#joe burrow echoes

[brrbrina]

echoes

joe burrow x og!c

part: 1/?

warnings: cheating, implied sex but nothing explicit, pregnancy (?) ANGST

"Cinnicinatti Bengals Quarterback Joe Burrow and Model Designer and Wife Kendall Carter broke off their marriage after 7 years. The couple welcomed their first and only child Natalie Burrow-Carter four years ago.

There has been no comment or statement made by his reps but a close source to the couple shared that the breakup was amicable and that their priority is their daughter."

When the announcement hit the news the only thing on Kendall´s mind was her daughter, she was a beautiful reminder of the love she and Joe had for the time they were together. And Natalie adored their parents, she was the happiest kid when she would accompany her mom to work and cheer for her dad every weekend of the season. Telling her they wouldn´t live together anymore broke Kendall´s heart in a way she didn´t know was possible.

"So Daddy won´t drive me to school anymore? " Natalie said looking up at her daddy as he turned to see his soon-to-be ex-wife, "He will baby, it will only be a few times a week my love " Kendall stopped and place her hand on her heart "I want you to know that we love you and we will always love you" she said with tears on her eyes and gulping "On the bright said you will have two Christmas" Joe said excitedly and held her daughter as she laughed, Joe took her out for ice cream and Kendall took a shower.

Being by herself made her heart race and her stomach hurt, she hated Joe, the breakup wasn´t amicable, it was the worst heartbreak she had ever gone through, she cried herself to sleep constantly on an empty bed, holding the pillow where he used to lay his head. He slept in the guest room, had dinner when she was asleep, and took showers when she wasn´t home.

Every corner of that house was haunted, filled with memories and his laughter, his scent, significant moments, and then also screams and anger. Dinners were eaten my themselves and luggage was never unpacked, the shirts she wore once after making love were back in his side on the closet, washed and smelling like detergent, it no longer smelled like Joe´s cologne or her favorite VS body spray she used to wear at home because she knew he loved it.

She hated that, she was always scared of falling in love, her parents got divorced when she was twelve years old, old enough to realize love wasn´t meant to last, she hated the thought of Natalie feeling that way, she knew love existed, their daughter was proof of that.

"I talked to my lawyers, and they will contact yours soon, you can keep this house and the holiday house in Rhode Island," he said as Kendall was in her closet,

Joe wasn´t brave enough to admit when he stopped loving her, he met someone new on one of his trips to New York, she was two years younger than him, a smart-looking woman who he met at a coffee shop, he couldn´t take his eyes off her. He then found out she worked at the NFL and followed her on social media. The first time Kendall and he had sex after the trip, he was picturing Jaqueline or Jackie as he used to call her now.

With every kiss she was giving him, Joe pictured her, when Kendall was giving him the greatest head of his life, he couldn't stop imagining the lips around his cock were from a woman who wasn't his wife, when he was licking her, he wondered how she would taste, .

He knew it was wrong, he was married, had a kid, and a family he wanted to span, Kendall didn´t want a baby right away, she knew she needed to go back to work, and having a baby wouldn´t be the smartest option at the time.

"I haven´t had that great sex in forever, I bought you a new piece of lingerie I can´t wait to see you on. Love you baby see you in a week"

Kendall broke down crying when she saw the message being sent from her husband's phone, she couldn´t believe it. Natalie was dropped off at her grandparent's house with a lame excuse and Kendall waited for Joe sitting on their bed

"Honey I'm home" Joe yelled from downstairs but she didn´t hear him "Where´s Natalie? What´s with the box?" he asked "How long have you been fucking Jaqueline or do you prefer me calling her Jackie or baby? Tell me, Joe, how do you prefer me to call her?” she said with her heart racing and watery eyes, but she wasn´t sad she was mad, she was angry, and she need him to feel the way she felt.

"How long Joe?" She screamed and he was pale as a ghost, words wouldn´t come out of his mouth. "If you don´t tell me how long you have been having this little adventure I swear to god I will make sure you will never come near Natalie anymore" she stated looking at him in a way he had never seen her before.

"Baby please listen to me" he tried to grab her arm but she quickly brushed it off and fought the urge to spit him in the face she said, "Don´t you dare touch me once in your life again or call me baby again".

Joe sighed, "I have seen her for the last two months, I never intended to cheat on you I swear baby" She slapped him, and he started to cry "You have the nerve to cry?" she chuckled "Joe you destroyed our family, you cheated on me and while you were sleeping with that slut I was here, taking care of our daughter, putting my career on hold just because I loved you enough to support you through your career, I was stupid oh my God" she put her hand on her forehead, "I can´t believe I even had this planned this is so stupid" she threw him the box that was next to her on the bed, a pregnancy test, a positive pregnancy test.

Truth be told, Kendall wanted a baby, she hoped it would be a boy, and she was a bit jealous of how much Natalie looked like her dad, Joe could be a cheater, but at least he was a good father to her kid. She fantasized constantly about how their family would be. This would be her last baby, she would go back to work in the clothing company she worked so hard to develop and Joe would win a few more rings, they would be a happy family and eventually move out of the spotlight.

She found out she was pregnant when Joe was away for a game and it made her sick to her stomach that while she was creating life, he was sleeping with another woman. She found out about the cheating three weeks later, and she was angry, pissed, and insanely heartsick, it was almost Thanksgiving and she planned on giving Joe the surprise that weekend, then a month later, telling Natalie on Christmas day, that dream was crumbled.

"How long have you been pregnant?" Joe said excitedly, "Babe this is the greatest news of my life he said trying to hug her and she took a step back "How do you have the nerve to be like this?" she had steady breathing "You tore this up Joe, you ruined our family and" she stutters "You haven´t even apologized, you became self-center and arrogant"

"Ken if you give me one more chance I promise I will change, I will cut any relation I have with her" he had slumped shoulders, and she didn't say a word "Any relation I had with her was purely sexual, you´re the only woman I love"

Kendall had her arms wrapping around her body "So that makes it better" "No, it doesn´t I know it doesn´t but I can go to therapy and work that there, you can have my phone all the time and go through it whenever you want" Kendall chuckled "I don´t want you near this place until we come to an agreement, if you want to see Natalie you can pick her up at school and go to your parent´s house to be with her" she went to bathroom and cried until she heard Joe leave the house.

That was three months ago, she was 5 months into her pregnancy and her baby was growing healthy, she saw Joe every now and then, the season was over, the Bengals won the super bowl and as much as Joe showed he was happy that night, he could only think of the woman he lost and the family he missed so dearly.

He constantly wondered how their life would look like if he hadn´t messed up things, he hated himself, he hated that he wasn´t close to his daughter anymore, and he was grieving that he hadn´t seen his baby, Kendall told him she didn´t want him to go with her to the check-ups, "Well Joe you fucked up honey I don´t know what you want me to say" his mom said staring at him and her son was crying, he seemed awful but at least he was happy that Natalie was staying with him over the weekend.

"Daddy!" Natalie screamed and Joe felt full again, he knew she would eventually know the truth and he deep down knew his children would hate him for it, he would hate his dad if he ever cheated on his mom, and the pure thought of Natalie and baby Burrow hating him broke his heart. He knew he deserved it, he knew he fucked up and he was sorry.

That evening they went to a mall to Build-a-bear, Joe took her telling her that it would be a nice gesture for her baby brother, she was extremely happy with the news, she loved the idea of being a big sister.

"I want that one daddy" She pointed to the classic teddy bear, he grabbed it and went on to fill it, he knew these moments wouldn't last forever and he was scared of his baby girl growing up. When Kendall told him she was pregnant, he was over the moon, Natalie was a copy of him, she had her mom´s brown hair but her dad's blue orbits. When she was born Joe made the promise to always protect her, care for her and guard her dreams, he was mad at himself now because he knew he fucked that promise, his baby would eventually get her heart broken by a guy, and he was sure she would hate him for what he did to her mom.

"Are you excited for your brother to come home, honey?" Joe said with Natalie in his arms as she was eating an ice cream cone "Yes, but I'm more excited to come and buy Mat clothes" They made the agreement of coming to buy clothes for her teddy bear once the baby was born "Mat? Where you got that name from" he chuckled as he put her on the car seat "That´s the name of mommy´s friend, he´s very nice, look" she showed him a bracelet "CARTER".

He felt his blood boil, Mommy´s new friend? Was he spending time with his daughter, was he bringing Kendall late-night pregnancy cravings? He drove Natalie to her mom´s house. He passed a Trader Joe´s and bought Kendall flowers, "Which one do you think mommy would like?" he asked Natalie, she pointed to the pink ones,

Hoping to come to clarity on who that man was. He parked his car in the driveway, rang the door, and hope to see the love of his life, Kendall opened the door, and the smile she had dropped when she saw Joe,

"What are you doing here? You know your mom is supposed to bring Natalie when you hang with her" Kendall took her daughter from her dad´s fathers arms, she was fast asleep, "I know but I really want to talk to you, I want to see how the baby is doing, how are you doing?" Kendall was a pathological people pleaser, and unfortunately for her Joe knew that, he knew she would´t reject him, and deep down Kendall knew the same thing, she was glad her children´s dad was present in their lives and every month when she got ready for her check-ups she wished Joe would go with her; when Natalie was on the way, she was the happiest she had ever been, she loved this baby nonetheless but it pained her to know her son wouldn't experience having a "normal" family, however, that was Joe´s fault's, not hers.

She moved out of the way and he walked inside, Kendall was going upstairs to put Natie to sleep but she was too heavy for her, carrying a baby and her big baby was something she stopped doing a few weeks ago.

"Can you carry her upstairs? I can´t lift her anymore" She turned to see Joe and he quickly brought her back to his arms, he made his way upstairs and Natalie went behind him, when both of them entered their daughter's room a sense of nostalgia filled the air, a longing to have his family back took over Joe's body, to return home and share his life with his love.

Natalie woke up as Joe tucked her in "Can you stay here tonight Daddy? I promise I will eat all my veggies tomorrow" Natalie said with her little sleepy eyes, he didn´t know what to do, he kissed her daughter on her forehead and Kendall stared at them with eyes that once were full of love.

As they made their way out of Natie´s room Joe looked at her with puppy eyes "You can stay here tonight, in the guest room but you have to leave tomorrow evening because I can´t risk Natalie having the hope that you will come back to live here"

a/n: hello everyone! i know i have been mia but i´ve had the biggest writer´s block, this idea came to me yesterday night and i couldn´t stop writing. I hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

special thanks to @cowboyburrow for encouraging me to post this, i appreciate her opinions and feedbacks and i LOVE her stories :)

[honeyncherry]

secret of us II - joe burrow

summary joe’s world is unraveling, and without you, he’s learning that holding on is harder than he ever imagined; but losing you isn’t an option

content angst, swearing, slow burn

part one ; next

I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

The house was too quiet, emptier than ever.

Joe sat in the dim light of his living room, the muted TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. He was supposed to be studying old game footage, but the glow of the screen barely registered. It couldn’t drown out the echo of your voice.

It replayed in his mind, over and over, like a record stuck on a loop, refusing to fade.

I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

The line haunted him, cutting deeper with every repetition. You weren’t wrong. You deserved more. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to fix, didn’t tell him how to bridge the growing distance he’d let spiral between you.

He drug a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting to his phone on the coffee table. Your name was still pinned at the top of his messages, sitting alongside his mom’s. The sight made something sharp twist in his gut. He reached for it instinctively, but his fingers froze just above the screen.

It wasn’t the first time tonight. He’d done this before; reached, hesitated, then pulled back, like the phone might scald him. Each time, his mind raced with half-formed messages, things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

I’m sorry? It felt hollow.

I miss you? Too selfish.

I love you? Too late.

​​With a sigh, he picked up the phone anyway, his thumb hovering over your name. For a moment, he considered unpinning the conversation, as if removing it from the top of his screen might lessen the weight in his chest. But his thumb faltered, trembling, before he dropped the phone back onto the table with a muted thud.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let go. But he couldn’t reach out, either.

The silence in the room pressed heavier against him, suffocating. The faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen buzzed in his ears, and the occasional rumble of passing cars outside only reminded him how still everything inside felt. His thoughts raced, looping back to memories he wished he could escape.

Your laugh came first, bright and unguarded, the kind of sound that could lift even his heaviest days. He could picture it clearly: the way you’d throw your head back slightly, your eyes crinkling at the corners as your whole body gave into the moment. He remembered how it felt to make you laugh, the warmth that bloomed in him, the way it silenced every doubt.

Then there was the way you always noticed him. Not Joe Burrow, star NFL quarterback. Just Joe. You’d catch the tension in his shoulders after a bad game, the quiet in his voice when something wasn’t right. “You’re off today,” you’d say, your tone gentle but firm, like you wouldn’t let him brush it off. You always saw through him, and he’d let you, because it felt safe.

But he’d squandered that now. Pushed you away so thoroughly that even those memories felt like shards of glass pressing into his skin.

And still, your voice echoed in his mind, broken and tired: I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

Do I even mean something to him?

The silence was unbearable.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you like a taunt. The weight of Joe’s absence clung to you, heavy and unrelenting. You told yourself you shouldn’t care this much, that you’d done the right thing by walking away. But the questions still clawed at the edges of your mind.

Do I even mean something to him?

The thought alone sent a pang through your chest. You tried to rationalize it, to tell yourself that he’d been distant because of something unrelated to you.

But the late-night doubts crept in, twisting the truth into something darker.

What if he never cared? The question whispered through your thoughts, insidious and relentless. What if I’ve been holding onto something that was never there?

Your phone buzzed once, a notification breaking the stillness. Your heart leapt, but the moment you saw it wasn’t from him, disappointment settled like a stone in your stomach. You shoved the phone away, letting it slide across the bed.

Glancing toward the mirror across the room, you caught your reflection in the dim light. For a moment, you stared, searching your own eyes for answers you couldn’t find.

What was it about him that made you hold on, even when he gave you every reason to let go?

The fear crept in, sharp and undeniable. What if I’ve invested in someone who doesn’t see me the way I see him?

The thought curled around you, smothering. You blinked hard, shaking your head as if the motion could dislodge it.

But it lingered, a truth you didn’t want to face.

So, when a friend invited you to a housewarming party, you said yes without hesitation. The idea of noise, of motion, of anything other than this unbearable quiet felt like a lifeline.

