alive he sometimes couldn’t believe it was real. she loved him like she already knew every broken, battered part of him and chose him anyway. he loved her like breathing: natural, necessary, something he couldn’t live without.

they were the definition of when you know, you know. no second guessing. no overthinking. just certainty, deep in his bones.

he caught himself thinking about it all the time (just like she was constantly day dreaming about their wedding) when she was humming under her breath while baking something, or tying her hair up messily on the couch, or singing to him in that soft, absentminded way she did when she thought he wasn’t really paying attention. he thought about it when she wore his clothes, when she cradled his face in her hands like he was something precious, when she held his hand while he drove and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.

he thought about it every time she smiled at him like he was her whole world, because she didn’t even realize she was his.

he hadn’t bought a ring yet, but he’d looked. god, he’d looked even when he didn't really mean to. and sometimes, when the timing felt so perfect it almost hurt, he caught himself reaching for the pocket that wasn’t full yet. imagining it. her face. her tears. her hands shaking when she said yes. the life they’d build together, forever, because nothing had ever felt more right than her.

when you know, you know. and joe burrow knew. he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

one year had been enough to understand that nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the way she made him feel, steady, seen, whole. enough to know that he wanted her by his side, through every season, every step in his career, every messy, beautiful moment life had to offer.

he didn’t want her just for a few more years. not just for the good times, or the highlight reels. he wanted her till the day he died. wanted to grow old with her, to see her laugh lines deepen, to hold her hand through every heartbreak and every triumph, to be hers in every possible way.

he looked at her sometimes, sitting there in the passenger seat of his car, hair whipping around in the breeze from the open window, swallowed up in his old athens high school hoodie, laughing like the joker at something dumb he said about how fish can’t drown, they can only suffocate if they stop moving and the water stops passing over their gills, and it hit him all over again, sharp and sudden, like a freight train to the chest.

it’s you. it’s always been you. and god, i can’t believe it took this long to find you.

one year. not nearly enough time to love her the way he wanted to. but the perfect beginning to the rest of their lives.

one day soon, he promised himself. one day soon, he’d ask her to be his for good. and she’d say yes he knew it, deep down where it mattered most. because whatever invisible thread tied them together, whatever magic had pulled her into his life, it was stronger than anything he’d ever known.

a lifetime still wouldn’t be enough for her. but he was damn sure gonna try.

[honeydippedfiction]

How did Angel tell Joe they were having a baby? How did they tell their family and friends.

Let's just say telling everyone else went a lot more smoothly and planned than when she told Joe

Angel sat in the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. She stared at the pregnancy test sitting on the counter in front of her, the two lines glaring up at her like a bright, undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous—it was just Joe, after all. But this wasn’t just any piece of news. This was big. Life-changing. And somehow, despite the overwhelming joy bubbling up inside her, she found herself stalling.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him—it was just... how?

She picked up the test, her thumb tracing the edges, wondering what the best way to break the news was. Her thoughts bounced from one idea to the next. Should she make a cute little dinner and slip it into his glass of wine? Too dramatic. Maybe write it on a cake? But the idea of him finding out from a slice of cake seemed too impersonal. Then it hit her.

She couldn’t even explain why this felt like the right idea, but it did.

She grabbed the remote, turned the TV on, and flipped through the channels until she landed on his favorite show—a random rerun of some sports documentary. She set the remote down, looked at the test one last time, and then slipped it carefully into his gym bag, tucked away under a folded sweatshirt. She wasn’t even sure he’d notice it right away.

He was due home any minute.

When she heard the front door click open, her heart jumped into her throat.

“Hey, babe!” Joe called out, his deep voice echoing through the hallway as he dropped his keys on the counter. “You here?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen!” she called back, trying to sound casual, though the nervousness was creeping into her voice.

Joe appeared in the doorway, his expression instantly softening as he saw her. He was still in his workout clothes, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from the day’s practice. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw her. “Hey, you,” he said, grinning. “What’s up?”

She forced a smile, trying to ignore the anxious knot in her stomach. “Not much. Just waiting for you to come home so we could... talk.”

His grin faltered, the subtle shift in her tone catching his attention. “Talk about what?”

Angel shrugged, trying to play it off. “You know, nothing crazy... Just something I wanted to share with you.”

Joe cocked an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Sounds mysterious. You’re not planning on, like, surprising me with a huge trip to Europe or something, are you? Because I’m not sure I’m ready for that right now.”

She laughed, her nerves easing slightly. “No, nothing that big. Just something a little more... personal.”

He tilted his head, curious now, and walked over to the kitchen table. “Personal? You’re scaring me here.”

Angel couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up. “I’m not trying to scare you, I swear. Just... give me a second.”

