#i need to see him and joe working together and doing press together

[burreauxoxo]

illicit affairs - joe burrow

secretboyfriend!joe x fem!reader

summary: you started out as friends but once things start to progress, it takes more than the threats given to you by the NFL for you two to stop seeing each other.

warnings: use of ‘y/l/n’, secret relationship, swearing (very little)

word count: 3.6k

note: this is my first bit of writing i am posting here on tumblr! i am still learning the ins and outs so tips and tricks are appreciated. any suggestions towards my writing are always helpful! banner below does not belong to me! same for the pictures above! all credits go to the owners!

~

when it came to working with the cincinnati bengals, it was simple. you edit the film for the players to watch on the many tablets that reside on the sidelines, then you go home.

when you were hired for the job, the contract was extensive. you were to:

1. stay away from the players outside of the stadium if it meant the occasion would lead to foul play.

2. agree on certain clips and informtion being confidential.

3. not discuss what happens to each player if it is not known, public information.

4. and again... stay away from the players if it meant foul play would be the outcome.

you could look at the players or their wives and girlfriends as friends, you could meet for dinner or even post-game celebrations. but if it was a solo outing and things looked steamy, you were conference room bound.

but when it came to a certain quarterback, the temptation was strong. intensely compelling even.

nothing was worth losing your job; and you meant nothing.

very few occasions did you come upon where it was hard to speak to him. just this last time, it had led to an impromptu bathroom break to collect your thoughts. but otherwise, you needed to keep it professional.

professional for the higher-ups and the officials that were constantly hovering over your shoulder and asking you to transfer certain clips to them before they even reached the players.

professional so the players wouldn’t suspect anything.

professional so the fans wouldn't disect the clips or photos of every time you two were seen together.

because only the two of you were to know what has happened and what will happen outside of that stadium.

it all started when you were given a request by a certain quarterback for a clip where people were calling his accuracy questionable. he could have waited for the mass release of the whole game to be uploaded or even ask the coach to put in a request for a certain timeframe so he was able to rewatch this "questionable" play.

instead, he went straight to the source.

"i didn't want any delay, i just need to see what was happening."

that was the main excuse for his sudden knock on the media room door. players rarely came up to that door. but after an outfit change and a long press conference, joe burrow was determined to get that thirty second clip onto his tablet as soon as he wanted it.

but after conversing with you, he knew that wasn't going to be the last time he was going to see you.

it quickly became repetitive. at first, you didn't realize that maybe his visits were intentional. some may call you naive, but you were sure that it was really, truly impossible.

joe burrow taking time out of his day to come see you? yeah right, cue the laughing track.

but when he got closer, pulled out one of the rolling chairs and asked you to explain what you were doing, the heat practically radiated off of your cheeks to represent just how nervous you were. you had just adapted to his random visits, requesting clips. but now, he was acting interested in what you were doing. it was truly impossible.

that was all you could tell yourself. joe burrow was... a lot of things. you, not so much. so what made you different from all of the well-known, famous females he had at his fingertips?

first, he offered to walk you to your car. you had politely declined and said that the pink container of pepper spray you had in your bag would do the job. if you were being honest, the guards that watched over the parking lot were the only things that kept you safe. when it was just you at the end of the night, you'd be too scared shitless to dig for a small pink container, let alone unlock it and coordinate a decent aim to knock them onto their ass.

so, an offer from someone other than a guard or an off-duty custodian was nice for a change. you declined him anyways.

what came with a decline, was a follow-up visit.

"i was wondering if you had any backlog of clips from the game against the commanders? i'd like to revist... you know?"

"i have backlog from the beginning of my stay here. care for a game from twenty twenty-one?"

joe sat there as you looked in the file from the game he wanted. you offered the whole game or him specifically; you had both.

"the whole game works."

with a few clicks and a thirty second wait, you spun your chair in his direction.

"check your tablet." you say and nod your head at the device that sat on his leg while he waited. he seen a gray square start to show up with a loading signal circling in the middle of it. give or take a minute or two, a clip that was an hour and a half long had been uploaded.

"thanks."

you thought he'd head out after that. but he didn't. he asked how long you had and you told him you were packing up now.

you watched him stand up, unknowing of what was to come.

the both of you had stopped at your car first. he lingered for a second before he gave you a look. a look that signified more than you'd like to admit. you insisted on putting your bags and equipment down first and then the conversation could continue.

but before you knew it, the both of you were in the back of your car... the rest of the night simply ahead of you. the back of your car wasn’t ideal, but it kept the both of you away from being seen by anybody.

nights like that one only continued. it happened another time or two before he offered to take you somewhere else.

"no, we shouldn't." you insisted and at the time, he agreed.

the sneaking around didn't stop, it seemed too easy of a task. that was probably the worst thing you had ever admitted.

a few more identical excursions took place before joe stopped agreeing that you two shouldn’t be doing this.

“what happens with us, stays between us. nobody is going to know.”

he melted the worries that swarmed your head. somewhere down the line of history within the nfl, you couldn’t have been the first ones to play the officials and sneak around a couple times.

you finally agreed one night. but that night, wasn’t the end zone. it wasn’t going to stop there.

it got to the point of joe going to a smoothie shop or out for lunch so you would "bump into him." you took it as an opportunity to go for a run since the meetings usually took place in the earlier hours of the day. your landing spot would be the location he told you and the both of you would basically stage a situation.

you ran until you reached the location, you would check your apple watch, you'd walk into the establishment and you'd place an order. when you would turn around, the two of you would catch each others eyes and then act surprised. but, it wasn't going to last long acting that way.

it would become too frequent. the guards that lingered in the gated community that kept watch of his home, would gain recognition of you and would later learn your identity. for some strange reason, you thought that would be the downfall.

and you were right.

it wasn't one hundred percent the security guards fault. he had other places he needed to keep an eye on. as soon as he happened to drive away for maybe five minutes, it was perfect timing for a photographer to capture one single photo of you walking out of joe’s house, him shirtless behind you.

eventually, the developing nightmare landed you in one of those dark and scary conference rooms that you told yourself you'd never be in unless the problem wasn’t you but someone else. your luck had run out. you said it wasn't worth losing your job.

when you unplugged your equipment to load it into your bag for work that morning, a part of you knew it could be for the last time.

each seat in the ominous conference room was occupied by yourself, joe, a handful of higher-ups, your manager, coach taylor, and joe's agent.

the tension in the room was high. you paid careful attention to the many sheets of paper that were floating from person to person at the table. everyone but joe and yourself had a stack of papers in front of them. they all make a signal that was very obviously planned, and pull the photo that was taken of the two of you to the front of the stack.

"miss. y/l/n, you understand why we are all gathered here today, right?" one of the main guys said.

"yes, sir. i do." you replied. you held your hands together in front of you and on the table to appear as professional as possible. you told yourself it was too late but really, it was never too late.

"mr. burrow, do you understand why we are here today?"

"i do." joe says, not one ounce of doubt or discouragement in his voice.

"well then, let's get this show on the road. some time in the early hours of this morning, we received an email that held this photo that depicts the both of you standing in the entry way of mr. burrow's house. miss y/l/n, you signed a contract a few years ago, agreeing on a whole section that is based around fraternization. what comes with a signiture, is agreeing to the consequences, correct?" your manager speaks.

"yes, sir." you nod.

"with that being said, after the both of you are given a chance to explain yourselves, immediate termination will likely take place, just as the contract states. you are given a chance for explaination to really confirm if that route is necessary, but there is photo proof. there is no turning back from that." he adds.

"wait, so she is getting terminated for a two person job? this included the both of us, it is partially my fault as well." joe says.

"we understand that. your contract is constructed differently though. if you land yourself in a position of being with, let's say, an agent, a manager, a coach, or someone from the front office, similar results would occur. but your contract is different from hers here."

“alright. i��d like to explain first. to start, does anyone have a copy of her contract?” joe asks.

you sat there listening to his words, no clue what he was going to say. he could dissect your contract and spill every hidden action you two participated in; if he truly wanted to, he could.

your manager slides over a three-paged packet and lets joe take a look at it.

“here. it states that she is to stay away from players outside of the stadium if it meant the occasion was going to lead to foul play. does having a smoothie count as foul play?” joe asks.

“no, it does not.” your manager says, still not backing down from the strict and solid attitude he stepped in with.

“does having lunch count as foul play?” joe continues.

“it does not.”

“one of our cheerleaders is great friends with a wife of someone on the team, they went to college together. if she were to go to that players house to either drop something off, visit the wife, or even have dinner as friends, would that count as foul play?” joe asks.

“no mr. burrow, it does not.” your manager sighs.

“okay then. miss y/l/n here did not contribute to any noteworthy foul play and i am here as a witness.”

“joe, you are shirtless while she is leaving your house. what does that say or maybe even imply?” coach taylor says.

“i was working out and she dropped lunch off. she was in the area and asked if i needed anything.”

“would you have proof?” your manager asks.

you both pull your phones out of your back pockets. you both scroll through a couple texts and pull up identical text conversations. you’re telling him you had a doctors appointment in the area and would bring him lunch if he wanted something, and then there was a break in the texts. you didn’t know what he was really doing but it played into the “working out” plan.

“hm, okay. i guess this is why we allow explanations.” your manager says and looks around the table at all the guys who sat there, defeated looks put on view.

“so, nobody is losing their job today?” joe asks.

“no, she is not. we want to instill the rules and remind you that stuff behind the scenes will be investigated if it needs to be. stop with the clandestine meetings and if you two are good friends, then let that show. the secrecy raised red flags but i’m glad you two were able to confirm what was truly happening. on a similar note, if anything is going on between the two of you, now is the time to say so. coming to us and telling us would make the situation a lot better than if we were to find out through the media.”

you and joe look at each other and shrug.

“no. we are just friends.”

~

it didn’t end there.

joe was asked on multiple occasions if a follow-up meeting was necessary. after you were seen at an event for the joe burrow foundation, you received an email. after you were seen participating in bye week shenanigans, you received an email. you wore a jersey with the number nine on it and guess what, you received an email!

you had talked to joe many times about just telling them because this something, was becoming obvious. ja’marr was calling you “joe’s girl” and joe wouldn’t deny it. you’d go no longer than a couple days without seeing each other. the eye contact alone would cause a ruckus if an outsider happened to see it.

but it was the times joe told you to clean up after yourself once you were leaving his place for the first time in a couple days. you’d thought about leaving a small trace of you behind in case something else was going on. but at this point, it was truly impossible.

the more he’d mention not to leave things behind, the more you thought this was going to fade out. you stopped mentioning the possibility of speaking to the higher-ups about the two of you. you stopped offering your support.

it was until he mentioned you coming to a basketball game with him that you felt like calling it off. you didn’t want to look like a fool. people were already calling you “his side piece.”

that was the last name you wanted to be called.

so once you showed up at his place, ready for the game that would take place later on that day, he felt something was off.

“you could have said you didn’t feel like going.” joe admits in the silence.

“i wanted to go.” you say, silence falling over the two of you once again.

“listen, if telling your manager and my coach and whoever else makes you feel better, then let’s do it.” joe finally says.

“it wouldn’t just ‘make me feel better.’ that isn’t even what’s on my mind.” you say.

“okay then, what is?”

“i know you like your privacy and your own space and whatnot, but why do you make sure i have all of my stuff cleaned up before i leave? am i not the only one or am i in the way of something?”

“no, not at all. i was just trying to play along with the story we have going. if someone were to come over here and see your stuff everywhere, then it says a lot.” joe explains.

you believed it. it was a reasonable meaning.

“you know, i would have agreed to getting fired that day if it meant things would work out.” you admitted.

“what? absolutely not. it’s a job we both took part in. if i wasn’t being fired too then how is that fair and do you feel like things aren’t working out right now?”

“i don’t know.”

joe came closer to you, eyeing your features.

"i will find a way to make sure all of this works out." joe says.

the pit that grew in your stomach, triples in size due to the sudden use of your nerves. what did he mean by that?

~

the night went on just as you expected. there wasn’t much time left until the game would be over and a winner would be declared. joe sat with his arms crossed, a small smile still displayed on his serious face. on occasion, you’d glance over and admire his features and how he focused on a different team for once.

the way he followed each player as they ran up and down the court. the way he’d celebrate a score when a basket was made after a serious battle between the ball and the surrounding players. it was nice to see him enthralled with something other than the game he played for a living.

you had noticed that a “kiss cam” was being displayed on the screens, broadcasting various couples to the whole arena.

it stunned you when your figure next to joe’s was displayed on said screen. the noise in the arena picked up as joe leans into you some, turning your face to look towards him with his pointer finger and thumb. his other arm was resting behind you; the moment looked too casual.

a feeling like no other, his lips on yours for not only the whole arena to see but for all of the viewers to see. feeling like one of the first times you shared a conversation with him, the heat radiating off of your cheeks was almost too hot to handle.

you kept as calm as you could, smiling through the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. that same adrenaline didn’t leave you for the rest of the night. once you and joe were escorted out of the arena, you both knew you’d be receiving an email about what had happened, maybe even a conference room invite.

the two of you seen it coming, so why stop now?

~

the next morning, joe had practice to be at. you were cuddled in a ball of his blankets when you were woken up by your phone ringing multiple times back to back.

joe.

“hello?” you ask.

“they want you to meet us here for a meeting. none of them look happy but… what can you do?” he jokes.

now wasn’t the time for jokes if none of them looked happy. but you still climbed out of your warm cave you made with his comforter and got up to change. throughout the duration of preparing yourself, you contemplated a lot.

this could be it. you could be losing your job. over some frivolous actions. it was official… joe burrow clouded your ability to make better decisions.

once you made it to the stadium, the speed behind your steps kicked up a notch. you walked with confidence to show that you don’t buckle under pressure.

entering the conference room with a professional demeanor, nobody batted an eye once you found a seat next to joe.

“so, here we are again.” your manager says, a new stack of papers in front of him.

“let’s not lollygag. why did neither one of you think that stepping forward with honesty was the better move to make?” one of the officials says.

“cut the ‘we are just friends’ shit too. it’s obviously not true.” your manager says.

“we were just about to contact you guys.” you admit.

“you sure about that? you looked pretty preoccupied last night.”

“i have a draft in my emails.” you jump at the opportunity to say.

“keep it. since we’ve been here once before and since we offered many follow-up meetings to avoid this exact moment, there will be consequences.” your manager says.

“sir, we are adults. we have free-will. we both have proved that we can keep our work lives at work and home life at home. we keep things professional around here, so what could possibly be wrong?” joe taunts.

“that’s why termination would be the go-to but due to previous knowledge, i am going to propose an offer of a thirty-day suspension.” your manager says.

“while active on a thirty-day suspension, you are to not step foot on the stadiums premises unless permission is granted and nothing before approval. you and mr. burrow here have represented a civil relationship and there is nothing more we ask for. we do recommend minimal contact the day of the game for focusing purposes.” an official says.

“i would also recommend an nda. either both parties can sign one or i could just print one on mr. burrow’s behalf.” joe’s agent says.

“that would be unnecessary, she is already under a contract.” your manager says.

“just for safety purposes. mr. burrow is a very private person and i would hate for anything to be released against his wishes.” he continues.

“no, she doesn’t need to sign an nda.” joe cuts in.

his agent is silent from here on.

once the respective papers were signed and you agreed that the thirty-day suspension was necessary and valid, you packed up your stuff and made your way back home.

you were sitting on the couch when a call from joe came through.

“i can’t believe we pulled that off.” he says.

“see, i told you i’d do whatever if it meant things would work out.”

“and i never doubted you once. thank you for sticking it out with me.”

SILENTLY LOSING MY MIND OVER UPLOADING MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING!!! I HATE THIS!!

if you want to be added to a taglist, let me know!! <3

[starsinthesky5]

dating joe burrow (headcannons) || joe burrow x reader

description: little things about you and joe’s relationship 💗💗

a/n: this was a request I got! (request can be found here) i haven’t tried this before so im feeling it out :) the fact that it took me the whole week to write this is wild 😭 let me know if you guys like this or have any thoughts, ideas, whatever 💗

side note- almost had a heart attack because i thought none of this saved. this is what i get for writing directly in my tumblr drafts and not google docs first like usual

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: allusions to smut

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he’s a total gentleman. he's always opening your doors for you, carrying your bags, and you never have to ask him to. he just does it on his own, it was a sweet unspoken rule. he says that he knows you’re incredibly capable of doing things on your own and he loves that about you, but he says you always deserve ‘the princess treatment’ and no princess should ever break a sweat or struggle with anything 

he’s always holding your hand when you two are walking together. he hated when you couldn't hold hands because it made him feel far away from you (even if you were right next to him). holding your soft hand, running his thumb along your soft skin, and having your fingers intertwined was the best feeling in the world for joe 

when you're out on the streets, he's always watching out for anything you might step on or walk into such as puddles, uneven surfaces, or grates where your heel may get caught in. you joked that he was like your personal bodyguard, and he took on that role and title proudly. he said that guarding you was a more important job than being a quarterback for a billion-dollar franchise--that's how much he cared for you 

he wasn’t a big touchy-feely guy, but with you? with you it was a completely different story. his hands were always on you, his lips were always pressing sweet kisses around some part of your body, and he was so addicted to you. when he was with you, touching you was all he could think about and when he wasn't with you, he was always fantasizing about the next time he was 

he loves kissing your neck. sometimes a little roughly to leave a few pretty marks so 'everyone knew who you belonged to' but sometimes very sweetly & gently. so many sweet kisses. his soft lips left no part of your body untouched. he was so soft around you compared to the way he was around friends, his teammates, and family. the second it was just the two of you, he became a little baby--your little baby--and was the most precious thing on the planet

you two could be watching a movie on the couch and somehow his head would end up in the crook of your neck, all his focus on kissing your soft skin instead of what was happening on the TV screen 

this would happen when you were trying to finish up some stuff for work too. you would be typing away on your computer and he'd be sitting next to you, so bored and in need of attention from you. he'd start pressing light kisses around your collarbone, and then move up your neck, his kisses getting rougher and more alluring. next thing you knew, your computer was on the floor along with a pile of both your clothes 

he loves it when you thread your fingers through his soft hair while he lays his head on your chest, which he also loves. he loved laying his head on your chest because something about hearing your heartbeat made him feel safe, feel at peace. his arms always wrapped around your middle and his cheek was always squished against your breasts. he just adored it--maybe even for a few other reasons too ;). seeing him like that after a hard day at practice or after a rigorous workout brought you so much satisfaction. you made him feel like that. he didn't need anything else to make him feel like that, just you. it was that simple 

he’s always giving you his full attention when you’re talking. it’s like you’re the only person in the room for him. you two could be on the sidelines of paycor right before kickoff, surrounded by thousands of fans and football players, but you’re the only person he’d be able to see and hear. the rest of the world disappears around him whenever he hears your pretty voice 

your family love love loves joe. 

initially, when you told them you were seeing someone and that someone was joe burrow, they didn’t believe you. they couldn’t believe that you bagged a football player, specifically the star quarterback, and you were slightly offended for a second but their initial reaction made the look on their faces even more enjoyable when you brought joe to your hometown for the first time with no warning 

joe was so nervous to meet your family, it was honestly so cute. he was so quiet and trying to keep calm the entire way to your parents' house. joe was the most confidant person and the most shy person you knew. the cool guy persona he sported every game day was there, but so was the adorable little shy baby that got in his head about things sometimes. he just wanted to be perfect for your family, wanted to show that he was the right man for their perfect & special daughter

your family loved him as soon as they saw him carefully help you out of his car, holding your hand tightly, and leading you to the front door all while making sure that your dress wasn't showing too much because of how intense the wind was that day. he was an absolute gentleman for you, and they loved that

he hit it off with your family within 10 minutes of being at your house, it was insane. he had so much in common with your siblings and even had great conversations with your parents. there was no silence in the house that day because everything was just constantly flowing naturally

he was most anxious around your dad but all of his nerves disappeared once he called joe out to the porch for a drink after dinner. joe thought he was about to get the 'you're a professional athlete, I know how they roll and I'll make your life hell if you break my daughter's heart' talk, but it was the complete opposite. your dad told him how thankful he was to joe for being in your life, for putting that everlasting smile on your face, for making you feel loved in a way you never had been loved before. that's what joe needed to hear, that he was doing good with you. doing good for you 

he’s so respectful to your parents and even addressed them as ‘sir and ma’am’ for a good second. you tried to tell him it was alright to refer to them by their first names, but he felt awkward about it because of how much respect he had for them even though this was his first time meeting them

eventually, he started calling them by their first names. you could see that he was getting more and more comfortable around them and didn’t feel the need to hold up a super suave act. he could be himself around you and your family, they felt like home to him. you felt like home to him

joe's parents loved you as soon as they met you as well 

they were so thrilled that joe had a woman like you in his life. someone who showed him so much love, care, and support 

you weren't super nervous to meet them, mostly because he gave you no time to be. he knew that if he told you in advance that you were going to Athens, you'd freak the hell out. so that's why he told you about 30 minutes before you reached his parent's house. you figured that he was just taking you someplace like a park to go on a walk or something simple like that, not to meet his freaking parents 

joe loved that he could bring you home to his family. he loved that he could show you around Athens and experience all the things he did growing up but in a new light because you were with him

he brought you to his favorite spots to eat, his favorite places to go on walks, his favorite shops, and places he spent a lot of time while growing up. he even snuck you into the football stadium--his football stadium--at the high school one night. joe remembered feeling his heart explode at the sight of your beaming smile once you stepped onto the field and saw his name plastered around the stadium. you just felt so proud of him and your entire body showed that. that's the moment he knew he loved you

he said those three special words, those eight letters, to you first. it came out so nonchalantly one night like it was something that was meant to roll off his tongue that easily. hearing those three words come from his mouth for the first time felt so right, like the stars and planets aligned specifically for you both in this moment. 

the funny thing was, he said it as you guys were stargazing. you were lying on a big blanket in his backyard and watching the planets & stars together

you were looking up at the sky and there was a big smile on your face as you counted how many stars you could see. joe also had a big smile on his face, but not because of the stars. it was because of you. he was looking over at you, thinking about how he was genuinely the happiest he had ever been in his life at this moment, how things finally felt right in his life. it was all because of you

"the stars make me think about how infinite the universe is, but even with all that endless space, the thing I want most in the world is right here next to me. being with you makes everything else feel small, like all I need is right here," he said to you

and then he ended his sweet small speech with an adorable, sorta quiet because he felt nervous, 'i love you'

you felt your heart explode when you heard him say those three words. the same three words you wanted to say to him since the day you met. you had never loved someone like you loved joe, this was so special and you both knew it 

his house was so clean and organized, the exact opposite of what you thought it'd be like when you first came over. you thought it would be full-on bachelor pad, messy, boy vibes. but it really wasn't. it was clean, organized, well-decorated, and it stayed like that. it really felt like a man lived there, not a boy. and joe was a man all right, that was very clear 

joe loved to send you cheesy football puns. his personal favs were "you're the touchdown to my game-winning drive", "you've intercepted my heart and I'm not even mad about it", and "you're the MVP of my heart"

lots of late-night snack runs after prime-time games. it was honestly insane to you at first because you thought he'd want to get home ASAP, but he wanted his sweet treat--and he wasn't just talking about you ;)

he even brings you to practice sometimes. you loved to watch him from the sides, doing his thing and watching him in his element. he sometimes even through the ball back and forth with you before or after practice--always showing off a little to make you laugh

your form had definitely gotten better ever since you started throwing with him. you are learning from the best of the best

joe's closet is your closet. he loves it when you take his shirts and hoodies. you love how big his stuff is on you and also how everything smells just like him. it's even better when he's away and you're missing him. his scent is always on you no matter what

joe's always there for you whenever you come home from a hard day at work or are just having a shitty day in general. he's always there, holding you against his chest, letting you soak his shirt with your tears while he presses soft kisses on your forehead and listens to you vent about everything

he knows how hard you work, so it breaks his heart to see you crack under pressure or feel like you weren't doing enough. he gave the best advice and was the best listener, having him in your corner was the best thing that could've happened to you

it was also the best thing that could've happened to him. you were his escape from the pressure that the football life brought. his peace after all the chaos that transpired on the field. his calm within the storm

joe likes to get up early, like early early. he says that he likes to get the most out of the day, which is fair. but it's honestly so bad because you hate getting up early, but his adorable morning smile makes up for it. it's the first thing you're graced with when you get up

when he wakes up, you wake up (even if you feel like dying because it's so early). he always ends up laying his head on your chest as he presses kisses along your skin, your fingers lightly scratching his scalp at the same time. it's the best way to wake up in all honesty. in each other's embrace, all warm, cozy, and secure

he's so cute in the morning. his hair is all messy and he has this raspy voice that makes you want to pounce on him, even if it is still a little dark outside as the sun isn't even fully up. 

during the off-season, he made it a rule that he'd cook you breakfast at least twice a week. joe wasn't the best cook (he was learning) so his attempts at cooking breakfast were always so sweet to watch 

also because watching him cook breakfast half-naked was like personal porn for you. his tan, bare, muscular back was the star of the show

he'd attempt to make you french toast, pancakes, waffles, literally anything your heart desired. he got better each time he made you food, but also because he'd help you out whenever you made dinner so he picked up on a few skills 

it was pretty funny whenever he'd have breakfast fails. like the first time he tried to make french toast, he burnt them and one piece even caught on fire. it was so funny to watch him run around frantically trying to make sure he didn't burn the house down

he loved to help you out when you made dinner. he made himself your little sous chef, helping you out in any way he could. he'd turn on some music so you two danced around in the kitchen as you cooked together, it was something so simple but it brought you two so much joy

your favorite songs to dance around to together were disco by surf curse, my girl by the temptations, angeleyes by abba, heavenly by cigarettes after sex, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, hunger by ross copperman, pretty boy by the neighbourhood, and lover by taylor swift

sometimes you were so caught up in dancing together that you completely forgot about the food on the stove. the dancing sometimes led to some other things, so naturally, you got distracted. you would end up ordering some chinese takeout and calling it a night whenever that happened 

joe loves kissing you. like a lot 

sure, he loves kissing spots around your body, but nothing could compare to the feeling he'd get when your lips were pressed against his

that man loves his sloppy, sexy, slow makeout sessions more than anything. noses brushing against each other, his hands wandering around your perfect body, tasting each other...it was so good. especially because 90% of the time they led to some other things ;)

joe was so careful with you in that sense. he always made sure you were alright before you two did anything. he never pressured you for anything, everything would be done on your terms 

he's too good in bed. like it's insane. he quite honestly takes your breath away. he can do it all. slow lovemaking & hair-pull worthy, sheet-gripping sex. the way he worshipped your body was truly something out of a fairytale. you'd lose track of time whenever you two got in bed like that, and it was honestly worth it. he was just so damn good. you wanted to stay like that with him as long as you could

he's a lowkey blanket hogger too. he wraps himself in a little burrito blanket, looking all cozy and soft while you stare at him with a straight-lipped face. buttt he caves and lets you into his little blanket burrito. it's so comfy, especially in the winter. the combined heat coming from his body and the blanket made you feel like you were in a soft cocoon 

joe loves it when you call him joey, J, burrito (a funny play on 'burrow'), or JB. you didn't really use his other nicknames such as shiesty, joe cool, or joe brr because it felt wrong. those were all football joe names. your nicknames for joe were just joe names 

he loved that he was just joe to you. he made sure when you first started dating, you got to know just joe. not Cincinnati Bengals star quarterback joe burrow. just joe

you always found joe doing the most normal things super hot and sexy. he could just be sitting on the couch and doing something on his iPad and you'd find yourself drooling (it was definitely because of that man spread that sent you into orbit)

bringing in bags of groceries out of your car, washing the dishes, putting away your laundry for you, cleaning up the kitchen. it was all so fucking hot. he was just so hot 

sometimes while he was doing these things, you'd have an epiphany. you'd realize that he was all yours. nobody else's, just yours. he'd laugh whenever he caught you like this. it was so enchanting to him how you'd randomly become hyperaware that you were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend 

you and joe love flowers so much. you always surprise him with random flower deliveries (especially after a loss) because you know his face will automatically light up once he sees the beautiful plants. he also scheduled weekly flower deliveries for you. a vase of flowers would be at your door every monday morning, the perfect way to start off the week

he loves to pamper you as well 

he's always buying you things without reason. clothes, jewelry, books, random little knick-knacks. he just loved to show how much he loved you in every shape and form possible

all of your daily jewelry was given to you by him. your two necklaces (one being a necklace with his initial), your 3 bracelets, your 4 rings (two on each hand, one being a promise ring), and your anklet which had 9 citrine orange gemstones in it along with multiple diamonds

proper date nights are a must in your relationship. even during the season, he made sure you had one night in the week where you two went out for dinner together. but you'd also have the best date nights at home

sometimes you just ended up building legos on the floor & watching a silly movie as a date night, but you two loved doing simple things like this. sometimes you'd just eat dinner outside in the backyard together as a date night. sometimes you'd just go on a night stroll together. simple things like that were special because it kept you two grounded. you didn't need to go out and drop $200 on some fancy dinner when you could have the same level of enjoyment by sitting on the floor, building a lego set from 'the office', and stuffing your faces with takeout. as long as you were together, you didn't really care what you did 

he never fails to tell you how amazing you are. those sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear every night before bed were the things you craved the most in your previous relationships. just being told how much you brighten his world, how pretty you are, how easy it is to love you, and other things like that made your day. he never skipped out on telling you those things

you love hearing his laugh. whenever he laughs around you, he laughs with his whole body. it's such a sweet sound, a sound you wish you could hear forever

you were so obsessed with joe’s body. his thick thighs, large muscles, veiny hands, and gorgeous face. he was a literal greek god, it was so hard to believe this man was real. he was equally as obsessed with your body too, and he made sure to show you that almost every night ;) 

your friends love joe so much. they always call him your prince charming, the man who made all your dreams come true and the man who treats you like you're a real-life princess. they always tease you because of how down bad you act for him too. whenever you're with them and joe isn't there, they have to keep a tally of how many times you bring him up or say 'i miss joe'. they find it precious that you act that way for him 

when he first met your best friends over dinner, he was lowkey intimated by them. they're so protective over you, so they had this tough front on. the entire dinner was like a test for him, and he passed it with flying colors

they watched as he paid such close attention to everything you said, how he was holding your hand under the table, how he subtly checked in on you to see if you were comfortable, offering his jacket in case you were cold, stayed off his phone the entire time, his nonchalant & genuine compliments towards you, making sure you were included in all the conversations, actively engaging with your friends and making a genuine effort to get to know them, his gentle touches like placing his arm around you or lightly rubbing your arm, how he spoke so highly of you, how he took care of the small things such as filling your water glass without you even having to ask, the little inside jokes you two had, and noticing and responding to your little signals when you got anxious that only your friends knew about until now

after the dinner, your girls pulled you over and they had the biggest smiles on their faces. they told you to send them a save-the-date invite ASAP because they knew you were going to marry that man. they saw the way he acted around you and that alone was enough to seal the deal 

his friends loved you too. they instantly noticed how perfectly you matched joe's vibe, how happy you made him, and how you were practically made for one another. they called you two peanut butter & jelly; you went together so well

game days were always so fun for you two

you grew up in a football family so you were already a big football girl before you even met joe. being a football players girlfriend was written in the stars for you 

joe didn't believe you initially when you mentioned to him how much you loved football. he thought you were just saying that to impress him. he found out the hard way that you were being serious 

you two were watching a MNF game (prior to actually becoming boyfriend/girlfriend) and your (then) favorite team was playing against one of their longtime rivals. joe's jaw was on the floor the entire game because of how you were screaming at the tv, jumping onto your feet at every bullshit flag & call, and so locked in on everything that was going on 

your keenness towards football made your relationship even more exciting. you'd get to watch your boyfriend do what he loved, which happened to be one of your favorite things in the world

seeing you in his suite every week gave him an extra boost. he knew you were watching him and he wanted to make you proud & happy at all times 

he also loved to see your game-day outfits. seeing his name, his number, his colors all around your body did some unspeakable things to him. sometimes he wondered how fast it would take for anyone to notice he was missing. the storage closet seemed like the prime quickie spot on game days ;) 

you had a routine before kickoff too. you'd go down to the sidelines before the start of the game to give joe a little pep-talk and it always ended with a passionate kiss and little handshake you two made up on your first date (a sort of good luck manifestation tactic). at the end of the game, win or loss, you'd be waiting in the tunnel to give him his post-game kiss and a singular rose (as you know, he loves getting flowers)

the orange rose you gave him after the 2021 AFC championship game (the super-bowl sending game) sits in his office. he got it pressed and plated by a professional, a way to preserve the special memory that the flower held 

the love you two shared was truly something that only came around once every few lifetimes. it was so special, so rare, so exciting 

“every time I look at you, I feel like I’m falling in love all over again. the way you laugh, the way you move, even the way you think—it’s all so beautiful to me. i could spend the rest of my life just watching you be yourself and never get tired of it. i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re always on my mind, like a song stuck on repeat. every time I’m with you, it feels like the world fades away, and all I can see, hear, and feel is you. i’m completely mesmerized with everything about you," he said to you

--The End--

[v6quewrlds]

HOMIESEXUAL II, BURROW & IOSIVAS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow/andrei iosivas x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀6.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀just as you begin to settle into a slow ease with andrei, joe's late night texts sends you spiraling. paralyzed by the memories of what could have been, you find yourself back to square one.

author's note⠀⁎⠀read part i here. already planning a third part <3 first part focused mostly on andrei, this part focuses mostly on joe. don't ask me what the timeline is or how long anyone's been together, idk man. warnings⠀⁎⠀some usage of y/n, vicious cycles part ii, reader is going through it, literally just angst, sam lowkey meddling.