You didn’t overthink it. You didn’t let yourself. It was something to do, something to occupy your mind, something to drown out the ache that wouldn’t leave.

The house was already buzzing when you arrived, laughter and music spilling out onto the lawn. Strings of lights twinkled in the trees, their soft glow casting a warm haze over the scene.

The energy was electric, alive, a stark contrast to the silent chaos you’d been drowning in at home.

You wove through clusters of people, their voices and laughter blending into a steady hum. The scent of grilled food and spilled beer hung in the air, grounding you in the present. It was easier to focus on the movement, the sound, the colors around you.

Eventually, familiar faces came into view, Mia and Drew, the couple hosting the party. Drew’s arm was slung casually over Mia’s shoulder as they chatted with another guest, their ease a reminder of everything you used to feel when things in your life weren’t so complicated.

“Hey, you made it!” Mia beamed when she spotted you, breaking away from the conversation to pull you into a warm hug.

“Of course,” you said, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Drink?” Drew offered, holding up a freshly cracked beer. His signature grin was just as lopsided and teasing as you remembered. “Or are you still pretending to be a wine connoisseur?”

You snorted, grateful for the distraction. “Still pretending, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

He handed you the beer with a laugh. “Classic.”

Mia nudged him playfully before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Seriously, though, thanks for coming. It means a lot. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it.”

You hesitated, shrugging as you shifted the bottle between your hands. “Figured it was better than staying home.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Mia said, squeezing your arm lightly. “And I think you’ll be glad, too. Lots of familiar faces tonight.”

“Joe’s here,” Drew said casually, tipping his beer toward the living room.

Your stomach dropped. The name hit you like a sharp gust of wind, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your grip on the bottle tightened instinctively, the flood of questions almost immediate: Did you want to see him? Could you even handle it?

The questions collided with the sinking realization that you’d somehow forgotten — how had you forgotten?

Joe was the one who’d introduced you to Mia and Drew all those years ago.

Mia’s sharp jab to Drew’s ribs made him wince, her expression darkening as she shot him a glare that could have melted steel.

She turned back to you, her eyes softening as they scanned your face, noting the way your shoulders had tensed.

“I’m so sorry,” Mia blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t even think to mention it. There are so many people here, I figured you two wouldn’t even cross paths. If you want to leave, I completely understand.”

Her voice carried a mix of panic and guilt, as though she wasn’t sure which would hurt you more, staying or going. You fought to keep your expression neutral, swallowing down the dread twisting in your stomach.

“Don’t worry,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt, though the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “It’s fine. Really.”

The words tasted harsh, like a lie, but you forced them out anyway. You ignored the tightening in your grip on the drink Drew had handed you, the way the cool glass pressed against your palm like it might anchor you.

“I’ll just… stay out of his way,” you added, the shrug you offered feeling as hollow as the calm you were trying to project.

Mia searched your face, her uncertainty plain. Her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but she relented, nodding slowly. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded back, clutching the drink as the hum of the party blurred into white noise.

Your breath came shallow and uneven as you fought the instinct to glance behind them, in the direction Drew had pointed.

You told yourself you wouldn’t look, wouldn’t let yourself go there. 

But then, as if fate itself had a cruel sense of humor, your eyes caught his across the room.

Joe.

He stood near the edge of the living room, mid-conversation, but his focus had shifted.

His gaze locked on yours, and for a fleeting moment, something unguarded flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe even guilt, before it vanished, quickly replaced by that maddeningly unreadable mask he always wore so well.

An invisible force seemed to squeeze the air from your lungs, your breath hitching before you could stop it. And God, he looked good. Too good.

It wasn’t just the sharp cut of his jaw or the way his fitted shirt clung to his shoulders like it had been made for him. It was the ease in his posture, the quiet confidence in the way he stood, unaware of how effortlessly he drew attention.

The shadow of stubble along his jaw that you used to tease him about, all of it stirred something in you, something you wished would stay buried.

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t fair, how he could still look like that. How he could stand there, completely oblivious to the effect he had on you, even now.

It wasn’t fair that, despite everything, some small, traitorous part of you still wanted to cross the room and close the space between you.

For a moment, the world around you blurred. The noise, the people, it all dissolved. Just you and him, caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

But it was you who blinked first, tearing your gaze away. The hollow pain grew heavier, and you took a long sip of your drink, desperate for something to distract you from the rising heat in your cheeks.

Beside you, Mia glanced between the two of you, her brows drawing together in concern. Her hand brushed your arm lightly. “Hey,” she said softly, her tone careful, deliberate. “Come with me. I’ve been dying to show off the kitchen.”

You hesitated, trying to steady your breath. “I’m fine,” you started, the lie weak even to your own ears.

But Mia didn’t wait for your protest. Her grip tightened gently, steering you toward the hallway. “Just trust me,” she murmured, her voice warm but insistent. “You’ll love it.”

You followed her, grateful for the escape, even if your mind still felt heavy. The bursts of laughter grew louder as she led you into the open kitchen.

Mia’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as she gestured toward the expansive marble countertops. “Can you believe this? Drew’s been talking about this kitchen for months. The island alone is bigger than my first apartment.”

You nodded absently, trying to focus on her words, but the lingering tension in you made it hard to hear anything beyond the pounding of your own heart.

“And look at this,” Mia continued, pulling you toward the double ovens. Her tone was a touch too enthusiastic, like she was trying to fill the silence between you. “They’re state-of-the-art. Apparently, you can control them with your phone. Like, who even needs that?”

You managed a small laugh, the sound hollow but enough to make her smile in relief. She pointed out every detail: the sleek cabinets, the farmhouse sink, the oversized wine fridge. Her voice was light, easy, but you could see the subtle glances she cast in your direction, checking on you without saying it aloud.

But then she froze mid-sentence, her fingers curling around the edge of the countertop. Her eyes widened slightly, darting toward something, or someone, over your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A wave of dread washed over you, the knot in your stomach tightening before you even turned around. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Hi,” Joe said.

The single word was quiet, but it hit like a thunderclap. Slowly, you turned, your grip tightening on the beer bottle as you faced him.

He stood just a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression carefully guarded. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The hum of the party dulled to white noise, the edges of the room blurring until it felt like it was only the two of you.

“Hey,” you said finally, your voice clipped but trembling with the hurt you couldn’t hide.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied, folding your arms across you like a shield. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

His shoulders stiffened, and for the faintest second, something flickered in his eyes — regret, maybe. Or guilt. He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion as familiar as it was frustrating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

The words hung heavy between you, the air thick with everything unsaid. His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Funny,” you bit out, your voice shaking despite your best effort. “Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you did.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking as the words escaped. “Scared of ruining everything. Of losing you.”

Your breath hitched, a knot twisting painfully in your chest. Heat surged behind your eyes, anger and sorrow colliding like waves in a storm.

“Well, congratulations,” you said, the words trembling as they left your lips. “You managed to do it anyway.”

The words struck him like a blow. For a moment, he just stood there, shoulders sagging under the weight of your anger and his own guilt.

You turned to leave, but before you could take more than a step, Joe’s hand closed around your arm, not harsh, but enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Wait,” he said, his voice sharper now, tinged with frustration.

You froze, slowly turning back to him. His face was taut, his jaw clenched, and his eyes — those stupid, stupid eyes, were filled with something you couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Embarrassment? Anger? Maybe all three.

“Let me explain,” he muttered, his grip loosening but not releasing. “Just… Can you stop and listen for once?”

A bitter laugh escaped you, sharp and cutting. “Stop and listen?” you repeated, your voice low, laced with disbelief. “That’s rich coming from you, Joe.”

His face reddened slightly, and for a moment, you saw something like shame cross his features before it was replaced with exasperation. “I’m trying, okay?” he snapped. “Can you just give me a second?”

“A second?!” You wrenched your arm free, your voice low but razor-sharp. “Joe, I gave you months. I gave you every second I had trying to be the friend you clearly didn’t want. And this—” you gestured between you, the tension spilling over. “This is what I get in return?”

His frustration bubbled over. “Fine. Maybe I messed up,” he muttered, his voice tight. “But can you just stop acting like—”

“Like what?” you interrupted, stepping closer, your voice a low hiss. “Like I don’t have a right to be upset? Like you don’t deserve every ounce of guilt you feel?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest heaving, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“You’re not half the man you think you are, Joe,” you whispered coldly. “And I’m done waiting for you to prove otherwise.”

You turned on your heel, setting the drink down and walking away without looking back. You heard him curse under his breath, low and frustrated, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not anymore.

When you left, the party carried on around Joe, but he barely noticed.

The laughter grated against his ears, hollow and distant, like static in a bad signal. The drink in his hand had long since gone flat, and each sip tasted like ash.

He lingered near the edge of the room, his gaze skimming the crowd half-heartedly, but his mind was miles away.

He’d never seen you that angry before. Never been the target of your wrath. Your voice, usually warm and steady, had cracked with an edge so sharp it cut through him like a blade.

It wasn’t just the anger in your eyes that haunted him. It was the hurt, raw and undeniable, that twisted the knife deeper.

He kept replaying the moment in his head, over and over. The way you’d stood there, unflinching, hurling the truth at him like stones.

Each one had hit its mark. Sharp. Deserved. Impossible to ignore.

And for the first time ever, Joe had no defense. No excuse. No shield to hide behind.

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know how much he’d screwed up, he’d been carrying that guilt for weeks. But hearing it from you, seeing it etched into every line of your face, watching your shoulders sag under the weight of his mistakes, it was unbearable.

And yet, even as you’d turned and walked away, he hadn’t moved. He’d stood there frozen, paralyzed by the very thing he wanted so desperately to fix.

By the time he got back home, the silence in his house was deafening. He dropped his keys on the counter, the metallic clang echoing in the empty space. Collapsing onto the edge of the couch, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the phone in his hands.

His thumb hovered over the screen, his breath shallow as he opened your contact. For what felt like the hundredth time, he started typing, rehearsing the words he’d been cycling through his mind all night.

Joe: Can we talk? Please.

His finger hesitated above the send button, doubt twisting in his gut.

What if you didn’t respond? Or worse, what if you did, and it was already too late? The thought clenched around him like a vice.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed send, his heart lurching as the message flew out into the void.

Seconds stretched into agonizing hours in his mind as he waited, the silence amplifying every fear. When his phone buzzed in his hand, his heart jumped, his pulse racing as he read your reply.

You: When?

The single word sent a wave of cautious hope through him, sharp and overwhelming. Without hesitation, he typed back, his fingers moving faster than his thoughts.

Joe: Tonight. Please. I’ll come to you.

As soon as he hit send, his breath hitched. He stared at the screen, nerves twisting into knots as he braced himself for your reply.

When it finally came, two simple letters that carried the weight of the world, his grip on the phone tightened.

You: Ok.

Joe exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest loosening just enough to let him breathe. It wasn’t much, but it was everything.

Fragile. Fleeting. A chance to make things right, and he couldn’t screw it up.

He pushed off the couch, pacing around his living room, his mind racing.

What could he say to fix this?

How could he even begin to mend the cracks he’d caused in something so precious?

Every possible scenario played out in his head, each one ending the same way — your hurt eyes staring back at him, colder than he’d ever thought possible.

Stopping mid-step, he dragged a hand over his face, frustration clawing through him.

He hated himself for every misstep, for every silence that pushed you further away. Now, he wasn’t sure words could ever be enough. But he had to try. He owed you that much.

The drive to your apartment had been a blur of glowing streetlights and the persistent drumbeat of his own heartbeat. The radio drummed through the air, but it was nothing more than static to his ears, drowned out by the endless thoughts in his head.

When he pulled up outside your building, he stayed in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles ached.

From where he sat, he could see the faint glow of your window, and the sight made his hands sweat

With a deep breath, he grabbed his phone and typed a message, his fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and desperation.

Joe: I’m here.

The three dots appeared almost instantly, his breath catching as he waited. When your reply came, his heart skipped a beat.

You: Door’s unlocked.

The burden in him grew heavier with every step toward your door, and when he stepped inside, the air felt thick, charged with the tension of everything left unsaid.

The scent of your apartment hit him first. Warm, familiar, and grounding in a way that only twisted the knot in his stomach tighter.

His eyes found you immediately. You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the dark TV screen, your posture rigid and guarded.

The soft glow from the lamp next to you highlighted your face, but it didn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes or the way your lips pressed into a thin line.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. But your expression said more than words ever could.

It was an unspoken challenge, a demand for answers he wasn’t sure he could give.

Joe swallowed hard, every carefully rehearsed words evaporating in the silence. His voice caught before he finally spoke, “Thanks… for letting me come.”

The words felt insignificant, but they were all he could manage.

Your head snapped over to him, jaw tightened, your eyes narrowing just enough for him to see the storm brewing behind them. “You said you wanted to talk,” you said finally, your tone sharp and clipped. “So talk.”

Joe’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t move. The tension in the room was suffocating, and every ounce of hurt in your voice twisted something deep inside him. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice trembling slightly when he spoke. 

“I should’ve handled this better,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I shouldn’t have ignored you. You didn’t deserve that.”

The words stumbled out, weighed down by the guilt pressing deep into him. “I got in my own head, and I let it get the better of me. I thought… I thought that keeping my distance would make it easier, but all I did was hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

You blinked, your jaw tightening as the meaning behind his words settled over you, heavy and unclear. Keeping his distance? Easier for who? Why?

The questions swirled silently in your mind, but, before you could think better of it, you stood abruptly, the motion sharp and filled with tension, your arms folding tightly across your chest.

“You were scared,” you referred back to earlier, bitterness creeping into your tone. “And what about me, Joe? Do you think this was easy for me? Do you think walking away didn’t hurt like hell?”

He flinched, your words hitting him like a slap. He had no rebuttal, no defense.

Because you were right.

He’d been selfish, so consumed by his own fear that he hadn’t stopped to think about what it was costing you.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need you to know that I care about you. More than anything. And I’m sorry I didn’t show you that when it mattered.”

The tremor in his voice made you pause. Your arms dropped slightly, and you exhaled a shaky breath. “Joe,” you started, softer this time, but the hurt in your eyes was still there, unmoving. “I just… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to figure out what you want.”

“I know,” he said quickly, the words rushing out like a plea. “I know I screwed up. But please—” He stepped closer, his voice breaking. “Please let me fix this. Let me prove to you that I can be better.”