She walked over to the counter, grabbed his gym bag, and handed it to him. “I was cleaning out your stuff today, and I found something. You might want to check it out.”

Joe gave her a puzzled look, then shrugged, unzipping the bag. “Alright... what’s in here? Did I leave my headphones again?”

She could see his mind working as he pulled out a few socks, a couple of protein bars, and—finally—his sweatshirt. But then his hand brushed against something hard in the bottom of the bag. He paused, pulling the pregnancy test out with a confused frown. “Uh… what is this?”

He looked up at her, his brows furrowing. “Angel? This is…”

Her heart was in her throat now. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter. “It’s positive.”

Joe stood there, staring at the test, blinking as if the words weren’t quite sinking in. The silence stretched between them.

“You’re…” He paused again, as if trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. “Wait, you’re telling me—”

“I’m pregnant, Joe.” The words were simple, but in that moment, they felt like the most profound thing she’d ever said.

Joe’s hands trembled slightly as he placed the test back down on the counter. He looked at her, then back at the test, then back to her again. His face, usually so composed, was now a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and—she could see it—pure joy creeping in.

He cleared his throat, trying to laugh it off like he hadn’t just had the wind knocked out of him. “Okay... okay, I did notsee that coming.”

Angel stepped closer to him, her heart thundering in her chest. “I didn’t either, honestly. But it’s real, Joe. We’re going to be parents.”

Joe looked at her like he was trying to make sense of the idea, his eyes wide, but his smile slowly spread across his face. “Wait, you’re really pregnant?” He repeated it again, as if saying it out loud would make it sink in. “You’re sure? I mean, not that I’m doubting, it’s just—”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Angel interrupted, laughing, a tear slipping down her cheek without her realizing. “It’s real.”

Joe didn’t say anything else for a moment. He just looked at her, and for a second, Angel thought maybe he was about to freak out, maybe run away or... something.

But then, his face broke into the most genuine, joyful grin she had ever seen. Slowly, he walked over to her, his hands shaking slightly. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She buried her face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace, feeling the weight of everything they were about to face together.

“Holy crap,” Joe whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re gonna be parents... I’m gonna be a dad.”

She squeezed him tighter, her heart swelling with love. “Yeah, you are,” she whispered back. “And you’re going to be the best dad. I just know it.”

Joe pulled back slightly, his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her like she was the most incredible thing in the world. “I’m so glad it’s you,” he said quietly, his voice full of wonder. “We’re gonna figure this out together, right?”

“Together,” Angel repeated softly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Joe wiped it away gently, his smile never fading. “I don’t care what happens next. As long as it’s with you.”

And in that quiet moment, the world outside didn’t matter. They were just two people, standing in the middle of their kitchen, on the cusp of something that would change everything. Together.

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It was a chilly Saturday afternoon when Joe and Angel decided to share their big news with his parents, Robin and Jimmy. They had driven up just for the weekend, and this felt like the perfect time to tell them—together, but in their own special way. The plan was simple: surprise them with a new pair of jerseys that would make them think they were just receiving yet another set of Bengals gear, a common gift for Joe’s family.

Angel had picked out two matching Cincinnati Bengals jerseys—perfect for Robin and Jimmy. But these weren’t just any jerseys. Instead of “Burrow” on the back, they read “Grandpa” and “Grandma”, respectively.

She couldn’t help but grin at the idea of their reactions. It would be a fun surprise, and just the right kind of playful chaos they both loved. After all, Joe and Angel’s relationship was built on spontaneity and humor, so why would telling his parents about the baby be any different?

The moment finally arrived. The four of them stood in the living room of Joe and Angel’s house, the jerseys folded neatly in their hands. Jimmy and Robin looked excited as ever, thinking they were about to pose for a normal photo op. They stood next to Joe and Angel, grinning ear to ear.

"Okay, everyone ready for this?" Angel asked, holding up her phone, ready to snap a picture.

Jimmy, as always, was the first one to strike a pose. "Let’s go, Burrow family!" he said with his classic enthusiasm, already pulling on the jersey like it was just another game day.

Joe smirked, stepping back slightly as he put on his own jersey, looking at Robin and Jimmy. "I think these are gonna look good on you two."

Robin laughed, taking the jersey from Angel. “You know we love our Bengals. This is gonna be perfect for tailgate season.” She slipped it over her head, beaming with pride, not yet noticing the surprise printed on the back.

“Alright, let’s get a good one,” Joe said, positioning everyone for the picture.

Angel adjusted her phone, making sure the lighting was perfect, and then, with a wicked grin, she said, “Okay, now everyone say... ‘Pregnant!’”