You leaned against your kitchen counter. Pale marble pressed a deep line into your skin as you took slow, shallow sips of your steaming cup of coffee. You drank it black with just a spoonful of sugar, a silent protest to the bitter taste of the morning after receiving Joe's text. The sun painted the room in a warm glow, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled in your chest.

The subtle creaking of your floor gave away heavy footsteps, interrupting your thoughts. You turned in the direction of the sound to find Andrei emerging from your bedroom, a hopeful smile on his face. "Good morning," he greeted you, stretching out his arms in a yawn.

"Hey," you managed to reply, your voice a bit hoarse from the previous night. He crossed the room and wrapped you in a gentle embrace. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for answers you weren't ready to give.

"Good," you lied, your mind racing with the weight of your decision. "Really good."

You could feel his heart beating in his chest as he processed your words, and you could hear the deep inhalation as he tried to modulate his reaction. Andrei pulled back, his hands lingering on your arms as he searched for the right response. "So, we're okay?" His voice was a soft whisper, hopeful.

You nodded. "We're okay," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tumult in your thoughts.

"That's all I needed to hear." Andrei's smile grew, crinkling the corner of his eyes. "I really like you. I know we're taking it slow, but I want you to know that." A large hand came down to cup the side of your face, thumb soothing circles into your brown skin before he leaned down to kiss you. It was gentle, slow, and filled with promise.

You returned the kiss, feeling a pang of guilt. You knew you had to tell him about Joe's message, but you didn't want to ruin the moment. Not yet. Instead, you chose to bask in the warmth of his affection, if only for a little longer. "I'm all yours, Andrei," you said, your voice earnest.

As you broke apart, Andrei's eyes searched yours for reassurance. "I'm gonna head out, hit my apartment before practice," he said, reluctance in his tone. "But, I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm. "Soon."

He leaned in once more, softly whispering a question of, "Promise?", against your lips, all deep and soft and sweet. "Promise," you laughed against his lips, the sound light and airy, the promise feeling heavier than it should have.

Once Andrei left, the apartment felt too quiet. The echo of his footsteps down the hall seemed to amplify the silence that followed. You knew you had to get to work, but your legs felt like lead. With a deep sigh, you placed your half-empty coffee mug in the sink and headed to the shower. The hot water washed away the lingering scent of Andrei, but not the weight of Joe's words in your thoughts.

You could practically hear his voice saying those sweet words.

Are you free tomorrow?

You were, in fact, free.

We should do something.

God, you craved to be near him.

Miss seeing you.

You hated that you didn't hate him. Hated that you could feel his words' warmth through your phone's cold screen.

As you stepped into the shower, the hot spray did nothing to wash away the feeling of his embrace from your mind. You knew you had to tell Andrei, but you were scared of losing him and scared of losing your self respect in the process.

The office was bustling when you arrived. By the time Jess met your eye, you had already read and reread the text message fifty times over. The weight of Joe's words hung over you like a dark cloud as you attempted to read into every word choice. You made your way to Jess's desk, where your friend was buried in paperwork, and dropped your bag with a loud thud.

"Tell me everything," Jess demanded, her eyes immediately recognizing the distress in your posture. The two of you retreated to a more secluded area of the office, where the hum of the photocopier and the occasional ring of a phone couldn't penetrate your hushed conversation.

You recounted your tumultuous evening, the text from Joe, and the spiraling that followed. Jess listened intently, her eyes focused on your expression and intermittent sighs.

When you were done, Jess took a deep breath. "Don't take this the wrong way, babe. But, you don't talk about Andrei half as much as you talk about Joe."

The truth of Jess's words stung like a slap. You had been so focused on Joe that you had neglected the good thing you had with Andrei. "I know," you mumbled, dropping your eyes to the floor. "I'm just... every time I think I can move on, it's like he senses it and fucks with my head."

"Babe, you have to start taking some responsibility for your part in this too," Jess said firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You can't blame Joe for everything, as fucked up as he is. You have to figure out what you truly want and stick to it. Joe can't get through to you if you just… shut the door."

You nodded, knowing your friend was right. You had been playing a dangerous game of push and pull with both men, not truly committing to either. "I know," you sighed. "But it's hard to ignore him when he's been part of my life for so long. It feels incomplete."

Jess anxiously bit her lip, her eyes filled with a mix of understanding and frustration. "I'm sorry, babe. I know it's complicated, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not healthy for you."

You sighed, biting your bottom lip. "I know," you echoed. "You're so lucky you locked down Sam."

Jess rolled her eyes playfully. "You know it wasn't always roses."

"Yeah, but you guys make it look easy now," you said, trying to lighten the mood. "All lovey-dovey and happy."

"It's not easy, but it's worth it," Jess said, her voice filled with conviction. "You just have to figure out what's worth fighting for and who you're willing to fight for it with."

You nodded, following Jess as the two of you headed back into the office to settle into a full day of meetings and paperwork. Despite your friend's advice, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were drowning in a sea of indecision. Every time you thought you had made up your mind, a new wave of doubt crashed over you.

Joe had a headache. It was the kind that lingered, the kind that felt like it was trying to tell him something. He'd had it for days, ever since he pressed send on that late-night text to you. Your read receipts were still on, so he knew you had seen it, but you hadn't responded - something he was aware was entirely intentional on your part. He knew he had crossed a line, knew that he had no right to expect anything from you after everything. Yet, he couldn't help but hope you might answer in whatever way you saw fit. He wanted you to tell him off, to block him, to do anything but ignore him.

The weight room was unusually quiet for a Thursday night. The echo of weights clanking against the floor was the only sound that pierced the thick air of competition and sweat. He was in his element, his muscles flexing with each rep, the grunts of effort escaping his lips as he pushed through an impromptu workout.

His mind was racing, replaying every interaction with you since he had stepped into the league. Flashes of moments and bites of sound played in his mind like a movie reel, the sweetness of your laughter, the magnetism of your figure, mixing with the harshness of your silence. He had to do something, had to find a way to explain why he had always been so afraid of what the two of you could have been.

He heard the clinking of Sam's workout bag before he saw the defensive end enter the gym. Sam's eyes met his, not a single hint of surprise in his expression. They had known each other for too long, had seen each other at their highest and lowest points. Sam knew he would be here. "Need a spot?" Sam offered, his voice carrying over the gym's ambient noise.

Joe removed his headphones, the music's thumping bass cutting off abruptly. He nodded, welcoming the distraction. "Yeah, thanks, man," he said, gesturing to the barbell on the rack.

As Sam helped him lift the weight, Joe couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that his friend knew something was up. Sam always had a knack for reading him, and Joe's restlessness was as clear as day. "So, how's it going with... you know?" Sam asked, his voice low enough not to carry.

Joe let out a heavy breath, setting the barbell back onto the rack and swapping places with Sam. "It's complicated," he said, not meeting Sam's eyes. "She's not answering my texts."

"Maybe she's just busy," Sam said, not bothering to hide his skepticism. He knew full well the kind of hold Joe had on you. "Or maybe she's finally putting her foot down. Gained a backbone or something?"

Joe chuckled, the sound hollow. "Maybe," he allowed, though he doubted it. "I don't know what I'm doing, dude. I just keep fucking things up with her."

Sam paused his reps, eyeing Joe with a mix of frustration and pity. "You know what you're doing, Joe. Always have."

Joe rolled his shoulders, ignoring the accusation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam set the barbell back, siting up with a groan. "It means," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "that you keep playing games with her because you think you don't deserve what you really want."

Joe's eyes narrowed, but Sam continued, unphased. "You're afraid of being with her, of committing to her. You think you're not good enough for her, so you keep her at arm's length so she doesn't find out. It's annoying, really. You both deserve better."

Joe felt the sting of truth in Sam's words. He rolled his neck, the tension building. "It's not like that," he protested, though even he could hear the doubt in his voice. "I'm just... I don't know what I want."

"Well, you're going to have to figure it out," Sam said, his voice firm. "Because if you keep playing this game, you're going to lose her for good. And I can't say I'd blame her if she chose Andrei. He's sweet to her, treats her right."

Joe's jaw tightened at the mention of Andrei's name. He knew he didn't have the right to feel possessive, but the thought of losing you to his teammate, someone who could be around you all the time, was like a knife in the gut. He had always thought of Andrei as a friend, but now, the line felt blurred. "I know," he said through gritted teeth. "But it's not that simple."

"I don't know, it might be, bro," Sam said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "Sometimes, things are exactly as simple as they seem. You love her, she loves you, but you're too scared to tell her that because you're afraid of the expectations that come with it."

Joe couldn't argue with that. He had spent so long building a wall around himself that the thought of letting someone in, really in, was terrifying. But as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew that the wall had been built for one person, and one person only.

"Look, I know it's not my place," Sam started again, his voice softer. "But she's like a little sister to me. I hate seeing her agonize over you. If you're not capable of giving her what she deserves, then maybe you should step aside."

Joe's hands curled into fists at the thought. "Fuck," he muttered, the weight of Sam's words sinking in. He knew his friend was right. He had been selfish, playing with your emotions because he was too afraid to step up to your expectations. But could he really let you go? He didn't know if he had the strength to do that.

"Just think about it," Sam murmured, turning to leave the weight room. His words hung in the air, thick and heavy as the silence settled once again. Joe knew Sam was right, but thinking wasn't the problem. It was the doing that had always been his issue.

You hummed to yourself as you put away the last of your folded laundry, setting aside a few stray pieces of clothing you recognized as belonging to Andrei and a jacket you borrowed from Jess.

The soft buzz of your phone on the nightstand brought you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, caught off-guard by a memory notification from your Photos app. It was a video of you and Joe, probably taken during one of your many easygoing nights before it all became so serious.

The two of you were laughing, the camera wobbling as Joe tried to get a good angle of your face while you attempted to explain some ridiculous late-night food combination. You watched it once, twice, the familiar warmth of nostalgia washing over you.

"What the hell is that?" He laughed, blue eyes twinkling as you continued to giggle hysterically. Your words kept getting caught in your throat as you tried to explain the combination of bacon and peanut butter on toast.

You closed the odd sandwich together, holding a corner out for him to try. "It's good, I promise," you said through your laughter. Joe eyed you skeptically before setting the camera down against the toaster, the video shifting to show the two of you standing in his kitchen.

An oversized sage green long-sleeve belonging to him hung off your smaller frame, the hem of the shirt brushing against your thighs as you stepped closer to him, trying to convince him to take a bite. He was dressed in sweats and a ridiculous tie-dye t-shirt, the colors of his outfit clashing horribly against each other.

He leaned in, the smell of mint on his breath as he took the bite. His eyebrows furrowed as he chewed, and you couldn't help but laugh harder, the sound echoing through the phone. The memory washed over you, a warm wave of nostalgia that you hadn't felt in a long time. But it was the way he looked at you after he swallowed, with a hint of wonder in his eyes, that made your heart clench as you watched.

"Good?" you asked, watching him expectantly.

Joe grumbled with a reluctant smile, wiping the crumbs from the bread on his lip. He leaned in for another bite, the two of you sharing a laugh as you held the sandwich away from him like a prize. His hands grabbed at your waist, playfully trying to take a bite without your permission before resorting to kissing you instead.

"Delicious," he murmured as he pulled away from your lips, his wandering hands making it clear he wasn't just talking about the sandwich. You only hummed in response, tearing the remainder of the sandwich in half as he reached to shut off the camera.

The video ended there, but the memory didn't. It played on in your mind, the way his hands felt, the way his mouth moved against yours, and you realized you had been holding your breath. You set the phone aside, your heart racing as you sat on the edge of your bed, the coolness of the comforter a stark contrast to the heat that seemed to envelop you.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel everything you had been pushing down for weeks. The longing, the regret, the anger. It all gripped at your heart, pulling you back to a time when you didn't have to think about the consequences of your actions. Back when you lived, breathed, and loved Joe without apprehension. But you knew you couldn't live in the past. With a deep breath, you stood up, tucking the stray strands of hair behind your ear and walking into the bathroom to splash your face with water.

The coolness helped to center you, but the reflection staring back was one of uncertainty. You had promised yourself you would take things slow with Andrei, that you would give him a chance. But as much as you tried to convince yourself that you had moved on, Joe remained a constant in your thoughts, a shadow haunting your happiness.

You beelined for your phone, your brain screaming at you to get up and delete the video, to erase every trace of Joe from your mind. But your thumb hovered over the screen, unable to follow through. Instead, you decided to just block his number, hoping - in vain - that would be the end of it. The video remained, but at least you wouldn't be so tempted to respond to any more of his messages.

Andrei loved the build-up to game days. The adrenaline was palpable, the tension in the air was electric, and the camaraderie among the team was something he cherished. Everyone was hyped up, settling into their seats on the team plane, ready to take on the Cowboys tomorrow. The conversation around him was a mix of trash talk and strategy, bonds being strengthened with every laugh and shared glance.

You had sent him off to Dallas with a good luck message, a photo of yourself in a #80 jersey attached to the sweet message.

The seatbelt sign flickered off, and the team started to move around the cabin, the noise level rising as the players talked and stretched their legs. Andrei felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Sam sitting in the empty aisle seat next to him. "Hey, Drei," Sam said, reaching a hand out to dap him up. "Seat taken?"

Andrei grasped his hand with a shake of his head. "Nah, man, have a seat."

Sam nodded and took the empty seat. "Look, I know I don't have the right to say anything, but I had to talk to you about something. Get it off my conscience." His expression grew serious as he leaned in closer to Andrei. "How are things with Y/N?"

Andrei's smile faltered a bit. "Good," he said, unsure of where this conversation was heading. "We're taking things slow, but it's all good."

Sam leaned in, his expression earnest. "Look, Joe's my boy, and I don't want to get in the middle of your business, but I care about her too. Just be careful, Drei. Let things happen naturally, you know?"

Andrei nodded, not quite sure what Sam was trying to tell him but appreciative of his concern. "Yeah, man, we are. Things are good. Why?"

Sam took a deep breath, his gaze darting around the cabin before settling back on Andrei. "It's just, Joe's been... I don't know. Different. He talked to me about her the other day, and it was like he realized for the first time that she's actually with someone else. And they're stubborn, you know?" He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "I just don't want you to get hurt, man. He's got a history with her, and I know it's not fair, but sometimes, history has a way of repeating itself. I'm sure she's trying her best to let you in, but she could really break your heart, dude."

Andrei nodded, his thoughts racing. He had felt the same tension from Joe lately, the way he had been looking at him, the awkward pauses in conversation despite the front he was putting up of being a good sport. Andrei knew he had to tread carefully. He didn't want to lose you, but he also didn't want to be the rebound or the guy who messed around with his friend's girl.

Andrei sighed, eyes darting over to Joe who was playing a round of chess with BJ. "Be honest with me, dude. If she had to, ultimatum or whatever, who do you think she'd choose?"

Sam's gaze followed Andrei's. "If it's down to it, she'll always choose Joe," he admitted, his voice low. "It's just the way it is. I'm not saying it's right or fair to you, but that's the reality. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she's still holding on to what could have been with him. And Joe... he's realizing he might actually lose her for good and it's not sitting well with him."

Andrei nodded slowly, taking in Sam's words. He knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he appreciated the honesty. "I gotta ask you something, 'cause it's been bothering me," he began. "Why didn't anyone say anything when I first started seeing her? A bunch of guys on the team knew about Joe and her, but no one warned me. It's kinda fucked up, you know?"

Sam's expression tightened, and he leaned back in his seat. "It's... complicated, Drei," he said, his voice a mix of regret and loyalty. "We all thought it was a good idea at first, keep our mouths shut, let things play out. We didn't want to start any drama, especially with you finding your rhythm in the offensive. Maybe we should've said something, I guess. I just don't know if it would've made a difference."

Andrei nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on his shoulders. He knew Sam was right; you and Joe had a history that ran deep. It wasn't fair to any of you, but here you were. "Thanks for being straight with me, Sam," he said, his voice tight. "I'll think about it."

The rest of the flight passed in a blur, the conversation with Sam playing on repeat in Andrei's mind. He knew he had to talk to you about it, but the right words escaped him. How could he express his fears without pushing you away or making you feel guilty?

The team arrived in Dallas, and the day of the game approached fast. The energy in the hotel was intense, players going through their pregame rituals, eyes glued to game tape, and coaches barking out last-minute instructions. Andrei found refuge in the routine of it all, pushing his conversation with Sam to the back of his mind as he focused on the task at hand.

The offensive played an explosive game, coming out with a win against the Cowboys. On the flight back to Cincinnati, Andrei found himself isolated from the rest of his exhausted, but jubilated teammates. By the time they touched down, Andrei was texting you with an excuse, telling you he'd see you tomorrow, that his mind was exhausted and he just needed to crash at his own place tonight.

On the other side of the phone, you were frowning as you read the text out loud to Jess. The two of you were in a familiar position on game nights when Sam was away, sauced wings forgotten on the coffee table as you dissected every text message and emoji. "What do you think that means?" you asked, biting your lip.

Jess took a swig of her beer, shaking her head. "Maybe he's finally realized you'll never get off Joe's dick." Her tone was blunt, unable to hide her laugh when you sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, I know it's harsh, but you've got to cut that shit out. You either go for Joe or you stick with Andrei. You can't keep playing this game, especially if Joe's gonna keep popping up like a fucking jack-in-the-box every time you get cozy with another guy." Jess was tipsy, clearly. Her words always held a little more bite when she had alcohol flowing through her system.

You sighed, setting your phone down. "The thing is, I finally brought myself to block Joe. But now Andrei's acting weird, and I don't know if it's because of Joe or because he's just tired from the trip."

Jess leaned in, her voice softer. "He said he was too tired to be present with you. Maybe just believe him?"

You nodded, feeling a little foolish. "Why can't my relationships ever be normal?" you said with a groan, flopping back on the couch, and taking a sip of your beer.

Jess reached over to grab your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "I love you, so much, babe. But you gotta start making your own decisions, stop letting these men dictate your happiness," she said, her gaze full of sisterly love. "You're a badass, and it's about time you start acting like it."

The front door rustled as Sam turned the key, letting himself in. Jess stood up to greet him, pressing a few sloppy kisses to his lips, congratulating him on the win as she began to babble in his arms.

"It was a beer kinda night, huh?" Sam asked, holding Jess' waist in one arm as they shuffled over to the couch where you sat nursing the rest of your lukewarm beer.

"Your beer kinda sucks, Hubbard," you muttered, scowling when he reached over to pluck the beer from your hand in response.

Sam chuckled, placing it aside. "You know I don't stock that shit," he said, pecking Jess' cheek as he sank into the couch next to Jess. "What's with the face?"

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Boys," you muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he stood to head off to the kitchen. "I shouldn't have asked. Not surprised."

He returned with a protein bar in hand, taking his seat and shifting an affectionate Jess into his lap with a smile and a kiss to her forehead. "I spoke to Andrei yesterday. I don't know what kind of magic hold you have over these guys, but it has to be studied." Sam's words cut through the air, his gaze steady on you.

You paused, "You talked to Andrei?"

Sam nodded. "I had to. He had some questions and I felt kinda shitty that no one warned him about you and Joe." He took a bite of his protein bar, eyeing you as he chewed.

"Sam," Jess gasped, a hint of a scold in her tone. "Andrei just sent her a weird, cryptic text."

Sam's gaze softened, looking at you with concern. "What's up with that?"

"I don't know what's going on. Maybe it's just the stress of the season or the travel, but it feels like something's off." You picked at your fingernails, your gaze on the TV that was playing the game's highlights.

Sam looked at you with a furrowed brow. "That's weird. He seemed fine when we left Dallas."

Jess leaned forward, placing her hand on Sam's knee. "Well, maybe he's just tired. You all are."

Sam nodded, swiping a hand over his face. "Yeah, could be. But I'll keep an eye on him."

Whatever had come over Andrei that night didn't seem to stick around for long. By Monday night, he was asking you to come over after work. You agreed, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. When you arrived, Andrei greeted you with a warm smile, his arms open wide. You fell into your usual routine, ordering takeout before Andrei's hand slipped under your shirt, then shifted you into his lap, teasing you about your inability to pay attention to the movie you picked out.

"Just focus, baby," Andrei murmured in your ear, his voice filled with amusement as you squirmed against his lap.

You licked your lips, releasing a strangled moan as your hand moved down to cover Andrei's dipping into your leggings. You could feel the heat rising in your face, the tension in the room thickening with every touch. You bit back a surprised moan when he flipped you onto your back, the couch cushions molding to the curve of your spine as he hovered over you, a fiery determination in his eyes.

Andrei's kisses grew more urgent, his hands exploring your body with a gentle insistence that made your toes curl. You could feel yourself getting lost in him again, the warmth of his touch pushing your worries to the furthest corners of your mind.

His familiar heartbeat soothed your own as you pressed your cheek to his chest. "I missed you yesterday," you spoke up with bated breath.

"I missed you too," Andrei responded, stroking your cheek gently.

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow, your breaths gradually evening out. The silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

You allowed yourself to be swept up in the final touches of wedding planning with Jess as the season came to a close. Each step was a welcome distraction from the question marks of your love life. The bachelorette party came and went, followed by the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding.

The dinner was supposed to be a swirl of laughter and goodwill, but when you and Joe found yourselves staring at the only two empty seats, side by side, the air grew thick with uneasy hesitation. You felt the heat from his leg when he reluctantly sat to your right, his broad frame taking up more than his share of the formerly empty space.

His eyes would flicker over to yours as you spoke, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, but he remained mostly silent. It was strange, the way he could make you feel so at ease and so frazzled all at once. As the evening progressed, Joe remained polite and friendly, but there was a distance between you that was palpable.

And it killed you.

The wedding day was a blur of formalwear and champagne toasts. As maid of honor, you were busy ensuring everything went off without a hitch. The ceremony was beautiful, and as Jess and Sam shared their first dance, you couldn't help but shed a few tears.

By the time the groomsmen began to loosen their ties, the reception was in full swing. The open bar was doing its job, and the dance floor was crowded with swaying bodies, the air thick with the scent of cologne and alcohol. Sam was in the middle of a dance circle, Jess clinging to his arm as she threw her head back in an elated laugh.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to find Joe standing there, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey," he greeted. His cheeks were flushed, a hint of whiskey on his breath. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just taking a break. My feet are killing me."

Joe chuckled, his eyes sweeping over you. "You made a great speech by the way. I thought it was really sweet."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had tried to ignore the way Joe looked at you that night, the way his eyes held yours just a second longer than anyone else's, the way he made you feel like you were the only other person in the room.

You forced a smile. "Thanks, yours too."

"I know this is probably the worst time to do this, but can we talk?" Joe's voice was low, barely audible over the thumping music.

Your pulse quickened. You had hoped to avoid this conversation, at least until Jess and Sam were out of sight. But here he was, looking at you with those pretty blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you, and you folded. "Sure," you said, your voice a whisper.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air a relieving departure from the stuffy reception hall. The music was a distant hum, muffled by the glass walls. You leaned against the railing, your heart racing as Joe stepped closer, mirroring your stance.

"Look, I know we've had our issues," he began, his voice earnest. "But I've never stopped caring about you. So, I figured I should actually apologize for being such a dick."

Your throat tightened. "You don't have to, Joe." Your eyes were downcast, hoping to avoid showing him just how uncertain you were.

Joe's expression grew serious. "No, I do. I messed up. And I know you're with Andrei now, and I respect that. I just needed to tell you I'm sorry for how I handled things." He paused, searching for the right words. "It's my fault we're not together. I was too scared to be the man you deserve."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "What are you saying, Joe?"

Joe took a deep breath, looking out at the twinkling city lights. "I'm saying that I love you. And I don't want to see you settle for less than what you deserve." He turned to face you, his gaze intense, hoping you'd met him just a quarter of the way. "I know Andrei's a good guy, and he makes you happy in ways that I never did. So, hold on to him. Give him a chance. You deserve it."

Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or hidden intent. 

Then you scoffed, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Joe's brows shot up.

Your eyes searched his, the weight of his words heavy on your chest. "You're telling me you love me now? After all the shit you've put me through?"

Joe took a step closer, reaching out to touch your arm gently. "I know, and I'm not asking for anything in return. I just want you to be happy, even if that means it's with someone else."

"You're a fucking coward, Joe," you spat, pushing his hand away. "You can't just say 'I love you' now and expect me to be okay with that. I am trying to move on and you pull this shit with me? Fuck you."

Joe's eyes widened in surprise at your outburst. "Y/N, I'm just trying to be honest with you. I didn't mean to mess up your night."

"Well, you did!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing in the otherwise quiet balcony. "I can't believe you'd do this here, of all places."

Joe's face fell. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I didn't want to ruin Jess and Sam's day, but I had to tell you how I feel in person. I didn't know when I'd see you again."

Your hands flew to your head, fighting back tears of frustration. "This isn't fair," you murmured, your voice cracking. "You can't just do this to me, Joe. Not now."

Joe reached for you again, but you stepped back, holding up a hand to stop him. "No, don't. I can't trust myself around you."

"Y/N," he pleaded, but you were already turning away, facing the skyline again as you gathered your words without the threat of his baby blues breaching your thought process.

"I'm so angry with myself," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I thought I was getting over you, Joe. I really did. But here I am, still feeling like this."

Joe stepped closer, his hand hovering near your shoulder but not quite touching you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wish I could fix everything."

You ignored him, your mind racing as the emotions of the past few months crashed over you like an all-consuming wave. "I'm so in love with you, it makes me angry. Why can't you just be what I need?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Joe said softly, his own voice cracking. "I wish I could be that for you."

The music from inside the reception grew louder as someone opened the balcony door. The cold air doing little to settle the heat building between you two. You could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as you exhaled slowly.

"If you know, why couldn't you just do it? Why are you always out of reach?" you demanded, your eyes swimming with tears. "I fucking love you, Joe. And it's killing me that I can't have you."

Joe's gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "If I had a chance, I'd fix it. But, you deserve to be happy with Andrei. He's good for you."

"But what if I can't be happy with Andrei?" The question slipped from your lips before you could catch it. You saw the pain in Joe's eyes, and it mirrored your own. "What if all I want is you?"

Joe took a step back, his face a mask of torment. "Don't say that. Please don't say that."

"It's so fucked up," you laughed incredulously. "Andrei's right in front of me, begging to be loved and all I can think about is missing you, asshole."

Joe's gaze met yours, and you saw the true sadness in his eyes. "It's not your fault," he said. "We had our moments. We had a good thing going."

Your breath hitched. "Yeah, we did."

For a moment, the world outside of you stopped spinning. The laughter, the music, the distant chatter of your friends – it all faded away. You stared at each other, the truth of your feelings hanging in the air like mist.

"I miss you," Joe admitted, genuine pain reflecting in his eyes.

Your chest ached. "I miss you too. So much it hurts."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek. You felt his warmth seep into your skin in that familiar way that always managed to leave you defenseless. "Then why are we doing this to ourselves?"

Your eyes searched his, a mix of anger, love, and despair swirling in their depths. "Because you won't let me go, Joey," you murmured. "Because every time I start to move on, you pull me back in. You can't do that anymore, sweetheart. It's not fair."

Joe leaned in closer, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your bottom lashes. "I know," he whispered, his breath warm on your skin. "I'm sorry."

Your chest tightened as you leaned into his touch, craving the comfort he seemed to still bring you. "Why can't we just be together?" you asked, the desperation in your voice clear.

"I don't know, baby," Joe said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't keep doing this to each other."

You felt the tears falling down your cheeks as you nodded. "But it's so hard."

Joe leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I know it is, baby. I know. But it's Jess and Sam's night, we can't do this right now. Gotta get back inside, focus on them."

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. "I know," you whispered.

Joe's hand lingered on your cheek before he pulled away. You felt the chill of the breeze replace his warmth. He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours one last time before he turned and walked back towards the party. You watched him go, your heart feeling heavier than it had in a long time.

Hot tears clouded your vision as Joe disappeared back into the reception, leaving you alone on the balcony. The cold night air did little to cool the fire of emotions burning within you. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to calm down. With a heavy heart, you turned and went back inside, finding a bathroom to collect yourself. You wiped your eyes, touched up your makeup, and took a deep breath before returning to the ballroom.