You didn’t respond right away, and the silence was deafening. But when you finally met his gaze, he saw the war in your eyes, the part of you that wanted to protect yourself battling with the part that still wanted to believe him.

For the first time, he realized just how much he’d put at risk. If he lost you now, he knew he wouldn’t recover.

Your lips parted, and he braced himself, every muscle in his body taut as if preparing for a blow. “This… this is your last chance. Don’t waste it.”

The weight of your words hit him like a tsunami. Brutal. Final. But in the wreckage, there was a sliver of hope, fragile and flickering, and he clung to it with everything he had left.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady in a way that felt almost foreign after weeks of chaos. “I won’t waste it.”

You nodded, but the gesture was stark, emotionless. There was no smile, no warmth. Only quiet resolve, sharp-edged and cutting. “You better not,” you said softly, the faintest quiver in your tone betraying the exhaustion beneath your anger. “Because I don’t think I can do this again.”

You turned sharply, your movement punctuating your words like a final period. But just as you began to step away, his voice broke through the tension, low and deliberate. “Me either, sweetheart.”

The word stopped you cold.

Your breath hitched, the sound catching in your throat like a snare. Sweetheart. He’d never called you that before, and hearing it now felt like a quiet declaration, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

It was unfamiliar on his lips, but it wrapped around you like a hesitant embrace; soft, tentative, undeniable.

Slowly, you drew in a deep, measured breath, letting the weight of his words settle in your brain, rippling outward in waves you couldn’t yet name.

When you finally exhaled, it was as though a fraction of the tension released with it. Quietly, you moved back to the couch, sinking into the corner as if it might anchor you.

The tension in the room lingered, a silent witness to everything left unsaid, but it no longer suffocated you.

Behind you, his footsteps were soft, hesitating for the briefest moment before coming closer. When he sat beside you, the space between you felt impossibly vast, a canyon carved by weeks of silence and hurt.

You risked a glance at him, your heart thrumming in your chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, his fingers clasped tightly as if bracing for a blow.

But his presence was steady, quiet, grounding in a way that sent a flicker of warmth through the cold ache in your chest.

You hated how much you’d missed it. Hated how some small, fragile part of you still leaned into that warmth, despite everything.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, something unfamiliar flickered in your chest. It wasn’t relief, not yet.

But it was softer than anger. Warmer than indifference.

A fragile ember that stirred in the quiet, daring you to believe that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

[herweirdass]

Hi! Can you possibly write a Joe Burrow imagine please where he keeps referring to his gf as “wifey” or “my wife” to her and other people when he speaks about her even though they are not married yet. But he is waiting for the moment to pop the big question. Until one night he sees the perfect opportunity to propose right after a small argument about leaving the toothpaste cap off.

my wife | jb

life with joe burrow was nothing short of a dream. you were his safe haven, his number-one fan, and the love of his life. but there was one thing that always made you laugh: joe’s habit of calling you “wifey” or “my wife” to everyone—teammates, friends, family, even strangers.

“yeah, wifey cooked this amazing dinner last night,” he’d say, grinning like a lovestruck fool. or, “my wife’s the reason i’m not walking around in mismatched socks today.”

you’d always roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “joe, i’m not your wife yet.”

“technicality,” he’d reply with a smirk. “you will be.”

you thought it was just joe being joe, but little did you know, he was serious. the ring had been sitting in a drawer in his office for months, waiting for the right moment. joe had planned and replanned his proposal a hundred times, but nothing felt quite perfect.

one night, after a long day for both of you, the two of you were brushing your teeth side by side in the bathroom. you noticed the toothpaste cap sitting off again, and with an exaggerated sigh, you grabbed it and screwed it back on.

“joe,” you said, shaking your head, “how hard is it to put the cap back on? i do it every time.”

he rinsed his toothbrush and gave you a sheepish look. “it’s not that i don’t care—it’s just that i forget.”

“you always forget,” you teased, crossing your arms.

he turned to face you, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re really gonna make a big deal out of this, huh?”

“yes, because one day, you’re gonna leave it off, and it’s gonna dry out, and then—”

you didn’t get to finish your sentence because joe suddenly dropped to one knee, right there on the bathroom floor.

“joe, what are you doing?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“fixing the toothpaste cap problem for good,” he said, pulling a small velvet box from his hoodie pocket. his voice softened as he opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “i mean, if you’re officially my wife, maybe you’ll have more patience with me leaving the cap off.”

your eyes widened, tears already pooling. “joe…”

“i’m serious,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “you’ve been my wife in my heart for a long time. i’ve been calling you that because it’s how i feel. and now i just want to make it official. will you marry me?”

you stared at him, your hands flying to your mouth as you nodded vigorously. “yes! of course, yes!”

joe slipped the ring onto your finger, standing and wrapping you in a tight embrace. “finally,” he murmured against your hair. “i’ve been dying to ask you.”

“you couldn’t have waited for a more romantic moment?” you teased, laughing through your happy tears.

“why? this is us,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “you, me, and a toothpaste cap argument. it doesn’t get more perfect than that.”

you kissed him, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. and as the two of you stood in the tiny bathroom, your laughter echoing off the walls, you couldn’t agree more.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ slim shady, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! this was supposed to be sunday’s game day fic but here it is today instead lol i am a proud og supporter of the buzz cut and it comes out in this fic. i will die on the "joe says cock not dick" hill.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, handjob, romantic dick sucking.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.1k.

You hummed to the rhythm of a song you couldn't quite remember, the office's background noise muffled as you waited for your coffee to brew. The sleek, black machine hissed and spat, the scent of dark roast filling the air. You checked your phone, scrolling through the mundane emails and notifications that had accumulated since your last break. Your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dismiss the unimportant.

Then you saw it: an image sent from Joe. Your boyfriend's name illuminated on your screen as your lips broke in a quiet smile. Curiosity piqued, you tapped it open, expecting one of Joe's rare but charming selfies with his usual wide blue eyes and awkward poses.

But your eyes widened when the image loaded—instead of the familiar mess of dirty blonde hair, you found a bald head with a wide smile. The message beneath read, "New look what do you think?" Your jaw dropped as you stared at the screen, the buzz of the office around you fading into white noise.

Your mind raced with questions.

Why hadn't he told you? What was the occasion for this dramatic change?

But the office was not the place to get into this. You had a meeting in about five minutes and the coffee was finished brewing, the aroma now taunting you with the promise of a jolting caffeine rush you desperately needed.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a text, trying to match the easy light-heartedness of his message. "Why the fuck are you bald?" You decided to add an unimpressed emoji to remove any ambiguity from your words.

Joe's response was swift. "It'll grow back?" He wrote with a laughing emoji. "Got bored. Thought I'd try something new." You could practically hear the nonchalance in his voice and you couldn't decide if it pissed you off or intrigued you. The dryness of his text was typical Joe—always questionably calm. But this was a surprise you weren't quite ready to laugh off. You took a sip of your coffee, the heat scalding your tongue as you thought about his new look.

The day dragged on, your thoughts inexplicably drawn back to Joe's bald head. You had seen him in every hairstyle imaginable—undercut, grown out, and even a questionable middle part that you had mercifully convinced him to abandon under the guise of bad luck—but this was a step beyond. You tried to focus on the spreadsheets and emails, but the image of Joe's egg head kept popping up in your mind.

By the time you left the office, your curiosity had morphed into something else entirely. An excitement you hadn't felt in a while, a thrill that made your pulse quicken. You drove home, your hand subconsciously tracing the steering wheel as you imagined running your fingers over his newly shaved scalp.

The anticipation grew as you pulled into Joe's driveway. You took a deep breath before letting yourself in, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth that awaited you inside. "Joe!" you called out, your voice echoing through the house.

"In the kitchen!" his voice responded, and you could hear the smack of a fridge door closing. You kicked off your heels, the sound of your bare feet padding against the cool, tiled floor.

As you entered the kitchen, you saw him standing by the counter, a protein shake in one hand, and his phone in the other. Your eyes scanned upwards from his broad shoulders, taking in the stark contrast of his bald head against his muscular physique. He looked up and caught your stare, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You bleached it," you murmured, the words leaving your lips in a breathy exhale. The kitchen lights reflected off his pale scalp, giving him an unexpected edginess.

Joe chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Surprise," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Your hand flew to your mouth. "Oh my god," you whispered. "It's... it's not just a buzzcut, it's—"

"Platinum," Joe filled in, taking a sip of his shake. "Figured why not go all out?"

Your eyes roamed over his features, now so sharply defined without the hair to frame them. His strong jaw, the crinkles of his eyes, his stubbled chin—it all looked more pronounced. And you had to admit, incredibly sexy. The shock was giving way to something else, something warm and fluttery in your stomach.

He watched you, his gaze expectant, a smirk playing on his lips. You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch his head. The warmth of his skin was unexpected, and you couldn't help but let out a small giggle. He leaned into your touch, his eyes crinkling as you traced your fingers over the smooth surface.

"I can't decide if..." you said, trying to find the words. "If you look like you should be in a shitty boy band or if you're channeling Slim Shady."

Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Slim Shiesty," he quipped, his voice low and playful. "You know you love it." He teased, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter as he took your hands in his.

You felt your smile widen, your heart racing. You didn't know if it was the caffeine from the coffee or the sudden realization that you were incredibly turned on by his new look. The way his muscles flexed as he held onto your hands, the glint in his eye as he watched your reaction—it was all too much.

Your eyes drifted to his lips, and you leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was equal parts surprise and desire. His grip tightened, and you felt him pull you closer, the coldness of the countertop pressing into your back as his body molded against yours. His free hand roamed your waist, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above your hip bone.

"So you like it?" Joe murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned into you. You felt the heat from his skin and the tension coiling in your belly. You couldn't believe it, but you were insatiably attracted to this new look for him.

"Yeah," you breathed into Joe's ear, your voice silky with want, "I guess so."

Your hands slid down his body, tracing the planes of his chest before coming to rest at the waistband of his sweatpants. He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching. The kitchen light crafted an artificial halo as it bounced off the dye in his hair, and you found yourself craving more of him.

Without breaking the kiss, you tugged at his waistband, and Joe's laughter turned into a groan as your hand found its way to his cock. You wrapped your cold fingers around it, feeling it twitch and thicken in your palm. He pulled away, his eyes dark with hunger. "What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, his voice gruff.

You smirked up at him, your eyes full of mischief. "I'm just... indulging the new look," you said, your voice a seductive purr. You sank to your knees, your eyes glued to his. The kitchen floor was cold, but you barely noticed as the heat between the two of you grew.

Joe's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his cock twitching in his pants. "Babe," he said, his voice thick with lust. But you were already untying the drawstring, his dick springing free, hard and eager.

You took him in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you tasted his surprise and arousal. He was an intoxicating mixture of salty and sweet, and you moaned around him, your tongue swirling and teasing the head. The kitchen light danced over your dark skin and cast shadows across Joe's face as he watched you.

He tangled his fingers in your braids, gently guiding your movements, setting a pace that made him groan. Your eyes flew open to meet his, the blue of his irises burning into the brown of yours. Your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. The taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of the kitchen's citrus cleaner.

Joe's hips involuntarily bucked forward, pushing him further into your throat, and you gagged lightly, your eyes watering. He stilled, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper from the effort of holding back just long enough to indulge in the pleasure you were giving him.

You nodded, your mouth still full. You pulled back with a pop, your lips glistening with the sinful mixture of his precum and your gloss, your eyes gleaming. "Yeah," you murmured, licking your lips. "Perfect."

Joe's gaze was intense, his eyes locked on yours as you took him in your mouth again. He groaned, his grip on your braids tightening, his thumb caressing your cheek. The sound was like a symphony to your ears, the sight of him lost in pleasure pushing your own desire to new heights. You bobbed your head, your rhythm increasing, your tongue flicking and dancing around his shaft.

You felt a rush of power, the kind that only came from knowing you could make him lose control. His breath grew ragged, his hips jerking in time with your movements as his stomach tensed. One of his hands gripped the counter as he cursed under his breath. You could feel his muscles tensing, his legs quivering slightly, and you smiled at the sight of him slowly losing it.

The sound of your mouth moving over him was the only noise in the kitchen, the slick sounds of your saliva mingling with his groans. You reached up and took hold of the base of his cock, your mouth releasing him as your thumb danced over his angry tip. He swore, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to come.

"Babe," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep doing that..."

But you were beyond listening. The thrill of his impending orgasm was intoxicating, and you were determined to push him over the edge. You bit your bottom lip with a smirk, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend throw his head back. With a surge of boldness, you kept your seductive gaze on his face as you licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting him fully.

Joe's knees buckled slightly, now reaching to grip the counter with both hands to keep steady. "Yeah, suck this cock, beautiful," he hissed, his voice a desperate plea.

At the sound of his command, you didn't relent. With a wicked smile, you took him back into your mouth, your other hand now stroking the velvety skin of his balls. The sensation was too much for him, and he let out a strangled groan, his entire body seizing. You felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth, and you swallowed, your brown eyes round as they stared up into his.

You pulled back, your chin glistening with spit, your expression smug. Joe looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with passion. "You're crazy," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "But I fucking love it."

He helped you stand to your feet, your eyes still locked. The kitchen light cast shadows over his bald head, giving him a mysterious allure that had your heart racing. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue tracing your teeth and tangled with yours, sharing the taste of himself. It was a kiss filled with passion and a hint of appreciation, one that left your knees weak.

You broke the kiss with a giggle, wiping at your mouth. "You know, I think the bleached look really suits you, Slim," you said, your voice filled with a teasing lilt.

Joe's eyes lit up, his smirk growing as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Yeah? Maybe I should keep it then."

You playfully slapped his chest. "You better not, I didn’t say all that," you said, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "But for now, I can deal with it."

The two of you pulled apart, and Joe took a step back, looking down at you with a grin. "Deal with it, huh?" he challenged. "We'll see about that." His words were met with a confused look from you, but before you could ask him what he meant, he took a swing of his protein shake, set it down, scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder.

"Joe!" you squealed, laughter bubbling up from your chest as he carried you out of the kitchen. You smacked his ass playfully, but the truth was, you were thrilled. The excitement of the unexpected was like a drug, and you were eager for more.