There was a pause—a beat of confusion. Robin and Jimmy both tilted their heads, still holding their jerseys proudly, completely oblivious to what was happening.

“Pregnant?” Robin repeated, looking at Angel with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean—?”

But before she could finish her sentence, Angel and Joe’s grins got even wider. The moment clicked, and then, as if in slow motion, Robin’s eyes dropped to the back of her jersey. She saw the word Grandma in bold letters, right above her own last name.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“No... no way,” she whispered, blinking rapidly, her hands slowly lowering the jersey as the realization hit her. She looked at Jimmy in complete shock. “What did she just say?”

Jimmy’s gaze went from Robin to the back of his own jersey. Grandpa. His jaw dropped, his face turning from confusion to utter shock. "Hold on..." His eyes flicked between the jerseys, then up to Joe and Angel, who were standing there, practically glowing with excitement. "You—you’re...?"

Angel couldn’t contain her laughter. “We’re having a baby.”

For a split second, the entire room fell silent as Robin and Jimmy processed what was happening. Then, as if on cue, the gasps started, followed by a collective shout of joy.

“Oh my god!” Robin exclaimed, suddenly pulling both Joe and Angel into a tight hug. "You’re having a baby? This is real?"

Jimmy, still trying to process, let out a breathless laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me! A baby? I’m going to be a grandpa?”

Angel nodded, laughing at their shock. “It’s true! We wanted to surprise you with something special.”

Jimmy’s eyes shone with excitement as he hugged Angel tightly. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Angel. And you, Joe—you’re going to be one heck of a dad.”

Robin was still clutching Joe, a few tears in her eyes. “This is the best news ever. We’re going to spoil this baby so much! And Grandma? I’ve got a lot of practice ahead of me, huh?”

Joe laughed, his eyes glistening. “You better believe it. We’re so excited to have you both on this journey with us.”

Robin finally pulled back, still laughing, and turned to Jimmy, holding up the jerseys. “Well, I guess these will be our official game day jerseys now, huh?” she said, grinning.

“Absolutely,” Joe replied with a wink. “You two are officially part of the team.”

The laughter and hugs continued, the energy in the room electric as they all began to process just how much their lives were about to change. Robin and Jimmy couldn’t stop grinning, showing off their new jerseys to the camera like they had just won the Super Bowl.

“Guess I need to get used to this ‘Grandma’ thing, huh?” Robin said, still in disbelief. “And you, Joe, you better make sure you’re ready for this responsibility!”

Joe just smiled, looking at Angel with that familiar, cocky grin. “I think we’re as ready as we can be.”

And as the picture was finally taken, with Robin and Jimmy proudly holding their jerseys—Grandma and Grandpa—Joe and Angel shared a moment of perfect chaos and joy, knowing that this was only the beginning.

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It had been a few weeks since Joe and Angel had shared the big news with his parents, and now it was time to tell Angel’s side of the family. With Angel's parents' anniversary coming up, Joe and Angel decided to make the trip even more special by flying them to Cincinnati. The timing was perfect—Joe had some free days before the beginning of OTAs, and they wanted to do something meaningful to celebrate Angel's parents and, of course, share the exciting news.

Angel’s parents had always been incredibly supportive, and the idea of telling them in person was something Angel had been eagerly waiting for. Since they were already making the trip for their anniversary, Joe and Angel had carefully planned out the evening. A fancy dinner at one of their favorite spots in the city, followed by a surprise reveal that would take their breath away.

When Angel’s parents arrived, they were absolutely thrilled to be in Cincinnati for their anniversary. It was a big treat for them to be able to spend some quality time with their daughter and her boyfriend—who was now, of course, more like family. They were warmly welcomed with hugs and big smiles, and the couple treated them to a wonderful dinner at a charming little bistro, all decked out in anniversary decorations, to celebrate their many years of love and togetherness.

They ate, laughed, and talked about the memories they’d made over the years. The evening had been perfect, and they had a blast hearing about the little moments of Joe and Angel’s life together in Cincinnati. But Angel had one more surprise up her sleeve for the night.

After dinner, they all returned to the house, and Angel and Joe led them to the living room where they’d set up a little gift exchange. The table was neatly arranged with wrapped gifts—two for Angel’s parents, each one carefully chosen with a hint of fun and a big dose of love.

Angel's mom, Linda, was the first to sit down, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "What’s all this?" she asked, the warm glow of the dinner still lighting up her face.

“We wanted to give you both a little something for your anniversary," Angel said, holding out the first gift. "This one’s for you, Mom.”

Linda smiled as she unwrapped the gift—a beautifully scented candle, one of Angel’s mom’s favorites. She gasped when she saw the label on the jar.

"Smells like you're going to be a grandma."