As you stepped back into the bustling room, the music and laughter hit you like a wall. You spotted Joe across the dance floor, stopped by some Ohio State teammates before he could make it to the bathroom, and felt a pang of guilt. His nose was noticeably red, eyes puffy from crying, even from your spot several feet away from him. You knew that look all too well. You had seen it before, reflected back at you in the mirror.

You found Jess and Sam, who were dancing together, their happiness so palpable it almost made your heart ache. You couldn't ruin this for them. You couldn't let Joe ruin this night for you. Not again. You approached them, a laugh erupting from your chest as Sam sloppily spun Jess around before dipping her for a kiss that received cheers from your friends.

"You two look amazing," you yelled over the music, your voice tight but contained.

"I'm so glad you're here, babe," Jess exclaimed, clearly more inebriated than you previously thought. Sam grinned at you, his eyes glinting with the same love and happiness that filled Jess's voice.

You forced a smile, your thoughts still swirling around Joe's confession. "Me too," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice from betraying your emotions.

When you finally stumbled into your hotel room a few hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, fully dressed, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on you. The room was spinning, not just from the alcohol but from the tumult of emotions you had kept bottled up all night. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the wedding reception that still rang in your ears.

Your phone remained still on the bedside table, taunting you with the silence from both Andrei and Joe. You contemplated for a moment, biting your lip nervously before exhaling a "Fuck it," and reaching out for it. Your thumbs worked quickly, swiping through your phone to find Joe's contact, unblocking him before you could change your mind. Then you dumped it back onto the table, exhaling softly as you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep.

[avis-writeshq]

hello 😘 aaron hotchner drabble request!

anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha

and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!

thank you and your work is amazing!

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631

“You would think that he would know by now,” Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up. 

“He’s a captain?” Spencer asks in genuine amazement. 

“For NYPD’s major crime unit,” JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldn’t be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.”

Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“The bigger question is, does Hotch know?” Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.

“Well…” JJ lets out a nervous laugh. “I kind of hope he doesn’t.”

You offer a curt smile in Pembroke’s direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that he’ll somehow get the message. It isn’t surprising that he doesn’t. 

“I beat my PR yesterday, you know,” he brags, flexing his muscles. You think you’re about to throw up as he continues, “129. Impressive, right, hun?”

“The average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,” you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencer’s way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesn’t seem to hear you. 

“You know, sweets, I don’t think you should even be in this job. You’re far too foxy,” he says with a wink, “You’d be better in a different job. I mean, women aren’t fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.”

You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. “Listen, Ken–”

“It’s Keith–”

“Kyle,” you amend with a sickly smile. “I do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Aw, come on, it was only a joke,” Pembroke says with a laugh. “It’ll be fine–”

“There you are.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaron’s hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched. 

“Did you need something from my agent, Captain?” He asks lowly. 

“Just pleasant conversation,” Pembroke responds dismissively.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captain’s smug face. “We have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesn’t say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn. 

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. “I heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” You don’t mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.

“That’s not okay, honey.” Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.”

You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. “I thought you were going to hit him.”

“I thought you would’ve beat me to it,” he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. “We shouldn’t make this into a habit.”

“Tell that to Kimberly.”

“That isn’t even close.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

[just-b-yourself]

Ginny and Georgia season 3 spoilers

I finished season 3 last night, and wow...Best season so far !!!

Felix Mallard literally ATE this season ! I mean,the way he embodied mental health, depression and addiction was absolutely perfect and heartbreaking. He really did a wonderful job portraying the depth of depression and everything that comes with it. This moment in episode 10 is absolutely heartbreaking !

Max : I felt so bad for Max this season. I wasn't really a big fan of her character last seasons, but I really liked the way they developed her character in season 3. She tried so hard to be there for her friends ( especially for Ginny ) and for her brother and everyone just let her down, saying that she always made everything about her. Yeah, she can be a lot, she can be over dramatic but she really cares. And in the end, she was left all alone. I really think that she may have ADHD or something like that. She suffers from depression too, but she always had to be the happy, joyful girl. So I really hope that next season she will get the love and support that she needs.

Marcus : Always there for everyone, always there to help, to take care of everybody. But he's literally drowning. Seeing him like this was really painful. He always prioritizes everyone else and their feelings above his own and shows up for everyone yet almost everyone failed to recognize how bad he was struggling with his mental health or show up for him. And once again, Felix Mallard did an amazing job portraying all these feelings !

Georgia and Joe finally !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've always been team Joe since day 1 and we finally get to see them together !!! He's the only one who never judged her, the only one she can be her true self with. He's always there when she needs him and the only one she doesn't lie to. She feels safe with him, maybe for the first time in her life. So yeah, they absolutely belong together !!

I'm not surprised that things didn't work out with Paul... His career was his priority. I really think he actually loved Georgia and the kids but it wasn't enough in the end. He left. He left them when they needed him the most. And I get that it was a very difficult situation for him. I get that it wasn't easy. But he bailed on them. He wasn't there for them. The way he reacted when he found out about the fake pregnancy ? This violence ? While he knew what Georgia had been through with Gil ? The fear in her eyes when he punched that wall ? Yeah she shouldn't have lied about her pregnancy, I agree. But as Georgia said to Paul in the last episode : " I didn't awaken anything in you that wasn't already there" or something like that. He always has been this man. So no, I'm really not surprised it didn't work out between them. And to me, it never will.

Ginny : The emotional growth that she's had ! This wasn't an easy journey for her. But she stayed strong. She supported her mother, finally ! And I really liked the way they handle the abortion situation. Really well done. Always loved their bond with Georgia. And really loved their friendship with Abby this season. But a bit disappointed about her speech to Max in episode 10...

Austin : My poor baby boy... Honestly feel so bad for him. I don't know how he's going to handle this next season honestly... This is way too much for anyone to handle, let alone for a child...

Zion : He was never there for Ginny. He was always away, absent. The end of episode 5 literally broke my heart. Maaaan, you can't do that! I'm glad Ginny finally said her truth to her dad. You go girl !!!

Norah : Honestly ? Don't really care. No real personality. But I think next season, we'll get some answers about her health. Maybe endometriosis?

Abby : Loved her storyline! Glad she finally stopped things with Press. She deserved so much better. I like how they actually show how eating disorder can affect people. I think next season we'll see more of it and her journey through it. Loved Marcus and Abby's friendship !

There's so much more to say about this season, but my post is already long enough 😅.

What was you favorite moment this season ?? And what to you want to see in season 4 ?

[pankowcrumbs]

Premier X Joseph Quinn

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The flashing lights were relentless.

I’d been to a few red carpets before mostly for work, usually lowkey but nothing like this. This was Warfare. One of the most anticipated war dramas of the year. Joe’s biggest film to date. And I was here… not for work. Not on the sidelines. I was here with him.

I adjusted the silky fabric of my dress, trying to keep a natural smile on my face as the photographers shouted Joe’s name over and over again. His hand tightened gently around mine.

“You alright?” he leaned in and murmured near my ear.

I nodded, eyes scanning the crowd. “Just… a bit overwhelming.”

His brows creased instantly. “You sure? We can go slower. Or step aside for a bit.”

Bless him. I hadn’t realised how tightly he was gripping my hand until I tried to flex my fingers.

“I’m okay,” I said, giving him a smile. “I’m just not used to this many cameras.”

Joe turned toward me slightly, using his frame to shield me from the majority of the chaos as he whispered, “You look bloody perfect, by the way. Proper showstopper.”

That made me grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiled bashfully and pressed a kiss to the side of my temple. The cameras definitely caught that.

“Joe, over here!” someone shouted. “With the missus!”

He chuckled under his breath. “Think they’ve already decided we’re married.”

“You mean we’re not?” I teased.

He turned to look at me, eyes twinkling. “Don’t tempt me, darling.”

Before I could reply, a security man gestured for us to move further down the carpet. Joe kept a hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently, constantly checking that I was alright. Every few metres, a flash would go off right in my face, and I’d blink against it, trying not to look startled.

At one point, a cameraman stepped back without looking straight into me. I stumbled, and before I could even react, Joe’s arm was around me, steadying me.

“Oi!” Joe barked, voice sharper than I’d ever heard. “Watch where you’re bloody going!”

The man turned, looking sheepish.

“She alright?” someone asked.

“She will be,” Joe snapped, pulling me in close. “Jesus she’s not a prop, lads. Give her some bloody space.”

The crowd quietened for a beat. Joe’s eyes scanned me with concern.

“You okay, love?” he asked again, softer now, hands on my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Really. Just a bit shaken.”

He looked like he wanted to murder someone.

“I told you we could’ve stayed in bed,” he muttered, thumb brushing under my jaw. “Could’ve watched the premiere from the telly. I don’t give a toss about the photos.”

“You’ve worked too hard on this film,” I said. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

His expression softened. “You’re mad.”

“You love it.”

“I really do,” he murmured, then pressed another kiss to my cheek, possessive and tender all at once.

Once we got through the main gauntlet of flashing lights and shouting, we were ushered into the press section. He did a few interviews, holding my hand between questions. I mostly stood to the side, offering him smiles when he glanced over, which was… often. It made the nerves flutter in my stomach, the way he’d reach for me without thinking, like he needed me nearby.

Eventually, a voice called out, “Joe! The lads are waiting for you by the main theatre entrance!”

He turned to me, smiling wide now. “C’mon. You’ve got to meet the boys.”

“Think they’ll like me?”

“Oh, they’ll bloody adore you,” he said confidently. “Mainly ‘cause I’ve done nothing but talk about you.”

I laughed, but my cheeks were burning. “You have not.”

“You’ll see,” he said, leading me toward the inner part of the venue.

The other Warfare cast members were grouped together, all laughing and sipping from flutes of champagne. When they spotted Joe, a cheer went up.

“Quinn!” shouted one of them Charles, I recognised him from the trailers. “There he is! And this must be the elusive Y/N!”

I was immediately wrapped in a bear hug.

“Oh my God hello!” I laughed, barely able to breathe.

“Mate, he’s always talking about you,” said another, who I realised was Will, the guy who played Joe’s closest mate in the film. “We feel like we know you already. It’s actually a bit mental.”

“Obsessed, honestly,” chimed in another. “Won’t shut up.”

Joe groaned. “Alright, alright she’s here now, isn’t she?”

Kit grinned. “We’ve got to make sure she’s real!”

“I am real,” I said, laughing. “Unless you’re all hallucinating me.”

Charles gave me another side hug. “You’re brilliant. You’ve kept him grounded, haven’t you?”

Will nodded. “We’ve never seen him like this. Man’s all soft now. Smiles at his phone like he’s sixteen.”

Joe just rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “Glad you lot are getting it out of your system now.”

I tucked myself under Joe’s arm, half out of affection and half because I could feel another crowd of cameras gathering.

“Right,” Joe said, addressing them all, “we’ve got to sit down soon, but be nice, yeah?”

“Joe,” I said, nudging him.

He looked down at me and gave me a smile that just melted me completely. “I know, darling.”

Another photographer leaned in a bit too close again, camera inches from my face. I instinctively took a step back, bumping into Joe’s side. His arm came up instantly, blocking the lens.

“Back up a bit, yeah?” he said to the guy, voice low but firm. “No need to get in her face.”

“Let them get their photos,” I whispered, tugging gently at his sleeve.

“Not when they’re shoving lenses at you,” he muttered, glaring.

The others watched him with amused expressions.

“Told you,” Will said to Kit. “Soft and protective.”

Joe scowled at them but still held me close.

After a few more minutes, we were ushered inside for the screening. Joe kept a hand on my back the entire time we moved through the crowd, whispering in my ear, “Step here… watch your foot… you okay, love?”

It was honestly adorable. And slightly hilarious given that I’d managed fine on my own for years before him.

Inside the theatre, the lights dimmed and the movie began. Joe held my hand the entire time. At one point, I glanced at him during an especially intense scene, and I could see him watching me, waiting for my reaction. His thumb brushed the back of my hand when the screen faded to black.

When the credits rolled, the audience burst into applause.

I turned to him, eyes wide. “Joe, that was… incredible.”

He looked slightly stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe it was over. “Yeah?”

“You were phenomenal. I’m so proud of you.”

He swallowed hard, squeezing my hand. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You were the one on screen, Joe.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who held me after 14-hour days. And kept my feet on the ground when I was spiralling.”

My heart swelled.

We stood to leave, and as we made our way out, someone called his name again for a post-screening interview. He glanced at me, clearly torn.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll wait by the bar.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He kissed my forehead and murmured, “Back in a sec, love.”

I watched him walk off, handsome in his dark suit, chatting easily, answering questions with grace. But his eyes kept flicking back to find me.

After the interview, he made a beeline for me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

“Let’s go home,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve had enough fame for one night.”

“Thought you loved it,” I teased.

He nuzzled closer. “I love you. Everything else is noise.”

We slipped out the side exit with help from security. Joe pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I whispered, tucking into his side as the night air chilled my skin.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being you.”

He smiled and opened the car door for me, helping me in like the total gentleman he always was.

As we drove off, I looked over at him, the city lights glowing on his face.

“You know,” I said softly, “you were kind of a hero in that film.”

“Acting,” he said with a wink. “Smoke and mirrors.”

“But out there… when that guy bumped into me? You were real then.”

He paused. Then reached for my hand. “I’ll always be real with you.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Negotiations (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Summary: Joe puts you in the glass cage and makes you negotiate for your freedom

Warnings: typical creepy Joe behavior (implied stalking, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, etc.), the reader either doesn't understand the full gravity of their situation or just doesn't care

A/N: I realized I never officially wrote something for it so here y'all go (this was written super quickly so idk if it's any good or not)

"So I had to do it, you see. I had to get rid of them. I had to save you," Joe insisted frantically, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you.

You'd woken up in the infamous glass cage underneath the bookstore he worked at, curiously looking around. The only thing you'd said so far was to ask where to you, to which he replied "somewhere safe". Talk about ominous.

"What if I need to go to the bathroom?" You spoke up suddenly, as you soon realized upon inspecting the inside of your new home that there wasn't a toilet. There was, however, a bucket.

"Well..." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided the question. It didn't take much for you to put two and two together.

You gave him a look that was a cross between disgust and disbelief. "I can't pee in a bucket, Joe."

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you out." He felt bad, sure, but he had to do this. He had to make sure that you were safe, even if it meant making you a little mad at him.

Crossing your arms, you turned in the opposite direction, refusing to look at him. Clearly you weren't too fond of your new living arrangements and were choosing to pout.

"Oh, come on, it isn't that bad," he lied upfront as he watched you. It was that bad, actually. Using a bucket to go to the bathroom was pretty gross.

And now he was starting to feel bad for putting you in this kind of situation. Anger was one thing, that he could handle. He could brace himself against that, or he rationalize away your worries or fears, but you seemed less genuinely upset and more annoyed than anything else.

He let out a heavy sigh as he contemplated his options. You were ignoring him, and he just couldn't have that. "If I let you out, you have to promise not to run away from me or anything like that. Understood?"

As if on cue, you turned back to face him again, a look of hope in your eyes. "Really?"

Joe tried not to let out a laugh when he saw you get close to the glass and press your face against it. "Yeah, really. Just- you have to move in with me. I don't want you living alone anymore. And I have to know where you are at all times."

Sure, he knew he could just follow you like usual, but he wanted you to be able to trust him. "And there's certain people that I don't want you hanging around anymore. Deal?"

Oh, god, what was he saying? This was going to be too much to put on you all at once. He should've just started with one small thing and gone from there, he shouldn't have given you an entire list-

"Deal."

Your voice instantly cut through his thoughts. Part of him wanted to believe you, even if he was a little suspicious that you'd agreed so quickly. Then again, you seemed so sincere, trusting even, observing him the same way anyone who truly loved their partner would: like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Could you let me out now? I really need to go pee."

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to the door of the cage and unlocked it, letting you out. "Remember what I told you, alright? I don't want to have to put you back in there," he tried to make himself sound stern, to show you that he wasn't playing around when he said that.

To his surprise, you responded by giving him a hug. "You're such a sweetheart, caring about me so much," you muttered affectionately.

He couldn't stop himself from melting into your touch. If this was an act, it was certainly working.

"I'll never, ever leave you."

God, you were going to be the death of him. "And I'll never let you go," he promised in turn.

He really meant it when he said that. He was never going to let you go. Not that you seemed to mind.

End notes: I don't know if this is any good or not honestly. I really wanted to write something for Joe but I was kind of at a loss for what exactly to write about so 🤷 send me some ideas though if y'all want

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[icallhimjoey]

I just reread all of Double or Nothing because it's genuinely one of my favourite fics of all time SO GOOD

But I was wondering how do R and Joe reconcile their wake up routines once they're together? Snoozer v non-snoozer

bet!joe's back! turned himself into snooze!joe (not by choice lmao) thanks for the request, hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 2.4K

---

Before Daybreak

Joe doesn’t understand how your brain works.

Can’t fathom how it’s even possible that you don’t just... wake up. The sound of your alarm was meant to wake you up. That’s how it worked. People sleep in silence and then a loud noise wakes them up. It’s how the world had been designed.

How can you, barely awake, turn it off and doze right back off to sleep again?

Joe’s brain works different. Joe’s brain doesn’t work like yours.

He hears an alarm and he’s... up. Just... awake. Groggy, and tired still, sure... but definitely awake. Unable to just go back to sleep. He thinks if you were both cavemen still, you probably wouldn’t have survived very long. You’d sleep right through a bear sneaking in. It’d eat your face off and you’d just sleepily murmur, “Nooo, five more minutes.”

And it’s not like he hasn’t tried.

For weeks he’s tried, because if you love snoozing so much, surely there’s bound to be some amazing secret to it he just hasn’t discovered yet.

So far though, he’s come up empty.

Your phone explodes into the darkness. Cheerful, chirpy, loud and fucking merciless.

Joe’s eyes fly open instantly.

Boom.

Awake.

He turns his head, finding you a soft lump under the covers, one of your arms flung across your face whilst your alarm keeps chirping on the bedside table right next to you.

“Babe…” Joe tries, voice hoarse and low. A hand wanders over and taps you on your hip a few times. Turn that shit off.

You give no audible response, but simply move a hand over to find your phone, groaning slightly as you press snooze. The second sweet, blessed silence takes over again, you sink back into the soft fuzzy brain space that exists between the night and the morning. Joe tries joining you there, eyes still closed, face pressed into his pillow, but, alas. It’s of no use.

A couple minutes later, your phone jumps alive again, and even though Joe knew it was coming, he still jolts and sits up in bed like a man possessed.

You’re on your back, hips twisted, serene as a Disney princess, not stirring at the shrill noise or even the movement in the bed. Joe frowns at you for a full ten seconds before you reach for your phone again.

He sees you press snooze in real time.

Through gritted teeth, Joe says your name, a low warning to his tone that you miss entirely.

“Mm, five more…” you muffle an unfinished sentence, face rubbing into the soft warm fabric that surrounds you.

“How many five mores will there fucking be?” Joe grumbles, moving the covers aside and getting out of bed. It’s too early still. He should’ve been asleep still.

“It’s part of the process.” you reply, eyes still closed.

“Yea, well,” Joe stands up, turns and leans over to slap what he thinks is your bum under the covers. You softly groan to it, eyes remaining firmly shut. “My process is called sleep. Yours, for whatever reason, is called torture.”

And Joe can’t lie.

You look super peaceful, all soft and cosy, hair a halo of chaos that surrounds your face… yea, you look lovely. So comfortable. Relishing the mental stretch of the early-morning-ritual you’d carefully crafted for yourself. He could easily watch this for hours.

Just… maybe not at 6 in the fucking morning.

Joe doesn’t like how he’s deeply affected by disturbance and broken sleep. Where you prioritize emotional softness, he unfortunately needs to prioritize physiological necessity.

He needs to sleep until he needs to wake up.

No weird in-between lull that has very quickly turned into a point of daily friction for the two of you. The broken mornings shape his whole mood. His energy for the day.

Joe stares at you until your phone, once again, interrupts him, another alarm you’d set rather than the previous one you’d just hit snooze for, disturbing the peace and quiet.

“Why does it have to sound like a fucking fire drill as well?” Joe swears under his breath, walking around the bed. He might as well go and make himself a coffee. “Can’t you set it to one that sounds like… a breeze?” Joe thinks of anything he’d rather hear the sound of. “Or like, a hug, maybe?”

“Too soft,” you reply, barely awake. “I’ll sleep through that… this one works.”

“It works on me, too.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t get much more out of you than a slight hum.

Joe supposes he’s lucky that you were friends before you became something else together, and that bickering has been a solid constant that brings the two of you together rather than pull you apart. He can just tell you that he’s annoyed without being scared of offending you beyond repair.

Walking down the hall on his way to the kitchen, he can’t help but think that surely Izzy must hear all of your alarms too. The walls in your flat aren’t made of solid concrete — he knows because Izzy set some very strict rules about... other... noise complaints. And it’s not often that she chooses his side in any of your little spats, but he’s certain that in this case it’ll be two against one in his favour. He’d bet on it, should someone challenge him.

Joe’s already finished most of his coffee when you stagger into the kitchen just past 7. He jokingly checks a wristwatch he’s not wearing and says, “Good afternoon!” like you’re a teenager who hasn’t left her bed all morning.

To retaliate, you take his mug from his hands and finish whatever’s left of his coffee before you shove him aside to make yourself a fresh new cup.

You’re lucky he really likes you.

When Izzy shows a sign of life, sort of glaring at the two of you as she shuffles into the kitchen already dressed, but definitely not warmed up to the idea of having to be awake yet, Joe doesn’t wait to bring up the issue.

“Maybe she’ll listen to you…” he begins, turning to face your flatmate. “You can’t tell me the... the fifty alarms that you can hear coming from her bedroom every morning aren’t fucking with your sleep.”

Izzy gives Joe a deadpan stare.

Oh yea, he’s totally right. Joe’s already smirking slightly, ready to tell you how unhealthy snoozing really is, and how you should listen to your poor flatmate who you’ve been torturing for years.

But then Izzy speaks up and says, “It’s not the alarm. It’s you, Joe.”

Oh.

What?

It catches Joe by surprise so much so that it makes you snicker softly as your eyes don’t leave the two mugs of hot coffee you’re preparing.

“Me? But I—”

“Your alarm monologues. Your Shakespearean betrayal speeches— your deep-breathing despair.”

Joe really thought Izzy was going to agree with him. Instead, he unexpectedly finds himself in her direct line of fire. And she’s not done yet.

“I don’t even hear her alarm anymore, but it’s you, every single time, like you’ve just been drafted into a war you didn’t sign up for.”

You’re full on giggling now, and Joe can’t believe the position he has found himself in.

“Do you know what it’s like to be woken up by the slow, rumbling tragedy of your soul trying to process that she likes to snooze in the morning? Your voice, it’s like a fucking foghorn married a cello that run an emotional support podcast together every time her phone goes off.”

It’s too early for this, Joe thinks.

“Izzy,” you warn, but your laughter completely kills the effect.

“You get so fucking narrative in the morning.” Izzy squeezes her eyes shut as she says it, her forehead etched into a deep frown.

And Joe knows that he can yap, that he’s good at finding a lot of words to describe how he feels, but, he thinks it’s for good reason.

“I’m expressing my distress!”

Izzy pushes past him and grabs a full mug of coffee, the one Joe thought you were making for him, and says, “Well, consider expressing your distress with your inside thoughts, Hamlet. Just once, I want her alarm to go off and not hear you cry, ‘Why does the world hate me?!’, because it’s honestly getting really fucking boring.”

Before Joe can even reply, she disappears into her bedroom again to finish getting ready for work.

He’s left sort of perplexed.

When he turns to look at you, you’re looking at him with a little amused half smile that he doesn’t appreciate.

“I mean…” you start, speaking into your own morning brew, “You do turn a little into a Victorian widow about it, don’t you? She has a point.”

And... yea, okay.

Maybe she does...

But so does he!

He has a point too!

If you don’t have to get out of bed until the clock hits 7, then why would you set eighteen alarms that go off at various intervals from an hour before?

Without Izzy backing him up, Joe is forced to find different ways to ease this stupid habit out of you.

He gifts you a gradual wake-up light that is meant to replace your alarm.

It doesn’t work.

Well, it does work, because it easily replaces all of your phone’s snoozing alarms, but Joe kind of forgot that... he also has eyes. A light turning on in your bedroom doesn’t just wake you up. And even though it’s definitely a more peaceful way to start the day, Joe is still left to stare at the ceiling, fuming in silence for an hour before he needs to get up.

Next, he tries a pillow-based vibrating alarm, one that’s marketed towards heavy sleepers, but he runs into the same issue. He had been unaware — and had come to learn the hard way — how often you end up sharing a pillow together. It’s very cute. Almost romantic enough to feel a little embarrassed about having to tell his friends about it. But when that pillow is also your vibrating alarm clock? Not so great.

It’s unfortunate that he likes you so much.

That he still wants to come and sleep over so badly.

That he genuinely misses you when he spends the night in his bed on his own, convincing himself in those moments that your snoozing isn’t actually so bad, that being on his own is definitely worse.

He wishes he still felt that same way when he jolts awake from your alarm, set to a softer volume now as you tried to compromise, and he’s wearing fucking earplugs.

He wakes up from your alarm whilst he’s wearing noise-canceling earplugs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Joe grumbles. He had been so determined to out-sleep the snooze siege, had been so sure that this was actually going to work.

And yet...

Joe wakes up inside of his noise-cancelling cocoon and can’t fucking believe that you haven’t.

“Are you fucking joking right now?!”

Joe’s voice pulls you from your slumber more than your phone does.

“You cannot sleep through that when I can hear it through these high quality too fucking expensive new noise-cancelling earplugs. Not a fucking chance!”

He’s angry enough to feel the itch to reach over and turn your phone off entirely, even though he vividly remembers how angry you’d been when he’d done that once before, and how awful he’d felt after.

But he still wants to.

He really, really wants to.

Joe continues swearing loud enough to prompt a barrage of pounding from the other side of the wall where Izzy’s fists bang in protest.

“Fuck off, Izzy!” Joe’s tone is laced with that raw, unfiltered annoyance that slips out when exhaustion wears down restraint. He’s done. So, so done. He could’ve had another full sixty minutes of blissful sleep that you’ve now ruined for him.

However, the shouting across the flat before the sun’s even dared to edge the horizon, shadows still speaking in full voice, quickly stops when you let a hand snake over Joe’s bare chest.

You somehow find an answer to the issue without even thinking.

The simple solution just sort of... happens, completely organically, underneath the thick covers of your bed.

Joe starts to speak once more, but the breath he draws turns into a shudder, and he goes still beneath your hand which slides across his soft skin until it curls around his side and pulls.

Something in the air changes.

The early morning shifts.

Joe easily lets himself be pulled into you, and whilst his warm body curls around yours, your other hand finds your phone and turns chiming the alarm off.

Off.

Then Joe watches as you squint at the bright screen of your phone as you unlock it and turn off all other alarms too, one by one. Next, it gets dropped besides your pillow and you turn around to face him. You groan softly with the movement, pulling him closer until your bodies fit together like they were always meant to.

“Can you make sure I get up at seven?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep, nose tucked somewhere near his collarbone.

And... oh.

Yea.

Joe can do that.

Joe can... yea, Joe can be the alarm.

Your alarm.

He can be part of your snoozing if this is what snoozing is, absolutely. So he nods, barely a movement, and presses a kiss into your hair like a promise.

Suddenly, snoozing turns into something gentler— not a battle against the day, but a shared quiet wrapped in warmth and, more importantly, each other.

Suddenly, all frustration slips from him in an instant, and he melts into the slow hush of your breathing and into the tangle of your limbs.

Suddenly, Joe is gifted a whole hour of hands that roam lazily beneath soft linen sheets and over sleepy skin, fingers tracing the familiar curves of comfort.

After a moment, Joe shuffles down and buries his nose into your chest, snuggling into the space as he inhales deeply before dragging his face up and into your neck. He finds he doesn’t actually care about the time so much if he gets to spend it like this, right here.

He feels like an idiot for not working that out himself sooner.

When the clock ticks past seven, he murmurs your name against your temple, and you grumble something unintelligible, nuzzling closer. And really, who is he to complain about a frivolous thing like snoozing when playing a part in it means he gets to kiss the curve of your shoulder and feel your fingers comb sleepily through his hair for a bit?

Snoozing, as so it turns out, isn’t really about sleep.

It’s about these soft, golden minutes before the day begins, where nothing matters but bare skin, and comfortable warmth, and the sleepy weight of love.

Joe thinks he might have just learnt how your brain works.

Finds it’s not so unfathomable after all.

Finds that his brain actually might work just the same.

If this is what mornings will look like from now on, then maybe snoozing isn’t so bad after all.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary just when you think you've made it through the night, joe is there and sure to remind you its not quite over yet

content swearing

New message from joeyb_9 

The notification lights up your screen just as you finish wiping down the last dish.

Your stomach tightens, fingers hesitating over the phone before you finally pick it up. You don’t know what you’re expecting. You do know that you shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You swipe it open.

@joeyb_9: Didn’t think I’d see much of u today

Your fingers hover over the keyboard.

He didn’t think he’d see you? He came to your family’s Thanksgiving and didn’t think he’d see you?

@y/n.y/l/n: Crazy how that happens when our families are basically married to each other

You hit send, locking your phone and setting it back down on the counter before you let yourself spiral over a stupid message from him.

Not even five seconds pass before the screen lights up again.

@joeyb_9: Fair point

@joeyb_9: You always this friendly?

Your lips press together.

@y/n.y/l/n: You always ignore people at dinner and then text them like you didn’t?

@joeyb_9: Didn’t ignore you

@y/n.y/l/n: lol

@y/n.y/l/n: You didn’t even look at me

@joeyb_9: Wasn’t exactly a conversation we could have at the table

A sharp exhale leaves your lips and you scoff. 

The dining room is a mess of conversation — overlapping voices, the steady clink of silverware against porcelain, wine glasses being refilled before they’re even half empty.

Your dad is deep into some long-winded retelling of a work story, his hands gesturing wildly as if the stakes were much higher than they probably were. Your aunts, on the other hand, are locked in their own debate about the stuffing — one of them insisting it’s too dry while the other swears up and down that it’s the exact same recipe as last year. Neither is backing down, and at this point, it seems more about winning than the actual food.

Across the table, your brother is already making his way through his second plate, eating like he’s in some kind of race against himself. You glance over, watching as he shovels another ridiculous forkful into his mouth, barely pausing to breathe.

"You know you can breathe between bites, right?" you mutter, stabbing at a green bean with your fork.

He barely looks up, reaching for another roll with his free hand. “You know you can mind your business, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother responding, turning your attention back to your plate. Same Thanksgiving, different year.

A loud clearing of someone’s throat is heard over the noise, the voices don’t die down immediately, but they stagger. Some people go quiet, others still finishing their sentences before realizing that, once again, Grandma has something to say.

Your uncle lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh, here we go.”