[goldfades]

sweet on you | JOE BURROW⁹

⟢ ┈ summary

meeting in the hallways of a sleepy high school in southern ohio, where the football field stretched out like the promise of something bigger, and your laughter echoed louder than the morning bell. you and joe were never just a couple—you were a team, the kind of love story that grew roots in friday night lights and blossomed with every whispered dream of the future. by the time LSU claimed its victory, joe stood on top of the world, a championship ring in one hand and a velvet ring box in the other. it wasn’t just his moment—it was yours, the culmination of years spent building a life you knew you both couldn’t live without.

under a sky glittering with confetti and possibility, he asked the question, and you said yes with a smile that outshone the stadium lights. from the thrill of wedding vows and quiet mornings with coffee to the chaos of raising kids who somehow inherit his tenacity and your charm, every chapter is a testament to the kind of love that grows richer with time—like tennessee whiskey, smooth and strong.

⟢ ┈ playlist

⟢ ┈ characters

⟢ ┈ ev's notes

this series was a whim of the moment type of thing, but i've really been in my joe burrow era and decided that tumblr needed another husband!joe series. if you guys have been keeping up with me, i was looking for this particular series by one of my favorite authors - only to find out they deactivated.

one of my favorite series EVER was a joe burrow one and it was like this series of joe and reader being super cute and having kids and stuff, and i decided to recreate it slightly. of course it's not gonna be copy and paste (cause they deactivated) and where's the fun in that? anyway, this is very self indulgent but! i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. i love you guys! enjoy!

note: i'll try and put the chapters in chronological order, but i will probably be posting little bits and pieces whenever i feel inspired.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | forever begins. summary your engagement under the stadium lights, after lsu beat clemson 42-25, claiming the national championship.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | all my tomorrows. summary your wedding day - from start to (semi) finish. a night woven with love and laughter, where heartfelt speeches echo through the air. joe and y/n’s wedding glows with tenderness, from ja'marr’s playful tribute to y/n’s unshakable place in joe’s heart, to your best's teary words of lifelong friendship.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 | surprise! summary you and joe had just come back from your honeymoon in barbados, you may have had a little too much fun. when you see the faint lines in the little white stick, your whole world flipped on its axis.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | baby shower. summary your baby shower gets a little overwhelming for you and joe.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | domestic bliss!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 | gender reveal!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱 | honeymoon! (NSFW)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | baby time!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | meeting hayes

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 | thanksgiving

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧 | friday night lights

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | anniversary!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 |

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 |

blurbs

fluffy moments in nursery

a win with the baby

just joe and baby

playful argument about names

[jburrgf]

Hiii! I was wondering if you would write a fic about joe and the readers “first time” like in college!?🧡

right here!

King Of My Heart.

And all at once, you were the one i’ve been waiting for, king of my heart, body and soul.

pairing: joe burrow lsu boyfriend! x virgin girlfriend reader!

summary: lsu joeyb9, virgin girlfriend, older boyfriend x younger girlfriend, college couple, together to marry, smut with a lot (yes, a lot) of fluff.

description: after one year of relationship, you feel safe enough to have the most perfect night of your life with your boyfriend joe burrow.

The night air in Baton Rouge was thick and humid, as it often was this time of year. The LSU campus buzzed with excitement after another win, and as I stood on the balcony outside Joe’s apartment, I could hear the distant echoes of celebration. Laughter, music, and the occasional cheer from passing students filled the night air. Normally, the sound of victory would have lifted my spirits, but tonight, everything felt... different.

The truth was, tonight wasn’t just about LSU winning another game. It wasn’t about Joe’s performance on the field, though he’d been exceptional as usual. Tonight was about something else. Something I had been thinking about for weeks, maybe even months. My stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and nerves, knowing that tonight could be the night I gave Joe something I’d never given anyone else — myself.

I’d always been the kind of girl who believed in waiting. It wasn’t about following some strict set of rules or adhering to any expectations; it was about finding the right moment, with the right person. I’ve always said that I would wait until college, and here I am. I wanted my first time to be special, with someone who cared about me, someone who knew me in a way that went deeper than just the physical.

And Joe was that person.

He had been my best friend long before he became my boyfriend. We met on my first year of college, and his third one. I asked for transference when Joe came to play at LSU. Joe had been patient with me in ways I didn’t even know I needed—never pushing, always waiting.

Tonight felt like the culmination of all of that. But even so, I couldn’t help the nervous energy that buzzed through me.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced down at my hands, clutching the cool bottle of water I’d been holding for what felt like an eternity. My fingers were tight around it, betraying the tension I felt inside. I could hear Joe inside, rummaging through the fridge, probably making one of his famous post-game sandwiches. He had this thing where he could eat just about anything after a game — his appetite always amazed me.

I could picture him now, standing in front of the open fridge, his broad shoulders relaxed, his hair still damp from the quick shower he’d taken when we got back to the apartment. I smiled to myself. He had no idea what was running through my mind.

Another deep breath.

I turned and stepped back inside. The air-conditioned chill hit me immediately, contrasting with the muggy night outside. Joe was at the counter, just as I’d imagined, spreading mayo on a slice of bread, his brow furrowed in concentration like he was planning a play for the next big game.

He glanced up as I walked in, and his eyes softened. That was the thing about Joe — his eyes always softened when he looked at me, like I was the one thing in the world that could bring him peace. It had always been that way between us, even when we were kids. There was something so comforting about the way he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and familiar. He flashed me a small smile, then went back to his sandwich-making. “You hungry?”

I shook my head, a little smile of my own forming. “Not really.”

He looked up again, pausing this time. He could sense something in my voice, or maybe in the way I was standing there, lingering in the doorway like I didn’t know what to do with myself. Joe had always been good at reading me, even when I didn’t say anything. Especially when I didn’t say anything.

“You okay?” he asked, setting down the knife and turning to face me fully.

I felt my heartbeat pick up. This was it—the moment where I could either back out or go forward. I swallowed hard, my nerves dancing in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah,” I said, and then, before I could second-guess myself, I added, “I think I’m ready.”

Joe’s expression softened even more, but there was something else there too — surprise, maybe? Or was it understanding? His eyes searched mine for a long moment, and I could see the realization slowly settle in. He set down the bread and wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, taking a step closer to me.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice gentle, like he didn’t want to push me in any direction I wasn’t ready to go.

I nodded, biting my bottom lip nervously. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t move at first. Instead, he just stood there, looking at me with those intense eyes of his, like he was trying to gauge every emotion I was feeling without me even saying a word. And in a way, he could. Joe knew me better than anyone. He knew my fears, my insecurities, my hopes.

Slowly, he reached for my hand, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. His touch was always so warm, so comforting. He led me over to the couch, sitting down beside me, his thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of my hand.

“We don’t have to rush this, Y/N,” he said softly. “We can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Not anymore.”

His gaze never left mine, and I could see the love in his eyes, the way he was taking in every word I said. He reached up, cupping my face gently, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Okay,” he said quietly. “We’ll go slow. You’re in control, okay? Whatever you need.”

Those words—“whatever you need”—wrapped around me like a blanket, soothing the nervous energy that had been building up all night. Joe always knew how to make me feel safe, and in that moment, I knew without a doubt that I’d made the right choice. This was what I wanted.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest of kisses. It wasn’t urgent or rushed, but tender, like he was letting me set the pace. I kissed him back, my fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, but it never lost that gentle, careful rhythm—Joe was making sure I felt every step of the way.

As his hand slid down to rest on my waist, I felt the warmth of his touch seep through the thin fabric of my dress, and my heart pounded in my chest. This was real, and I wanted it more than anything. I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was love.

“I’m ready,” I whispered again, and this time, I knew I meant it with every fiber of my being.

Joe smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he said, and my heart swelled with the weight of those words. “And we’ll take this however you want, at your pace.”

With a deep breath, I nodded, and in that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just us, here in this quiet space we’d carved out together, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid.

Joe stood up, taking my hand as we moved together toward his bedroom. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the walls. It felt surreal—like the world outside had paused, and all that mattered now was the two of us. My heart was racing, and though my nerves were still there, they had settled into something else, something calmer. Maybe it was the way Joe was holding my hand, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles on my skin, or maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he saw only me and no one else.

He led me to the edge of the bed, and we stood there for a moment, facing each other. His eyes, those familiar deep blue eyes that had seen me at my worst and loved me still, held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice low and soft, giving me one last chance to back out if I wanted to.

I nodded, feeling a sense of certainty wash over me. “I’m sure, Joey. Please… I want this. I want you.”

A smile flickered across his lips as he reached up to gently cup my face, pulling me into a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. His lips moved against mine, soft and slow, like he was savoring every second, every touch. I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pressed closer. It wasn’t the first time we’d kissed like this, but tonight felt different—deeper. There was something unspoken between us, something that made each kiss, each touch, more meaningful.

As we kissed, Joe’s hands slid down my sides, his fingers brushing over the fabric of my dress. Slowly, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “I will.”

With that, his hands moved to the hem of my dress, and he paused, his eyes meeting mine again, silently asking for permission. When I gave him a small nod, he gently lifted the dress over my head, leaving me in just my bra and underwear. The cool air hit my skin, and I shivered slightly, though it wasn’t from the cold. It was the weight of the moment, the way his eyes lingered on me, like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of awe, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.

I’d never been in this position before, never had someone look at me like this. I suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed in a way I hadn’t anticipated. But Joe’s gaze wasn’t harsh or judgmental; it was soft, filled with love. He stepped closer, his hands settling on my waist, pulling me into another kiss. His touch was warm, grounding me, reminding me that this was Joey —my Joey. The boy who had known me since we were basically teenagers, who had always made me feel safe.

As we kissed, his hands moved up my back, fingers tracing the clasp of my bra. He paused again, looking into my eyes, silently asking if it was okay. I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest, but I nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

He unclasped it slowly, carefully, letting it fall to the floor between us. My breath caught in my throat as I stood there, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. Joe’s eyes never left mine, though, and I could see the love in them, the way he was making sure I was okay with every step.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, and I knew he meant it. Those words wrapped around me, calming the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

I reached for him then, my fingers gently tugging at the hem of his shirt, wanting to close the gap between us. He let me pull it off, and soon we were standing there together, bare in every sense of the word. But instead of feeling exposed, I felt... free. Like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Joe’s hands found mine again, and he pulled me gently down onto the bed. We lay there together, our bodies close but not rushing. There was no urgency, no need to move faster than we were ready for. Instead, we took our time, letting the moments stretch out between us.

He kissed me again, his lips soft and tender, and I kissed him back, feeling the heat between us grow. His hands moved over my skin, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of me. I shivered under his touch, a mix of anticipation and nerves swirling inside me. But there was also something else—something warm and steady.

Trust.

That’s what it came down to, I realized. I trusted Joe with every part of me. And that’s why I was ready.

His hand slid down to my hip, then lower, his fingers brushing against the edge of my underwear. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, my voice catching in my throat. “Yeah... I’m okay.”

He kissed me again, and slowly, carefully, he slid my underwear down, his touch never faltering. I felt a rush of nervous excitement as the last barrier between us disappeared, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I could handle the intensity of it all. But then Joe was there, his hand on my cheek, his eyes holding mine, and I felt the fear slip away.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised again, his voice low and steady. “I’m not going to do anything you’re not ready for.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “I know. I trust you.”

With those words, I felt the last of my hesitation melt away. This was what I wanted. This was Joe. And I was ready.

He kissed me again, his lips soft against mine, and then his hands were on me, touching me in ways that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. It was slow, careful, every movement deliberate and filled with love. He didn’t rush, didn’t push. Instead, he let me set the pace, following my lead, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

As things progressed, the tension between us built, and I felt myself getting lost in the moment, in him. The world outside disappeared, and all that mattered was Joe and the way he made me feel—safe, loved, cherished.

I felt loved, I felt touched in a good way, in my soul. Joe's fingers were waging war on my skin, squeezing me and making me his. When I felt him between my legs, the world stopped. I was wet, I didn't need to hide it from him.

“My God” he stated, feeling the humidity. Joe let out a sigh, as if he was going to reach his peak right then and there. “Baby, you’re so wet…”

I moaned, loud and clear. Indeed, I was, as I had never been before. Joe had seen me naked several times, but nothing came close to this, what I was feeling now. He bent down between my legs, and when he started sucking me, I saw stars. I let out another moan, drawn out, begging to have him for myself. Not feeling him was killing me, even though I knew I had never had him like this.

He continued there for several moments, until I asked him to stop. My first orgasm of the night was in his mouth, and when my boyfriend knelt on the bed again, he was already hard. Totally petrified, sweaty and dying to fuck me.

Joe's dick was huge, and even though he didn't brag about it, it was true. I needed two hands to hold it from the base to the head. It was thick, but just the right amount. And it was literally pointed at me.

“You know what to do” he said, holding his cock by the base. I approached him little by little, kissing his red head as I looked at him. Joe groaned, and I automatically groaned too.

I did as much as I could, with my mouth, with my hands, and when I saw it, I was practically gushing. Joe noticed, and climbed up my legs soon after, laying down between them while bringing his hands to my neck. I groaned, feeling all my strength draining away.

I felt when Joe got ready to penetrate me. He played with me, passing his glans across my moist lips, while I moaned loud enough for all the neighbors to hear me.

The pressure was great, and initially, I could handle it. Joe didn't move until I nodded that he could. And when he did that, I saw stars. The pain was intense and excruciating, and he was moving so well that at a certain point I couldn't tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

“You’re doing so well, love” He commented, the moan leaving his lips. I moaned back “So hot, moaning for me.”

And I actually groaned again. My ‘apex, which came moments before, had become palpable to me. As Joe increased his thrusts, I saw the sky descend to earth, it was something magnificent.

When Joe threatened to go faster, I tried to run away. He held me by my waist, preventing any movement.

“I know, love,, I know.” He said, as if answering 'me. I groaned, because I knew he was serious. Joe went deeper inside me, and I gave another moan.

I couldn't stop moaning. I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't say anything. Joe, now moving faster, was moaning as much as I was. His pleasure makes me melt from head to toe.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” I didn't answer, but he knew it was true. “I’m not going to stop," he said, and in fact, he didn’t stop. Now, I couldn't move anymore. “so tight, beautiful…”

The phrase made me squirm again. Every word that came out of his mouth made me squirm. Joe was on top of me, all over my body, and it was driving me crazy. I couldn't even think straight.