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Linda slowly looked at Angel, then at Joe, her mouth opening in shock. “What did... What does this mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Angel and Joe were both grinning ear to ear, and Joe couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her reaction. “It means we’ve got some exciting news, Mom,” Angel said, her voice warm with affection. “We’re having a baby. You’re going to be a grandma!”

Linda’s eyes went wide, her hands shaking slightly as she turned the candle jar over, reading it again as if it would somehow make more sense. Then, the tears came—slowly at first, then with full force. “I’m going to be a grandma?” she asked in disbelief, her voice cracking with emotion.

She rushed over to Angel, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this! I’m so happy, I’m going to be a grandma!” she repeated, her voice full of joy and wonder.

Joe stepped in, giving Linda a big hug. “You’re going to be the best grandma, we just know it.”

Meanwhile, Angel’s dad, Tom, was already eyeing his gift with curiosity. "Alright, now what’s this for me?" he asked, grinning. He was always the jokester of the family, and Angel knew he’d love the playful nature of his gift.

Joe handed him a wrapped box, and with a wink, Angel said, “Here you go, Dad. Hope this fits your new title.”

Tom eagerly tore open the paper, and when he saw what was inside—a new grill apron—his face lit up. It was black, with a large “Grill Master” logo on it, but the real kicker was the additional wording at the bottom: "Promoted to Grandpa."

For a few seconds, Tom was silent. He looked at the apron, then at Joe and Angel, and then back at the apron again, his face blank with surprise. Then, as the realization hit, he burst out laughing, holding it up to his chest.

“Grandpa?” he repeated, his voice full of awe, though the excitement was unmistakable. "I’m grill master and grandpa now? This is wild! And amazing!”

He pulled Angel into a tight hug, spinning her around slightly. “You’re making me a grandpa?! Oh, this is going to be so fun. I can’t wait to teach this kid all my grill secrets.”

Linda, still wiping her tears, walked over to Tom, chuckling as she put her hand on his shoulder. “Looks like we’ve got a whole new chapter ahead of us,” she said, her voice warm with joy. “We’re going to spoil that baby rotten.”

Angel grinned, looking from her mom to her dad. "We’re so excited for you to be a part of this. We can’t wait for you to meet our little one."

Tom gave a mock sigh, “I’m already planning the first barbecue. You think I’m getting the hang of ‘Grandpa’?” he asked, winking at Joe.

Angel laughed, shaking her head. “Dad, you’ve got plenty of time to work on it.”

After a long, emotional hug, everyone sat down, and the conversation shifted to all the plans and dreams they had for the future. Linda and Tom couldn’t stop smiling, basking in the joy of being on the receiving end of such a precious announcement.

“We’re so proud of you two,” Linda said, holding the candle close to her chest as she beamed. “This is the best gift we could have ever gotten.”

Angel’s heart swelled with love. There was nothing like seeing the faces of the people she loved the most, reacting with pure joy at the news that was going to change all their lives forever.

And as the evening wound down, with laughter and excited chatter filling the room, Joe and Angel couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. They were surrounded by family, love, and a whole new chapter of their lives that had only just begun.

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​​The plan for revealing the big news to their friends had to be perfect. Joe and Angel had always enjoyed game nights with their close friends, so what better way to break the news than during one of their usual hangouts? This time, however, they had a little twist in mind. A simple game of Uno, but with a surprise waiting to be uncovered by one of their unsuspecting friends.

They had custom-designed a special Uno card to give the ultimate reveal—a card that was playful, unexpected, and full of chaos, just like their personalities. On one side, it simply read, “New player entering the game,” with a cartoon baby face on it. On the other side, “Adding a new player to the team,” with a baby onesie that had “Coming 2024” printed on it.

The night started like any other game night, with everyone gathered around the table, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. Sam Hubbard’, was making jokes about how competitive Joe could be, and Ja'Marr was already teasing Joe about how he never seemed to lose at Uno, always playing the perfect cards.

Angel and Joe exchanged a look across the table, both of them barely able to hold back their excitement. They'd spent the last couple of hours keeping it all under wraps, enjoying the normalcy of the evening, but now it was time.

The cards were shuffled and dealt, and everyone was settling into the game, casually playing their hands, chatting, and throwing in a little smack talk here and there. As the game unfolded, they felt the energy in the room shift slightly—the anticipation mounting as they neared the moment when one of their friends would unknowingly pull the revealing card.

It wasn’t long before Ja'Marr, always the confident and carefree player, picked up his card and, without a second thought, slammed it down onto the table.

“Wild card! I’ll change the color to red,” Ja'Marr said, not even looking at the card properly, thinking it was just a typical Uno wild card. The group nodded, some of them grumbling about how he was always so fast with his plays.