Your grandma straightens in her seat, chin lifted, looking around the table with an air of great importance. "I need to say something," she begins, pausing dramatically.

Your mom, sitting beside her, closes her eyes briefly, already bracing. "Mom—"

Grandma holds up a hand, silencing her. "No, no. This is important." She turns toward the center of the table, her expression serious. “I just want to know who the hell thought it was appropriate to put marshmallows on the sweet potatoes.”

Everyone is silent, but then, a loud slap against the table.

"I knew you were going to say that!" your aunt exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger across the table.

Your mom groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can we not start a fight over—"

"It's dessert on top of a vegetable!" your grandma argues. "You people are ruining Thanksgiving traditions!"

"It's literally been on the table every year!" your dad points out, exasperated.

"Not in my house growing up!"

At this point, you’re biting back laughter, watching the same exact argument unfold like clockwork. Your cousin, never one to miss an opportunity, leans in and whispers dramatically, “Did you guys know Grandma fought in the Sweet Potato Wars of ’67?”

You break, laughing into your drink and instinctively glancing toward your brother expecting to meet his eye and exchange that familiar look that says, here we go again.

But he’s not looking at you.

Instead, he’s leaned over toward Joe, whispering something, shaking with quiet laughter.

Your stomach tugs in a weird, unexpected way.

You turned back to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t as hungry anymore.

@y/n.y/l/n: And this is better?

@joeyb_9: You’re still talking to me

@joeyb_9: aren’t you?

@y/n.y/l/n: Maybe I’m just bored

@joeyb_9: That what you’re telling yourself?

@y/n.y/l/n: What do you want?

@joeyb_9: Good question

@y/n.y/l/n: ok

@joeyb_9: You looked good today

@y/n.y/l/n: You wouldn’t know. You weren’t looking at me, remember?

@joeyb_9: That’s what you think?

The smells from the kitchen spilled out through the open back door — roasted turkey, warm spices, something sweet still baking. You’d been relieved when everyone had migrated outside.

The annual Thanksgiving football game is in full swing, sneakers tearing up damp grass, voices carrying through the night. 

Your dad and Jimmy have stationed themselves on the deck, arms crossed, tossing out unsolicited coaching advice like they’ve been recruited as official gameday analysts.

“You gotta lead that throw,” Jimmy calls, shaking his head.

Your dad gestures toward the field, like he can physically direct them. “That’s what I said!”

Your brother, who is actually playing, doesn’t bother responding.

You barely look up, fingers absently scrolling over your phone screen. It’s not that you aren’t listening, you are. 

You’re just not engaged.

Your mom and Robin are curled up nearby, wine in hand, tucked into their usual spots on the patio couch. The way they settle into conversation is so natural, so effortless, it makes you feel like an intruder in your own space. Or maybe just… out of place.

You shift, adjusting the blanket around your legs. You don’t know why you feel like this.

You hate last night.

Your grip on your phone tightens, scrolling a little more aggressively, eyes flicking past posts you aren’t even reading. You’re trying to be present, trying to ignore the restless feeling in your chest, but it’s not working.

Letting out a slow breath, your focus shifts to the conversation beside you, forcing yourself to engage.

“You’ve been on that thing all afternoon,” your mom says, nudging your leg with her foot.

You blink, “I’m literally outside.”

Robin smirks, adjusting her blanket. “And yet? Somewhere else entirely.”

Your mom hums knowingly. “Let me guess, keeping tabs on the Black Friday sales?”

You don’t correct her. You let her believe it, let her think your head is full of discount codes and online shopping instead of the mess it’s actually in.

You don’t mean to be short with them.

You know they’re just making conversation. But everything tonight is rubbing you the wrong way, and you feel bad for it, for the way you’re snapping when you don’t mean to.

But you can’t help it, either.

Robin tilts her head toward the field. “You know, it is funny, though.”

Your mom raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Robin nods toward the game, toward your brother, toward Joe. “We’re officially running out of single people at Thanksgiving.”

Your stomach tenses.

“Oh, you’re right,” your mother muses, too interested now. “Jamie’s married. Dan’s married. Most of your cousins, too.” She shifts slightly, gaze flickering toward you. “That just leaves you three.”

Your jaw tightens.

Robin grins. “The last ones standing.”

You hate this conversation.

You sink further into your blanket, resisting the urge to disappear into the couch. “We are not having this conversation.”

Your mom shrugs, sipping her wine. “We’re just saying.”

Robin leans in slightly. “So? No one new this year?”

You force yourself to keep your voice even. “No.”

“Not even a little crush?”

“No.”

Robin smirks. “Not even an almost crush?”

You glare at her.

She laughs, leaning back in her seat. “Fine. Stay mysterious.”

Your mom’s attention shifts, watching the game again. “Maybe next year.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe next year you’ll mind your own business.”

They both laugh, you exhale, relieved that the topic has finally died before it could go any further.

“Hey!” A voice from out in the yard shouts over. "Heads up!"

You barely have time to react before something slams into your shoulder.

Of course.

Because why wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t the night end like this, with you getting blindsided by a football while you’re just trying to mind your own business? The impact is jarring, a sharp sting spreading up your arm. Your phone slips from your hands, landing screen-down on the deck with a sickening thud.

Pain flares up your arm, not unbearable, but sharp enough to make you grit your teeth. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself not to react, because the last thing you need is for someone to make a thing out of this.

Too late.

Your dad and Jimmy immediately cut their commentary short, their attention snapping toward you.

“You alright?” your dad asks, stepping forward.

Jimmy crosses his arms, shaking his head. “Damn, kid. Didn't even see that one coming, huh?”

You wince, rubbing your shoulder. “Nope.”

There’s movement near the deck.

You don’t react at first, too busy flipping your phone over, stomach unclenching slightly when you see the screen is fine. But then, as you exhale, a shadow falls over you. 

Someone bends down, fingers curling around the football where it landed.

For a second, you don’t recognize him.

Then, you do.

Joe.

His fingers flex around the leather, his grip tightening for half a second before he straightens. He doesn’t say anything right away. Doesn’t acknowledge the way the air between you feels heavier now. Then, finally, his eyes flicker to your shoulder. Quick. Assessing.

"You good?"

You nod, swallowing. "Yeah."

@y/n.y/l/n: That’s what I know

@joeyb_9: Then you don’t know shit

@y/n.y/l/n: wowww

@y/n.y/l/n: Poetic.

@joeyb_9: I try

The conversation pauses.

@joeyb_9: You’re still mad

@y/n.y/l/n: no

@y/n.y/l/n: I’m not mad

@joeyb_9: Could’ve fooled me

Ironic.

@y/n.y/l/n: You fooled me first

@joeyb_9: That what this is about?

Your pulse kicks up.

You don’t respond immediately, wondering if it’s better to not acknowledge it and just forget about him entirely.

@joeyb_9: I didn’t mean to ignore you.

@y/n.y/l/n: you did though

@joeyb_9: It wasn’t like that

@y/n.y/l/n: Then what was it like?

@joeyb_9: Idk

@y/n.y/l/n: lmfao

@joeyb_9: I didn’t think I was allowed to look at you.

You roll your eyes

@y/n.y/l/n: And who made that rule?

@joeyb_9: You did

The house had finally, somewhat, settled.

You’ve found a rare moment of peace, curled up in the living room, sinking into the plush couch with a blanket draped over your legs. The dim glow of the lamp beside you casts a soft haze across the room, and for the first time all day, you exhale fully.

You lean your head back, eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

Loud, shuffled footsteps enter the room, voices crashing through your quiet.

Your brother.

Drunk. Loud. Laughing.

And right behind him — who else would it be but Joe.

You grit your teeth, already regretting not just going to your room.

Your brother stumbles in first, dragging Joe along like whatever conversation they were having outside couldn’t possibly wait. 

“No, I’m just saying you think you’re cold under pressure, but I swear to God, I have never seen someone panic harder than when you—” He breaks off, already laughing, shaking his head as he collapses onto the couch. “When you tried to kill me with the damn garage door last summer.”

Joe exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he drops into the armchair across from you. “Was not my fault.”

Your brother snorts. “Dude. You hit the button while I was still under it.”

Joe shrugs. “You shouldn’t have been standing there.”

Your brother nearly spills his drink as he gestures toward him. “You literally looked me in the eye before you did it!”

Joe grins, barely suppressing his laughter. “Didn’t know it moved that fast.”

They’re so loud, their voices bouncing off the walls, filling the space you had just been enjoying. You sink deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket higher, willing them to shut up.

It doesn’t work.

You glare at the ceiling, jaw tight.

You last maybe thirty more seconds before you decide you’re done, tossing the blanket off yourself and standing up.

Neither of them notices at first — Joe is still shaking his head at whatever dumb thing your brother just said, your brother is cracking up like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

But as soon as you step toward the doorway, your brother finally registers your movement.

“Where you going?”

You pause just briefly, glancing back over your shoulder to respond, and that’s when you catch Joe already watching you.

He’s leaned back, arms resting casually on the armrests, a lazy kind of amusement in his gaze. 

You roll your eyes, tearing your gaze away from him as you turn back to your brother.

“Away.”

Your phone buzzes again.

@joeyb_9: You left realll quick 

@y/n.y/l/n: Wasn’t in the mood for ur drunken convos

@joeyb_9: I wasn’t drinking 

@y/n.y/l/n: And yet you were still saying dumb shit

@joeyb_9: 😂

@joeyb_9: You wound me

@y/n.y/l/n: good

@y/n.y/l/n: I intend to

@joeyb_9: You like messing with me, don’t you?

@y/n.y/l/n: mmm

@y/n.y/l/n: a little

@joeyb_9: That’s cute

@y/n.y/l/n: You’re annoying

@joeyb_9: You’re still talking to me

@joeyb_9: Wyd rn tho

@y/n.y/l/n: why

@joeyb_9: Think you can sneak out?

[unitedhamilton]

Luck

Summary: a resolution with flowers on the counter.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: here is part two of Flowers! I would recommend reading that first. Enjoy lovelies 💜

Lewis’ head shot up off the couch pillow when he heard the lock on the front door click. 

He didn’t move when he saw you in the living room doorway. You broke the silence first. 

“I’m going to bed.”

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, Lewis.” 

Then he saw you turn and go up the stairs. 