“I’m going to cum.” He said, almost breathless. It only took a few movements for him to come out of me and leave his jets under my belly.

He was sweaty, his cheeks red, drops falling down his toned abdomen. Joe was simply the most beautiful man in the world.

I trapped my legs between him again and made him lie on top of me. I gave him a kiss, and when we pulled away again, I smiled.

“It made me hungry.” I commented with a smile

“I’ll cook something for you” Joe replied.

When we got up, Joe helped me to the bathroom. The shower we took together sealed the moment we had before. We went to the kitchen right away.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious scent of bacon sizzling in the pan, and Joe hummed softly to himself as he moved between the stove and the counter. I sat at the small table, watching him with a smile, my heart swelling with affection at how natural this all felt. Like we’d done this a hundred times before, even though this morning was the first of its kind.

Joe glanced over his shoulder at me, catching my eye. “You look awfully pleased with yourself,” he teased, his grin playful.

I laughed softly, resting my chin in my hand as I leaned on the table. “I’m just... happy,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks warm with the confession.

He turned off the stove and brought over two plates of food, setting them down in front of us before taking a seat beside me. “Me too,” he said, his voice quieter now, more sincere. He reached out, his fingers brushing over mine as he took my hand. “It was perfect.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the warmth of his hand sending a familiar flutter through my chest. “It was,” I agreed softly, my thumb tracing slow circles on the back of his hand. “You made it perfect, Joe.”

His eyes softened, and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go to pick up his fork. “Well, let’s see if I can keep the streak going with this food,” he said with a grin.

I laughed, my heart lighter than it had felt in a long time. As we ate, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and stolen glances. It felt like nothing had changed between us, but at the same time, everything had. There was a new kind of ease in the air, a quiet understanding that we had crossed into something deeper.

“Do you have practice today?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin as we finished our plates.

Joe leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan. “Yeah, I’ve got practice in a few hours,” he said, glancing at the clock. “But we’ve got some time before I need to head over.”

I nodded, feeling a small pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving, even though I knew it was just for a few hours. The time we’d spent together this morning had been so perfect, and I wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.

“Wanna hang out for a while before you go?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual even though I could feel my heart racing a little at the idea of spending more time with him.

Joe’s smile widened, and he reached across the table to take my hand again. “I’d love that.”

We spent the next couple of hours curled up on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background as we talked about everything and nothing. Joe had always been easy to talk to, but today it felt different—like there was a deeper connection between us now, a closeness that went beyond just words.

At one point, he pulled me into his lap, his arms wrapping around my waist as I leaned back against him. His chin rested on my shoulder, and I could feel his breath warm against my neck as we sat there in comfortable silence. I had never felt more at peace, more content, than I did in that moment.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured, my fingers tracing the lines of his hand where it rested on my stomach.

Joe chuckled softly, his lips brushing against my ear. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

We stayed like that until his phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the quiet. Joe sighed softly, shifting beneath me as he reached for it. “It’s Coach,” he said, glancing at the screen. “I’ve gotta head out soon.”

I nodded, trying to hide the disappointment I felt as I climbed off his lap. “I guess the real world is calling, huh?”

Joe stood up, stretching again before pulling me into a quick hug. “Yeah, but I’ll be back tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You can stay here if you want. Make yourself at home.”

I smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought of spending more time in his space, surrounded by his things. “I might just take you up on that.”

He grinned, his hands settling on my waist as he pulled me closer. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me again—slow, gentle, but full of the promise that this was only the beginning.

When Joe came back that evening, I was curled up on his bed with a book I’d found on his shelf, the smell of dinner wafting through the apartment. I’d decided to make us something simple—a pasta dish I knew we both liked—just to keep things light after the intense day we’d shared.

He walked into the bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower he must have taken after practice, and smiled when he saw me. “Hey,” he said softly, crossing the room to sit beside me on the bed.

“Hey,” I replied, setting the book down and turning to face him. “How was practice?”

“Not bad,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my lips. “I missed you, though.”

I felt my cheeks warm at his words, and I smiled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I missed you too.”

He looked over at the book I had set down, raising an eyebrow. “Reading one of my books, huh?”

I laughed softly, nodding. “I was bored, and your bookshelf was too tempting.”

Joe chuckled, his hand resting on my thigh as he leaned in closer. “You know, I’ve been thinking about today,” he said, his voice low and serious now.

My heart skipped a beat at his tone, and I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of what was going through his mind. “Yeah? What about it?”

He sighed softly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my leg. “I just... I keep thinking about how lucky I am,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that took my breath away. “To have you. To be the one you trust.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away, my heart swelling with emotion. “Joe...”

“I’m serious,” he said, his hand moving up to cup my cheek. “You could’ve chosen anyone, Y/N. But you chose me. And I don’t take that lightly.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart aching with how much love I felt for him in that moment. “I chose you because you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You make me feel safe, Joe. You make me feel loved.”

He smiled then, that soft, lopsided grin that always made my heart flutter. “I’m gonna keep doing that,” he murmured, his lips brushing over mine. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

I kissed him then, slow and sweet, pouring everything I felt into the simple gesture. When we pulled back, I rested my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the quiet space between us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the emotion swirling inside me. “I’m yours, Joe.”

His arms wrapped around me then, pulling me into his chest as he held me close. We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. It didn’t matter that the day had been long, or that practice had worn him out. In this moment, it was just us—together, safe, and completely in love.

He smiled then, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss me. It was a slow, lingering kiss, full of all the love and promises we had been building between us. When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing over mine again. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[grandpeachpersona]

can u do a fic where joe has surgery and starts saying crazy stuff after anesthesia to the reader

Ask and you shall receive!

Joe Burrow x Black!oc Sierra Riley

Warnings: Fluff and Joe's medicate language.

Have you ever had that feeling when you wake up with a gut instinct that something bad is going to happen?

Well, it didn’t happen to me; it happened to Joe.

I was watching the Bengals vs. Ravens game from home when I saw Joe walk to the sideline with an unhappy expression on his face.

Then the cameras caught him attempting some practice throws when suddenly, his wrist gave out, and he squatted down in pain.

As an athlete myself, I recognize that reaction all too well: it’s an injury. Not the kind you can shake off to get back into the game, but one that requires surgery.

Now, here I am in the hospital waiting room while Joe is in surgery for his wrist.

“Family for Burrow,” one of the nurses called as she entered the waiting room.

I immediately stood up and approached her. “How did it go?” I asked as she led me down the hall.

She nodded with a smile. “It was successful—no problems at all.”

“Great,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”

She stopped in front of a door, which I assumed was Joe's. “Sure. Just know he might still be sleeping because of the anesthesia, but feel free to go in anytime,” the older nurse said.

I nodded my head. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope he has a speedy recovery,” she replied as she walked away.

Me too... Me too.

I opened the door and stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind me. I was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Joe. His hair was slightly messy, most likely from the hairnet.

I quietly pulled the chair closer to the bed, trying not to wake him. But despite my efforts, I heard a slight rustle of the sheets followed by a muffled groan

“Hey,” I said softly as I settled into the chair beside him, wincing slightly at the sterile smell of the recovery room.

Joe turned his head towards me, his expression sluggish, his eyelids drooping as if they carried the weight of the world. “Hi, I guess,” he mumbled, the words slurring together.

Suppressing a chuckle, I could already see where this conversation was headed, and I was determined to tease him mercilessly.

“You guess? Are you not happy to see me?” I asked, giving him a playful pout, my heart swelling at the thought of his reaction.

His brows scrunched together in confusion, but then his face lit up like a Christmas tree, the excitement radiating from him like the warmth of morning sunlight. “Oh, hi, baby!” Joe exclaimed, trying to lift his injured arm in a jubilant gesture, only to freeze as he remembered the constraints of his bandage.

I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, my fingers trembling slightly, partly from his excitement and partly from concern. “Be careful, you're not even an hour out of surgery.”

“SURGERY,” he echoed, eyes growing wide like a child learning a new word for the first time.

Quickly, I raised my finger to my lips in a shushing motion. “Shhh,” I whispered, trying to keep the ambiance calm.

“Sorry,” he murmured back, his voice barely above a whisper. “Surgery,” he repeated, still in disbelief. I nodded my head reassuringly. “Yep.”

His gaze shifted down to the bulky cast encasing his arm, and a hint of worry flickered across his features. “I’ll be okay, right?” he asked, his lips forming a cute pout that tugged at my heartstrings.

With a small, warm smile, I replied, “You'll be one hundred percent before you know it.”

Silence settled between us for a few moments before Joe's attention was drawn to the TV mounted on the wall. The image on the screen captivated him: the Braves game was currently airing, their vibrant jerseys and energetic atmosphere almost tangible.

Suddenly, Joe grasped my hand with his good arm, his excitement palpable. “That’s you!”

Following his gaze to the TV and back to him, I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that’s me.”

“How are you there and here at the same time?” he asked, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he were trying to grasp a magical phenomenon.

I shook my head with a smile, my laughter bubbling just underneath the surface. “It’s an old game, baby.”

Joe smacked his lips in a playful manner. “Sure it is,” he drawled, his playful skepticism underlined with a grin. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Furrowing my brows in mock confusion, I asked, “What secret?”

He beckoned me to lean closer, and I did, intrigued. He lowered his head and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, “That you can teleport.”

Deciding to play along with his fanciful notion, I grinned and asked, “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nodded seriously, letting go of my hand to place it over his heart, his expression earnest. “Scout's honor.”

“Good, now I’m holding you to it,” I pointed, my finger playfully accusing.

His gaze dropped again to his cast before returning to me, eyes filled with childlike sincerity. “How am I going to hold it?”

“In your heart,” I replied, laughter bubbling up again.

“How am I going to hold my heart?” he questioned, his tone imbued with genuine curiosity.

I shrugged, laughing a little. “I don’t know, with your hand, I guess.”

“But I can’t,” he whined, a pout forming on his lips once more. I fought to keep a straight face, biting my lip to stifle my laughter.

“Yes, you can. You have a whole other arm!” I replied, pointing out the obvious.

He glanced down at his left arm, the reality of his situation settling in. “I don’t like this one; I like this one,” he said, gesturing towards his uninjured arm, a touch of longing in his voice. “Will you hold my heart for me since I can’t?”

Hearing his sweet request made my heart flutter. I knew he was still under the influences of medication, but the sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Yes, baby, I will,” I promised softly, my voice barely above a whisper, knowing in that moment that I would always be there to hold his heart, no matter the circumstance.

[burreauxsworld]

For His Pleasure | Joe Burrow

18+/Smut

Word Count: 607

—

Gasps and sharp moans filled the large bedroom that you shared with your husband. Along with the echoing sounds of slurping and flicks of his skilled tongue. Joe was in his happy place. Right between your thighs. Your fingers buried in his messy curls, tugging hard. Joe loved every second of it.

“Oh, Joey—baby” you whine, struggling to stay in place while his mouth aggressively moved along your slick folds. Joe’s arms wrap around your thighs, pinning you down even harder, your shaking thighs being no match for his bulging arms.

Having you like this was heaven for Joe. He fucking loved it. Nothing tasted better than you. He pulls away, you whining in protest, your hips chasing his tongue. His fingers took the place of his tongue on your clit. A smirk evident on his face, which was slick with your arousal. “You like that, baby?” He asks, teasingly. You nod vigorously. “S-so good” you whine. “I want your tongue” your hips buck towards his face. Joe chuckles lowly before shoving his face back in. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, and your back arches off of the bed.

“Just like that” you moan, holding his head in place. “Joe—oh my god”

His middle finger dips into your soaking hole, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your head drops onto the pillow behind you. He can feel your walls squeezing his finger, he adds another. He knows you’re close. He pulls away from your clit, his fingers continuing their aggressive pace. “Look at you. You look fucking gorgeous baby” Joe mutters, pressing soft kisses to your plush thighs. “My pretty girl” he says, going back in to press a soft kiss to your clit.

“Im gonna cum” you whine.

The band in your stomach tightens, in a way that shows you the orgasm is gonna be intense. Joe’s pace doesn’t slow down. If anything, it somehow got faster. The sounds you were letting out were damn near pornographic.

“Oh my god,” you let out. “Right there?” Joe asks with a smirk, his fingers hitting the gummy spot deep inside your cunt. “Fuck, I could cum just looking at you baby” Joe groans, shoving his face neck between your legs, causing you to gasp loudly as he assaults your puffy clit.

“Oh my god! I’m cumming!” You cry out, your back arching off the bed for what felt like the millionth time today. His pace doesn’t slow down throughout your orgasm. His fingers still hitting that spot deep inside of you, his tongue still flicking at your clit. “Joey, baby—oh my god!”

Your whole body begins to quiver, your juices shooting from your core to Joe’s face and all over the bed. Joe pulls away with a satisfied smirk on his face. While this wasn’t the first time he’s made you squirt, he still felt a sense of pride every time. Knowing he was the only one to make you feel that good. Your chest heaved, your mouth wide open with sharp gasps falling from your lips, your eyes squeezed shut tight. It was a sight for sore eyes. Joe’s favorite sight.

You hissed as he slowly pulled his fingers out. Your eyes finally fluttering open, a dazed and tired look in them. “You good?” Joe asks you, gently rubbing your thigh. You nodded tiredly, making eye contact with him. “That was intense,” you admitted, a tired laugh leaving your lips and Joe smiles. “I’ll never get tired of that.” You tell him and he smirks.

“And I’ll never get tired of doing it.”

[v3n1ce-bxtch]

A reaction of how you react to Joe during Paris fashion week with the backless suit

A/N: That suit made me go CRAZYYY when I saw it.

ೃ࿐Paris Fasion Week ೃ࿐

ೃJoe Burrow x Reader ೃ

The sound of the hotel door clicking shut was the only thing breaking the silence. You leaned against the doorway, watching Joe toss his phone onto the bed and shrug off his jacket. He caught you staring and smirked, his hands casually tucking into his pockets.

“What?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “You know exactly what.”

Joe turned, slowly pulling at his cufflinks like he wasn’t the most talked-about man of the night. “Oh, you mean the suit?” He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk growing. “Thought it looked alright.”

“Alright?” you echoed, stepping closer. “Joe, you shut Paris down. You had the world collectively gasping. Me included.”