But then, Jess, Sam Hubbard's fiancee, who was sitting next to him, leaned over to look at the card in confusion. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the words written on the back, and her eyes went wide.

"Wait... hold on," she said, her voice suddenly sharper than usual. She looked down at the card again, then at everyone at the table, her hand trembling slightly as she pointed at the card in Ja'Marr’s hand. “This isn’t a wild card.”

The room froze. Jess’s gasp drew every eye in the room, and for a moment, no one moved, unsure of what had just happened.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked, squinting at the card.

Angel and Joe exchanged a quick, knowing glance, trying to suppress their grins. They’d been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever.

Jess blinked in disbelief and then read the text aloud. “'Adding a new player to the team’... with a baby onesie?” Her voice wavered as she turned the card around, revealing the cartoon baby face, and then she read the back out loud. “Coming 2024.”

Silence. The group was frozen for a heartbeat before chaos erupted.

“Wait, hold up—what?” Ja'Marr said, staring at the card, his expression quickly morphing from confusion to shock. He turned to Joe and Angel, eyes wide. “Is this... is this a joke?”

Jess was already jumping up from her seat, hand over her mouth. "Are you serious?! You two are—you're having a baby?!"

Angel’s grin finally broke free as she nodded, unable to contain her excitement. “Yeah! We’re having a baby. We thought this would be a fun way to tell you all.”

The whole room exploded into cheers and laughter. Tee's eyes were wide in disbelief. “What?! Joe, you’re gonna be a dad?” He slapped Joe on the back, shaking his head in amazement. “I don’t even know how to process this. This is insane!”

Ja'Marr let out a loud laugh, standing up and pointing at Joe. “Man, I’m gonna have to teach this kid how to ball when they’re old enough!” He pulled Joe into a tight hug, making everyone laugh even harder. “But seriously, this is amazing! Congratulations!”

It was like a floodgate of joy had opened. Everyone was up from their seats, hugging, laughing, and throwing playful jabs at Joe about his soon-to-be role as a dad.

Jess, still in a bit of shock, turned to Angel and wrapped her arms around her. “This is the best news ever. You guys are going to be the best parents. I’m so happy for you two!”

The whole table was buzzing with excitement as they each took turns hugging Angel and Joe. “A baby?! Man, we need to throw a party!” Sam exclaimed, already planning ahead. “You know I’m gonna spoil this kid, right?”

Angel laughed, shaking her head. “We might need a few extra hands on deck for that, Sam. You know how this group gets.”

As the excitement started to die down a bit, everyone returned to the game, but the energy in the room had shifted to something even more electric. They were all buzzing with excitement, throwing out congratulations, asking questions, and joking about what kind of uncle or aunt they were going to be. And, of course, they couldn’t help but joke about how the baby would probably be better at Uno than any of them, considering the way Joe always managed to win.

The night continued with laughter, playful teasing, and plenty of “pregnancy advice” from the group—though Angel and Joe were more than happy to let their friends have fun with it. And as they wrapped up the evening, the feeling of love and excitement filled the room, knowing that this group of friends was now part of a new chapter in their lives.

“Thanks, everyone,” Angel said, her voice full of gratitude. “We’re so glad we could share this moment with all of you. Can’t wait for you to meet the little one!”

As the night came to an end, everyone was still smiling, knowing that this was just the beginning of a brand-new adventure. And one thing was certain—they were going to be there for Angel and Joe every step of the way, supporting them as they prepared to welcome their little one into the world.

[joecoolburrow]

Protection ~Joe Burrow x Reader

summary — Joe gets protected of you when you have to walk past paparazzi

The white flash temporarily blinded you. Even through a small crack, the cameras were ready to pounce. Joe slammed the door shut. Blinking a few times, your vision readjusted to Joe and the room around you.

“Shit, they’re out here too.” Joe sighed.

Paparazzi, Joe’s least favorite aspects of being a star quarterback. He hoped to avoid them by leaving out the back, but when you're at the biggest pre-Super Bowl party in the city it was probably unrealistic to hope.

It was fun, but you and Joe were leaving early. He’d had a long day doing press and you both preferred pizza and movie in bed over a party. Other NFL stars (current and former), musicians, models, and their plus ones could be heard partying on in the distance.

Joe gripped your arm tightly and positioned himself in front of you.

“Stay close to me, ok?”

You nodded.

Seeing Joe's usual calm demeanor laced with anxiety made you nervous. In the year you and Joe had been together, you'd never encountered paparazzi before. Not-so-subtle bystanders trying to snap a quick, unnoticeable pic was a daily occurrence. But these professional voyeurs were a new ballgame.