Lewis dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t believe what the last few hours had turned into. 

~~~~~

Lewis jogged up the steps, slightly out of breath as the Colorado freezing air kicked his ass. A crappy night's sleep and the change from Las Vegas weather had him struggling. 

He opened the door and immediately saw Roscoe camped out on the welcome mat. While bending down to pet the attention seeker, he caught sight of you in the kitchen. You had a mug held to your lips with your phone in the other hand. 

Lewis felt your eyes on him once he stood up. The light still hadn’t returned after a night of sleeping apart. It’s not like he expected anything different. 

“Morning,” you greeted as you set your mug on the counter. You tucked your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You kept talking, voice flat as it has been and Lewis didn’t like that. “I’m going to the store so if you need anything you can text me.” 

Lewis walked to the cabinet and grabbed a glass making his way to the sink to get water. He didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Alright, I’m going. See you in a bit,” you said. 

“What store are you going to?” Lewis asked. 

“I haven’t decided yet. Sprouts perhaps. Maybe Trader Joe’s. Whatever I feel like when I get in the car.” 

You started to walk out of the kitchen when Lewis spoke. He really shouldn’t have. He was still pent up from his run and over everything he caused. 

“You’re not going to the store.” 

You froze and slowly turned towards him, eyebrows raised. “We need groceries, Lewis.” 

“No we don’t.” 

“Yes we do.” 

“Nope.” 

“Okay,” you put your hands on the counter, leaning towards Lewis, “the fruit and few vegetables I got yesterday barely feed you so we need groceries.” 

To this, Lewis replied, “I’ll go with you.” 

You barked out a laugh and shook your head. 

“Don’t laugh,” Lewis ground out. 

You both moved simultaneously, Lewis towards you and you towards the door. But, Lewis caught your wrist and pulled you towards him. 

“Don’t laugh at me baby.” 

“Lewis,” you whispered, in shock and maybe even surprise at your sudden closeness. 

He walked you so your back was against the counter. Lewis reached into your back pocket and pulled your phone out placing it next to your hip. 

“Why’d you throw the flowers away?” Lewis rumbled, you didn’t respond, he asked again, “why?” 

“They were dried out.”

“You did that on purpose.” 

“Lew—“ 

“Why?” 

“Just let it go Lewis.” 

He pressed you harder against the counter. “Tell me, honey. Why did the flowers end up in the trash?” 

“They were just flowers.” 

“They weren’t.” 

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “Once you stopped showing up they became just flowers.” 

He dropped his forehead to yours. 

Lewis didn’t mean to hurt you. Truly. You had the best vacation together, something he enjoyed every second of. No work, no responsibilities. Time together that was needed. He did have work he needed to handle when getting home but went about it the wrong way. 

He had to fix what he did. 

“Please let me go Lewis,” you whispered. 

“No.” 

“No? You can’t just say no.” 

He moved his hands from your hips to around your shoulders pulling you into a hug. 

He moved his lips to your ear and whispered, “I hurt you. I messed up and I hurt you.” 

Lewis felt your arms lightly wrap around his waist. He tightened his arms and pressed his temple to your hair. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, baby,” he murmured. 

“Fine Lewis.” 

“Let me in, baby. Let me fix my mistake. I shut you out and I shouldn’t have.” 

He pulled back and saw your hard exterior slowly crumbling. He didn’t let you go but gave you time to speak. 

“We got back from a fabulous time together, Lewis. I would have supported you through whatever you were going through. You know I have supported you and always will,” you said quietly. “What am I supposed to do and think when you aren’t talking to me?” 

Lewis placed a finger on your chin guiding your eyes together. 

“Give me your eyes honey.” Once you locked eyes he continued. “I didn’t want to burden you with everything I was working through. I can’t tell you exactly why I did what I did. I knew it was wrong. I can promise you I won’t do it again.” 

He saw you take a deep breath and sigh. He hoped you weren’t gearing up to keep arguing. 

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Lewis. But I’m not here to be thrown to the side when you’re stressed or whatever,” you flicked your hand off to the side. “I forgive you, but I’m not tolerating it again.” 

Lewis felt the smile creeping onto his face. He heard you laugh quietly. 

“Hug me baby. I’ve missed you.” 

At that, you wrap your arms around his shoulder at the same time he hugs your waist. He missed the feeling of you. All parts of you. 

You pulled back, Lewis not wanting to let you go, but loosening his hold, and seeing the smirk on your face. 

He knew what was coming and braced for the incoming sass. 

“Now, can we go buy groceries or are we going to stand here and starve?” 

Lewis bent his neck and dropped his forehead to yours. 

Then, his eyes locked with yours, he muttered, “Of course honey.” 

“Then get off me and let’s go!” 

“Fine, fine,” he replied, fighting a smile. 

You looked into his eyes for a while. 

Then you yelled, “let’s go Roscoe! You’re daddy stopped being an ass so we’re going as a family.” 

Lewis closed his eyes and laughed. Then he moved and touched his lips to yours. 

Then he let you go and watched as you went to get Roscoe’s collar and leash. With you out of sight, he went to the garbage can and pulled the flowers out. They’d deal with them together after shopping.

[jburrgf]

About You IV- The Love Trope Series.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

◦pairing: ¡lsu! burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader

° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦ description: It is the game day, and you and joe are back again. what the future holds for both of you? Forever or Down In Flames?

• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART FOUR: ABOUT YOU

The soft chime of a new email broke the quiet of my apartment as I sat cross-legged on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through my notes for the media project. I reached for my laptop, my curiosity piqued by the subject line:

"Peach Bowl Coverage Assignment"

I clicked the email open, scanning its contents. The words blurred together for a moment before clarity hit me like a freight train:

You have been selected to cover the Peach Bowl game this weekend, Saturday evening. This will be your primary focus. Full details and meeting schedule to follow.

My heart sank into my stomach. The Peach Bowl? This wasn’t just any game—it was the game. The stakes were high, the audience massive, and the pressure immense. And to make matters worse, the LSU Tigers were playing, which meant... Joe.

I let out a long, uneven breath and leaned back against the couch cushions. Of course, it had to be this game. I rubbed my temples, willing the knot of anxiety forming in my chest to loosen.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "This is just great."

The email included a note about a meeting scheduled for Friday morning, where the media team would go over assignments, angles, and access for the weekend. I closed my laptop with a sigh, unable to focus on anything else.

I shut down my computer, getting ready to finally leave the house. I packed everything I needed into my backpack, and minutes later, I left my apartment heading towards the LSU campus, not too far from where I lived.

The media room was buzzing when I stepped inside, the hum of conversations mingling with the faint sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor. A slideshow projected on the front wall displayed the Peach Bowl logo in bold letters, its importance impossible to ignore. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, clutching my coffee cup tightly, as if it could somehow ground me.

"Saved you a seat," Maddie said as I slid into the chair beside her. Her energy was palpable, a stark contrast to the knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

"Thanks," I murmured, setting down my notebook and coffee.

“You okay?” she whispered as I slid into the seat next to her.

“Peach Bowl,” I muttered, my tone flat.

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “What? No way. You mean you get to cover one of the biggest games of the season? Tragic.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. Leave it to Maddie to downplay my nerves.

Before I could respond, the room quieted. The director of media assignments, Professor Ellis, followed by coach Taylor, stepped to the front of the room, clipboard in hand. His voice boomed as he greeted everyone and launched into the agenda for the Peach Bowl.

I tried to focus, scribbling notes as he explained the logistics—press passes, sideline access, and post-game interviews. But my thoughts were fractured, my mind wandering to the one person I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

And then I saw him.

Joe sat near the back of the room, his tall frame hunched slightly over the table. He was wearing a dark LSU sweatshirt, the hood pulled halfway over his head, and his usual air of quiet confidence seemed to be replaced with something else. He looked... unsettled.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him since the night at Malone’s—that night was burned into my memory—but seeing him here, in the context of work, made it feel different. More formal. More unavoidable.

He didn’t look up, and for a moment, I thought maybe I could slip by unnoticed. But then, as if he could sense me watching him, he lifted his head.

Our eyes met.

It was like the air in the room shifted. Everything else faded into the background, and for a second, it was just us. His expression was guarded, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes… His eyes were all over me.

”Keep it together, Y/N," I told myself, tearing my gaze away and scribbling down notes I didn’t even need.

Joe, on the other hand, seemed unusually quiet. His usual relaxed confidence was replaced by a subtle tension, his fingers tapping against the table and his jaw clenched.

"You okay?" Maddie asked as I slid into the chair beside her, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"Fine," I said, though my voice betrayed me, sounding far less convincing than I intended.

Maddie gave me a knowing look but didn’t push. Instead, she nodded toward the front of the room where the media director was setting up.

"You’re not going to faint, are you?" she teased, her tone light, but her concern still evident.

"I’m fine," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Coach Taylor started to speak, outlining the importance of our assignments and the exposure this game would bring. It should have excited me—it was a dream opportunity, the kind of coverage people in my field worked years to get. But all I could think about was how I’d survive the weekend with Joe lurking in the periphery.

"Now," Professor Ellis said, drawing my attention back to the front of the room, "I want to remind everyone of the importance of professionalism during this event. You are representatives of the university’s media program, and your behavior reflects on all of us."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

As the meeting neared its end, Ellis and Taylor began handing out specific assignments for the coverage. I kept my head down, furiously jotting notes about the timeline for game day. But I could feel Joe’s eyes on me again, a quiet weight I couldn’t shake.

You’ll each have access to a key player from the team you're covering," he explained. "For LSU, Joe Burrow will be the primary focus, given his leadership role and performance this season."

I flinched at the mention of his name, my pen faltering against the paper.

"Your angles should focus on the game, the team’s journey, and what this win could mean for the program."

I stole a glance at Joe, who was now sitting straighter, his brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but the tension in his shoulders was visible even from across the room.

Maddie leaned over, whispering in my ear. "You’re gonna have to deal with him eventually, you know."

I shot her a look, but she just smirked, unfazed.

When Taylor finally dismissed us, the room erupted into the sounds of chairs scraping and low chatter. Maddie nudged me again as I shoved my notebook into my bag.

Maddie nudged me as she stood. "Come on. Let’s go before you combust."

I shot her a glare, but I got up anyway, clutching my notebook like a lifeline. As we moved toward the door, I couldn’t resist glancing back.

Joe was watching me. His eyes locked on mine for just a second before he quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was in front of him.

I didn’t know what to make of it—of him—but the knot in my stomach tightened as I walked out of the room.

"You okay?" she asked, her eyes flicking toward the back of the room where Joe was still sitting.

"I am.” said quickly, though the tightness in my chest suggested otherwise.

"You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt," she said, crossing her arms and giving me a pointed look.

"I’m fine, Maddie.” I repeated, grabbing my coffee and heading toward the door before she could press further.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually," she said softly, giving me a look that was equal parts concern and exasperation.

But just as I stepped into the hallway, I heard my name.

"Y/N."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I turned slowly, my grip tightening on the coffee cup. Joe was standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but steady.

"Hey," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us. I could feel Maddie’s curious gaze from behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from Joe.

"You—uh, ready for this weekend?" he asked, his words tentative.

"Yeah," I said, though it was a lie.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Cool. See you at the game."

"See you," I murmured, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding in my chest.

And just like that, the moment was over. I turned and walked away, my heart pounding as Maddie fell into step beside me.

"You’re going to be fine," she said, her voice firm but reassuring. "You’re tougher than this."

I wasn’t so sure.

[…]

The stadium buzzed with electricity, the kind of energy that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you were part of something bigger. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a sea of purple and gold on one side and orange and white on the other. This was it—the Peach Bowl, the biggest game I’d covered yet.

I adjusted the strap of my camera and took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous excitement thrumming through me. This wasn’t just another game—it was a defining moment for the LSU Tigers, and I was here to capture every second of it.

The LSU Tigers were set to face off against the Oklahoma Sooners, and everyone knew this wasn’t just another game. This was the Peach Bowl. A playoff game. A shot at the National Championship.

From my spot near the sidelines, I had a clear view of the field. The players were already lined up, Joe at the center of it all, his focus unshakeable. The sight of him in his purple-and-gold jersey, helmet tucked under one arm as he called out plays, made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

I raised my camera, framing the shot as he stepped onto the field.

The perfect glare, I looked at my camera and saw the picture that I had taken. I Could feel his energy through the screen. I never knew if it was just me or literally every single other girl in the world, but he was so magnetic. And he did nothing to be like that.

The game started with a bang, LSU coming out strong. Joe was in his element, commanding the offense like he was born for this moment. The ball snapped, and he moved with precision, throwing a perfect pass that resulted in the first touchdown of the game.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face as the crowd erupted around me. Even though I was here to work, to document the game, it was impossible not to get caught up in the emotion of it all.

Raising my camera, I snapped a series of shots—Joe in mid-throw, the receiver catching the ball, the celebration that followed. The images would be sharp, full of action, but they couldn’t capture the full intensity of the moment.

A 19-yard pass to Justin Jefferson.

Touchdown.

The crowd erupted, and I couldn’t help but grin behind my camera as I snapped a shot of Jefferson celebrating in the end zone. Maddie, who was a few yards away working on her own coverage, shot me a thumbs-up before turning back to her notes.

I stayed focused, switching lenses to get tighter shots of the players as they regrouped for the next drive. Joe was commanding the huddle again, his gestures sharp and precise.

By the second quarter, LSU was dominating. Joe was unstoppable, his passes clean and precise, his movements smooth and calculated. The energy on the field mirrored the stands—wild, unrelenting, alive.

I knelt near the sideline, framing a shot of Joe as he stepped back into the pocket. His focus was laser-sharp, his eyes scanning the field before launching the ball in a perfect arc. I clicked the shutter just as the receiver dove into the end zone.

Another touchdown.

The scoreboard flashed, and I couldn’t help but cheer under my breath, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd. My camera captured the celebration on the field—Joe’s rare but brilliant smile as he high-fived his teammates, the way the entire team rallied around him.

By halftime, LSU was leading 49–14, and the media box was abuzz with murmurs of disbelief. Seven touchdowns in one half. Joe alone had thrown for nearly 400 yards. It was a performance that felt less like a game and more like a statement.

After the first part of the game, I reviewed my shots, scrolling through the images on my camera. They were good—great, even—but there was something about being here, in the middle of it all, that no photograph could truly capture.

Maddie texted me from the stands: "He’s killing it. You okay?"

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to explain the mix of pride and nostalgia and something heavier that sat in my chest every time I looked at him.

The third quarter started with a bang—another touchdown pass from Joe that sent the stadium into chaos. I barely had time to steady my camera before the celebration started, capturing the players as they piled into the end zone.

Joe scrambling out of the pocket, delivering another perfect pass. The defense shutting down Oklahoma’s attempts to close the gap.

With every touchdown, the crowd grew louder, and I found myself smiling more, caught up in the euphoria of the game. This wasn’t just football—it was history in the making.

Joe jogged back toward the sideline, his expression calm but focused, like this was just another day at the office. But I could see the fire in his eyes, the determination that had carried him and the team this far.

By the fourth quarter, the game was all but decided. LSU’s lead was insurmountable, the offense and defense both performing at their peak. But Joe didn’t let up, still playing with the same intensity he had at kickoff.

I captured a shot of him in the huddle, his arm slung around one of his teammates as he called the next play. There was something about the way he led, the quiet confidence that radiated off him, that made it impossible to look away.

When the clock finally ran out, the scoreboard flashing LSU’s victory, the stadium erupted. Players stormed the field, coaches hugged each other, and the fans went wild. I snapped photo after photo, documenting the chaos and joy that filled the air. They were headed to the National Championship.

I lowered my camera for a moment, just to take it all in. The confetti, the cheers, the pure elation that came with a win like this—it was a moment I wouldn’t forget.

And then, as the team gathered for the trophy presentation, my eyes found him again. Joe stood at the center of it all, the MVP of the game, his smile brighter than the lights overhead.

I didn’t need a camera to remember this moment. It was etched into my memory, clear as day.

I brought my camera back up, capturing one last shot of him holding up the Peach Bowl trophy, a grin breaking across his face. The confetti rained down around him, a sea of purple and gold framing the moment perfectly.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I packed up my gear, my heart full with the weight of what I’d just witnessed. It wasn’t just a game—it was a reminder of why I loved this job, why I loved being here, even when it meant facing things I wasn’t ready to confront.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a reminder of why Joe Burrow still had a way of pulling at my heartstrings, whether I wanted him to or not.

I did my way directly to the media room, waiting for Maddie to catch up with me on the way. Our eyes, mouths, bodies — you could tell that we were living the dream.

“I can't believe in what just happened.” Maddie said to me, loud and clear, trying to talk louder than the voices surrounding us.

A quiet buzz hummed in the media room as Maddie and I reviewed our notes and photos while waiting for the post-game interviews. The energy from LSU’s victory still hung in the air, even though the stadium was slowly emptying.

Joe arrived in the room surrounded by cameras and reporters, his expression calm yet commanding. He still wore his uniform, though the helmet was gone, and his face gleamed with the remnants of sweat. The Peach Bowl trophy gleamed on the table beside him, a physical reminder of the night’s triumph.

I positioned myself near the back, pretending to focus on editing the photos on my laptop. Maddie whispered something about the quality of the lighting, but my attention was elsewhere. I couldn’t help but glance up every time Joe spoke, his words measured and precise as he answered the questions being thrown his way.

“I felt like we were in a rhythm all night,” Joe said, his voice steady. “The offensive line gave me time, and the receivers made the plays. It’s a team win.”

I snapped a quick picture, capturing the moment, even though I knew I wouldn’t use it. Something about seeing him under the spotlight like this, with the weight of his success on full display, felt surreal.

After the interview, the team headed back toward the locker room to change and prepare for the ride back. Maddie and I lingered in the corner of the locker room, packing up our equipment.

We headed to the bus, getting our places on the back, where we used to travel. I was still electrified, feeling on my skin all the energy of the night that we just had it.

“You crushed it today,” Maddie said, nudging me as I zipped up my bag. “Seriously, those shots of Jefferson’s touchdowns are going to blow up.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, distracted. I was double-checking my bag when it hit me.

My second camera.

It wasn’t in my bag. My stomach sank as I realized I’d left it in the players’ locker room earlier during halftime.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Maddie, already heading toward the hallway.

“Want me to come with you?” she called after me, but I shook my head.

The hallway leading to the locker room was silent, an abrupt change from the chaos and energy that had dominated the stadium hours earlier. I could hear the muffled sound of voices in the parking lot, where the team was already preparing to board the bus. Maddie had stayed behind, talking to another reporter in the media room, but I was there, hurried, because I had left one of my cameras in the players' locker room.

The door was closed when I arrived. I hesitated for a moment, my heart beating too fast, but I slowly pushed it open, calling softly so no one would be caught by surprise.

"Just here to get my camera," I murmured, my voice echoing in the empty space.

That's when I saw him.

Joe was sitting on the bench, still wearing the black shirt he wore under his uniform, with a towel draped over his shoulders. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower.He hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a moment, I considered turning around and leaving before he did. But then, his gaze lifted, and his eyes locked on mine.

My breath caught.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than it had been during the interviews but no less certain.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak. “I—I forgot my camera.”

He nodded, watching as I moved toward the bench on the far side of the room where my gear was. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable, as I fumbled with the camera strap, trying to avoid looking at him.

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?”

The question hit me like a punch to the chest, and I froze, my hand tightening around the strap of my camera.

“I…” I started, but my voice faltered. What was I supposed to say to that?

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. The weight of his gaze was too much, and the vulnerability in his voice shattered any defense I might have had.

He took a step closer, his duffel bag slipping from his shoulder to the ground. “Because I haven’t,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “I’ve tried, Y/N. God, I’ve tried. But it doesn’t work. You’re still in my head. Always.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn’t bring myself to move, to speak, to do anything but stand there and let his words sink in.

And for the first time in months, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from him—or to him.

I stared at him, my mind racing as I tried to process what he was saying. The locker room felt impossibly small, the world outside forgotten as his words hung in the air.

“I thought…” I started again, swallowing hard. “I thought we agreed to move on.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I thought I could. Turns out I was wrong.”

My chest tightened, the mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Anger, confusion, hope—they all swirled together as I looked at him, searching for something in his eyes that would make sense of this.

“What do you want me to say, Joe?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You walked away. You left.”

“And I regret it,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Every damn day.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I felt anymore. All I knew was that the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—was making it impossible to think straight.

“You don’t get to do this,” I whispered, my grip tightening on the camera strap. “Not now.”

Joe nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t forgotten. And I don’t think I ever will.”

He turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the silence of the locker room. I stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been, my heart pounding in my chest as his words echoed in my mind.

Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?

No, I didn’t think he had. And that was the problem.

The weight of Joe's words seemed to have transformed the air around me into something dense, palpable, difficult to breathe. The tension was so thick that it could almost be cut, but something inside me hesitated to run away. My eyes fixed on his, a mixture of surprise and something else that I didn't want to name taking care of me.

"Joe..." My voice came out in a whisper, his name almost trembling on my lips. "I don't even know what to say."

He took a step towards me, and then another, his eyes never leaving mine. "You don't have to say anything. Just... just listen," he began, his voice loaded with something I hadn't heard in him for a long time - vulnerability. "I tried to move on. I thought I could bury it, but I can't. You're there, Y/N. Always there."

My grip on the camera tightened. The part of me that had been building walls since the night he walked away screamed at me to leave, to not let him in again. But the other part—the one that still felt the warmth of his touch and remembered every word he had ever whispered—wanted to stay.

“You left,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I had kept bottled up. “You just… left.”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw with regret. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

His honesty cut through me, and I shook my head, trying to find the strength to look away. “You can’t just say that now, Joe. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I need you to understand—I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at me like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose, shattered the last of my defenses.

“Joe,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know if I can go through this again.”

I shook my head, confused, struggling to contain the wave of emotion that threatened to dominate me.

"Because I was scared," he interrupted me, his voice hoarse. "Of what you meant to me. Of how much you meant to me. And I know I don't deserve for you to forgive me, but—”

"Joe, stop," I said, my voice firm this time, but my hands were shaking. "You can't just come back like this and say these things. Do you have any idea how much it hurts? How much it—”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if my words had hit him directly. When he opened them again, there was something desperate there. "I know. And I'll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I regret it. But right now, I just need to know—do you still feel it? Because I do. Every time I see you, every time I think about you... it's still there. I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m asking for a chance to prove I won’t let you down again.”

My chest tightened with his words, each sentence hitting me like a wave. I wanted to yell at him, say that it wasn't fair for him to come out of nowhere with these confessions, after so long. But at the same time, all I wanted was to stop feeling this pain that seemed to have no end.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why do you get to say this now?"

Joe closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was gathering courage. When he looked at me again, the vulnerability in his eyes completely disarmed me.

"Because I can't keep pretending I'm okay without you," he replied. "I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N. You're everywhere for me. Damn, for every second of the day since I wake up, you’re there. Every win, every moment, every trophy—I want to share it with you."

I was about to answer, but before I could form any word, he took another step and got so close that I could feel the familiarity of his presence - that unmistakable smell of his, the way his breathing seemed to synchronize with mine.

"Joe," I murmured, my heart beating hard as his eyes plunged into mine. “I hate you,” I mumbled against his chest, my voice muffled but shaky.

“No, you don’t,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as if I were something fragile. The tension between us felt like a live wire, humming with electricity.

And then, he didn't say anything else. He just tilted his head, hesitantly, as if he gave me the chance to retreat. But I didn't back down.

When his lips finally met mine, the world seemed to disappear. All the anger, the hurt, the confusion that had haunted me for so long dissolved, replaced by something stronger, deeper.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if we were both testing the waters of something we had been too scared to confront. But the moment I let myself melt into him, all the hurt, the doubt, the fear—it all disappeared. All that remained was him, and the way he made me feel like I was whole again.

My hands met on his shoulders while his pulled me closer, holding me as if I were something he never wanted to lose again. The warmth of his arms around me brought a sense of security that I didn't even realize I was looking for.

When we finally separated, just enough for our eyes to meet, Joe had a smile on his face. A genuine smile, which seemed to illuminate the empty environment.

"Does this mean you'll let me make it up to you?" He asked, his voice low and hoarse.

"Maybe," I murmured, unable to contain a smile of my own.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice a whisper now. "For everything. For leaving. For not fighting for you. But I'm here now, and I'll fight as long as it takes."

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled then, a real, genuine smile that made my heart twist in the best way. "Be my girlfriend," he said, straight, without hesitation

My heart stopped.

I blinked, surprised, my mind trying to process the sudden simplicity of his words. "What?"

He laughed softly, his nose brushing mine while his hand went up to my face, holding it gently. "You heard me. No more games. No more running. I want you, Y/N. I want us."

“Joe…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Let me finish,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I want to be with you. Not just for a moment, not just for now. For everything. So, will you let me prove that to you? Will you let me be yours again?”

My heart seemed to be struggling to get out of my chest, and even with the confusion that still remained in my mind, one thing was clear: in his arms, I felt at home again.

"Okay," I finally said, the word coming out in a whisper. "Okay."

His smile grew, and before I knew it, he had pulled me into his arms again, spinning me around as if we weren’t standing in the middle of an empty locker room.

The smile that illuminated his face was genuine, full of joy and relief. He pulled me back into his arms, pressing me against him while whispering: "You don't know how long I've waited to hear that."

I laughed against his chest, feeling the happiness that seemed unattainable for a long time. There, in Joe's arms, everything finally seemed to be in place.

Joe smiled even more, his eyes shining with a happiness that made me smile back, despite myself. And when he pulled me for another kiss, I knew that, for the first time in a long time, I was exactly where I should be.

[starsinthesky5]

husband & dad joe burrow (headcannons) || joe burrow x reader

description: little things about husband joey and dad joey 

a/n: ahem, the bitch is back 🗣️🗣️ it’s been three long weeks of no fics but im here ;) this was a request i got! i’ve been in my dad/husband joe feels lately and UGH. i can’t. i just felt the urge to write this and get it out asap because he’s just had me in a mood lately that like 🤰🤗

side note- the next part of nothings gonna hurt you baby is coming! thanks for your patience loves 💞

word count: 8.6 k (i got carried away lol)

warnings: fluff, allusions to sex

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husband joe

joe always wakes you up with little kisses in the morning. he knows you hate alarms because of how startling they can be, so instead, he presses his gentle lips against the soft skin of your face to ease you into waking up. his trail of kisses always starts on your jawline and ends at your lips, he hits every single spot that he knows you love to be kissed at. you usually wake up midway through his little gesture, but you love the feeling of his lips on you too much so you only open your eyes when he’s done. he always has this lazy look on his face, his voice raspy and scratchy, his hair all messy and soft. he’s so adorable when he wakes up, and even cuter when you open your eyes because his smile gets bigger. “morning, princess,” he mumbles before leaning in for another kiss. you wouldn’t want to be woken up any other way

joey always makes your morning coffee for you. he says “can’t have wifey walking around all cute and snuggly but acting like zombie,”. you never have to ask him to do it for you, he just knows. he knows exactly what kind of coffee you want, how many splashes of creamer, and specifically what mug you like to have it in. it was a little souvenir mug you got during your honeymoon from the almafi coast in italy. sometimes he'll even warm the mug before pouring the coffee, just so it's extra cozy. those little things he did for you were your absolute favorite. you really didn’t need anything else in the morning, just joey and his perfectly brewed, as he called it, "love in a cup"

during the off season, he’d even make you breakfast every morning—regardless of whether he had something going on that he had to do. it was a routine for you during those months, walking down the stairs to the smell of cooked bacon and freshly chopped fruits while he was flipping pancakes on the griddle. you’d make your way downstairs, sit on the kitchen island, and just watch him like a lovesick fool, his bare back to you as he worked away, humming softly to the music in the background. he enjoyed making you breakfast with the soft melodies of sweet, classic love songs playing. some of his favorites were “it had to be you” by frank sinatra, “hopelessly devoted to you” by olivia newton-john, and “look after you” by the fray. you loved to see him like this, so normal, simple…so husband. seeing him doing something so simple and domestic made your heart swell. he was in total "husband mode" according to you when he was cooking

and whenever he put that chef's apron over his bare chest...let's just say the pancakes didn't always turn out as perfect as they could. it didn't take long for his attention to shift--especially when he caught you looking at him a certain way. before you knew it, the pancakes would burn and he'd be too distracted by other things to care ;)

joey is such a cuddle monster in private. the man cannot keep his hands off you when you’re alone together. you thought you had seen the peak of his cuddle monster ways when you were dating, but it only got worse after you got married. he just needed to have his head lying on your chest or burrowed in your neck. he loved to have his legs tangled with yours, bonus points if he had his seinfeld sweats on. that was maximum “on some comfy shit” vibes for him. you didn’t mind, his warmth was the best feeling in the entire world 

and whenever you tried to get up to go do something, he’d follow you around like an adorable lost puppy, waiting for you to be done so you could go back to snuggling

after a late night out with your girls, joe would always help you get un-ready. he'd be there with a bottle of remover and some cotton pads, gently removing your makeup as he asked you about your night. he'd help you get undressed, guide you through brushing your teeth, and then help you get cozy in bed. he would then plug in your phone for you, fill up the water bottle you kept on your nightstand, and clean up any mess in your bedroom. he knew you'd be dealing with a hangover the next morning, so he took care of all the little things so that your only job was to rest

joe leaves you little hidden notes around the house--inside your purse, tucked into a book you were reading, or in drawers around the house. each note was filled with sweet messages reminding you how much he loves you and appreciates you

"you make me a better man. thank you for loving me as I am"  - found in your skincare drawer "i fall in love with you more each day. you're my everything," - hidden under your pillow "remember our first date at the planetarium? i still get butterflies every time I see you, just like I did then," - stuck to your vanity mirror "i'm head over cleats for you :)" - taped to your shoes "what does taylor swift say in her one song? oh right, "have you ever thought just maybe...you belong with me ;) ?" - taped to your shampoo bottle "remember our first date at the planetarium? i still get butterflies every time I see you, just like I did then," - stuck to your vanity mirror

"you make me feel so high school every time i look at you." - tucked into your planner "i know how to ball, and you know aristotle. well, we both do. but you're a bigger philosophy buff than me :)" - tucked into your computer "i love the feeling of your skin against mine. i want to feel that warmth all night," - found inside your book "just a little reminder that i can't wait to have you all to myself tonight. you drive me wild," - taped to your bottle of pomegranate juice “i love my wife. i love my wife. i love love LOVE my wife :),” - taped to your jewelry stand "i've been thinking about the last time we...let's do that again, shall we? - found on the full body mirror in the bedroom, hinting at a special moment "i love when you wear this dress. it drives me fucking wild. you're so god damn sexy baby," - taped to that little lacy red dress you wore for his birthday last year "you've intercepted my heart," - tucked under your waterbottle

joe is weirdly (it's so cute though) obsessed with getting the laundry done just right. he knows the exact way you like your clothes folded, and he's mastered the wash cycle for some of your delicate tops. sometimes, when you're tired and lazy after a hard day at work, you'll come home to find your laundry neatly folded on the side of your bed. you wouldn't have to ask him to do it, he would just know. he's definitely beating the "he can't do his own laundry" allegations ;)

joe didn't let the fact that you two were now married and together for life get in the way of still having weekly date nights. sometimes it would be as simple as ordering chinese takeout and watching a movie in bed, wearing your comfiest clothes. other times, he'd choose a free night during the week and surprise you with a night out at a restaurant you'd wanted to try or an activity that brought out your silly sides (mini golf, bowling, etc). sometimes he would even cook up a little dinner for you, candlelit table and everything. he would say, "just because we're married, doesn't mean i'm done wooing you,". it honestly didn’t matter what you two did, as long as you were together, everything was perfect

every week it felt like you were still dating, still falling for each other, deeper and deeper, one date night at a time

joe insists on driving you everywhere, no matter the weather or even if you could've driven yourself. you have a nail appointment? joe drives you. you need to go to the store? joe drives you. you want to go to your besties place? joe drives you. he loves the excuse to spend extra time with you, and you'll catch him reaching for your hand at every red light and stop sign

those drives are filled with secret--not so secret--glances too. he just can't stop staring at you, like ever. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever set his eyes on, sometimes not even being able to believe that you were real

after a long game, joe would likely come home exhausted, but he's never too tired to check in on you first. he'll let you fuss over him--ice packs, massage gun and all--but in return he makes sure you've got everything you need for your night. whether that's a hot bath, a cup of tea, or just a spare hour to let you bitch and complain about the game because he knows you get heated very fast when watching football. he knew that all this was just as mentally exhausting for you as it was him. he couldn’t imagine how it felt to be in the stands every week, watching him get tackled to the ground and fight his way to victory. but the fact that you still stuck around, after all the pain and frustration that this brought you, stood out to him. you were always there for him, no matter what

“thank you for being there for me. you’ve been with me through it all–every practice, every game, every injury, every tough loss...and even through the pressure, the media, and the expectations that never seem to let up. you’ve seen the worst parts of this career–the long hours, the hits I take, the doubts that creep in after a tough game–and still, you’re always there, no matter what. unconditionally. i don’t even think I can put it into words…how much I appreciate you. how much I love you for standing by me. you’re there for me after the worst games, when im beating myself up, and somehow, you always make it better. i don’t know how you do it, but i know i couldn’t do this without you. you make everything feel worth it, even when it’s hard. and i hope you know that, even if i can’t always find the right words to say it. i love you more than anything, and i’m so damn lucky to have you by my side,”

joe goes all out when decorating the house for christmas, and especially did when it was your first christmas as husband and wife. he obsessed over finding the perfect tree, you think you went to maybe 3 or 4 places before settling on the perfect one. it made your heart swell when you remembered the twinkle in his eyes when they landed on the perfect tree. he eagerly yanked you over, his voice all high and laced with excitement. “oo, ooo. we can do like red and gold ornaments. wait no. maybe orange? because go bengals! or would that look tacky. or wait we also have a bunch of those family ornaments so maybe no theme? ah, i don’t care, it’ll be perfect no matter what,”. he was acting like a little kid and it was the cutest damn thing you think you had ever seen

he brought out all the festive pillows, hung all the little lights everywhere he could, and even bought one of those blow-up santa's reindeer decorations for the front yard. "it's our first christmas as a married couple, babe. we're practically obligated to have the best decorated house on the block,"

then when you tried to put a stop to his christmas explosion after you came home and the inside of the house looked like santa’s workshop had exploded inside, he said, "look, if we don't go all out this year, how do we tell our kids one day that we started a tradition of being the most festive couple ever, hmm?" he asked while holding up a ridiculous amount of mistletoe for emphasis

on christmas eve, you two ended up wearing cheesy matching pj's--joe rolls his eyes at them but secretly loves wearing them because its "peak couple behavior" and you two make it work. "i'm only doing this for you," he says, but then you'll find him wearing those same pjs long after christmas is over

joe lowkey is an absolute gift wrapping pro. every gift is cleanly wrapped with perfect corners and bows. he says he learned it from his mama--which wasn't surprising since joey was an absolute mama's boy and looked up to her for everything. he even adds a little note to each gift, reminding you how much he loves you. that he did on his own, something he didn’t get from his mama. that was just your husband being the best damn husband to ever husband

joey secretly hangs mistletoe all over the house and each time you pass under it, he's right there with a silly grin, lips puckered for a kiss. "oh, look where we are again," he smirks every time before pulling you in for his favorite way to pass time