He chuckled, finally turning to face you. “Yeah? You seemed pretty calm during the show.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to start a scene in front of the cameras,” you shot back, your voice dripping with mock exasperation. “But now? Now I’m wondering what possessed you to wear a backless suit knowing I’d have to suffer through the whole night without saying anything.”

Joe grinned, stepping toward you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Suffer, huh? Didn’t realize I had that kind of effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you, flushing. “Don’t act so innocent, Joe. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He tilted his head, closing the distance between you. “Maybe I did,” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. “But it sounds like you liked it.”

Your fingers toyed with the lapel of his shirt, your voice soft but firm. “Liked it? Joe, I’m still recovering. That suit—” You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “It should come with a warning label.”

Joe’s laughter rumbled low as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “Next time, I’ll let you approve the outfit. Or,” he added, brushing his lips against your ear, “you could just help me take it off at the end of the night.”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, the playful banter giving way to something deeper. “That’s the least you can do,” you murmured, leaning into him.

“Anything for you,” Joe replied, his voice soft, his lips finally meeting yours.

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @iknowdatsrightbih @ikeepitlight @joeyfranchise @joeybsboo @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @nami-swannn

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Players

Pair: LSU!Joe Burrow x LSU basketball player!reader (friends with benefits), minor LSU!Joe Burrow x OC

Descr: You just want to focus on your career and have a good time in college. Do you make some mistakes? Sure, but why is everyone you know trying to change your mind?

TW: 18+ MINORS DNI | toxic relationships, cheating, lying, language, smut/its nasty, oral (f & m rec), fingering, unprotected sex (don’t try this at home), public sex, cocky/fuckboy!joe, commitment issues, betrayal, arguments, gaslighting (SO MUCH).

Main Masterlist

WC: 6.7k

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 💔 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

I don’t know how I keep getting myself in this situation.

The situation: It’s late, no one else is in the gym. The perfect setting to get in a quiet workout. That’s all I wanted and had for the first hour before catching his reflection in the mirror in front of me.

Joe Burrow. He’s not nearly as sweaty as I am, meaning he’s not here for this kind of workout; the lip bite, the fiery look in his eyes, and the way his gaze travels my sports bra and tight shorts-wearing figure says it all. He smirked when our eyes locked in the mirror and walked towards me until his chest was against my back.

Without breaking eye contact, I bent over and placed the dumbbells I had held on the ground. His hands quickly clutch my hips as my ass accidentally pushes back on him before leaning back up and removing myself from his hold.

In an attempt to regain his composure, Joe keeps himself busy putting away my weights and other equipment while I pack up my stuff. While he’s distracted, I leave the weight room and turn the corner for the lobby. But before I could walk any further, a large hand reaches out and pulls me back into a secluded locker room and I’m pushed against the lockers. I barely have time to laugh before his lips are shoved onto mine, and his hands are gripping my ass.

“I texted you.” He groans, sucking on my neck.

“My phone must’ve died. No marks!” He picks his head up and rolls his eyes. Then he pulls out his phone and calls my number. The sound of my ‘dead’ phone ringing makes him clench his jaw while I snort. “Whoops.”

“Yeah and so was that hickey.” He smirks as I turn to find a mirror.

“You fucking didn’t, what the hell Joe.” I curse finding the shiny purple marks littered on my neck.

“Next time, you’ll pick up when I call.” Then, he pulls me from the back of my neck onto his lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeding his needy lips and slowly succumbing to lust building between us.

“I don’t have to do shit.” I moan against his lips as he wedges a thick thigh between my legs.

“But you want to.” He groans as I grind down on his thigh, providing my own friction as well as for his bulge. “That’s enough of that.” 

He removes his thigh and palms his erection through his sweat shorts. “On your knees.”

Biting back a smirk, I start to let my hands slowly drag down his body as I kneel for him. My eyes stay locked on his. His pupils are blown out with the thinnest blue outline, my painstakingly calm actions testing his limits, while my face shows the most pure wide-eyed doe, staring up at an unknown danger.

My touch trails down his thighs to his knees while my face is at eye level with his desire. “What do I do now?” My voice, painfully innocent, only makes him grow harder.

One of his hands cups my jaw, his thumb gently padding on the fat of my lips. “I think you know.”

His voice was raspy and low like gravel. Softly smiling, I lean into his hand, slip his thumb in my mouth, and twirl my tongue around it. Joe sucks in a gasp, his teeth gnawing at his lips as I let his thumb go with a slick pop. 

“Is that what you want?”

That’s how I ended up where I am now, with his hand gripping the back of my head as I bob up and down his cock on the locker room floor. With his deep curses and praises, along with my light gags and the sound of my slick mouth welcoming his pretty pink dick echoing throughout the vacant room.  

“Fuck you’re such a good girl.”

“Doing such a good job sucking my cock, you like that don’t you.”

“I can never get enough of this mouth.”

His whines and groans only fuel me to take him in deeper, his tip now well bullying the back of my throat as I moan around him. “Oh shit.” I open my eyes to the clang of his head hitting the metal lockers, and an overwhelming sense of pride fills my belly.

“I’m gonna come, shit just like that.” 

He tries to hold on for a moment longer, not wanting the warmth of my mouth to disappear, but he makes the mistake of looking down at me.

The slight bulge of my throat, the streaks of tears running down my pretty face, my pouty lips coated in his slick and spit, but the final straw is me looking right up at him that has him letting out the deepest moan and releasing his load down my awaiting throat.

I waste no time swallowing as much of his cum as I can before he comes down from his breathtaking high and pulls out.

“Holy shit, I’ll never get used to that.” He sighs, pulling up his shorts and leaning back on the locker, happily spent.

“You’re welcome, tell your friends.” I croak reaching for the water bottle in my bag.

“I will not be doing that. Your mouth is for me and me only. Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten.” He snorts as I roll my eyes.

“Better than your girlfriend?” 

He smirks and crouches down to my level. “You know it, baby.” Then kisses my swollen lips.

“Joe,” I sigh, pulling away. “We should get out of here.”

“Yeah, it's pretty late, huh?” We both nod, and he helps me to my feet, swinging my bag on his back.

“So, my place or yours?” 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

So, the cycle doesn’t stop; the purely sexual desire between us never goes away. It doesn’t matter that we’ve had the same routine of me ignoring him only to end up back in his bed days later. Or that our thing takes away the time he could be spending with the one he claims as ‘his girl.’ A girl I’ve gotten to know well, considering we’re teammates and we live together. Do I feel guilty for what’s going on? Sure, but it’s not like I have feelings for him. We just like to fuck around; I mean, we’re young, so who’s gonna stop us.

Amaya doesn’t have to know.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

A month later, we all get invited to a Halloween-themed frat party. It’s the last big event before my Junior season, and the entire team is going. We decided to go with a Tinker Bell/ Pixie Hollow theme. I’m Iridessa, the light fairy, wearing a satin pastel yellow strapless crop top, a matching skirt, and a gold flower crown. Amaya’s supposed to be Silvermist, the water fairy, and even though he was never supposed to be a part of it, Joe took it upon himself to be Peter Pan like the drama queen he is. We all doubt he’ll do the costume any justice, but no one can stop him from wearing whatever he wants.

As I’m finishing up my makeup, I notice Amaya still in her pjs, sitting at her computer. “Hey, aren’t you going to the party tonight?”

She sighs and leans on her hand. " I can’t. I have a paper due at 8 a.m. and am barely halfway done.”

“Aww, I was excited for us to be fairies together.” I pout, fixing my crown.

“I know, I just put this off forever, and I can’t let my grades slip- it’s a midterm. But have fun without me.” She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I get that. We’ll definitely miss you, though. After we take a group picture, I’ll photoshop you into it.” We both chuckled as I grabbed my bag and headed towards the door.  

“I appreciate it, oh Y/n!”

“Yea?” I turn back with a grin.

“If you see Joe, can you tell him we need to talk?” Something inside me trembles, but my smile stays intact.

“Yeah, of course, I hope he’s not in the doghouse.” I giggle, then walk out the door. “Fuck.” I huff, leaning against the wooden door and letting the situation weigh on me.

Why does she need to talk to him? Does she know something? Did someone tell her something? I don’t remember getting suspicious looks from anyone who didn’t already know about my thing with him. It was probably Ja’Marr trying to be a pain in the ass. He walks in on us one time and decides to use it as ammo for the rest of my life.

As I continued to think about every possible situation, I felt my phone buzz.

From: American Deli💋

I’m outside

Was it a horrible idea for Joe to give me a ride to this party that we were initially supposed to attend with friends? Yes, but somehow this shit was working out in my favor. For some reason, he wanted to see me before the party, and Amaya backed out. As far as I know, right now I’m in the clear.

I took one last breath and stood up straight to leave when I heard Amaya’s voice from outside the door. 

“Yeah, I’m coming. Give me some time; she just left. I know we have to act fast, but we can’t catch them together if she suspects something’s up. Yes, I know we’re talking about my boyfriend here. We don’t even know what happened that night; just because you saw them leave the gym together doesn't mean anything happened. Maybe his friends aren’t telling you shit because there’s nothing to say. I live with her, Ryan; I think I would know if she was fucking my boyfriend.”

Oh I'm in trouble.

As quietly as I can, I run down the stairs of my apartment and hop in his truck.

“You took your sweet ass time.” Joe rolls his eyes, then registers my outfit. “Oh shit, baby you put that on for me.”

“Not now Joe. Drive, just drive. We need to talk.”

“Better be about how much of that outfit I can ruin. If it’s not, I don’t wanna hear it.” He purses his lips, trying to peak at how short the skirt is.

“Joe, she knows.” I roll my eyes as his spare hand plays with the light fabric, barely covering my thighs and skirting as far away from his reach as possible.

“What are you talking about?” He stops at a red light and reaches over to pull my body closer to the middle console.

“Your girlfriend, asshole. She knows about us.” I sigh, letting him caress my warm caramel skin. 

We lock eyes for a soft moment. “I’ve never been an asshole to you.” 

“You were when we first met.” I challenge, making him chuckle and continue driving.

“Yea then you somehow landed on my dick after that. So I guess you liked it.” He winks in the rearview mirror.

“Oh fuck off, we shouldn't even be talking about that right now.”

He groans, one hand white-knuckling the wheel and the other clutching my thigh. “Why else are we going to this dumb party? Neither of us can drink or have any other kind of fun.”

“My season is literally about to start, Joe. Not everyone is the underdog right now.”

“Which is why we’re just going to have sex.” He says, completely ignoring the obvious.

“Joseph, your girlfriend is literally getting ready right now to catch us at this party doing exactly that. We can’t go.”

“Y/n, who gives a shit? You’ve been in the gym torturing me for a week. Now you’re saying we can't fuck tonight?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I nod, crossing my arms. “And you don’t need me to get your dick wet, go ask your girl for some.”

“Fuck that, I’d rather be fucking you than dating her any day.” Then, instead of turning on the road for the party, he pulls into an empty parking garage.

This is why I block him every couple of weeks because he loves saying stupid shit like that.

“Oh my god, you can’t say that. Why are you dating her then, huh? You barely go out; you’re only ever hanging on our couch. You don’t even invite her to your games. What’s this fucking for, then?” I huffed, my fuse shortening.

Joe puts the car in park and turns his attention to me. “You.” 

My eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You’re right. I don’t need to be with her. I want to be with you.” 

“No the fuck, you don’t.” Shaking my head as he goes on about his feelings.

“How are you going to sit here, in my truck, and tell me what I don’t want? I’m only with her because she’s your roommate. If I’m with her, I get to be with you.”

“You’re being dramatic. If you wanna break up with her, don’t use me to justify the fact that you’re a shitty boyfriend.” I spat, my nails digging into the seat.

He scoffs and slouches against the car door. “Look at who’s being dramatic now. This is the shit you never wanna hear, so I don’t say it.”

I groaned. “Please just stop. I told you-

Joe rolls his eyes. “No labels, no feelings, no commitments, just sex. Just mind-blowing, gravity-defying, amazing sex.” A mantra everyone should live and die by.

“Exactly, so why are you trying to fuck it up?!”

“I’m not. I’m here to have sex- you’re here to argue. You never cared about me having a girlfriend, and now that she might catch us, you want us to stop.” He scoffs.

“I never said we should stop Joe.” I look down and play with the yellow mesh of my skirt. I could hear the way he huffed into the air and unbuckled to free himself from restraints.

“What would us getting caught do, Y/n? Make it so I can fuck you at your place without having to worry about getting yelled at? What are you so afraid of?” He spat.

“I’m not trying to lose my scholarship, Joey!” I huffed locking eyes with his slightly dilated crystal blues.

“That’s bullshit. Having an affair with your roommate’s boyfriend does not threaten your scholarship. If it did, half of the school would be gone.” He deadpans.

I look away from his face and stifle the laugh in my throat. “Not like that. Don’t you think it will cause a rift within the team? What if she tries something?”

“You really think she wants to risk her scholarship over me? I am not that important- to her. She would've already found out if she wanted me as badly as you’re making it seem. Why hasn’t she called? Checked up to see if I was actually going to the party. She’d rather believe rumors from her friends than ask me this shit; shows how much she cares.” Joe snorts running his hands through his hair.

He has a point, but since when does he make sense?

“Fine, whatever. Take me back- wait, where the fuck are we?” He smirks.

“Well, if you’re done being a jealous little princess- or fairy.” I side-eyed him, but he continues. “You said we couldn’t fuck at the party, so…”

My eyes widen. “Joe, absolutely not. In your truck? The seats don’t even recline.”

“Who told you that?” He smirks, adjusts the driver’s seat to go all the way back and flips the headrest so it connects with the seat in the back. Then he pushes the middle console back for more room in the front. I just blink at his new transformer features that were not there a week ago.

“What the fuck?”

Then he lays down. “Yup, now come sit on my face.”

“In your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“On top of your face?”

“That’s what I said.”

I kiss my teeth and try to imagine his request. “No way, we won’t fit. Joe, there’s no way to do this comfortably. Can’t we just go to your place? I’ll do that thing you like?” I wiggle my brows and rest my hand on his jean-clad knee.

He lifts himself back up with a playful smirk. “First of all, I like everything you do, so I have no idea what you’re suggesting. Second, all you have to do is sit or lay back. I’ll put you in the backseat and get on the floor if you want.”

“Why are you being so damn persistent about this?” I chuckle.