Joe slowing opened the door, shielding you between it and his body. Immediately, you were bombarded with camera flashes and clicks. An echo of yells rang in your ear as the over stimulation set in.

You tried to focus on just Joe’s grip on you. He stood between you and the paparazzi like a human shield, his hold of you never wavering. Soon, you'd made it across the sidewalk and started to get into the waiting car.

"HEY!" Joe yelled, starling you.

His rage filled eyes were staring at a pap who was kneeling, camera pointed up towards you.

"STAND UP!" Joe demanded.

He lightly pulled you back so you couldn't lift your leg and inadvertently give this creep what he was looking for.

When the pap didn't move, Joe repeated "STAND THE FUCK UP! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Your heart pounded rapidly. You were afraid Joe and this pap might get into a physical fight. Of course, it wouldn't be much of a fight since Joe could easily take the overweight middle-aged man. But you dreaded the scene it would cause.

Security from the party (who you hadn't even noticed was present since Joe was guarding you so well) rushed over. They pulled the pap up and moved him away. His colleagues catching the whole incident with a million cameras snaps.

Joe ushered you into the car. He climbed in after and slammed the door. For a moment, you both sat in quiet solace of the car.

Peering over at Joe, you saw anguish on his face. You thought you could ease his tension with humor.

"I see why Britney chased those guys with an umbrella."

It worked. A smile crept onto Joe's face and he exhaled a little more forcefully. Then he looked at you apologetically.

"They're vultures. This is why I hate going out. I'm sorry you have to deal with it." Joe sighed.

"I'm fine." You assured him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Don't lie just to make me feel better."

Joe always saw through you.

With a frown, you admitted, "I'm a little shaken up. All the lights and yelling, it was sensory overload. I couldn't see where we were walking and I didn't even notice that guy trying to get an up skirt shot."

"I wanted to kick his fucking teeth in."

You laughed but knew Joe was serious.

"Thank you for looking out for me."

Joe pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Always, babe."

The car pulled away and you leaned your head onto Joe's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting on your hip.

"I'm really sorry." He whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Logically, it was true, but it didn't fix the guilt you could feel Joe carrying. You took his hand.

"Joe, you are the most incredible person I've ever met. I love you. Nothing is going to ruin being with the man of my dreams, not even those creeps."

You took his hand and Joe gave you a little squeeze.

"You're worth it." You said firmly.

You pulled him down for a kiss, tender and comforting. Your lips lingered against one another's. When your eyes fluttered opened you were met with Joe's blue eyes making you a silent declaration of love.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your heels and Joe threw his jacket on the couch.

"I actually had a great time tonight." You told him.

"Me too." He smirked, "but I think the two of us can have an even better time alone."

You knew that was true.

"We can, if only this dress wasn't in our way." You pouted.

Joe pulled you flush against him.

"Don't worry, baby. I won't let anything get in our way."

[scudevils]

summer nights — JB9

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, semi public?, teasing, oral (f receiving), established relationships, swearing, not proofread!!

synopsis: wedding joe makes brain go brrr [1.5k]

a/n: i wrote this in like 40 minutes after finally getting some decent pictures whoops

MASTERLIST

fuck he looked good in that shirt.

that was all you could think about for the past two hours, since you'd first seen him in it back home if you were being honest. it didn't help you'd had a drink, practically eye fucking him from across the room, where he was laughing at a joke sam had said, you were sitting, wanting to climb him like a tree.

were you ovulating? that was the only explanation for how badly you needed this man.

it was truly a gorgeous wedding, perfect in every sense of the word, sam and jess were one of the couples you and joe spent the most time with outside of the team, you clicked with jess the day you'd met her and ever since you'd been friends. you were part of her wedding party, the gorgeous dark blue dress she'd picked out for her bridesmaids somehow complimenting everyone.

they matched the blue suit jackets that the groomsmen had on, the one that rested over your shoulder when joe noticed you'd gotten a chill after the service.

joe wasn't a big drinker during the season, so it was always fun to see hin let loose without the consequences of an early morning training session. his movements were looser, a smile etched on his face and never leaving, and you loved every minute of it, you couldn't help but laugh at his little stumble when sam tried to get him dancing.

jess plopped herself down beside you, her skirt flowing out like the petals of a flower, heavy breathing as she'd just gotten off of the dance floor. "you gotta come up!" she shouted over the music, taking a swig of the drink she'd left on the table earlier. "cmon!" holding out her hand, you took it with a laugh, acting as though you were being dragged up.

"i can't dance, jess!" you shouted back at her, nearer the speakers now, you could feel the beat of the music through your body.