joey surprised you with a custom ornament on christmas eve too. it said "our first christmas, mr. & mrs. burrow", and he looks so proud while giving it to you. you act like you don't notice the blush on his cheeks when you hang it on the tree together, but boy did he feel like exploding into a cloud of pink sparkly dust at that moment

if his hands weren’t always on you, his lips definitely were. you lost count of how many times you two were late for something because he just couldn’t get himself to pull away from your lips. it would usually start innocently, maybe a quick peck or two before heading out--but one kiss would turn into two, then three. before you knew it, he'd have you pressed against the doorframe, his lips lingering longer each time. “mmm, 5 more minutes baby,” he would mumble against your lips before stuffing his hand in your hair and pushing your face closer to his. you would try to resist by laughing between kisses and reminding him you had to go, but he'd just smile at you and then lean in for another one

joe has a habit of surprising you with flowers, but never for a specific reason. he'll come home with a bouquet of flowers on a random day after practice, saying something like, "just felt like my wife deserved this today for being the amazing woman she is,"

joe often stays up late watching game film before important games, but he always invites you to come sit with him on the couch, even if you end up falling asleep midway. you'll wake up with his arm draped around you, the TV quietly playing game highlights and he'll whisper, "sorry honey, i didn't mean to wake you up," before dropping a sweet kiss to your forehead. but there are times where you stay awake and watch the film with him, snuggled up together on the couch. when he's in analysis mode, he'll absentmindedly start explaining plays to you, "okay, so if you're the wide receiver, you'll run this route," he says while guiding your hand to demonstrate. it always ends up with him getting...distracted though. the game film had long been forgotten as the only route joe was concerned about was the route he was going to let his lips take to the place where you needed him the most ;)

even though joe is the star on the field, you're the star off the field. whether it's a work event, casual dinner, or something important to you--joe's there for you in full support. you are the star of the show, the most important thing in the universe. he'll be cheering you on like it's the super bowl or something. he just loves to see you work hard and have that pay off. he loves to see good things happen to you because you deserve all the happiness humanly possible

he’s always the loudest clapper and cheerer whenever you get an award or recognition at work. he’s the first one to shoot up from his chair when your name is called, and the last one to sit down after you’re done being serenaded with praise. he knows how much you support him, how you tirelessly shower him with love and support. so he always makes sure to do the exact same for you

before every game, you slip a little handwritten note into joe's locker with some words of encouragement and something to make him laugh, even for a brief moment. "bring home that win and I'll have a sweet treat waiting," or "you make this look so damn easy. go out there and do your thing, baby. i'll be cheering for you, always," or even "the faster you wrap up that win, the sooner we can play our own game. i've got a new playbook for you to try. hint: it involves less clothing,". he always kept these notes in his bag and will read them when he's feeling stressed or overwhelmed--during halftime or even before the game again--and they'll act as a little boost

joe’s love language is all of the above. but gifts, physical touch, and quality time were the frontrunners

gifts-

he showers you with gifts all the time, for absolutely no reason. one day you’ll come home to a new handbag waiting for you on the table. or a new necklace to add to your expensive collection (he has great taste). or you’ll be surprised with adorable little things like a new stuffed teddy bear or a funny spongebob sweatshirt (you both were equally as obsessed with the cartoon). he loved to buy you things for no reason because he just loved to see that bashful smile on your face and your little nose scrunch up

you even remember that one halloween when he made you a boo-basket after overhearing one of his teammates talk about making one for their wife. after hearing that, joe went straight to the store to pick up the essentials and then when he got home, got started on the more...extravagant pieces of the basket. joe covered all the grounds with it, even adding in his own flair. there was a cozy blanket, a bunch of sweet treats and savory snacks, halloween candy, a few candles, a book you’d been wanting to read for a while, face masks, fuzzy socks, a new heating pad, and new ugg slippers. but then there was also a new diamond tennis bracelet, a new pair of cartier shades (so you can match him), and a little designer clutch to go along with a new dress you bought just a few weeks before

during the off season, he would occasionally surprise you with spontaneous weekend getaways as he knew you loved traveling. he would always take you somewhere you were dreaming of--a cozy cabin, a beachside resort, or even a staycation at a fancy hotel nearby

after one of his biggest wins--his first AFC championship win--joe had a game ball set aside just for you. on the ball he wrote, "this one's for you, forever and always yours - j.b". it sits in a display case in your home, a constant reminder of how you're always on his mind, even in his biggest moments

every season, joe gives you a signed jersey (one of his own, of course. usually the first jersey from week 1). each jersey has a personal message for you on the inside of the collar like "my #1" or "forever yours" and are dated to match the significant milestones. you have a collection of them now, and they're one of the most treasurable things you own

quality time- 

anytime together was quality time for joe. whether that be picking out new paint colors for the house or new tiles for your bathroom, or snuggling up on the couch together to watch trashy reality tv, or sitting on the back porch with a glass of wine and watching the sunset. he just loved any and all time he got with you

he always made sure to make time for you. football took up quite a bit of his time, but that made it even more important to take time out for you

one thing joe loved to do with you was late night drives and walks

he loved to drive around with you on the golf cart, especially down to the river behind the house. your head leaning on his shoulder, fingers entwined, and the breeze blowing through your hair. it was so simple yet so pleasurable for him. it gave him the serenity he craved every day, an escape from his chaotic football world

late night walks were also exciting for him. he loved to take you out for a lap or two around the neighborhood after dinner. the only light was coming from the lamposts and the moon above you two. oftentimes during these walks, you two would have some of your deepest, intimate conversations. before you got married, those deep conversations would be about marriage, about your future. but since that was now sealed, your deep conversations would be about things such as kids, his future in cincinnati, and where you two see yourself in 15 years. but it didn't always have to be serious. you two would often find yourselves giggling about aliens, time travel, and old stories from your days back at LSU

oh and he also just loved to spend time between your legs

physical touch-

joe is handsy as hell. he’d always been like that, but you thought it would die down as the years went by and you two started acting more like a unit than a bunch of horny college kids. but those two things can be true at the same time

he’s always holding your hand when he can. he needs to feel you at all times. whether it’s holding hands in the car, holding hands underneath the dining table at dinner with friends or family, or holding hands in a crowded room to calm his anxieties. he just needed that touch. his hand is also often found at your waist or in the back pocket of your jeans. he likes to have it in your jean pocket because according to him, “it’s the only way i can touch your ass with decency in public,”

he also had a habit of fidgeting with your wedding ring. you don’t know why but he just loved to play with it, twist it around your finger

the reason was that he just needed to remind himself that it was there. that it was real and it was on your finger. sometimes he couldn’t believe that you were his wife, couldn’t believe that someone like you was with him till the day he died

he’s also handsy in some…other ways ;) 

if he could, he would absolutely keep you in bed with him for eternity

he was so damn good in bed. like everytime you guys got down to it, you’d be left breathless, speechless, and in awe

as your marriage progressed, the sex only got better and better. he knew what you liked and what you didn’t like, so he made the things you did like even more intense. he wasn’t opposed to trying new things at all either, as long as you were comfortable and felt satisfied. he wanted to do whatever he could to bring you to heaven

also because there was no need to be careful anymore. you were married. you wanted kids together. and well, the rest is self explanatory....but once he got to feel you without any barriers, that's when he really went feral. like a whole other level of down bad for you. he really needed to be pried off of you because he could never get enough of you or your body

joe loved praising you the entire time too, and honestly, you earned it. the way you'd make him feel in bed was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. you were so insanely sexy, so insanely good at it all. every time you two got down to it, you'd make it unforgettable ;)

"baby...fuck you're amazing. i can't get enough of..oh..i can't get enough of you. you're doing so well...just like that...do what you want. make yourself feel good, y/n...take it,"

joe was so obsessed with you, and that love and infatuation had not once gone down over the years. it somehow got bigger. he was so happy to be your husband, and he was even happier that you were his wife. 

engagement and honeymoon joe

you and joe had been dating for about 4 years before he popped the question. from the very beginning, he knew you were his girl. his forever girl. his special girl. he loved you quite literally more than life itself, nothing could ever come before you. you were his biggest priority. joe from years ago would've laughed if someone told him that in the future, something else other than football would become his first priority. but joe now? joe now was proud of the fact that you were his biggest priority. he was proud to shower you with unwavering love, and affection; he loved being able to give you the world. loved being able to give his wife everything she could ever want

there was never a doubt in his mind, but it wasn't until just after your fourth anniversary that he decided to make it official. he was waiting for all the stars to align before doing it. you weren't surprised that he did--he'd always dropped hints about the future, about how he couldn't imagine his life without you. but you were surprised by when he did it

he flew both of you down to louisiana for a few days that summer, claiming that it was a work trip. it was a work trip on the surface. he was helping with scouting, recruitment, and training as he was one of, if not the most, successful LSU football alums in recent years. but on a deeper level, this was the proposal trip. every moment seemed casual, perfectly normal, but you didn't know he had a ring, the ring, tucked away; waiting for just the right time to turn this work trip into the start of forever

he had an entire day set aside just for you two. it started with breakfast at one of your favorite spots from your LSU days--a cozy little diner, just walking distance from joe's old apartment. you two used to find yourselves in the same booth every weekend, sharing pancakes and debriefing your weeks together with endless cups of coffee. it was like stepping back in time, a sweet nod to the beginning of your journey together. then, he took you to the planetarium--the same place he brought you on your very first date. he'd always been fascinated by space, and you remembered how he told you that his universe seemed a little less overwhelming with you in it; that you were the brightest star in his sky, and you outshined everything else

it was as if he was recreating the milestones of your relationship that day, building up to something bigger

then he took you to a romantic dinner at the same restaurant where he told you he loved you for the first time--yet another milestone recreated. he got the same table, the same food items, and even got you the same flowers he did on your first date. he remembered it all

after that, he ended up driving you to Tiger Stadium

you were so confused as to why you were at the football stadium that night, especially because there was no event going on that joe needed to be a part of. the entire stadium was empty except for you two. you thought it was just a little walk down memory lane, but little did you know, joey had other plans

joe had always been sappy when it came to big moments in your relationship, so when it came time to propose, he knew there was only one place where it could happen. the same place he first asked you to be his girlfriend: LSU’s Tiger Stadium—after one of the most important games of the season back during his first year at LSU. this was the place where he was now going to ask you to be his wife. yet another milestone was recreated, but also another milestone being created at the same time

you didn't think much of it as you two walked hand in hand through the tunnel and onto the turf, you could almost hear the echoes and chants of the crowds from years ago. but when he led you to the exact spot where he asked you to be his girlfriend--the fifty years line--your heart skipped a beat

"remember this?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle, his body filled with nostalgia

but then you saw his expression shift to something more serious, more raw as he looked around at the stadium he once called his home. he reached into his pocket and got down on one knee right there, right in the middle of the field. "this place means everything to me. it's where my dreams started, where I became the player I am today. but it's also where we started. where I asked you to be my girl for the first time. everything changed when you said yes, and since then you've been my biggest support, my constant, my person. it hit me early on that there's no one else i'd rather have by my side. not just through the football stuff, but through life. and i realized there's no place more perfect than this...to ask you what i've been dreaming about for years. this is where we started--where i first asked you to be mine. now i'm asking you for forever. y/n, you're my heart, my home, my everything. you single handedly rocked my entire world when you first walked in, and now i just can't get enough of you. i want to spend the rest of my life loving you, making you laugh, and building a life together. will you marry me?"

and he even got the jumbotron to show an old photo of the two of you from the night he asked you to be his girlfriend, right at the exact spot where he was on one knee right in front of you

when he opened the little velvet box, you felt like your heart popped out of your chest. the ring he had for you was the most gorgeous thing you had ever set your eyes on, well other than joe. it was custom made, designed to resemble the promise ring he gave you all those years ago

small diamonds lined the sides of the ring, giving it an extra sparkle that caught the light with every movement. he knew you loved sparkle, so he made sure the ring was extra sparkley

the breathtaking cushion-cut diamond in the middle of the ring was just perfect. a little halo of smaller diamonds surrounded it, highlighting it's brilliance just enough

the most special part of the ring was the inside of the band. inside, the words "forever and always yours - j.b" were engraved in cursive, just like your promise ring

and of course you said yes to his proposal. why would you not? he was your dream man. this was your dream

the hours after the proposal were so magical

the first thing he did was pull out his phone and call your family, excitedly sharing the news of your engagement with them. the proud smile on joe's face is forever burned into your head. he was so excited to make you his wife. he was oozing love that night. you'd never seen him so in love before

then, you guys had some celebratory drinks to commemorate the engagement. let's just say you two might have had one too many glasses of champagne because, by the end of the night, you two were honestly contemplating if you should elope to a foreign country next week and get married

you fell asleep that night dreaming together. you talked about your dreams for the future--where you see yourself living, your dream vacation spots, and even little details about your wedding like the flavor of cake. "i want red velvet," was all joe said when you brought up the cake. "i want red velvet. i want red velvet. if you love me, you'll let me have red velvet,"

for your honeymoon, joe took you to the amalfi coast, italy. one of your dream destinations

each evening, you two took long, romantic walks along the coastline. you walked hand in hand along the scenic walkways, the gorgeous sun setting behind you which casted a golden glow on both of you. you both took turns taking photos of little candid moments, laughing as you tried to get the perfect shot. "hey shorty, just hop up on my shoulders," he would cutely tease as you tried to get a good shot of the view, but your height got in the way

joey booked you a private boat tour on one of the days too. you both enjoyed the clear blue waters all day as you were surronded by breathtaking cliffs and coves. you even convinced joe to get a nice tan with you, but his stubborn ass refused to put on sunscreen, so he was a tad but overbaked at the end of the day. "ha, you look like a tomato," you giggled as you booped his red nose

he also booked you a private cooking class where you learn how to make authentic Italian dishes. you both laughed and teased each other while rolling out the fresh pasta and preparing a classic marinara sauce. "mmm, you look so delicious right now," he whispered in your ear as he felt himself get a bit overjoyed at the sight of you in an apron and your hair wrapped in a messy bun, flour all over your cheeks and arms. you pushed him away so you could focus, but in retaliation, he coated his big hands with flour, and then planted each hand on your ass, leaving big floury handprints on your ass which was so visible because of your black dress

you also have quite a few late-night gelato runs

after spending quite a few hours in bed, wrapped up in a passionate, heated bubble, you both would be craving the sweet, cold treat. so you'd quickly throw on some clothes and stumble out of your hotel, finding yourself at the doorsteps of local gelato shops. you tried sooo many flavors on the trip, playfully feeding each other spoonfuls as you walked through the charming streets under the moonlight

the entire trip, you two were so attached at the hip. like way more than usual. you were like magnets. he even made sure that during your beach days, you were secluded and away from everyone else so that nobody would interrupt your makeout sessions...and well, some other things too. he just wanted to be able to love up on his wife in peace

the honeymoon was so perfect. it was like the perfect escape for you two, the best way to start off forever :)

dad joe

joe talks to your baby bump sooo much. sometimes you'll even wake up to his head level with your bump, and the sound of his voice whispering to his unborn daughter. he loved talking to her, not caring if the conversation was one-sided. he just wanted baby tessa to be able to recognize his voice when she was born

"good morning little tiger. mommy is still sleeping but daddy is wide awake. thanks for letting her sleep in, baby. she had a long night because of your little kicks. they hurt sometimes, so just be gentle with her, okay? we love you and can't wait to meet you, pumpkin,"

his featherlight kisses around your belly were both you and your baby's favorite thing. every night before bed, he'd help you moisturize your belly with some special pregnancy lotion you ordered online, and right after he was done, the kisses would begin. the first couple of times he did this, it was calm and quiet. but one night, a kiss to your bump resulted in the baby's first kick

"oh my god, y/n! she kicked! babygirl kicked!" he excitedly said while meeting your eyes. the look on his face just made you want to die right then and there. he was so damn happy. he was just so excited about all of it--for the baby, for you to be a mom, and for him to be a dad

he even gives his football commentary to your bump

during MNF or TNF, you two would be snuggled up on the couch and joe's cheek would be squished up against your swollen belly. your hands would be stuck in his fluffy hair, playing and twirling with the strands as he talked to baby burrow about what was going on in the game. he would have this adorable little smile on his face when he spoke football talk to your bump, because each time he said something, he'd get a little kick in return

"alright, babygirl. you're about to witness some football magic," he says against your belly, his eyes glancing up at you for a second so you could see his excitement. he had a twinkle in his eye as he spoke, "see that guy over there?" he said while pointing at the screen. "that's my buddy. he's got an arm like you wouldn't believe. he's gonna throw a TD any minute and I want you to remember that feeling and sound of excitement for when you watch daddy do the same thing, okay?" he asked, his fingers tracing over your bump as if he was trying to connect with her. and he did, because she gave him a gentle little kick in response

joe took it upon himself to order and read a boatload of parenting books and articles. he wanted to know all the ins and outs of being a dad, even asking advice from all his friends and family. you found it so heartwarming to see the amount of dedication he put into preparing to be a dad. joe always gave everything his 100%, but it seemed like he was giving this particular thing 110%

he got a little too psyched out, however, after reading an article about the appropriate age to let your daughter start dating

"babe. no boys. she can't let that poison seep into her brain? tessa needs to be on top of everything if she wants to be the best possible version of herself, at least until she graduates college. no boys at all," joey said, his expression was so serious it made you giggle

"listen, i was the same way. but then I met you in college. you didn't poison my mind, right? tess will be fine. besides, we have sooooo many years before we need to worry about which boy our daughter is sneaking out at midnight with," you giggled. "babe!" joe gasped, "this is not funny,"

joe loves baby shopping a little too much

going to the baby store with him is like going into victoria's secret with a teenage girl. he was lost in his own little world

as you're browsing through the clothes, he gets overly excited about the little outfits. "the clothes are so tinyyyy," he pouts while picking up a little baby joe burrow jersey. he picks out a bunch of cute little onesies for his babygirl, many of which have cute little football sayings on them like "daddy's cheerleader" or "MVB: most valuable baby". he wanted her wardrobe to match his love for football as much as possible. which is also why a few days later, he came home after practice with a tote bag of baby bengals merch just for her

in the toy section, joe completely loses it. he can't resist touching each plush toy and rattle, often making silly faces or sounds to see what toy gets a reaction from you or your baby bump. "oh wait, i need to get her a squidward plushie. oh wait, i also need to get her a squidward beanie to match me sweatshirt game days," he nodded as he stood in front of the spongebob section with both hands on each sides of his hips. he was already standing just like a dad and you couldn't help but giggle at it

"god, i can't believe we're gonna be parents," he pouted as he walked out of the baby store, bags galore in his hands. "im so excited,"

during labor, joey was the most supportive and gentle husband possible. he was the calm in the storm and just his presence was doing wonders for you

he held your hand, rubbed your back, and helped you through breathing exercises. he was very hands-on, which you loved. his touch always put you at ease

during those intense contractions, he always reminded you to hold eye contact with him. those baby blue eyes were your safe haven and each time you looked into them, you allowed yourself to get lost. the pain of the contractions basically faded away with just one long stare into his warm eyes

joe made sure that he was in communication with the medical staff. he needed to make sure you were receiving the best care possible and that he knew everything that was going on at all times

during labor, he was your biggest cheerlead. whenever you felt anxious or scared, he was right next to you, whispering words of praise into your ear, "you're doing amazing, princess," or "i'm so proud of you mama. you're so strong, i love you so much. she's going to love you,"

joe made sure that you had quiet moments too--where he was just sitting next to you, gently stroking your hand as he talked about how excited he was to meet your baby. he just wanted you to lay back and listen in order to conserve your energy

he even cracks a few jokes during your intense moments to calm you down

breathing during a contraction- "okay, babe, remember: in through the nose, out through the--wait, isn't this basically football practice? you've got better form than half the team right now!" he laughed

after a contraction- "sooo. i guess we can skip leg day for a while after this, huh?"

as he massages your back- "you know, i’ve been meaning to tell you, this is great practice for the halftime pep talks and relaxing mechanisms you'll need for tess when she’s older. if she's anything like her mom, she won't hesitate in marching down to the locker room and cursing out the entire d-line,"

when you're trying to relax- "just think, by the end of the day, we'll have a little new teammate on our roster. you think she's more offense material? or defense?"

after your baby is born, joe's first words are so soft and emotional. he's so overwhelmed with emotions, but the first thing he thinks about, is you

"you did it, princess. you're so incredible, mama," he says as he kisses your forehead, tears in his eyes, completely in awe of you

a few days post birth, you're coming down the stairs after a much needed nap and the sight your met with literally causes you to melt

baby tessa's squished up against joe's bare chest, sleeping while he just held her against him. you can see that he's quietly relishing the moment, this little bonding time with his daughter. her little baby cheek is pushed up against his muscular chest and that alone drives you wild. those raging pregnancy hormones were definitely getting to you ;)

the sleepless nights don't faze joe. everytime she wakes up crying, he's up in an instant. he lets you rest, knowing that you needed it way more than you thought. you were working so hard as a new mom, you needed to just relax. "i've got her babe," he whispers to you. you love watching him cradle her in his arms, rocking her back and forth while softly humming a song. you saw him visibly release the tension in his muscles as he felt her calm down in his arms

joey is hyper aware of every sound she makes. the second she lets out so much as a tiny squeak, he's right by her side, making sure she's okay. he absolutely adores his little girl

joe has set daddy-daughter bonding time in the morning. each morning, he walks around the house with her in his arms, talking to her about football, his training, and all the things he plans to teach her about the sport. he's convinced she's listening, even if she's only staring at him with wide baby eyes and a drool-covered chin

joe is all about family naps. he tells you that all three of you need to snuggle together on the couch during the day and you obviously agree. your home was those two right there. of course, you wanted to snuggle up with them. you'd often wake up and see him with baby burrow resting on his chest, both of them fast asleep as his big hand gently rested on her tiny back

"baby, she's so cute! look at her little squishy face," joe would giggle to you as he played around with her in his lap

joe constantly reminds you of how incredible you are. he's in total awe every time he watches you feed the baby or rock her to sleep. "you're such an amazing mom. i'm so lucky to have both of you. you're my two favorite girls," he would say

joe jokes that he's already making a baby-friendly football playbook

he scribbles down little plays and shows them to her as if this is film study and she's taking notes. "okay, tessa. here's what we're gonna do. first, we tackle nap time. then, we conquer tummy time," he would explain to her with a goofy smile, one that caused her to shriek and squeal

joe has this video camera that he uses to document her progress. he tells you that he's gonna film her little moments just like his dad did for him. seeing joe walk around tessa with a camera in his hand, trying to get every angle, made your heart melt. nothing brought you more joe than hearing a mix of both their soft giggles, shrieks, and laughs. "tessa...over here, pumpkin. daddy's over here!" he would softly say as he tried to get her to look back at him and his camera as she tried to play with her squidward plushie--her favorite thing in the world right now

crawl training was one of your most favorite parts of the day because you could just sit back and watch joe be in full daddy mode for an hour or two

he would playfully get down on his hands and knees, demonstrating how to crawl. he slowly moved one hand forward along with his knee, "look, babygirl. it's just like this! one hand, then the other--easy peasy, right?"

every time she moved the smallest inch, joe's face lit up with pride. "you're so strong, tessa. you've got this!" he cheered on

he'd even motivate her with toys, gently waving it in front of her. "you want mr. squidward? come get him, sweetie," he teases, proud of every shuffle she makes

"c'mon, you're almost there, babygirl. you've got this," he would encourage. "you're almost to mama," he added as he met your soft eyes while you patted your legs so tessa would remain focused

each time she struggled, you watched him quickly scoop her up in his arms for s break. peppering her with kisses and tickles while whispering, "it's okay, we have all the time in the world. me and mama are soo proud of you, pumpkin,". his patience was so special to you. he was so gentle with her, so understanding

but when she managed to push herself even further than before, joe would celebrate like it was a touchdown. "that's my girl!" he'd cheer, clapping his hand softly as he watched her giggle and squeal in your lap while you showered her with kisses

"huh, i guess she'll be crawling all over the place now, isn't she?" joe asked you as he sat down with you after crawl training with his little tiger

"probably. but that's all your doing, baby," you would tease

tessa was such a daddy's girl, and how could she not be? he was so good to her

seeing joe as a dad just made you fall in love with him even more. the way he took on this major new responsibility like a champ made your heart explode. you didn't think you could possibly love him any more than you already did, but tessa's arrival proved you wrong in the best way

joe was the absolute perfect husband and an even better dad. he was naturally good at everything he did, but loving you and his babygirl was the easiest thing for him to excel at

--the end--

[v6quewrlds]

Blurb of wifey making Joe do the tend of telling his friends goodnight please?? 😂😂

author's note⠀⁎⠀feat. zacciah & justin because i wanted to try something new.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

"Why would I call my friends just to say goodnight?" Joe questioned her, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as his eyes focused on the TV mounted on the center wall of the living room. His hands were busy, full of her calves as he massaged the tightness from her muscles after a long day standing and walking around the clinic. It had been a heels day; full business professional attire instead of her sneakers and scrubs, and it showed in the knots that had formed.

She, relaxing with a half-smile on her face, sat up from her lounging position, her head tipping to the side as she studied Joe expression. "So you don't watch the TikToks I send you?" she questioned, her eyes squinting in mock disbelief.

"Only the funny ones," Joe defended himself instinctively, a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "This is a TikTok prank?" He asked in an effort to clarify, his thumbs still working their magic on her legs.

"It is," she confirmed. "It'll be funny, I promise," she assured him.

With a sigh, Joe set her legs down and reached for his phone. "Alright, let's get this over with," he muttered with a playful edge in his tone. He scrolled through his contacts, searching for the most unsuspecting victim to play along.

"Zacciah?" Joe asked, glancing over at her to see if she approved of his choice. She nodded eagerly, and he tapped the call button. Zacciah, one of Joe's closest friends, answered with a simple 'Hey'. "Hey, man," Joe began, trying to keep a straight face as she giggled quietly beside him. "What are you up to?"

"Just about to crash," Zacciah replied, his voice hinting at the end of a long day. "Why? You need something?"

Joe took a deep breath, mentally preparing for the absurdity that was about to unfold. "No, just wanted to call and say goodnight," he said, his tone unusually gentle, almost comically so.

"Goodnight?" Zacciah echoed after a few brief moments of silence, clearly taken aback. "Is… everything okay?"

She stifled a laugh with her hand, watching Joe's internal struggle as he maintained the facade. "Yeah, just thought it'd be nice," Joe replied lightly.

There was a pause on the line. "Okay, goodnight then," Zacciah said, sounding a mix of confused and concerned.

"Sleep tight, buddy," Joe said, trying to match the tone of a heartfelt bedtime story. "Sweet dreams and all that. Love you."

On the other end of the line, Zac's confusion grew palpable. "Joe, what…?" he began, but Joe hung up before he could finish his question. She burst out laughing, the sound echoing through their living room, as Joe gave into the amusement and chuckled along with her.

"Alright, who's next?" he asked, his eyes scanning his contact list.

"Oh, we're excited now are we?" She teased, watching Joe with twinkling eyes as he found his next target. "Try Justin."

Joe raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, but tapped the contact without further comment. The call connected and Joe waited for his friend's greeting. "Aye, what's up, man?" Justin's voice came through the speaker.

"Nothing right now. Just checking in, seeing how your night's going," Joe replied, his voice filled with feigned innocence. He watched her, whose lips were pressed together in an attempt to stifle her laughter. She nodded encouragingly.

"It's cool, you know. My moms was just askin' about you actually. What's up with you?" Justin said.

Joe paused for a beat before responding. "Just had a thought that it's been a while since we talked," Joe began. "So, I figured I'd call and say goodnight."

"Goodnight?" Justin's tone was disbelieving, almost as if he was offended. "Where's your girl? She would make you do some shit like this."

She couldn't hold it in anymore and her laughter spilled out, full and unrestrained. Joe rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, she's right here," he admitted, holding the phone out for her to speak. "And she says goodnight, too."

"Oh, you think you funny, huh?" Justin's voice held a note of amusement. "Goodnight to you too," he called out.

"Night, Justin. Tell your mom I said hello," she responded. The laughter in her voice was infectious, and Joe could hear Justin chuckling on the other line.

"This is lowkey nice as hell," Justin said. "We could do this every night. Say goodnight and shit, I like it."

"Fuck no. Goodnight J," Joe said quickly, cutting off Justin's proposal for a goodnight ritual. He ended the call before the wide receiver could protest.

[nuetralizedevangelist]

❝sleeping alone ❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- was listening to flatland cavalry and i couldn’t resist a short n sad fic abt billy bc i’m evil

| WARNINGS- a sad man who misses his girlfriend a verrrryyy small mention of death and war.

william h. bonney x reader angst? fluff?

as billy lays alone in the hostel bed he quickly begins to regret agreeing to jesse’s proposal of this job in lincoln county. he’s almost a days ride away from you and he has no idea if you’re okay. he can’t believe he used to sleep like this every night, no one to hold.

his mind wanders to the prayers his mother used to lay over him and joe, before everything turned sour in his life. he can’t remember the last time he prayed, feeling like no one’s listening. he doesn’t need a god when he has you, but he doesn’t have you right now.

he clasps his hands together just like he did all those years ago. “i haven’t done in this in quite some time, sorry if it’s not uniform prayer. i just want my girl to be okay without me, and for her to healthy and safe. oh! and for me not to get shot. amen.” he suddenly feels very stupid and confused as to why he thought his words into the empty air would assist him at all, but anything’s worth a shot. especially when it comes to his girl.

he rolls onto his side, just like he does every night with you. he holds a pillow to front pretending it was you instead a bag of feathers. he never realized how warm you were until he couldn’t feel your warmth at all. his eyes drift close and he falls asleep to memories of you.

eight hours away by horse, you lay alone in your shared bed with billy. only it’s not shared for a while, it’s just your bed. he’s working, he loves working! you thought trying to make yourself feel better about being by your lonesome. the bed feels like it’s miles long with just your body inhabiting it. you stare at the stationary sitting on your desk, illuminated poorly with one candle.

you write slowly and methodically to billy. he won’t be home for months so you figured you’d might as well start the letters. you write paragraphs upon paragraphs of how much you miss him, how much you love him, and how quiet the night is without his laughs filling the air. you trail off and start telling him about the town gossip you’ve heard but eventually get back on track. spraying your perfume over the pages and an invisible kiss by your signature, you fold it up and press the wax to seal it.

billy and jesse walk back in the saloon below the hostel’s doors. “oh! mr. billy you’ve got a letter! from a lady” the young boy wiggles his eyebrows and hands the letter to billy. he tries to fight the smile but jesse pats his back, rather hard but a kind gesture nonetheless. “the girl of yours is already sending letters after a day? you’ve got her wrapped around her finger.” billy shakes his head laughing. “that’s where you’re wrong, it’s the complete opposite.” he confesses and walks up the stairs to read your letter in private.

he instantly notices the scent of your perfume and all of the tension in his body melts away. he’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s reading but holds your letter to his chest after. he walks over to his own desk and begins his own letter to you, he might not see you for months but he’ll be damned if he can’t talk to his girl.

he consistently writes to you and letting you know what’s going on and how stressful things have gotten. you’re proud of him for switching to tunstall’s side because it was the right thing to do, you’ll always admire that about him. the worry for his well-being overtakes the admiration as you quickly gather your necessities and get dressed. you’re out the door and mounting your horse within the hour, riding to lincoln. you’d rather walk to hell and back than not see billy before he gets hurt.

you reach lincoln county much faster than you expected, maybe your horse sensed the desperation leaking from your pores. you ask a kind-eyed woman about tunstall and she directs you a few minutes north. you thank her make your way slowly to your destination. as your eyes focus on the beautiful country home in the dark, your heart flutters. you almost feel sick with how anxious you are, your eyes haven’t laid on billy in three months.

you quickly tie your horse to a fence post and rush towards the door, knocking rapidly. an unfamiliar man opens the door and smiles at you. “how can i help you, madam?” he speaks confidently with a british accent, this must be tunstall. “oh well, um, i was just wondering if billy was here?” he snaps his fingers and turns his head to yell for billy.

billy’s stomach dropped upon hearing his name being called, he’s thinking it might be jesse trying to pick a fight but when his eyes settle upon you his world stops. everything slows down but his heart speeds up to impossible levels. he smiles wide and laughs while running to you. his arms envelope you and you’re drowning in his scent, squeezing so hard he thought you might’ve bruised a rib. “what’re you doin’ here, doll? did you ride here alone? do you know how dangerous that is? have you ate? are you okay?” you giggle at his ambush of worried questions and put your hand over his mouth. tunstall walks away with a grin, never seeing billy so happy.

“yes i rode alone, yes i know the dangers, no i haven’t ate yet, and yes i am okay. i just couldn’t take the thought of you being so stressed with the possibility of getting hurt without me here. i also figured it was due time for a visit.” you mutter softly, never taking your eyes off him. drinking in the sights of the man you love with every fiber of your being.

he quickly ushers you inside and guides you to a main room. “gentleman, this is my girl.” he introduces you and you smile and manage a slight wave. “this the girl you’re always talking about and never shutting up about how pretty she is?” billy goes slightly red and opens his mouth up to talk before closing it. just nodding at the embarrassment. you smile up at him “you tell people how pretty you think i am? you’re so sweet! that’s adorable.” billy sighs and leads you to a seat at the table and fixing you a plate for dinner.

as you both lay together that night in the same bed, everything makes sense in the world. you understand war, they just want this feeling to be safe. your eyes begin to fill with tears as you’re just so relieved and happy to be with your love again.

“i was gettin’ real tired of sleeping alone. considered climbing into bed with charlie but i don’t think he’s as warm as you.” you laugh and gently slap his chest.

all is right in the world, because your world is filled with love.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Layover In Cincinnati | Chapter Seven

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 14.9k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, emotional vulnerability, intimate moments, jet lag kisses, borrowed clothes, and that bittersweet ache when saying "see you later" feels harder than you expected

A Few Quick Notes:

📝 This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it's been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

🔔 Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💌

Requests: Open

Author's Note:

There's something transformative about seeing someone in their natural habitat. This chapter explores what happens when Riley steps into Joe's carefully ordered world—when vintage vinyl meets meal prep containers, when wet footprints disrupt pristine hardwood, when birthday cake appears in a minimalist kitchen.

For Joe, it's about creating space—both literally and figuratively—for something he never knew he needed. A turntable that doesn't match his decor becomes the perfect metaphor for Riley's presence in his life: unexpected, slightly out of place, yet somehow completing the picture. The house that always felt like a showroom begins to feel like a home when her coffee mugs are left without coasters and her laughter fills the high ceilings.

For Riley, it's witnessing the depth beneath Joe's composed exterior. It's discovering the thoughtfulness behind his gestures—a teal SpongeBob cake, a rare Howlin' Wolf pressing, a Bengals hoodie waiting after a transatlantic flight. It's realizing that his minimalism isn't coldness; it's simply a different language of care.

I wanted to capture that delicate dance of navigation when two people with fundamentally different rhythms try to harmonize. The contrast between Joe's structured existence and Riley's creative chaos isn't just a source of tension—it's the spark that makes them work. She teaches him to feel music rather than analyze it; he shows her the comfort in certain kinds of steadiness.

As they explore Cincinnati together, the seeds of future tension begin to take root. In the Range Rover with tinted windows, in Joe's careful statement about keeping things private "at least for now," we see Riley's quiet discomfort. She understands privacy—but there's a fine line between protection and hiding, one that triggers whispers of doubt. Though unspoken in the moment, her distinction between privacy and secrecy hints at challenges they'll need to navigate when their bubble eventually bursts.

Their honest conversation in Kentucky reveals their different perspectives while reinforcing their commitment to try. It's not perfect resolution, but rather the beginning of an ongoing negotiation. As they say goodbye at the airfield, the promise "This isn't it for us" feels both genuine and weighty with the unresolved questions that linger beneath the surface.

Thank you all for your incredible comments on the last chapter! Each one fills my creative well in ways you can't imagine. Your insights and reactions keep me going through every writing session.

I can't wait to hear what you think of this one! 🎵🏈🎧🌃

Asks are open, let's talk about this one.

Put on Massive Attack’s Mezzanine while you read. Let it fill the quiet spaces between the dialogue. Let it linger in the background like the feeling of someone’s hands on your hips, waiting for the next song to begin.

Happy reading!

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123