He looks down as a flush coats his face. “Joe, did you have a dream about this?”

“You left me on delivered for a week. I had dreams about a lot of things.” He hesitantly laughs while scratching his neck.

“Okay, when did you have the one of me riding your face in your truck?” I smirk, sliding myself onto his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Tuesday, right after I reclined the seat to move some equipment.” It’s Saturday.

“You’ve been thinking about this all week?!” He drew his lower lip between his teeth and looked away from my eyes as his hands gently massaged my hips.

“No, my dick has. Which is a part of me, so, yeah, I have.” I may have let out a chuckle at that.

“How was this supposed to work with the party?” I ask, very intrigued, and I can sense his hesitation. 

“C’mon, tell me, " I murmur, studying his face enlightened by the shallow lights outside.

“It was technically supposed to be an ‘after I fuck you in the bathroom so everyone can hear you’ thing.” He shrugged.

I snort and rake my hands through his hair while holding his gaze. “Please tell me you put this kind of thought into your school work too.”

“Yeah-and football-it really helps.” He says in a rushed breath as his pupils dilate and his hands move to massage my ass. “So are you gonna stop yapping and sit back or what?”

I bite my lip to hold in a moan from his grip hardening. “I'm gonna try it your way first, if it doesn't work, we’re leaving.” 

“I’m tearing that tiny costume off of you no matter what, so it better.” His eyes flickering between your lips and eyes.

I mirror his look then smirk. “That’s enough chit-chat. Kiss me.” 

His brows raise as he pulls me closer. “Who said you were in charge here?” He whispered against my waiting lips.

I roll my eyes and reach for the door. “I could just leave.” He snatches my hand and starts kissing my wrist. My breath hitches as his lips travel up my arm to my neck, then sucks hard beneath my ear. “Joey..”

He grins against my skin and licks over the mark he definitely left there.

“Are you gonna be a good fairy and sit on my face, baby?”

༉ 3 orgasms later ༉

Joe’s cool hands caress my heated, sticky skin as I lay on his chest, recovering from an intense high. A deep chuckle wakes me from a post-high dreamscape. “What?” I mumbled, looking up at his satisfied grin.

“I think I broke your wings.”

“JOE, those took me four hours to make!” I exclaim, but it sounds more like a whine.

“Well, you weren’t exactly complaining when it happened. In fact, I think I recall you saying ‘don't stop’ over and over again while I… ” He trails off with a smirk and jerks his hips up.

“Fuck! Cut it out.” I gasped and smacked his chest. “I hate you.”

“Then get off my dick.” He chuckles.

I smirk, shifting my hips, causing him to groan and grab them. “No, I want you to suffer.”

“Or you just like being on top of me.” Then he raises his stupid eyebrows.

I scoff and climb off of him into the other seat. He has the nerve to laugh and grab my ankle. I try to yank it back, but his long fingers curl around me.

He spreads my legs, and his lips trail down my inner thighs until his face hovers-

My eyes widen, and pull him up by his hair. “What are you doing?” 

He smirks. “What does it look like?” Then moves up and puts his hand next to your head, effectively trapping me between him and the door.

“Right now…

He looked like a man who’d been starving for ages when he was really just insatiable. His lips are pink, slick, and swollen after an hour of abuse to my skin. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and endless need. His skin flushed almost the same pink as his lips due to exertion, but he showed no sign of stopping. Don’t get started on his neck or shoulder and how they resemble what getting mauled by a baby bear with no teeth would look like.

“You got an answer for me, princess?” Despite his casual tone, his stare sent a shiver down my spine. I shake my head as he frees me from my thoughts. “What, cat got your tongue?” 

He chuckles and dips down to my ear. “All that talk, and here you are, laid out all nice and innocent for me. But you’re not, no… You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you? Answer me, y/n.”

My breath hitches as he kisses down my neck, then wraps his hand around my throat. “You can’t, can you?” His other hand trails down my body, stopping at the bottom of my top. 

“Wearing this damn costume like the teasing minx you are. Like you don’t know what you do to me… and you thought I was gonna let you walk into a frat house like this.” He scoffs, pulling down my strapless bra.

“God, I love your tits.” His mouth finds my nub, immediately lapping and kissing around it. 

“Joey…”

His gaze meets mine, and he chuckles. “Oh... so, now you can speak?” His hand tightens around my throat as his lips return to mine. 

“Please.” My voice muffled against his demanding lips. The kiss is harsh, his lips attacking mine with a hot, bruising force that has me gasping for air when he pulls away. 

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” He growls, releasing my neck from his grasp. I nod as he sucks on my pulse point and trails his free hand down my body. “I need to hear you say it, princess. Tell me you’re gonna be a good girl, and let me have my way with you.” 

As I’m about to respond, his fingers graze my sensitive nub. “Ahh Joey, please…”

“No, not until you ask nicely. Say you want me to ruin you, pretty girl.” His deep, authoritative tone caused my body to ache even more for his touch.

“Please…” I whined breathlessly. “Take me, use me, ruin me Joey…”

“I love pretty your voice is when you’re begging for me to fuck you.” He growls, sinking two fingers into my slick cunt. My moans permeate the car as I tangle my fingers in his hair while he slowly strokes my tight walls.

“Princess, how can you barely take my fingers when 15 minutes ago you were bouncing on my cock?” He laves the skin of my neck as my hips jerk up.

“And you still want more? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” He gruffly chuckles.

“Yes! I want more… Please Joe…” I pull his head up and suck his lips into my mouth, letting him feel just how much I need him.

“Mmmm, such a good girl for me. So I’m gonna give my sweet fairy a choice.” He pecks my lips once more before leaning back up, his fingers still massaging my inner walls. “Tell my pretty girl, you want me to pick how I make you come, or do you want to?” He already knows the answer; the second I relinquished all control, I’d be weak for him.

His thumb rubs lightly on my clit, making me whine out. “You! Please Joe…”

“God, I love hearing you beg… Love when you sound so sweet, needy, whiney,” he chuckles, kissing down my breasts. “I can’t get enough of you, angel.” 

He flips up my skirt and groans, watching his drenched fingers pump in and out of me. “And you always get so goddamn wet for me. I wonder what you’d do if I just…” He smirks slowly, pulling his hand away.

“No no no no… Please please please…” I grab his wrist desperately, trying to pull it back. My core clenching around nothing, the pleasure being ripped away by the hollowness. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you, Joe.”

He faux pouts and kisses the tears streaking down my face. Fuck, I’m pathetic.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll take good care of you.” He smirks, then lifts my legs over his shoulders. “You think I’d let this pussy go unsatisfied? You must not know me then.” He mumbles to himself before using two fingers to spread my lips.

“I’ll never get used to how pretty this pussy is, but god, do I love ruining her.” Were his last words before absolutely devouring me.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

Another 20 minutes late, he dropped me off at my apartment and watched with a ridiculous smile as I slowly walked up two flights of stairs. Before walking down the hall to my door, something told me to check if he’d left yet. And, of course, he was still sitting in his giant truck, waving at me with my broken fairy wing.

To: American Deli💋

Asshole I can still see you! Stop it lol

Joey drive awayyyy

From: American Deli💋

I did you good huh?

Gonna be feeling me for a week!

But don’t worry, I’ll see you before that 😉

To: American Deli💋

LEAVE, i need to wash this shit out of me

From: American Deli💋

You better answer when i call you

To: American Deli💋

😋

From: American Deli💋

Want me to come up there 😏

To: American Deli💋

You already did like twice lol

From: American Deli💋

You know what I mean, this time I’ll put you to sleep

To: American Deli💋

Maybe some other time 

From: American Deli💋

Bet, I’m gone.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

I had to calm down my ridiculous giggles before entering the apartment. I did not want Amaya to see me and get the wrong idea. But upon opening the door, there was a very “shocking” picture: Amaya in her Silvermist costume grabbing her car keys.

“Um hi, where are you going?” She looked up at me with wide eyes, genuinely stunned by my presence.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” She chuckles hesitantly.

I tilt my head with a pout and limp over the kitchen bar stools. “I took a spill at the party and decided it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to leave early, but shit happens. I didn’t even see Joe or the girls, so I couldn’t give him your message. Now back to you, where are you going Ms. I’m So Busy, I’m Bailing On My Friends?” I question swiftly, taking the heat off of me.

She chews her lip, analyzing the bruises on my legs that were definitely caused by a chair and not her boyfriend’s hands or truck.

“I feel so fucking bad, maybe I should stay and help you.” She offers, but I shake my head.

“Amaya, what’s going on?”

“Don’t be mad, please.” She takes a deep breath and lays her head on the granite countertop. “Ryan saw you and Joe leaving the gym one night, and she’s been convinced that y'all have been sneaking around behind my back for weeks. Tonight, she overheard someone saying you were meeting up with him at the party, so I lied to you and said I wasn’t going so I could catch you with him. I’m so sorry, girl; I’m such a terrible teammate. I knew nothing was going on between you, I mean Justin talks about you all the time, and you always come back with hickies after hanging with him. I should’ve just stuck to my gut. Joe and Justin are literally friends and teammates like us, so it makes sense that you might’ve been seen out together. I feel horrible.” She sighs at the end of her rant.

I try not to appear incredibly shocked by the scenario she concocted, but it's insane. “Wow, me and Joe?”

“I know, I know. You don’t even like white guys, no less the ones I’m dating. And I know you hate talking about your sex life because of your fear of commitment and all that, but I think you and Justin are really cute.”

Did she just say-

“I don’t have a fear of commitment.” My face deadpans while she chuckles.

“Oh, my bad, I used my psychoanalysis skills on you. I know you don’t believe in labels. But he is a really good guy.” Huh, the good guy.

“I think I’m gonna go to the party now. I should apologize to Joe for ignoring him for the past few days. He was really irritable this week, and I can’t help but feel responsible.” 

“Have a few drinks for me, just kidding. But seriously, have fun, get laid.” I cringe as the words fall out my mouth, but thankfully her back was turned when I said it, so she didn’t see my face. 

“Hopefully he’s not too pissed, take it easy. You can use my new bath bomb.” She smiles and then leaves the apartment. I waited a couple of minutes before letting out a sigh of relief. If she hadn’t left any sooner, she would’ve picked up on the squirming I was doing behind the counter. That’s the last time I let him come inside me without being close to a bathroom. Because proximity is definitely the problem here.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

Joe walked into the frat house and immediately went to find his teammates. Thankfully, they weren’t far from the entrance and called him over. Justin and Ja'Marr also adorned green shirts and khakis, their valid attempt at portraying Clank and Bobble, the friends of Tinker Bell. Justin showed some effort and found glasses resembling Clank's in the Tinker Bell movies.

“Well, look who it is,” Ja’Marr smirked, looking over the quarterback for any evidence to incriminate him.

“Fuck off, I already checked. There’s nothing that you can see right now.” He said almost bashfully, then peeled the collar of his shirt to show them exactly where he was marked up. Justin just shook his head. 

“Yall are so stupid. Why don’t you just get together already? I can’t get bitches if everyone thinks I’m fucking the MVP of the women’s basketball team.” He scoffs.

“You don’t think I want that?” Joe rolls his eyes. “She’s set on making it big in the WNBA before settling for anyone, and I don’t blame her. Everyone knows she’s going to be in the first round, maybe even first pick. I just need you to lay low for now.”

“Lay low, how?” Ja’Marr asks for his fellow wide receiver.

“Amaya’s on her way to pick a fight with me, so I was never with Y/n. In fact, Jefferson saw her fall off a stool in the dining room and get banged up. She never saw me, and I got here a little after she left, got it?”

The two men look at him incredulously.

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“She’s not going for that shit.”

“She already did, Y/n caught her in a lie and made her fold. All we gotta do is let her feel the remorse, then it’s over.” Just as Joe finishes, Amaya walks in the door.

Justin’s brows furrow. “Wait what do you mean, then it’s over?” 

Joe puts on his best unbothered look as Amaya approaches him. “Hey baby.” She smiles.

“Hi.”

“Hi guys.” She waves to the wide receivers. “Um Justin, did you bring Y/n home? I know she said she fell off something, but I know there was more to that limp and her tiara was missing.” She chuckles.

Justin awkwardly smiles while a smirk grows on Ja’Marr’s face. “I knew y’all were being nasty upstairs, ain’t no way she was that clumsy.”

“You know me.” Joe’s spine goes rigid as Justin joins in the joke. “We like to get it in wherever we can.”

“Everything makes so much sense now, including why she came back early smelling like sex.” Amaya adds.

“Oh yea, she just wanted to go home after that. I offered to help her in, but you know she is, just crazy independent.”

Ja’Marr pats his friend on the back. “But the best part was when you gave your costume to Joe because he showed up without a costume.” He says smirking at the taller guy.

Joe grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. “You gave me the shirt you fucked her in to wear all night?” Playing along as best as he could.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.” Justin smirks.

Amaya butted in before they could keep going at each other. “Joe, can I talk to you?”

He shrugs and leads her away from the boys. “What’s up?”

“I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend lately, and I definitely haven't had the best judgment as of today-

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amaya looks down and mumbles. “I thought you were cheating on me.”

“Wow, so you pretend to be single for a week, and I’m the one with the allegations.”

“I let my friends get in my head Joey, I know you would never do that to me.” Then he lets out a chuckle. “Joey, come on. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She pouts.

“Don’t worry about it, this thing between us was getting old anyway.”

“Joey! No I apologized, this is when we leave and go have great makeup sex.” She whined tugging on his shirt.

He pushes her hands off of him and grimaces. “Ooo, I don’t know if the sex has ever been good. But you can keep your apology, maybe if you hadn’t ghosted me for a week your friends wouldn’t have been right.”

Her eyes widen and lips part. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? What’s happening!”

“Maya, why are you so fucking slow? You really think you were the only one. Everything we did was shit- I’d leave your place and go straight to the gym.” He smirks with a wink.

“You cheated on me?”

“And now I’m breaking up with you.” He says as if it's nothing.

“Why would you do this to me?” Her eyes brim with tears.

“Why are you being so goddamn dense? You weren’t enough. Now go cry about it somewhere else.”

“How could you!”

He bites his lip to hide his grin, “players gonna play, and you’re not good at the game.” Then he started to walk off.

“WHO WAS IT?”