"neither can he," following where she was pointing at, you found joe and sam dancing together, covering your mouth as you couldn't help but laugh at the scene, you were definitely telling him about this tomorrow and you know he'd deny it.

wether it was the drink, it was most definitely the drink, or a false confidence from seeing joe not care, you followed jess's lead, dancing along to the music, the alcohol flowing through your veins, a smile a permanent feature on your face.

when you opened your eyes again, joe was gone from by sam, your eyes subconsciously scanning the room to find him, and when you didn't, your smile couldn't help bur fall. "i'll be right back, gonna find joe!" you weren't sure if she'd heard you entirely, just nodding her head at your words and trusted you'd be fine.

the music became less clear the further you got away, till it just became noise in the background, no longer thumping in your blood, the cool air in the hallway hitting you like a welcomed truck, only now realising just how hot it was in there.

you heard shuffling from the other end of the corridor, where the entrance to the toilets were and began to walk towards them, if you couldn't find joe, you could at least go to the bathroom. the sound of laughter from the main hall was faint now, finally able to hear yourself think. finally, when you reached the bathroom door, you could feel another presence behind you, hear them being breathing.

disregarding every horror movie you'd ever seen, you turned around to see your potential attacker, clutching a hand to your heart when you realised it was joe, you slapped his chest. "you dick! thought it was gonna die."

his laugh reverberated around you, warm and homely as he apologised for scaring you, his hands lingering on your waist as his fingers absentmindedly drew circles. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" joe was a charmer, that was for sure, his words silky smooth.

"sure have, many times." you giggled, that was how he got you, laughing like a school girl who got some attention from her crush, wrapping your arms around his neck as you looked into his eyes. "doesn't hurt to hear it again."

joe dipped his head lower, lips barely brushing against yours, before pressing a chaste kiss to them. "you." kiss "look" kiss "so" kiss "beautiful" and another, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his messed up hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing him closer.

"joe," you whisper against his lips, and he's already moving, his hand leaving your waist for a second as he's opening the door behind you, the bathrooms in the venue only one room rather than stalls, and your already unbuttoning his shirt when you hear the lock click. "been wanting you since we left."

"fuck, i know." he's saying back to you, cradling your jaw in his hand as he's bringing you in for another kiss, messing up your hair even more, his lips tainted a faint pink. "gonna need you to be quiet, okay?"

when you nod at his words, his hand finds the zip on the back of your dress, pulling it down as the front falls, the lacy bra you had on leaving nothing to the imagination, his hand grazes over the flimsy material, hearing you suck in a breath as he teases over your hardening nipples. "been wanting you too, baby, couldn't think right."

he's kissing up the centre of your chest, across your collarbone and up your neck, and you're supposed to just take it, be quiet as he says, but you can't help the small moans and whines that fall from your lips. "no marks," you tell him, joe's eyes flickering to yours. "not where they can see."

you hated how deliberate his touches were, how he knew where to touch to tease you, have you begging for more. joe knew your body more than you did. his hand ghosted down your back, slipping the rest of the dress down your body, pupils blown wide when he sees the matching pair of panties you had on. "gonna be the death of me."

the press of his body against yours was electrifying, every one of your nerves on fire, on edge as his hands went lower down your body, skimming over your clothed cunt, and laughing at your reaction. your boyfriend was a cruel man.

joe was in total control as he was now crouched below you, lifting one of your legs over your shoulder, his fingers rough against yours skin dipping below the sides of your panties and sliding them down your legs, "fuck" he muttered to himself.

before you can react, his tongue is on you, flat against yours cunt, lapping as if you'll disappear from him if he doesn't, and your head falls against the wall, eyes screwed shut, tugging on the strands of his hair, inadvertently pushing his closer to you, egging him on.

you had nothing to hold onto but him, your thighs locking his head into place, even if he wanted to move he couldn't, and he certainly did not want to move. his teeth grazing against yours clit had you jolting forward, nearly toppling over him from the force you got up, you disregarded his prior instructions, letting the moans tumble from your lips

there was no stopping it, whines and whimpers following, his name spoken like a prayer, his attack on your cunt relentless, his thumb coming up to circle your clit, the added stimulation had your orgasm rolling towards you. your mouth fell open in a silent moan, feeling his groan vibrating against yours, legs shaking a little as he never relented, thoughts fuzzy.

when joe looked up he swore he had died and went to heaven, wanting to take a picture to remember the moment forever, but alas his memory would do. he was setting your body on fire, raising hairs you didn't even know you had, fingering digging into his scalp a little deeper. "joe,"

your voice gave you away, just barely above a whisper, yet it drove him absolutely fucking insane, the sweet sound of his name from your lips. joe feels your legs shake around his head, squeezing him in and keeping him in his place between them, the hand in his hair having a hold thats teetering on painful, but he only groaned at the feeling. when his tongue leaves you there’s an empty feeling, although still worked through the after shocks by his thumb.