Riley gazed out the window as the private jet began its descent toward Cincinnati. The city sprawled beneath them, sunlight glinting off the river, sprawling neighborhoods framed by trees just starting to show signs of spring. She rarely opted for private flights despite having access to them—usually saving them for impossible tour schedules or desperate situations. But Joe had insisted, not as a display of wealth but because he'd genuinely wanted to make her journey easier after the long haul from Italy.

"You'll be exhausted enough without dealing with connections and crowds," he'd said when she'd protested. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture touched her more than the luxury itself.

She’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours straight—from the final night in Italy to the early morning drive to Rome, followed by the eight-hour flight to JFK. Her body clock was completely scrambled, her mind foggy with travel exhaustion. But beneath the fatigue was a nervous energy that buzzed through her veins. In less than fifteen minutes, she’d be seeing Joe again.

The decision to come straight to Cincinnati instead of going home to LA had just made sense, even if it felt a little impulsive. Her friends had backed her up without hesitation.

“I’ll still make it to LA for the studio session on Thursday,” Riley had assured Laura as they hugged goodbye.

“I know you will,” Laura had replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just be present in it, Ri. You deserve this.”

Now, as the pilot announced their final approach, Riley glanced down at her wrinkled outfit with a grimace. Between the Italian laundry schedule and the last-minute flight change, she was arriving in Cincinnati wearing yesterday's clothes and carrying a suitcase full of items that desperately needed washing. Not exactly the impression she'd hoped to make, but her options had been limited."

"She'd texted Joe about this predicament from JFK.

Riley: Just a heads up - arriving with exclusively laundry-deprived clothing. Expect me looking significantly less put-together than you. Also haven't slept in 24 hours so I may be slightly delirious. Still want me to come?

His response had been immediate.

Joe: Yes. And handled. Just get here.

The plane touched down smoothly on what appeared to be a private airstrip adjacent to the main airport. As they taxied to a stop, Riley peered through the window and saw a sleek silver Porsche waiting on the tarmac. And leaning against it, arms crossed casually over his chest, was Joe.

For a moment, Riley just watched him through the window, heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs. Then the pilot opened the door, and the crisp March air rushed in, making her pull her inadequate jacket tighter around herself."

The flight attendant handed Riley her carry-on with a smile. “Enjoy your stay in Cincinnati, Ms. Carter.”

“Thanks,” Riley said, ducking her head as she made her way down the steps.

Joe looked up as she descended, pushing off the Porsche to stand straight. He wore jeans and a simple gray henley, looking far more put-together than anyone had a right to after what she assumed had been a full day of training.

His face transformed with a smile that hit Riley like a punch to the chest—unexpected and so damn genuine it made the exhaustion slip away.

As she reached him, Joe didn’t lunge or make some big, sweeping gesture. Instead, he stepped forward with that steady, confident ease he always had, and cupped her face with one hand, brushing his thumb along her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, soft but sure, lingering just enough to make her stomach flip.

When he pulled back, his smile softened, eyes scanning her face like he was still processing that she was actually here.

“Hi,” Riley managed, suddenly breathless.

“Hi,” Joe replied, his thumb brushing her cheek once more before he let his hand drop. “You made it.”

“I did,” Riley confirmed, huffing out a laugh. “Though I may actually be a zombie at this point. Not entirely sure.”

Joe smiled, taking her carry-on. “You’ll survive. Let’s get your bag and get you home.”

“Even with Italy’s chill, I forgot how cold Ohio can be,” Riley said, pulling her light jacket tighter as they walked toward the car. The Tuscan countryside had been brisk in the mornings, but Cincinnati’s damp cold had its own biting quality.

“Different kind of cold here,” Joe agreed, opening the passenger door of the Porsche. On the seat was a neatly arranged shopping bag.

Riley glanced at it, curiosity piqued. “What’s this?” she asked, picking it up as she slid into the butter-soft leather seat.

“For you,” Joe said as he settled into the driver’s side. “Thought you might want something more comfortable than whatever you’ve been recycling for the past week.”

Riley reached into the bag, pulling out a Cincinnati Bengals hoodie and a pair of chestnut Uggs in her exact size. The hoodie was plush and oversized, the kind you wanted to live in. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it.

“How did you know my shoe size?” she asked, already picturing herself burrowing into the warm hoodie and feeling a little more human again.

“Sarah reached out to Scout,” Joe explained, referring to their assistants. “Hope that’s okay.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture hit Riley with unexpected force. After days of wearing the same few outfits, she was beyond ready for something fresh, even if it was just a hoodie and a pair of boots. More than that, it was the effort Joe had put into making her feel comfortable. It wasn’t flashy or over the top—just practical and thoughtful, exactly what she needed.

“Thank you,” she said softly, pulling the hoodie over her travel-worn top and letting out a contented sigh as the soft fabric hugged her skin. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

Joe gave her a quick glance, a satisfied hint of a smile on his lips. “Figured you might appreciate it.”

He pulled the car smoothly away from the airstrip, the engine purring as they merged onto the main road. Riley leaned back against the seat, already feeling a little more settled, a little more herself.

“We’ll be at my place in about twenty minutes,” Joe said, his voice relaxed, like he was already falling back into his usual routine.

Joe glanced at her, already knowing the answer. “Jet lag hitting you yet?”

“Definitely hitting,” Riley admitted, leaning her head back against the seat. “Feels like my body’s still somewhere over the Atlantic.”

"Somewhere between time zones," Riley admitted, leaning her head back against the seat. "I think my body thinks it's still somewhere over the Atlantic."

"You can crash when we get to the house," Joe offered. "No rush to do anything today."

"I appreciate that," she said, fighting another yawn. "Though I'm determined to at least stay conscious for a few hours. It'd be a shame to waste our first actual day together in weeks."

"So," she added, perking herself up, "I'm excited to see your space. Been curious about it since New Orleans."

Joe glanced at her briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "It's nothing special."

"I doubt that," Riley replied, studying his profile as he drove. "Everything about you is deliberate. I'm betting your place is the same way."

Joe's hands shifted slightly on the steering wheel. "May not be what you're used to," he admitted. "Not like your place in New Orleans."

There was something almost vulnerable in his tone—a hint that he'd been thinking about the contrast between their homes, about what Riley might think of his space.

They fell into easy conversation as Joe navigated through Cincinnati, Riley taking in the increasingly upscale neighborhoods as they left the city proper. Twenty minutes later, they turned onto a private drive lined with mature trees, ending at a contemporary house set well back from the road. The architecture was striking but not ostentatious—clean lines, large windows, natural materials blending with the wooded surroundings.

"Wow," Riley said, genuinely impressed. "This is..."

"Home," Joe said simply, pulling the Porsche into a three-car garage.

They entered through a mudroom that led into a large open-concept kitchen and living area. The space was modern and minimalist, with that distinct “recently purchased furniture all at once” look. The kitchen featured high-end appliances, most of which looked barely used except for the protein shake blender on the counter. A massive TV dominated one wall of the living room, flanked by an impressive sound system.

There was little that felt lived-in about the space—no clutter, no accumulated decorations or mementos, just a few framed photos (mostly football-related) and what looked like a decorator’s idea of what should be in a successful young athlete’s home. A large sectional faced the TV, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a backyard that someone else clearly maintained.

Riley took it all in, raising an eyebrow. “This is… very bachelor pad.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “Haven’t really had time to do much with it. Season, then rehab, then…”

“No, it’s nice,” Riley assured him. “Just very… clean.”

“There’s more downstairs,” Joe added. “Basement and gym. I can show you later.”

As she ventured further into the space, her gaze caught on something completely incongruous with the rest of the decor—a high-end turntable set up in the corner of the living room, surrounded by a carefully arranged stack of vinyl records. Unlike everything else, which looked like it had been there since move-in day, this setup was clearly brand new, the console still smelling faintly of wood varnish.

“You got yourself a record player?” Riley asked, moving toward it with interest. “Since New Orleans, I mean.”

"Yeah," Joe said, his tone deliberately casual even as his eyes remained fixed on her face. "Got it yesterday."

Riley ran her fingers over the selection of records beside it, her breath catching slightly as she recognized title after title—an eclectic mix of vintage jazz, indie folk, classic rock, and even some obscure blues artists she'd mentioned loving during their conversations. She pulled out a Howlin' Wolf album identical to the rare pressing she'd shown him at that little record store in New Orleans.

"Did you..." she began, looking between Joe and the collection.

"Sarah knows a guy at a record store," Joe explained, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Told him to put together something you might like."

The gesture hit Riley with unexpected force—not just the expense, which was considerable, but the thought behind it. Joe hadn't merely bought her a gift; he'd carved out a physical space for her in his meticulously ordered world. A space that hadn't existed before she'd entered his life.

"You didn't even own a turntable before New Orleans," she said softly, the realization making something warm bloom in her chest.

Joe met her eyes with that direct gaze that never wavered. "No. I didn't."

Riley set the record down carefully, momentarily speechless. The contrast between his impersonal living space and this deliberate addition—this one corner that screamed of effort and intention—made it more meaningful than any grand gesture could have been.

"Thought you might like it," he said simply.

"I do," she said softly, something shifting between them as the weight of the gesture settled. "I really do."

Riley stood there for a moment, her fingers still resting on the album cover, suddenly aware of the weight behind this gesture. Joe had created this space—this piece of her world—within his carefully controlled environment. For someone as deliberate as Joe, this wasn’t just a purchase—it was a statement.

Rather than overthinking it or turning it into something awkwardly serious, Riley just followed her instinct. She crossed the distance between them in a few quick steps and wrapped her arms around his neck, rising on her tiptoes to pull him into a kiss that said everything her travel-addled brain couldn’t quite articulate.

When they broke apart, she kept her arms looped around his neck, her smile soft and genuine. “You keep surprising me,” she said, her voice light but threaded with something deeper.

Joe's hands settled naturally at her waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of her shirt. There was that quiet confidence in his eyes, but something else too—a hint of vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see.

"After we decided you were coming," he said, voice low and matter-of-fact, "I kept thinking about your place in New Orleans. All those records. How alive it felt." He glanced toward the turntable, then back to her. "Thought you might want to come back if there was music here."

It wasn't poetic, wasn't wrapped in flowery words, but it was honest in a way that was quintessentially Joe—direct and unvarnished. He was telling her, in his own way, that he'd been thinking about how to keep her in his life.

Riley's expression softened as she took in the meaning behind his straightforward admission. She didn't make a big deal of it, knowing that would only make him retreat.

"It's working," she said simply, holding his gaze. "Already mentally planning my next visit."

She glanced back at the turntable, her fingers trailing over the edge of the console. "We're gonna break this in later—I'll pick out something that suits the mood..."

Joe watched as her eyelids grew heavier, the way her shoulders softened with each passing moment. Despite her obvious effort to stay present with him, travel exhaustion was finally catching up to her.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle. "You're exhausted," he said softly, not a question or judgment, just a simple observation. "Let me show you upstairs."

"I wanted to stay up," Riley admitted, leaning slightly into his touch. "First night here and all."

"We have time," Joe said, his voice low and reassuring. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Come on."

Riley nodded, finding herself oddly comforted by his steadiness. As they moved through the house, she let her fingers trail along the walls, taking in details she'd explore more fully tomorrow when her mind wasn't clouded with jetlag.

He led her to a large primary bedroom with a wall of windows overlooking the backyard. The space was simple but intentional—a massive bed with gray bedding, nightstands with books that looked actually read, and a sitting area that caught the natural light.

"Bathroom's through there if you want to shower," Joe said, setting her suitcase on a bench at the foot of the bed. "I'll get you some water."

Riley watched him leave, taking in the fact that he'd brought her straight to his bedroom without hesitation or discussion. The assumption that they'd share a bed should have felt presumptuous, but instead just felt right. Natural, after New Orleans.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. The mattress was ridiculously comfortable, the sheets obscenely soft. She ran her hand over the duvet, wondering absently if this was what thread counts were actually about.

Joe returned with a glass of water and some Advil. "Thought you might need this too," he said, setting them on the nightstand. "Jet lag."

"You're amazing," Riley said, already kicking off the Uggs and crawling fully onto the bed. "I'm sorry I'm so useless right now."

"You've been awake for a day," Joe pointed out reasonably. "Sleep. We've got all weekend."

As Riley slid under the covers, too tired to even consider unpacking or showering, Joe leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm glad you're here," he said quietly.

"Me too," Riley murmured, her eyes already closing.

As she drifted toward sleep, she was vaguely aware of Joe moving around the room, drawing blinds, adjusting the temperature. Her eyes fluttered open one last time to see him standing by the window, silhouetted against the fading light, the strong lines of his profile etched against the glass. That was the last image she saw - Joe in his element, solid and certain, watching over her as she slept in his bed.

---

Riley woke slowly, cocooned in warmth, her senses adjusting to the unfamiliar stillness. The room was dim, bathed in the soft gray light of early morning. Outside the windows, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the first hints of dawn barely breaking through. She blinked sleepily, taking in her surroundings—a room too neat and orderly to be hers, too spacious and modern to belong to anyone she knew back home.

Then it clicked—Joe’s house. Cincinnati. She’d made it.

She shifted under the thick duvet, the sheets cool on her bare shoulders. The room itself felt both intentional and effortless—crisp lines and neutral tones, with a sense of balance between minimalism and comfort. A pair of sneakers were kicked off near the door, one overturned on its side. A dark gray hoodie hung over the arm of a low, modern chair near the window. An abandoned hat sat on the dresser, slightly crumpled at the bill. On the floor beside the bed, a pair of socks were left carelessly tangled.

On the nightstand, a piece of paper caught her eye, folded neatly with her name scrawled across the front in Joe’s familiar handwriting. She reached for it, fingers brushing the corner as she picked it up, her pulse quickening just a little. Unfolding the note, she leaned back against the pillows, a small, sleepy smile forming before she even read the words.

Went for a workout. Help yourself to anything. Chef prepped meals in fridge. Back soon. - J

Stretching in the Bengals hoodie Joe had given her when she arrived—the one she'd fallen asleep in—Riley padded barefoot through the unfamiliar hallway, taking in the details she'd been too exhausted to notice the night before. The house was beautiful—modern, expensive, tastefully designed—but also strangely impersonal, like a high-end model home waiting for someone to actually live in it.

Except for one corner. The turntable.

Riley made her way directly to it, running her fingers over the sleek equipment, remembering how touched she'd been last night when she'd noticed the records. The Howlin' Wolf album—identical to the rare pressing she'd shown him in that tiny New Orleans record store—caught her eye again. She carefully slid it from its sleeve, placing it on the turntable.

The raw, gravelly voice filled the silent house moments later, the blues echoing off the high ceilings, transforming the sterile space.

She headed for the kitchen, humming along, her socked feet sliding on the hardwood floors. The open-concept kitchen gleamed with high-end appliances that looked barely touched, except for a protein shake blender that stood at the ready on the counter, clearly Joe's most-used kitchen tool.

Riley opened and closed cabinets at random, investigating. Unlike her jam-packed New Orleans kitchen cupboards stuffed with mismatched mugs and inherited dishes, Joe's contained neat rows of matching glasses and plates, many still looking fresh from the store. The minimalism wasn't meticulous organization so much as the result of someone who simply didn't accumulate things.

After some searching, she found coffee and wrestled briefly with his elaborate espresso machine. The kitchen was the domain of someone who didn't really cook—clean, precise, and equipped with everything necessary, but lacking the lived-in feeling of a space where meals were regularly prepared with love.

She opened the refrigerator, curious about these "chef prepped meals" Joe had mentioned. Inside were stacked containers—not obsessively labeled but clearly professional, sectioned with proteins, vegetables, and carbs. Athlete fuel. She grabbed what looked like breakfast, ignoring the neat stack order completely.

As she searched for cream for her coffee, Riley opened what appeared to be a second, smaller refrigerator tucked into the corner. Instead of finding more meal prep containers or sports drinks, she discovered a cake.

Not just any cake—a bright teal-frosted creation decorated with colorful flower shapes in red, purple, orange, and blue. The text across the top made her heart skip: "26 years later..."

Riley stared, coffee forgotten in her hand. The SpongeBob reference couldn't have been clearer—they'd quoted it to each other that first night in New York when he'd cooked for her in his apartment, both of them laughing until they couldn't breathe when they realized they shared the same ridiculous sense of humor. He'd remembered not just her birthday, but a moment that had first connected them.

She set down her mug and carefully lifted the cake for a closer look, fighting a sudden, unexpected tightness in her throat. This wasn't some extravagant, showy gesture meant for Instagram or public consumption. It wasn't Ethan's elaborate surprise party with photographers. It was small, private, and exactly right.

Riley set the cake back carefully and pulled out her phone, taking a quick picture before returning to her coffee. She cranked the music a little louder, smiling to herself as she leaned against the counter, letting Howlin' Wolf's voice wash over her.

She didn’t know how much time she had before Joe got back—could be minutes, could be hours. Either way, she figured she’d make herself at home, take a shower, maybe explore a little. She left her coffee mug on the counter without a coaster, a small rebellion against the perfect order of his space. A part of her wondered if he’d notice, but another part knew he’d probably just smile and shake his head. She was bringing chaos to his world, and somehow, she knew he'd welcome it.

With Howlin' Wolf still playing downstairs, Riley carried her coffee upstairs and wandered into Joe's bathroom. Like everything else in his house, it was pristine and minimal—glass shower, matching towels, expensive products neatly arranged. She turned the water on as hot as it would go, letting steam fill the space.

Shedding the Bengals hoodie and what remained of yesterday's travel clothes, she stepped into the scalding shower and let the water wash away the last traces of jet lag, singing loudly over the sound of the spray, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

For once, she wasn’t rushing—no band waiting, no session to get to. Just the quiet luxury of time and space and hot water. Even after the week in Italy, something about being here felt different. She used Joe’s shampoo, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent that clung to him, then wrapped herself in one of the oversized towels hanging on the rack.

Back in the bedroom, she contemplated her suitcase, still unpacked from the night before. The thought of putting on any of her wrinkled, worn, Italy-recycled clothes was distinctly unappealing. Instead, she headed straight for Joe's closet.

It was almost exactly what she’d expected—but with more flair. Everything was organized, yeah, but not obsessively. A row of hoodies and jackets ran from deep neutrals to loud, cocky prints—leopard, camo, something that looked like velvet. Button-downs in unexpected shades—burnt orange, lavender, emerald—hung beside LSU gear and a few Bengals warm-ups. On the floor, sneakers lined up in pristine order: high-tops in every color imaginable, a couple rare pairs she was pretty sure sold out in five minutes online.

She skimmed a hand along a shelf of neatly folded tees and grabbed a soft gray one, worn thin and printed with a faded vintage logo. It hung like a dress on her, mid-thigh and a little stretched at the collar. Perfect.

She slipped it on, added a pair of her own underwear, and headed back downstairs, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood. Her hair dripped down her back as she made her way to the turntable to flip the record. The house was starting to feel different already—less like a showroom and more like a place where someone actually lived.

She was in the middle of rummaging through his kitchen again, hunting for breakfast and singing along with the music, when she heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was barely 10:30 AM—Joe was back far earlier than she'd expected.

She turned, coffee mug in hand, to find him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was still damp from a shower, his expression a mixture of amusement and something softer as he took in the sight of her in his t-shirt, music playing, coffee mug balanced precariously on the edge of the counter, signs of her already scattered throughout his carefully ordered space.

“You’re back already?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face.

Joe's eyes moved deliberately over her—bare legs, wet hair, his shirt—before returning to her face. "Didn't want to waste the day," he said simply.

Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary, the meaning behind his words hanging in the air between them. He'd cut his workout short. Joe Burrow, notorious for his rigid routines, had changed his schedule.

"I found the cake," Riley said, setting down her mug and moving toward him.

Joe's expression shifted slightly, a hint of self-consciousness crossing his features. "I know a bakery," he said, downplaying it in his typical fashion. "Thought you might like it."

Riley stepped closer, until she was directly in front of him. "Twenty-six years later," she quoted softly, watching his face.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in that half-smile she'd come to cherish. "Seemed fitting."

She reached up, hands finding the back of his neck, pulling him down to her level. "Thank you," she murmured, just before her lips met his.

Joe's gym bag hit the floor with a thud, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. There was hunger in his kiss, in the way his fingers tightened against her hips, hunger that matched the growing sense of urgency in her own body.

Joe's gym bag hit the floor with a thud, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. There was hunger in his kiss, in the way his fingers tightened against her hips, hunger that matched the growing sense of urgency in her own body.

He tasted like mint and smelled like his shampoo—the same one she'd just used. His hands slid lower, finding the bare skin of her thighs beneath his shirt, and Riley gasped against his mouth. 

Joe's hands slid lower, finding the bare skin of her thighs beneath his shirt, and Riley gasped against his mouth. The hunger between them had been building since New Orleans, intensified by distance and anticipation. Now, with nothing standing between them, that hunger consumed them both.

In one fluid motion, Joe lifted her, hands gripping the backs of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her wet hair fell forward, creating a curtain around their faces as he carried her backward until she felt the cool surface of the kitchen counter against her skin.

Joe broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked at her—really looked at her—hair wild from the shower, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, perched on his kitchen counter. His eyes took in the scene around them—the music filling his usually quiet house, her coffee mug on the counter, evidence of her presence transforming his space.

"I like seeing you here," he said, something warm and open in his expression that she rarely got to see.

Riley smiled, reaching to touch his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Joe confirmed, his voice low and certain.

He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear that he'd discovered in New Orleans. His hands slipped under the t-shirt, tracing up her sides with deliberate slowness that made her shiver. The gentleness of his touch contrasted with the intensity in his eyes when he pulled back to look at her again.

"I missed you," he admitted, the words simple but weighted with meaning.

Instead of matching his seriousness, Riley lightened the moment with a smile. "Enough to skip part of your sacred workout routine?"

Joe's lips quirked in that half-smile she found so endearing. "Sacrifices had to be made."

Riley leaned forward to kiss him again, deepening it immediately as her hands found the hem of his workout shirt, tugging it upward. Joe helped her, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion and tossing it aside without a second thought.

As Riley ran her hands over his chest, Joe moved closer, fitting himself between her legs. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the t-shirt higher with each movement. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull it off completely, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

"I've been thinking about this since New Orleans," Joe said, voice rough with desire as his eyes moved over her.

Riley smiled up at him, deliberately provocative as she tugged at the waistband of his athletic shorts. "Show me."

The last thread of Joe's restraint snapped. He captured her mouth in a kiss that was all heat and urgency, all the distance and waiting of the past weeks pouring into a single moment of connection.

His hands were everywhere—her hair, her neck, her breasts—touching her like he couldn't get enough, like he'd been starving for her. Riley matched his intensity, her fingers slipping beneath his shorts, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist to pull him closer.

With quick, efficient movements, Joe helped her push his shorts and compression shorts down just enough, and then there was nothing between them but the electricity of anticipation. Riley's underwear was the last barrier, which Joe removed with a swift, practiced motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor beside them.

When Joe finally pushed into her, they both gasped at the sensation. He stilled for a moment, forehead pressed against hers, breathing her in. Then he began to move, setting a rhythm that had Riley clutching at his back, her nails leaving crescent marks on his skin.

The pristine kitchen filled with the sounds of their breathing, of skin against skin, of whispered encouragements and half-formed pleas. Riley lost herself in the feel of him—the strength of his body moving against hers, the precision of his movements, the way he watched her face for every reaction.

As the tension built within her, Joe's movements grew more urgent, his breathing more ragged. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes locked on her face with that intense focus that was uniquely his.

"Fucking come," he breathed, his voice strained with his own approaching release.

"I am," Riley gasped, her body tightening around him as the wave crashed over her.

Joe followed moments later, his rhythm faltering as he buried his face in her neck, a deep groan escaping him as he held her tightly against him.

For several long moments, they just held each other, breathing hard, neither wanting to break the connection. Riley's hands smoothed over his back, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles, the racing of his heart against her chest.

Finally, Joe lifted his head, his expression softer than she'd ever seen it. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising tenderness.

"Officially welcome to Cincinnati," he said, a rare, full smile lighting his features.

Riley laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hell of a welcome committee."

Joe's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Wait till you see the rest of the tour."

"Is it as hands-on as this part?" Riley asked, deliberately provocative.

"If you want it to be," Joe replied, his expression serious despite the lightness of their banter.

Riley studied his face, recognizing something deeper beneath the surface. This wasn't just about physical attraction—there was an understanding forming between them, a bridge being built between their different worlds.

"I think I'd like that," she said softly.

"Want to break out that cake now?" he asked against her lips.

Riley's eyes lit up. "You're actually suggesting cake before noon? Who are you and what have you done with Joe Burrow?"

Joe shrugged, but his eyes remained fixed on her face. "Maybe he's evolving."

He moved to the small refrigerator, retrieving the teal-frosted cake she'd discovered earlier. To her surprise, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a single candle, placing it carefully in the center of the cake.

"You got a candle too?" Riley asked, something catching in her throat at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

"Can't have a birthday cake without a candle," Joe replied simply, lighting it with a match from the same drawer.

The simple act was so deliberate and sweet that Riley felt momentarily speechless. Joe set the cake on the counter between them, the candlelight illuminating his features.

"Make a wish," he said quietly.

Riley looked at him across the flickering light—at his expression, unusually soft and open—and knew exactly what she wanted. She closed her eyes briefly before blowing out the flame.

"What'd you wish for?" Joe asked, cutting them each a slice.

"Not telling," Riley replied with a smile, taking the plate he offered.

Joe watched her take the first bite, satisfaction evident in his eyes as he picked up his own fork.

Together, they leaned against the counter, eating birthday cake while Howlin' Wolf continued playing in the living room. Outside, Cincinnati waited to be explored, but for now, this quiet moment of connection—of worlds colliding and finding unexpected harmony—was all that mattered.

"So," Riley said, setting down her fork, "how about that house tour you promised me?"

Joe's eyes darkened slightly as he remembered his earlier words. "The hands-on tour?"

"That's the one," Riley confirmed, a smile playing at her lips.

Joe nodded, his gaze never leaving her face, that focused intensity making her feel like the only person in his universe. "Whatever you want."

---

Joe led Riley through his house, their fingers intertwined as they moved from room to room. The tour started casual enough—Joe pointing out the living room features she hadn't noticed the night before, explaining how he'd chosen the place, describing the backyard that swept down to the small lake visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Downstairs, the media room felt darker, cozier—oversized recliners lined up like thrones in front of a massive screen. Joe was mid-sentence, explaining how the surround sound worked, when Riley tugged him down into one of the seats, pulling him close with a mischievous grin. She climbed into his lap without hesitation, straddling him as his hands slipped beneath her shirt. They lost themselves in each other there, slow and unhurried, the dim light and heavy silence cocooning them. When it was over, they stayed tangled together for a while, catching their breath, before eventually finishing the rest of the tour—hands still linked, smiles softer, something new settling quietly between them.

The basement gym—Joe's sanctuary—became the setting for a different kind of intimacy. Riley wandered among the equipment, trailing her fingers over the weights, examining the detailed workout plans pinned to a corkboard.

"So this is where the magic happens," she teased, but her voice held genuine interest as she studied the space where Joe spent so many hours.

"Just work," Joe replied, leaning against the doorframe, watching her explore his domain.

Riley caught something in his tone—not defensiveness, but a quiet pride. This space, more than any other in the house, reflected the discipline that defined him. The careful organization of weights, the clean lines of expensive equipment, the posted schedules and progression charts—all of it spoke to the methodical approach he took to his career.

She turned to face him, seeing him differently in this context. "You really love it, don't you? Not just the game—this part. The work."

Joe considered her question with that characteristic thoughtfulness. "It's the only way I know how to do it," he said finally. "Be prepared for everything. Control what I can control."

Riley nodded, understanding something fundamental about him in that moment. Where she thrived in creative chaos, found inspiration in the unexpected, Joe built his success on structure and preparation. Different approaches, both valid.

As they made their way back upstairs, the tour continuing, the contrast between their worlds became not an obstacle but a fascinating exploration—each room revealing more about Joe, each touch between them deepening their connection, each moment together bridging the space between order and chaos.

By the time they circled back to the main floor, Riley's energy was noticeably waning. The adrenaline that had carried her through their enthusiastic reunion was giving way to the reality of her transcontinental journey. Joe noticed immediately—the slight slowing of her movements, the way her sentences trailed off, the brief moments where her eyes would unfocus.

"You need to rest," he said, not a question but an observation, his hand finding the small of her back as they entered the kitchen.

Riley gave him a small, grateful smile. "Maybe. But I don't want to waste our time sleeping."

Joe opened the refrigerator, retrieving two bottles of water. "You crossing multiple time zones to be here isn't wasting time," he pointed out, handing her one. "It's just part of it."

She accepted the water, their fingers brushing. "Listen to you being all reasonable."

“One of us has to be,” he replied, that half-smile making her heart skip.

Riley took a long drink, then set the bottle on the counter. “Maybe a movie? Something we can watch together that doesn’t require me to be fully functional?”

Joe nodded, leading her to the living room where the massive TV dominated one wall. “I can work with that.”

The simple domesticity of the moment struck Riley as she curled into the corner of his oversized sectional, legs tucked beneath her, still wearing just his t-shirt and a pair of leggings she'd finally unpacked from her suitcase. Joe moved around the space with practiced efficiency, dimming lights, adjusting the sound system, finding the remote.

He settled beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him but not crowding her space. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Something I don't have to think about," Riley admitted. "I can't promise I'll stay awake for anything with an actual plot."

Joe scrolled through the options, finally settling on an action movie they’d both seen before—something familiar that didn’t demand full attention. As the opening credits began, Riley shifted closer, tucking herself against his side with her head resting on his shoulder. His arm came around her automatically, like it was second nature—like they’d been sitting like this for years instead of just a handful of days.

The steady rhythm of Joe's breathing and the familiar dialogue of the movie created a cocoon of comfort. Riley found herself drifting in and out of consciousness, catching fragments of the plot between moments of sleep. Each time she startled awake, Joe's hand would stroke her arm gently, anchoring her.

“Sorry,” she murmured after the third time, blinking sleepily up at him. “I’m terrible company right now.”

Joe pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re exactly where you should be,” he replied, his voice a low, comforting rumble that she felt more than heard.

Something about those words settled deep inside her, giving her permission to just exist—no pressure, no expectation. Relaxing fully against him, she let her eyes close, trusting him to hold her there as sleep finally pulled her under.

The next time she opened her eyes, the movie was over, the screen displaying menu options, and Joe was looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher—tender but intense, like he was committing something to memory. His fingers traced slow, absent circles on her shoulder, and she could feel his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek.

“What?” she asked, her voice scratchy with sleep.

Joe hesitated, his mouth curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he said, then reconsidered. “Everything. Just… this.”

Riley understood. This quiet moment, unremarkable by any external measure, felt significant in ways neither of them could articulate. Joe Burrow, a man whose life was measured in achievements and statistics, was finding value in stillness. Riley Carter, who thrived on movement and expression, was learning the beauty of pause.

"Hungry?" Joe asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

Riley smiled, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “Yeah. But not enough to move.”

"Good thing a chef stocks my fridge," Joe replied, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on her arm. "Pick your protein and we'll go from there."

"Hmm," Riley murmured, eyes still half-closed. "What are my options?"

"Chicken, salmon, steak," Joe listed off. "All prepped, portioned, and ready to heat. I can throw something together."

Riley tilted her head up to look at him. "Meal prep, huh? That's very... quarterback of you."

"Efficient," Joe corrected with a slight smile. "I save my cooking experiments for special occasions."

"Like pasta in New York," Riley remembered.

"Exactly. But right now, we've got professional-grade fuel waiting to be heated."

"In that case," Riley said, finally sitting up, "I'll take the salmon. And I promise to be impressed by your microwave skills."

Joe stood, offering his hand to pull her up. "You laugh, but there's an art to properly reheating chef-prepared meals."

"Is there now?" Riley took his hand, allowing him to lift her to her feet, her body gravitating naturally toward his.

"Timing. Temperature. Presentation," Joe said with mock seriousness as they headed toward the kitchen. "It's basically cooking."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Burrow," Riley teased, bumping her shoulder against his arm.

They ate at the kitchen island, perched on the sleek barstools that Riley had noticed earlier. Despite Joe's claims about "the art of reheating," he'd simply transferred the chef-prepared meals to actual plates, though he did add a sprig of fresh herbs from a small container in the refrigerator.

"Very impressive plating," Riley teased, cutting into the perfectly cooked salmon. "The garnish really elevates it."

Joe shrugged, but there was amusement in his eyes. "Presentation matters."

The food was surprisingly good—simple but well-prepared, the kind of clean, nutrient-dense meal that fueled a professional athlete without sacrificing flavor. Riley found herself hungrier than she'd expected, the combination of jet lag and their earlier activities having depleted her energy reserves.

"So," Joe said after they'd eaten in comfortable silence for a few minutes, "how weird is it being here? Scale of one to ten."

Riley considered this, twirling her fork between her fingers. "In your house specifically, or Cincinnati generally?"

"Both. Either."

"Your house... maybe a six?" she decided. "It's definitely not what I'm used to. Everything is so..."

"Clean?" Joe supplied.

"I was going to say empty," Riley corrected. "Like you moved in but never quite finished unpacking."

The simple honesty of his response caught Riley off guard. Joe wasn't prone to flowery declarations or exaggerated compliments. When he said something, he meant it exactly as stated. The implication that she had affected his perspective on his carefully constructed world carried weight.

"I'm honored that my chaos has been granted entry," she said, deflecting slightly to ease the sudden intensity.

Joe accepted the shift in tone. "Your chaos is welcome anytime."

Riley smiled, pushing her empty plate away. "Careful what you wish for, Burrow."

Joe stood, collecting their plates and carrying them to the sink. Riley watched him rinse them methodically before placing them in the dishwasher at precise angles. Even in this mundane task, his movements were deliberate, economical.

“You really move like someone who’s always thinking two steps ahead,” she said, almost to herself.

Joe glanced over his shoulder. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not bad,” Riley said. “Just… different. It’s like everything you do has a reason. Nothing wasted.”

Joe turned to face her, leaning against the counter. “I guess I’ve always been like that. Especially once football got serious.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “It’s fascinating. Like watching someone exist in real time, but on purpose.”

Joe gave a quiet laugh at that, something soft settling in his expression. “You make it sound poetic.”

“You kind of are,” Riley said, her tone warm. “Just… in a really quiet, deliberate way. Like you don’t waste energy on things that don’t matter.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flicking away like he was thinking. “I think for a long time, I’ve just done what works. Kept things simple. Structured. Predictable.”

A pause passed between them. Riley didn’t push—just waited.Joe looked back at her. “Safe, I guess. That’s what it’s been. And then you show up, and none of it feels… safe anymore. But it feels real.”

Riley slid off the barstool, moving toward him. “Real’s better than safe.”

Riley stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body but not touching. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah," Joe said, his voice dropping lower. "It's good. Different, but good."

"Different can be good," Riley agreed, finally reaching out to place her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her palm.

Joe's hands found her waist, his thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of her borrowed shirt. "I like seeing you in my clothes," he said, his voice lower. "Makes me feel possessive in a way I've never felt before. It's... new."

Riley smiled, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. "Just the clothes? Because I was planning on making myself at home in every room of this house."

Joe's grip tightened marginally on her waist. "That can be arranged."

The tension between them shifted, the easy conversation giving way to something more electric. Riley was acutely aware of every point of contact between them, of the steady rhythm of Joe's breathing, of how his eyes never left hers.

"What do you normally do after dinner?" she asked, her voice softer now. "In your very structured life?"

"Film study," Joe replied honestly. "Or reading. Sometimes both."

"Exciting," Riley teased gently.

"Functional," Joe corrected, but there was no defensiveness in his tone. "But tonight... I was thinking you could walk me through that record player Sarah bought. Give me an education on the vinyl collection."

Riley's face brightened. "Now you're speaking my language, Burrow."

Joe led her to the living room, their fingers intertwined. The stack of records waited beside the new turntable, still pristine in its setup. Riley approached it with reverence, running her fingers over the carefully curated collection.

"So, where do we start?" Joe asked, watching her assess the options.

Riley pulled out an album—vintage soul that she'd mentioned loving during one of their late-night calls. "Basic music appreciation 101," she said, carefully removing the vinyl from its sleeve. "First, we establish your baseline knowledge."