“fuck, you’re amazing.” he’s whispering against yours skin, pressing kisses to the warmth. you look down to see him straining against his trousers, wanting to help him when he stops you, pointing towards his watch. “gotta wait till we get home.”

you know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop your whine of protest.

[goldfades]

random joey b thought since we haven’t talked about in a while and i’m ovulating rn😌

warnings: nsfw and implications of a size difference

two words: stomach bulge

how he first discovered it

it happened by accident. they were in his bed, all tangled up, everything slow and deep. she had her hand on his forearm, nails digging in, but when she moved? her palm just landed there.

she froze. he froze. they both looked down at the same time.

joe lost his mind. like, actually. his brain just short-circuited. he had to stop moving for a second because no way was that real.

she just raised an eyebrow and went, “why'd you stop?” like she wasn't holding his ego in her palm.

he looked at her. dead serious. “gonna do it again, deeper this time.”

and now, joe loves it.

like, really loves it. it’s not just the visual—though that alone is enough to make him lose his mind. it’s what it represents. the way he’s so much bigger than her, the way he can see the outline of cock inside her, how he can press his hand down and feel just how deep he is.

it makes something in him snap every time. turns him primal. he’ll start slow—almost too slow—just so he can watch it, just so he can make her watch it, tipping her chin down so she can see exactly what he’s doing to her.

“look at that,” he’ll murmur, voice wrecked. “look how deep i am. you can take it, yeah?”

and she always nods, always whimpers, always clutches at him like she doesn’t know what to do with herself because she doesn’t, not when he’s like this.

and then? then he loses it. because that bulge right there—it taunts him, makes him want to press his palm down just to feel it, makes him want to push deeper just to see how much more she can take. makes him want to ruin her in every way possible.

and he does. every single time.

[goldsainz]

#JB9 — YOUR FAVOURITE ATHLETE !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ when your ex-boyfriend breaks your heart, you decide to move on with his favourite athlete.

002. NOTE !

✯ big HUGE thank you to dua lipa and callum turner for being the cutest ever and giving us smau makers so. much. content. also when i proofread i realised i put “Your Boyfriend’s Name” instead of ex-boyfriend so just… roll with it pleaseee 🙏

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yourusername …ready to mingle 🫧

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ynfan1 UM IS THIS CONFIRMATION?

joefan1 girl is that cincinnati🤨

sabrinacarpenter one chance is all i need

⤷ yourusername i’d give a million to you!

ynfan2 finally left her lame bf

ynfan3 chat do i have a shot at bagging her

joefan2 joe liking… i’m keeping an eye on this

ynfan4 who’s joe and why is everyone freaking out

⤷ joefan3 nfl player! he rarely interacts on social media so him liking this is a bit out of character

⤷ ynfan4 nooo we’ve lost her again 😔😔😔

ynfan5 idk what she’s doing in my city but she’s slaying

joefan4 JOE YOU CANNOT FUMBLE THIS

ynfan6 “…ready to mingle” what. the. fuck.

liked by ynfan21, joefan21 and 83,924 others

deuxmoi DEUXMOI EXCLUSIVE…Joe Burrow and YN LN spotted in Cincinnati after a cozy dinner date.

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ynfan22 do we know why yn and her ex-boyfriend broke up?

⤷ deuxmoi Allegedly, he cheated on her multiple times and the final straw for YN was that he was after one of her close friends (who told her, leading to their breakup).

joefan22 okay yup they’re dating

ynfan23 BEAUTIFUL! and he’s there too ig

ynfan24 idk who joe burrow is but he’s my #1 enemy now

⤷ joefan23 i think he’ll be alright……

ynfan25 THEYRE SO CUTE????

ynfan26 just started dating and he’s already better than her ex

joefan24 lost my man💔 but it’s by yn😁

⤷ ynfan27 lost my girl💔💔💔💔💔

yourusername and joeyb_9 updated their instagram stories!

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yourusername 🫀

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joeyb_9 Hope you had a good tour guide

⤷ yourusername the best 💯

joefan31 IS THAT JOE’S HOODIE

ynfan31 i am freaking tf out

gabbriette looking good mamaaa

⤷ yourusername says you!!!!

ynfan32 the heart caption🥹🥹🥹

joefan32 wait was joe her tour guide

⤷ ynfan33 OMG YES

ynfan34 TAKE THAT YN’S EX (can’t even remember his name lmao)

joefan33 i’d bet a million dollars that that’s joe’s hoodie

ynfan35 mamá y papá

ynfan36 couple goals

⤷ joefan34 we’ve barely seen anything BUT I AGREE