Joe settled on the couch, content to watch as Riley placed the record on the turntable with practiced ease. As the opening notes filled the room, Riley moved to join him, curling against his side in what was already becoming their natural position.

"What am I listening for?" Joe asked, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

"Not for," Riley corrected. "With. Just... feel it first. Analysis comes later."

Joe nodded, his body gradually relaxing as the music continued. They sat in comfortable silence through the first track, Riley occasionally glancing up to gauge his reaction, Joe listening with the same focused intensity he applied to everything.

As the second song began, Riley shifted to look at him properly. "Verdict?"

"It's good," Joe said simply. "Warmer than digital. More... present."

Riley smiled, pleased with his assessment. "Exactly. There's a depth you don't get from streaming. A texture."

"Is this what drew you to vinyl?" Joe asked, genuinely curious. "The sound quality?"

Riley considered this, her fingers absently tracing patterns on his chest. "Partly. But it's also the ritual of it. The intentionality. Having to choose an album and commit to it. Having to flip it over halfway through. It forces you to be present with the music."

"Intentionality," Joe repeated, a smile tugging at his lips. "There's something to that."

"What?"

"Being deliberate about what matters," Joe explained. "I do it with training and game prep. You do it with music."

"I guess we're both intense about our passions," Riley agreed, surprised by the parallel. "Never thought of it like that before."

"We're not so different after all," Joe said softly, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just different areas of focus," Riley murmured, settling back against him as the music swelled.

They stayed like that through the remainder of the side, conversation flowing easily between tracks. Riley sharing stories about the first time she'd heard certain songs, Joe asking questions that revealed his genuine interest not just in the music but in what it meant to her.

When the record ended, Riley made no move to get up and flip it. The silence felt comfortable, weighted with a growing understanding between them.

"Thank you," Joe said suddenly.

Riley tilted her head to look at him. "For what?"

"For coming here," he said. "For bringing... this into my house."

The simplicity of his gratitude touched something deep in Riley. Joe wasn't talking about the physical presence of the records or even her companionship. He was acknowledging how she'd shifted something fundamental in his space, in his carefully constructed world.

"Thank you for making space for it," she replied, reaching up to touch his face, her thumb brushing along his jaw.

Joe turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm. The gesture was tender, unhurried—different from their earlier urgency. His eyes held hers, asking a question without words.

Riley answered by leaning up to press her lips to his, a kiss that started gentle but deepened as Joe's hand came up to cradle the back of her neck. There was no rush to it, no desperate need to make up for lost time. Just a slow, deliberate exploration, as if they were memorizing each other.

When they finally broke apart, Riley rested her forehead against his, eyes closed, breathing synchronized. Outside, the last remnants of daylight had faded, the room now illuminated only by the soft lamps Joe had turned on earlier.

"We should put on another record," she said, her voice a little husky.

Joe watched as she stood and padded barefoot across the room to the turntable, admiring how completely at home she looked in his space, wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

She bent over the record collection, fingers trailing over album spines with familiar ease. She paused at one, pulling it out with a small sound of satisfaction. The lamplight caught the edge of the vinyl as she placed it on the turntable, dropping the needle with the care of someone who'd performed this ritual thousands of times before.

The room filled with sound—low, throbbing, sensual. A steady pulse threaded through velvet layers of bass and synth, slow and deliberate, like the music was breathing. It wrapped around them like smoke, thick with tension and intimacy, every note dragging just enough to make the air feel heavier. It didn’t ask for attention—it seduced it.

Riley turned to face him, her expression transformed. There was something hypnotic in the way she began to move, her body swaying with subtle confidence to the rhythm. She made her way back to him, each step deliberate, her eyes never leaving his.

"Next part of your music education," she said, standing between his knees, "is learning all the other ways you can feel the music."

Joe reached for her, but she caught his hands, placing them at his sides with a shake of her head. "Not yet. Just watch."

His eyes darkened as she moved to the beat, her body telling a story with each shift and sway. It was nothing like her stage performances—this was private, unfiltered, meant only for him. The t-shirt she wore rose and fell with her movements, revealing glimpses of skin that made his breath catch.

“Music isn’t just sound,” she said, her voice low, syncopated to the rhythm pulsing through the room. “It’s a physical thing. It moves through you.”

Joe watched, transfixed, as she demonstrated exactly what she meant. Her hips swayed in perfect synchronicity with the bass line, her shoulders rolling with each smoky guitar riff. He'd seen athletes with perfect body control before, had that kind of precision himself on the field, but this was different—this was someone becoming the music itself.

The singer hit a low, raw note that vibrated through the room. Riley moved forward and straddled him in one fluid motion, settling on his lap with her thighs bracketing his.

She took his hands in hers, placed them on her hips where the t-shirt had ridden up. His fingers found warm skin.

"Here," she said simply, guiding his hands.

Joe's breath caught as she rolled her hips against him, the movement perfectly synchronized with the bass line pulsing through the room. The friction between them sent heat spreading through his body.

His hands tightened on her hips, feeling the subtle shift of muscle beneath skin as she moved. He'd always approached things with precision, analysis – football, training, even sex. But this was different. Immersive.

"Stop thinking," Riley murmured, noticing the familiar focus in his eyes. She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Just feel."

So he did. He let go. Let her lead. He surrendered, letting the rhythm take over. His hands moved up her sides, dragging the t-shirt higher. The music flowed through them, connecting them in a way he couldn't have articulated.

When they kissed, it wasn't calculated or measured like so many things in his life. It was instinct, raw and unfiltered. He felt her smile against his mouth.

"More," was all he said when they broke apart.

Riley's response was to reach down and pull his shirt off, tossing it aside. Her palms spread flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat picking up tempo to match the drums.

"Close your eyes," she said, and he did – relinquishing control in a way that would have been unthinkable weeks ago.

He did—relinquishing control in a way that would have felt unthinkable only weeks ago.

With his eyes closed, everything intensified. The bass vibrated through the couch into his bones. The guitar seemed to curl around them both.

Riley's mouth found the sensitive spot below his ear, her breath warm against his skin. She moved with the drum pattern, hips rolling in a perfect rhythm against his. His hands instinctively tightened on her waist.

She reached between them, unbuttoning his jeans with deft fingers.

"Lift up," she instructed, and he raised his hips to help her slide his jeans and boxers down just enough.

Her body was warm against his, skin against skin as she pulled the t-shirt over her head. Though his eyes remained closed, his hands mapped her – the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her back, the places where her breathing changed when he touched her.

The song shifted into a bridge, tempo changing. Riley moved with it, lifting slightly before sinking down onto him in one fluid motion that pulled gasps from them both. The sensation was overwhelming – her heat around him, the vibration of the bass through the floor, the guitar notes seeming to dance across his skin.

He felt rather than heard her inhale sharply, felt the slight tremor in her thighs against his.

"Feel that?" Her voice was barely audible over the music, but he felt the words against his throat.

"Yes," he answered, the word more breath than sound.

The music flowed through them both, dictating the pace, connecting them in ways he'd never experienced before. This wasn’t just sex—it was communion. Wordless conversation. He followed her, then guided her, their movements finding a shared language beyond anything he’d known.

As the song climbed toward its peak, so did they. Joe opened his eyes—needed to see her. And there she was: flushed, golden in the lamplight, moving with a sensual grace that felt elemental.

Her eyes locked onto his as the final swell of the song crested. The moment shattered through them both.

The track faded into silence as Riley collapsed against him, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath hot against his skin. They stayed like that, connected, as the needle found the brief silence between songs. Their heartbeats gradually slowed to match the new, gentler rhythm that began to fill the room.

After a moment, Riley lifted her head. The look in her eyes was equal parts satisfaction and something deeper, something that felt dangerous and necessary all at once.

Joe traced a hand down her spine, something reverent in the gesture. “I get it now,” he said softly.

A smile tugged at her mouth. "You sure? This album has like eight more tracks."

He answered by pulling her closer as the next song began.

By the time the album reached its final track, they had explored each other thoroughly on the couch, finding new rhythms with each song, discovering how different melodies called for different touches, different tempos. The record played its final notes before the gentle hiss of the needle in the empty grooves filled the room.

They lay tangled together on the couch, Riley draped across Joe's chest, a throw blanket haphazardly pulled over them. Joe's fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine as their breathing synchronized.

As the needle lifted and returned to its cradle, a comfortable silence settled over them. Joe reached behind the couch, his movement careful to avoid disturbing Riley, and pulled a soft throw blanket from where it had been draped over the back. With deliberate gentleness, he spread it over them both, coccooning Riley against his chest.

"Should we head upstairs?" he murmured against her hair, his voice low and rough with approaching sleep.

Riley nestled closer, her body heavy and relaxed against his. "Too comfortable to move," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. Her fingers traced absent patterns across his chest, slowing as exhaustion from travel and their activities finally caught up with her.

Joe tightened his arms around her, one hand continuing its gentle path along her spine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept anywhere but his bed—deliberate choices, structured routines—but somehow the thought of disturbing this moment felt wrong.

The city lights cast soft shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting Riley's skin in a gentle glow. Joe watched as her breathing deepened, felt the exact moment when sleep claimed her. Her weight against him was substantial and real—evidence that she wasn't just a figment of his imagination, a fantasy constructed from late-night calls and memories of New Orleans.

As his own eyes grew heavy, Joe found himself cataloging small details—the light floral scent of her hair, the way her leg intertwined with his, how perfectly she fit in the space against his chest. His precisely ordered world had been upended in the span of a few weeks, yet never had chaos felt so right.

The disciplined part of him—the quarterback who tracked every statistical variation, who studied film until his eyes burned—understood that this wasn't logical. They barely knew each other. Their lives existed on separate trajectories. But as sleep began to claim him, that voice grew distant, drowned out by the steady rhythm of Riley's heartbeat against his own.

Just before consciousness slipped away, Joe pressed a kiss to the top of Riley's head and surrendered to sleep, his carefully constructed world giving way to something messier, warmer, and infinitely more real.

---

Riley woke to the gentle sensation of fingers brushing hair from her face. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the living room in a warm glow. For a moment, she lay still, orienting herself—the firm chest beneath her cheek, the steady heartbeat against her ear, the throw blanket tangled around their legs.

She tilted her head to find Joe already awake, his eyes meeting hers with a softness that made her breath catch.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still rough with sleep.

"Morning," Joe replied, his fingers tracing a lazy pattern along her shoulder.

Riley shifted against him, stretching slightly. "You could've woken me up. We didn't have to sleep out here."

"I didn't mind," Joe said simply, his gaze steady on her face. Something in his expression made her pause—a quiet intensity she was beginning to recognize as Joe working through his thoughts.

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, neither making any move to disturb their position. Outside, birds called to each other, and somewhere in the distance, a lawnmower hummed.

“Last night…” Joe began, then paused. His eyes found hers again, steady and intent. “That was different for me. In a way I don’t really have words for.”

Riley waited, giving him space to continue. Joe wasn't someone who spoke without purpose.

"I've always approached everything from here," he tapped his temple lightly. "Even when it's not about football. Analyzing. Planning. Staying a step ahead." His voice remained steady, though something flickered in his eyes. "Last night was different. It wasn't about thinking at all."

"It felt right," Riley said softly.

"Yeah," Joe agreed, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. "That's what surprised me. How easy it was to just... be there. With you."

Riley squeezed his hand gently. "You've never felt that way before?"

"Not like that," Joe said. "Not where everything else just... disappeared."

There was no embarrassment in his admission, just honesty—the same straightforward approach he brought to everything. It was one of the things she'd come to appreciate most about him.

"It sounds silly when I say it out loud," he continued, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "Guy discovers how to live in the moment. Breaking news."

Riley smiled back, but her eyes remained serious. "It's not silly. It's real."

Joe's thumb traced circles on her palm, his gaze shifting to the windows, to the morning light filtering through. "When I found out you were going to Italy, I kept checking my calendar. Trying to figure out when I'd see you again."

"I noticed," Riley said, remembering the texts he'd sent while she was away.

"It bothered me more than it should have," Joe admitted. "The thought of waiting a month. Didn't make sense why it hit me that way."

Riley understood. She'd felt the same way in Italy, checking her phone more than she cared to admit, feeling his absence acutely despite the short time they'd known each other.

"Since New Orleans," Joe continued, "everything's felt... I don't know. More alive, somehow." He looked back at her, his eyes direct. "Like I've been going through the motions without realizing it."

Riley felt something in her chest tighten at the raw honesty in his voice. This was Joe Burrow—measured, deliberate, controlled—telling her she'd woken something in him.

"I know what you mean," she said quietly. "I'm always myself with everyone. It's not like I put on an act. But after Ethan..." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I started being more careful about who I let get close. Still Riley on the outside, but keeping the important parts protected."

Joe nodded, understanding without her having to explain further. "Different approaches, same result."

"And now?" Riley asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Joe's expression softened. "Now I want to try something new." He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "With you."

There was nothing dramatic in the way he said it—no grand declaration or flowery words. Just that steady certainty that was uniquely Joe. Yet something about the simple honesty of it made her heart race more than any elaborate speech could have.

"I'd like that," Riley said, her voice quiet but sure.

Joe pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a kiss that felt different from any they'd shared before—unhurried and gentle, yet somehow more meaningful than all that had come before.

When they finally broke apart, Riley rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet morning air.

"So," she said after a moment, a smile playing at her lips, "what does the Joe Burrow schedule look like today?"

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. "Wide open," he said, his arms tightening around her. "For you."

The implications of those words settled between them—not just about today, but about what might come next. Neither pushed nor retreated from the moment. Instead, they lay together in the growing light, two people from different worlds finding unexpected common ground.

They lingered on the couch until the growl of Riley's stomach made them both laugh. Joe finally disentangled himself, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing.

"Breakfast," he declared, extending a hand to help her up. "Then I want to show you something."

They moved through the morning with easy domesticity—Riley borrowing Joe's clothes again, Joe making them protein-rich smoothies and avocado toast. They ate at the kitchen island, their conversation drifting between trivial topics and deeper ones, the comfort between them growing with each passing hour.

After breakfast, Joe led Riley to the garage, where his collection of vehicles waited. She followed him past the sleek Porsche they'd driven yesterday, raising an eyebrow when he stopped instead beside a more understated black Range Rover with tinted windows.

"We're taking this one?" she asked, running her fingers along the glossy exterior.

Joe nodded, unlocking it with a click of his key fob. "Lower profile," he explained, opening the passenger door for her. "I was thinking we could explore a bit without the whole city knowing about it."

Riley slid into the seat, watching as Joe circled to the driver's side. The interior was immaculate—black leather, minimal personal touches, everything in its place. So very Joe. But his words lingered in her mind. Lower profile. As if the Porsche would draw too much attention. As if they needed to avoid being seen.

Joe settled into the driver's seat, starting the engine with a quiet purr. "I thought I'd show you some of my favorite spots in the city."

"Sounds perfect," Riley said, but her eyes caught the way his gaze checked the mirrors, the careful way he looked around before backing out of the garage.

They drove out of his neighborhood, the massive houses set back from the street behind manicured lawns and security gates. Joe seemed focused on the road ahead, following the main routes toward downtown Cincinnati.

"Here," Joe said, handing her his phone after unlocking it. "You pick the music."

Riley took his phone, quickly scrolled through his library, and selected something upbeat for their drive. She set the phone in the console between them, letting the music fill the comfortable silence.

As they entered the city proper, Joe's demeanor shifted subtly. His eyes checked the mirrors more frequently, his awareness of their surroundings more pronounced.

"I'd like to still keep this—us—private. At least for now," he said suddenly, his voice casual but deliberate as they stopped at a red light.

There it was. The knot in Riley's stomach tightened slightly. She understood privacy—lived with the same invasive public attention he did. But something in his tone, in the careful way he'd chosen the Range Rover with its dark windows, triggered a deeper uncertainty.

She let the silence stretch between them, processing her reaction. It wasn't that she wanted to be photographed or generate headlines. Fame had taught her the value of guarding certain parts of her life. But there was a difference between privacy and secrecy, between discretion and hiding.

Riley glanced down at herself—the borrowed clothes, her tousled hair, the chipped nail polish on fingers that bore tattoos and calluses from guitar strings. Then she thought of the women Joe had been linked to in the past. Polished sorority girls. Sleek influencers with perfect blowouts and designer wardrobes. Women who looked like they belonged in his carefully ordered world.

She was nothing like them. Her entire existence was a chaotic counterpoint to the disciplined structure of Joe's life. A part of her wondered if that was exactly why they needed to stay "private"—because she didn't fit the image everyone expected from Joe Burrow.

"I know some places we can go where we won't be bothered," Joe said, breaking into her thoughts. His voice was casual, matter-of-fact, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps for him, it was.

Riley nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. She was overreacting, wasn't she? They'd known each other for what—a month? Of course he'd want some privacy while they figured things out. It wasn't about her specifically; it was about protecting something new and fragile from external pressure.

“There’s a spot just outside town I want to take you,” Joe said, glancing over at her. “Kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but they make the best burger I’ve ever had.”

Riley raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching. “That so?”

“You’ll see,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing fancy. Just real good. Quiet.”

As they drove, Riley's mind kept circling back to the contradiction of their situation. Last night had felt so open, so real—Joe letting his guard down in a way that seemed rare for him. The turntable he'd bought specifically for her. The way he'd cut his workout short yesterday just to spend more time with her. Those weren't the actions of someone ashamed or uncertain.

Yet here they were, in a vehicle chosen for its anonymity, headed to places selected for their seclusion. Private, not secret—that's what she needed to remember. There was a difference.

Wasn't there?

Joe's hand found hers across the console, his fingers intertwining with hers in a gesture that felt both intimate and grounding. "You okay?" he asked, glancing at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. "You got quiet."

Joe smiled, that genuine expression that transformed his entire face. “You’ll like it. It’s a different kind of quiet.”

---

The Range Rover smoothly navigated the Cincinnati streets, Joe at the wheel with the easy confidence of someone who knew every turn by heart. Instead of heading toward downtown, he took them across the Taylor-Southgate Bridge into Kentucky.

"I thought we were seeing Cincinnati," Riley teased, watching the Ohio River pass beneath them.

Joe's mouth quirked into that half-smile she was growing to love. "Sometimes the best view of Cincinnati is from somewhere else."

As they crossed into Kentucky, the urban landscape gave way to less developed areas. Joe seemed to relax more with each mile they put between themselves and downtown, his shoulders loosening, his grip on the steering wheel becoming less precise.

"I come this way sometimes when I need to clear my head," he explained, taking an exit that led away from the main highway onto quieter roads. "Just drive with no particular destination."

Riley watched the scenery shift around them – small towns, patches of forest still bare from winter, occasional farmland coming to life with early spring. The music played softly between them, a playlist she'd selected from his phone that somehow managed to bridge their musical tastes.

"I love this," she said, rolling down her window slightly to let the fresh air in. "Reminds me of the backroads around my grandfather's fishing camp in Louisiana. I go there whenever I need to disconnect."

Joe glanced at her with interest. "You get out to the countryside a lot?"

"Whenever I can," Riley admitted. "In New Orleans, I know all the back routes. Even in LA, I've found some incredible drives up in the canyons where you can escape the chaos. Something about being on the road, windows down... it's freedom."

Joe nodded, understanding in his eyes. "That's exactly it."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, Riley content to watch the passing landscape, to observe Joe in his element – focused but relaxed, navigating without needing GPS, making occasional turns that seemed intuitive rather than planned.

Eventually, they pulled into a small riverside town, the main street lined with brick buildings that spoke of the area's history. Joe parked in front of a small restaurant with a weathered wooden sign and windows that looked out onto the water.

He killed the engine. “You’re gonna like it. I promise.”

Inside, the restaurant was warm and inviting – worn wooden floors, mismatched tables and chairs, local artwork hanging on exposed brick walls. A few patrons sat eating late lunches, none giving Joe and Riley more than a passing glance as they found a table by the window.

They ordered burgers and local beer, their conversation flowing easily between childhood memories, music discoveries, and ridiculous tour stories Riley shared that had Joe laughing more freely than she'd seen before. Here, away from the pressures of their public personas, they were just two people getting to know each other, finding unexpected connections in their different worlds.

As their plates were cleared away, Riley found herself staring out at the river, suddenly aware of how little time they had left together. She was leaving tomorrow, back to LA for studio sessions, back to her world while Joe remained in his.

"What are you thinking about?" Joe asked, noticing her distant gaze.

Riley turned back to him, debating whether to voice what had been circling in her mind. "Tomorrow," she admitted finally. "Leaving."

Joe reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. "Let's not think about that right now."

Riley smiled, but the shadow lingered. "Hard not to."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their impending separation settling between them. Riley took a deep breath, deciding to broach the subject that had been simmering since their earlier conversation in the car.

"About what you said before, about keeping us private..."

Joe tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Riley had come to recognize the subtle shifts in his posture. "What about it?"

"I understand it," she said carefully. "I do. After Ethan... well, having everything so public added pressure we didn't need." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But my career is different from yours. It's built on people feeling like they know me, like there's an authenticity to who I am and what I share."

Joe's expression remained open, listening, though she noticed a slight tightening around his eyes.

"I'm not saying we need to do some big announcement or anything," Riley continued. "I don't want what happened with Ethan and me, where our relationship became this public spectacle. But eventually, I'd like there to be a middle ground."

"What does middle ground look like to you?" Joe asked, his tone careful, measured.

Riley shrugged, trying to keep it casual despite the importance of the conversation. "Not hiding if we're seen together. Not structuring our entire relationship around avoiding public attention. Just... living our lives, acknowledging what we are to each other when it naturally comes up."

Joe was quiet for a moment, his eyes dropping to their joined hands. When he looked up, she could see he was choosing his words deliberately.

"I hear you," he said finally. "But I'm not there yet, Riley. My privacy isn't just a preference—it's how I've survived in this league, how I've kept parts of myself separate from the quarterback everyone thinks they know."

Riley nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment but appreciating his honesty.

"I'm not saying never," Joe added, seeing her expression. "Just... not now. Not when we're still figuring out what this is. Can you be okay with that for now?"

There was a vulnerability in the question that caught Riley off guard. Joe Burrow, always so certain, was asking rather than telling.

"I can," she said softly. "I'm not rushing anything. I just wanted you to know where I stand."

Relief flickered across Joe's features. "Thank you. For being direct about it."

"Well, you're rubbing off on me," Riley teased, lightening the moment. "All this straightforward communication."

Joe's smile returned, though not quite reaching his eyes. "For what it's worth, it matters to me—that you understand. That you're willing to give this time."

They lingered over dessert, neither wanting to rush back to Cincinnati, both acutely aware of the limited hours they had left together. When they finally left the restaurant, the day was waning, the light turning golden as they walked back to the Range Rover.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Riley said as Joe opened her door. "For sharing your escape route."

Joe paused, his hand still on the door. "I've never brought anyone else here," he admitted quietly.

The significance of that statement settled between them – not just words, but another piece of evidence that whatever was growing between them mattered to him, enough to share parts of himself he usually kept separate and private.

The drive back to Cincinnati was peaceful, both of them content to let the music fill the comfortable silence between them. As they crossed back into Ohio, Joe took an unexpected turn off the main highway.

"Where are we going?" Riley asked, glancing over at him.

"Thought we could stop at this nature preserve before heading back," Joe replied. "There's a short trail with a decent view. Unless you're too tired?"

Riley smiled, touched by his reluctance to end their day together. "A hike sounds perfect."

The preserve was quiet at this hour, most visitors already gone for the day. They followed a winding path through the trees, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they walked side by side. The trail wasn't challenging—just enough elevation to feel like they'd earned the view when they reached the clearing at the top.

Cincinnati sprawled before them, the late afternoon sun gilding the buildings and the river beyond. They stood for a while, taking in the vista, neither feeling the need to fill the silence with words.

"Thanks for bringing me here," Riley said finally, leaning slightly against Joe's solid frame.

Joe's arm came around her shoulders, drawing her closer. "Wanted to show you a different side of the city."

They lingered until the sun began its final descent, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. As they made their way back down the trail, Riley found herself mentally cataloging these moments—storing them away like photographs to revisit when they were apart again.

"You want to head home?" Joe asked as they reached his Range Rover. "Open a bottle of wine, just hang out?"

The casual suggestion carried weight in its simplicity—no elaborate plans, just the two of them enjoying each other's company in the hours they had left.

"Sounds perfect," Riley agreed.

---

Back at Joe’s house, Riley headed straight for the record collection while Joe opened a bottle of wine. She selected something different from last night—not the dark, hypnotic pulse they’d melted into, but something warmer. Softer. Music that invited closeness without urgency.

When Joe walked back in with two glasses, he paused, leaning against the doorway to watch her. Riley caught his eye and gave him a playful smile. “You just gonna stand there and watch?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t usually dance,” he admitted, but his tone wasn’t resistant—more like he was giving her fair warning.

“Good thing I do,” Riley shot back, holding out her hand to him. “C’mon.”

Joe set the glasses down on the coffee table, hesitating for just a second before stepping forward. As soon as he took her hand, Riley pulled him in, guiding his hands to her waist. At first, he just followed her lead—letting her sway against him—but it didn’t take long for his natural athleticism to kick in.

Once he felt the rhythm, he started to move on instinct, taking control of their pace. His hands stayed steady on her waist, guiding her effortlessly as he adjusted to the beat. It was almost unfair how easily he picked it up—like his body just knew how to respond. He spun her unexpectedly, pulling her back to his chest in one smooth motion, and she couldn’t help but laugh, caught off guard by how effortlessly he took over.

“What was that?” she teased, turning to look up at him.

Joe’s lips curved into a half-smile, his hands still anchored on her waist. “It’s not that different from footwork drills. Just gotta feel it out,” he said, but there was a hint of pride in his tone, like he knew exactly how good he was at it.

Riley shook her head, letting herself lean into him as he moved with more confidence now, guiding her in a slow, effortless rhythm. “You’re a natural,” she said, half impressed, half charmed.

Joe just shrugged.

She smiled, rolling her eyes, but didn’t bother trying to take the lead back—mostly because he was doing a damn good job of it. He kept her close, guiding her through a lazy turn before pulling her back against him, and she couldn’t help but lean into the steadiness of his frame, enjoying the way he seemed so completely in control.

By the time the song ended, they were both a little breathless—more from being close than from the dancing itself. Joe grabbed the glasses from the table and handed her one, their fingers brushing.

“Not bad for a guy who ‘doesn’t usually dance,’” Riley said, taking a sip.

Joe just smirked. “Guess I needed the right partner.”

They settled on his couch, Riley curled against his side, contentment settling over them like a warm blanket. The conversation flowed easily between them, jumping from topic to topic without effort—stories from Riley's tours, Joe's college days, childhood memories, future dreams.

As night deepened around the house, they eventually made their way upstairs, their touches becoming more purposeful, their kisses more lingering. There was a sweet urgency to their connection this time—awareness of tomorrow's separation lending weight to each moment together.

Later, as they lay entwined in his sheets, the house quiet around them, Riley traced idle patterns on Joe's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

"Your flight's at eight, right?" Joe asked, his voice rumbling under her cheek.

"Yeah," Riley murmured, her arms tightening around him involuntarily.

Joe's hand stilled on her back, then resumed its gentle path along her spine. "We're going to figure this out, Riley," he said, certainty in his voice. "The distance, the schedules, all of it."

Riley lifted her head to look at him, finding his eyes steady on hers in the dim light of his bedroom. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Joe replied without hesitation. "This matters. We'll make it work."

In the simple conviction of his words, Riley found the reassurance she needed. Joe Burrow didn't make promises lightly. When he said they'd figure it out, it wasn't empty comfort—it was a commitment.

She settled back against his chest, a small smile playing on her lips. Tomorrow would come with its inevitable goodbye, but it wasn't an ending. Just a pause in something that was only beginning to take shape between them—something worth the effort, worth navigating the complications of their different worlds.

---

Morning came too quickly, the early sun filtering through the blinds of Joe's bedroom. They moved through a routine that felt both new and strangely established—shower, coffee, last-minute packing of Riley's scattered belongings. The conversation stayed light, deliberately skimming the surface to avoid the reality of her imminent departure. Neither of them wanted to touch the weight pressing down on the morning.

Joe loaded Riley's suitcase into the Range Rover while she took one last look around his house, already missing the space that had briefly become a part of her world. Her fingers trailed over the turntable he'd bought for her, a tangible symbol of the unexpected connection they'd built in such a short time. She traced the edge of the vinyl that still sat on the player, the album from last night—a reminder of how they'd felt the music together, like they were tuned to the same frequency.

The drive to the private airfield was quiet, Riley's hand resting on Joe's thigh, his thumb occasionally brushing over her knuckles at stoplights. Cincinnati was still waking up around them, the early morning streets largely empty, giving them one last pocket of privacy before reality stepped in.

When they reached the airfield, Joe drove directly onto the tarmac, where the sleek private jet was already prepped for departure. He parked near the stairs and cut the engine, and for a moment, they just sat there—neither one making a move to break the fragile silence.

"So," Riley said finally, forcing a smile. "This is where I say something profound and memorable, right? Should I quote Shakespeare or go with a Taylor Swift lyric?"

Joe gave her that half-smile that always made her heart skip. “Or you could just say you’ll call me later,” he said, voice quiet. His hand tightened slightly on hers, like he wasn’t quite ready for her to get out of the car yet.

She took a breath, her voice dropping the humor. "I'm really bad at goodbyes."

Joe turned toward her, his gaze steady and direct. "It's not a goodbye," he said, with the same quiet certainty he used when calling a play. "Just a see you later."

The words should have made it easier, but they didn't. Riley nodded, but to her embarrassment, her throat tightened and her eyes grew wet. She glanced away, wiping quickly at her cheeks. "God, ignore me. I cry at literally everything. Commercials, cute dogs, when I'm hungry. It's annoying."

Joe didn't laugh or brush it off. Instead, he just leaned over and brushed his thumb across her cheek, catching a stray tear before it could fall. "Hey," he said softly. "You don't have to pretend it doesn't suck."

Riley managed a wobbly smile. "I just hate leaving like this. We just figured out how to be in the same place without driving each other crazy, and now I have to go."

Joe was quiet for a second, like he was weighing his words carefully. Then he just looked her right in the eyes, his tone steady. "I've never done this before," he admitted. "Not like this. I keep things separate. Football, personal life, all of it. But with you..." He paused, choosing his words with precision. "It doesn't matter how complicated it is. We'll figure it out."

Riley swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "You sure? I'm bringing chaos to your very structured world, Burrow."

Joe gave her that look—the one that was so direct it almost made her nervous. "Good," he said simply. "I want that."

She exhaled slowly, the honesty in his eyes hitting her harder than any flowery declaration. Riley leaned in, her hand slipping to the back of his neck as she kissed him—a kiss that held everything she couldn't quite say. When they pulled back, her forehead rested against his for a moment.

Finally, Riley forced herself to pull away, the reality of the waiting jet breaking the moment. "Get used to the crying, by the way," she said, attempting to lighten the mood. "It comes standard with the package."

"I like the package," Joe replied, his voice low and certain.

Joe got out and retrieved her suitcase from the back, then walked with her to the foot of the stairs. The cool morning air whipped around them, but Joe seemed unbothered, standing tall and steady as always.

She turned back to him, hesitating on the first step. “I don’t want this to be one of those things that fades out when we go back to real life.”

Joe’s eyes softened. “It won’t be,” he promised, no unnecessary words, just certainty. “This isn’t it for us.”

One last kiss, brief but carrying a promise of more, and then Riley forced herself to move up the steps, pausing at the top to look back. Joe was still there, hands in his pockets, that steady, unmovable presence that had become so familiar. He didn't wave or make some grand gesture—that wasn't Joe—but he didn't move either, just stood there, grounded and waiting until the very last moment.

Once inside, Riley sank into the plush leather seat, glancing back out the window to see him still rooted in place, watching the plane prepare for takeoff. As the engines rumbled to life and the jet taxied toward the runway, she couldn't help but feel like she was leaving a piece of herself behind with him.

Closing her eyes, Riley leaned back and let herself feel the ache of missing him already. But beneath it was something else—something that felt less like loss and more like potential. She didn't know how, but she knew they'd find their way through this. Whatever had sparked between them wasn't something that could be easily extinguished.

Different worlds, maybe. But somehow, in ways that defied logic, they'd found a way to orbit each other. And if there was one thing she knew about Joe Burrow, it was that once he set his mind on something, he didn't quit.

She just had to trust that this—whatever it was becoming—was one of those things.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Work | Roman Reigns x Black!fem OC (SMUT!!) 18+

Kinktober Day #1: Thigh Riding.

"Cause' baby you're the boss at home..." 🎶

Description: Lilah finds a creative way to snap Roman out of work mode.

Warnings: Thigh Riding, Bratting, Daddy kink, brief nipple play, praise, petnames (babygirl/princess), honorifics (Daddy/My Tribal Chief), Exhibitionism sort've? (The poor wiseman is on the phone when all this starts!)

Face Claim: Jaylen Barron

My Masterlist can be found here and my kinktober schedule/Masterlist can be found here.

As always my stories are about Roman Reigns, Not Joe Anoa'i.

MDNI!!!! 18+ content below the cut.

tag list - @mysticreigns2 @queeny23 @jeyusos-girl @notfancyrebelpaper @xbriexx @skyesthebomb @mzv11 @paigereeder @glitterywitchstarlight @tshepisho

Lilah and Roman lounged around spending time together, enjoying each other's company, Roman had this week off so the two got to just rest. Except for he was sitting there in another world chatting away with his Wiseman on the phone regarding bloodline plans.

Lilah couldn't help but roll her eyes. They were supposed to be off! She'd spent the day baking pumpkin shaped sugar cookies and putting up their Halloween decorations, yet Roman just didn't seem to know how to turn off business mode. She needed to snap him out of it.

Lilah suddenly straddled Roman's lap. She looked at him with a playful glint in her eye and began to slowly move her hips against him.

Roman's eyes widened as he felt Lilah's movements, but he continued to talk on the phone with Paul. He tried to focus on the conversation, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"I know, Wiseman.. Yeah. Yeah, we can talk about this later," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Roman's hand instinctively went to Lilah's hips, holding her in place as he continued to talk to Paul.

"Paul, I have something important to take care of right now," he said, his voice strained. Lilah giggled to herself as she heard Paul respond with his typical 'Yes, of course, My Tribal Chief."

Roman ends the call immediately, looking at Lilah with intensity in his gaze. "Babygirl... did I give you permission to start doing that?"

Lilah smirked at Roman's question, her hips still moving slowly against him. She leaned in closer, her lips hovering just above his ear.

"No, but I figured you needed a distraction," she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Roman growled low in his throat, his hands gripping Lilah's hips tighter. He pulled her closer, his body responding to her movements.

"You're playing a dangerous game, babygirl," he said, his voice husky with desire.

Liilah let out a soft moan as Roman's grip on her hips tightened. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body pressed tightly against his.

"I know," she said, her voice sultry and teasing.

Roman's lips found their way to Lilah's neck, his mouth trailing kisses along her skin. He nipped at her earlobe, his hands sliding up under her shirt.

"You're such a tease," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "Finish what you started, Princess. Go on. Ride your tribal chief's thigh. If you're cummin' tonight you gon' work for it, baby." Roman said.

Lilah's breath hitched at Roman's words, her body responding immediately to his command. She began to move her hips faster, grinding against his thigh with a needy moan.

"Yes, My tribal chief." she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

Roman watched Lilah with a mix of lust and dominance in his eyes. He loved seeing her like this, completely at his mercy. He moved his hands to begin teasing her nipples, rolling them between his fingers just toying with her as she rode his thigh.

"That's it, babygirl," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

Lilah's movements became more frantic as she chased her release. She buried her face in Roman's neck, her moans and gasps growing louder as she approached the edge.

"I'm close, Daddy," she panted, her body trembling with need.

Roman's grip on her tightened as he felt her body tense up. He whispered in her ear, his voice filled with authority.

"Come for me, babygirl. Let me see you fall apart."

Lilah cried out as she finally reached her climax, her body shuddering against Roman's. She clung to him, her breath ragged as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

Roman held her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back as she came down from her high. He kissed the top of her head, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"You did so well, babygirl," he said, his voice filled with pride.

Lilah lifted her head from Roman's shoulder, looking up at him with a tired but satisfied smile. She nuzzled her face into his neck, feeling content and loved.