His mouth curls up, “I don’t kiss and tell.” Then he winks and shuts the door behind him.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳*°:⋆ₓₒ

* 2 new unread messages *

I had just gotten into bed when my phone went off. After Amaya left, the rest of my night calmed down significantly. I had a luxurious bath, devoured a 10-piece wing, and read a book on the couch, which led me here—sitting in bed staring at the two texts on my lock screen. Amaya’s was first, and Joe’s text came seconds later, but both brought worrisome thoughts.

I decide to open Joe’s first.

From: American Deli💋

Thanks for making me go to that party. I had lots of fun😉

“Oh no.” He didn’t do what I think he did, right? There’s no way.

Then, opened my roommate's message.

 From: AmayaBaller

This night sucks, wanna watch Brotherly Love🥺

“Fuck he did. That motherfucker.”

To: American Deli💋

What the hell is wrong with you?

I told you NOT to break up with her dumbass!

From: American Deli💋

You snooze you lose.

How’s that limp btw 😏

To: American Deli💋

See you at playoffs asshole😒

From: American Deli💋

You’re not doing this again

Read

BABY

Read

Y/N COME ON

Delivered

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Why does he have the be the biggest fucking player? Why do I like him? Wait- no. I don’t like him, he’s a good fuck. One I'm giving up for a few weeks, which will be missed. But I don’t feel anything too heavy for him. He’s a dick. It's as simple as that.

I didn’t have to respond to Amaya’s text because she decided at that moment to walk into my room and slump on my Queen Sized Bed.

“Hey, I saw your text. Wanna talk about it?” I ask as she begins to sob into my comforter.

“Why wasn’t I enough for him? It’s not my fault he was my first. He could’ve taught me stuff or told me to watch porn to get better!”

“Maya, he’s a man- an ungrateful, selfish, cocky, self-absorbed-” she picks her head up with both brows raised, but in a somewhat grateful way. “He’s a heartbreaker. A player.”

She scoffs and climbs into the spot next to you. “Tell me about it. He won’t even tell me who it was.” She says, laying her head on my shoulder. 

“I wish he loved me like Justin loves you.” Alarming sounds start going off.

“Let’s not talk about that right now. Didn’t you wanna watch a movie?” I remind her just as my phone starts uncontrollably buzzing. Great, I knew I should’ve blocked his ass.

“Not anymore; Justin’s probably here to take you to pound town again. He told me y'all hooked up tonight, not that I needed it confirmed after that limp and messy mascara.” She giggles, reaching for my phone. My eyes widen as she grabs it before I can get my arm from under her.

“Oh my god, he’s in your phone under American Deli!” Her giggles turn boisterous. “I’m glad there’s at least a kiss emoji next to his name. Did you really have to-” As she stops a questionable look develops on her face.

“What?”

“Jetta2Smooth, just texted you.” Looks like the whole crew plotting my downfall tonight. 

“If Justin is Jetta2, who is American Deli?” She puts the phone down and turns to me. I have to actively try not to lose eye contact with her while putting together a logical reason for the contact. 

“I told you he wasn’t my boyfriend.” I mumble, taking the phone. At least it’s true.

“You’re using him? But he’s the nicest guy on this campus, maybe in the city! What the hell Y/n.” She crosses her arms.

“Maya, come on. We’re in college, we’re about to have the best season of our lives. I don’t wanna be tied down-

“You don’t want to be committed!” Here she goes again with the damn commitment issues.

“Amaya. My dream is almost here! When he goes to NFL, what’s gonna happen? We date, then drafted to opposite sides of the country? I don’t want that. Even worse, what if he gets me pregnant.”

“Oh my god, long-distance relationships can work! Maybe have protected sex for once! These are all just excuses because you don’t want to face your problems head-on! You love him but are too scared to accept that fact.” 

“I don’t love Jo-ustin!” 

“I don’t believe you. Whoever American Deli is, I hope he knows he keeping you away from a great guy. Justin deserves better than a liar.” She gets off the bed then scoffs, “Oh my god, you’re just like Joe.”

I immediately shake my head, a gritty distasteful sap coating my mouth. “I’m nothing like him.” 

“Yeah, like you said, he’s a player too.” She slams the door behind her, leaving me with my thoughts. 

The only player I am is a basketball player, it’s why I’m at this school and why I know all these people. Joe plays with people’s feelings, I tell them what I want head-on. She’s just upset he did the same thing to her that he did every other bitch at this school. Except for- but we don’t feel that way about each other. We can’t.

There’s no way I’m in love with Joe Burrow. None.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: y'all heard her, absolutely no way. just like there's absolutely no way I'm making a part 2 of this fic 🤫 as always, like, reblog and comment your favorite line ♡

[brrbrina]

echoes

part: 2/?

pairing: joe burrow x og!c

warnings: cheating, angst, fluff (?), pregnancy (?) and i think that´s it.

The day after Joe left the house for the very first time, Kendall felt a wave of sadness take over her body. She was devasted, and tired, she constantly woke in the middle of the night as if the house she was sleeping in was haunted.

Every single part of that bed smelt like him, every part of her body was once kissed by the lips of a man who had kissed someone else and she despised that. She felt like her world stopped, when they met, falling in love was not on her plans, and falling in love with a man like Joe wasn´t what she wanted.

"I think we should go with the big backyard one," Joe said hugging her from the back, "This way our babies would have the space to run, and then the babies of our babies" he chuckled putting his lips against the back of her head, Kendall smiled and closed her eyes; it was one of the moments she felt like her life made sense in only a way love makes you feel.

Now, that memory pained her, she was tied to him for life, for two entries now, she didn´t know what to do. The night Kendall found out she was pregnant -again-, happiness took over her body, brainstormed ideas of how she would tell her big baby and the love of her life the good news. The night she confronted Joe became savory, the memory of her telling the news to the father of her son was stained by betrayal and insincerity.

"I made waffles and fresh orange juice" Joe smiled at her showing the plates in the breakfast bar, which was once planned down to the smallest detail. "I think you should go" Kendall sighed "Natalie has a friend coming over today for a playdate and I don´t want her to create a false story on her head in which you come back here and we live happily ever after".

"Who is Mat?" Joe asked her and Kendall looked at him with surprise, "You do know I'm the father of Natalie and that baby you´re carrying right? You are not messing up the mind of my children with that man coming and hanging with them..." Kendall stopped him "You have a lot of nerve telling me I´m the one "messing" with her mind when you were fucking someone else" Joe looked down.

"While Natalie was sleeping here, happy that her daddy won a game so she could tell her friends in school he was the best, you were putting your dick inside another woman, so no, I'm not messing anything up, you did" water filled her eyes and her voice trembled when she stopped "You took away the happiness of being pregnant with MY baby and turned into a grey cloud above me every single day" she felt her knees weak.

"I hate you so much Joe, I hate you because a part of me needs you like a drug I'm addicted to, and I hate you because you destroyed the life WE built together, my kids will grow up in a broken home and the worst part of all is that I will never tell them what you did, that´s the difference between me and you. I´m putting them on top of everything and you didn´t even think twice about the damage you would cause" She said sobbing, and Joe felt his blood drop to his feet.

He left Kendall´s place and drove to the condo he was living in at the moment, he found no motivation in anything, he missed the chaos of his past life. He remembered clearly when he and Kendall got married.

"... You have filled my life with colors and turned it into a musical every time you´re near me. I promise to love you and take care of you and the family we will hopefully soon start. There is not a day where I take you for granted, waking up beside you it´s a pleasure and something I will love to grow old with.

You are the woman of my dreams, the best road trip partner, and the comedic duo made for me, I will make sure to remind you that I´m the man that I am because of you. That every mole on your body holds a million I Love You´s you will hear forever. I´m so happy that I´m becoming Mr. Carter" Kendall chuckled "I know you´re the designer but you´re the muse of my life, of every romantic, naughty, or funny thought that comes to my mind you´re the one I see. I love your laugh and I will try my best to come up with the biggest dad jokes so I can crack a small out of you. Here´s to a lifetime of love, I love you, Kenny."

He didn’t have the guts to admit when he stopped loving her because he wasn't sure if he ever stopped.

People always say you don´t know what you have until it´s gone and he realized that too late, when he met Jackie, he loved the adrenaline of starting a romance again. But now it was painful, he missed everything about Kendall. The way she always made him choose the color of her nail polish or how the pantry was always stocked with Joe´s favorite candy.

How was he so naive to lose his soulmate, the mother of his kids, the love of his life but also his best friend. He hated his life now, a life without her or his kids was a living nightmare, his baby was about to be born, and he hadn´t seen a single eco photo of him. Kendall was sad and blue all the time, the only thing keeping her going was her babies and the company she worked so hard for.

She missed Joe, she couldn´t forget him, and she was tired, she was about to give birth and her life would be upside down once again.

"God I miss you so much" was the first sentence that came out of her mouth when she boldly called Joe at 1 am, she had been crying nonstop, and as much as she hated to admit it, he was the love of her life.

He showed up that night, and he stayed there. It was pointless for him to go home when his pregnant ex-wife was almost about to give birth.

The next few months were a roller coaster of emotions, their baby was born, Joe wasn’t there when he arrived to this world. He was on a work trip when baby burrow arrived and everything happened too quick. Kendall went into labor at 7 am and her baby came out of the womb right away. He looked so much like Joe, it was a very strange feeling, when Natalie was born. He was there, he held her hand as she was pushing their baby girl into a world in which they would do anything to make her happy. That was the only promise Joe made to Kendall that she was sure he would keep.

The new baby mama had been crying nonstop, she wasn’t sure of how she would manage her life now as a single mom with a soon to be a 6 year old.

“How are you doing?” Joe said entering the room with ballons and flowers, Kendall started to cry again. They weren’t in bad terms now, they will share the most important thing on their lives forever. There are science fairs, dance recitals, birthdays, christmas and thanksgiving they will have to share.

“I’m not gonna lie, i’m very scared” Kendall said holding her tears. “Kenny you’ve done this before, you are the best mom ever, Natalie and baby are so lucky that you’re their mother” Joe said smiling with teary eyes. “I know i’ve done this before but i wasn’t doing it alone you know?” The guilt eat Joe alive every second of the day. “Hey, i’m not going anywhere, i can stay home until baby is a bit older” Kendall chuckled, and then start to cry again “What’s wrong?” Joe looked at her concerned “Everything Joe, our baby is here and we don’t even have a name for him, and Natalie keeps asking when is her daddy coming home and i’ve run of ways of explaining her why he’s not” She cried “I hate my new life, I hate going grocery shopping alone and carrying everything by myself, i hate driving everywhere and i really really miss you Joe” he was crying when she said that.

“I know I fucked up, and no amount of sorry’s will mend what I did, we can work this out, for the fourth of us - “ He was interrupted by the nurse entering with baby burrow after checking that everything was okay with him, Joe saw him for the first time and started crying, he held him in his arms and the nurse walked out of the room. “He looks so much like Natie” he whispered and Kendall giggled as she wiped her tears away. “Both of them look like you it’s not fair” she said crossing her arms “We can always try and make one that looks like you” Joe smirked and Kendall’s mind went numb, she didn’t had and expression on her face “Sorry maybe that was too much” he cleared his troat.

“I will make you fall in love with me again, I promise my love” he kissed her forehed and that was the last thing Kendall heard before she fell asleep. And she was so happy to hear that.

a/n! Hiii, i hope you like this chapter, i think the next one it’s the last one of our little series. :) I’ll try to post over the weekend but i don’t promise anything. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments. And i would love to hear you thoughts on this chapter and how do you expect the next one will be!!

[goldsainz]

# JB9 — NUMBER ONE GIRL !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ on a rainy night, you reflect on the growing distance between you and joe, wondering if it’s time to let go.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ angst, emotional distance, talks of self-worth.

003. NOTE !

✯ i loved rosé’s album, and i feel like i haven’t seen enough people praising it??? idk i thought it was spectacular and so beautiful… this is my first written fic for joe so let me know how it is/or leave any feedback!

word count : 1,4k

The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of your apartment. You stared out at the streets below, hands clutching a lukewarm cup of tea that you hadn’t taken a sip from in over an hour. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of sirens and car horns echoed, but your mind was locked on a single, unshakable thought—Joe.

The last time you saw him was two weeks ago, when he’d kissed you goodbye on his way to another game. You remembered the way his fingers lingered on your cheek, the way he’d promised to call as soon as he landed. And he did. At first. But as the days passed, the calls became shorter, less frequent. Now, you found yourself checking your phone obsessively, the growing silence between you heavy and suffocating.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to shake the chill that had settled in your chest. It wasn’t just the distance; it was the feeling that you were slipping further from his world with every passing day. His life was so big, so public, and yours felt so small in comparison. It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. It was the gnawing fear that he didn’t need you the way you needed him.

You thought back to when you first met. It wasn’t under the glittering lights of his fame, but in the quiet hum of a coffee shop on a rainy afternoon. He wasn’t the Joe Burrow everyone knew then; he was just Joe, a boy with an easy smile and a laugh that felt like home. You fell in love with his humility, his quiet confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Back then, his world didn’t feel so far out of reach.

But as his stardom rose, the cracks began to show. The late-night calls where he’d vent about the pressures of the game turned into hurried messages about flights and schedules. The weekends you spent tangled up together in your tiny apartment became rare, replaced by distant conversations and fleeting visits. You’d watch him on TV, surrounded by adoring fans, and wonder if he still saw you the way he used to.

You remembered the fight that changed everything. It was a few months ago, after he missed your birthday. You’d tried to be understanding, telling yourself that his career demanded sacrifices. But when he called that night, his voice distant and distracted, something inside you snapped. You’d told him that you felt like an afterthought, like you were holding onto something that was already slipping away. He’d gone quiet, his silence cutting deeper than any words. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but firm. “You know how much this means to me. I thought you understood that.”

You’d cried yourself to sleep that night, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest. Since then, things had been different. The love was still there, but it felt frayed, like a thread stretched too thin. You wanted to believe that you could find your way back to each other, but the distance—both physical and emotional—felt overbearing.

Now, as you stared out at the rain-soaked streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if he even realized it.

The faint buzz of your phone jolted you out of your thoughts. His name flashed on the screen, and for a brief moment, your heart soared. But as you answered, the noise of a busy room greeted you before his voice did.

“Hey,” he said, his tone warm but rushed. “How’s it going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. “Good. Just the usual. How about you?”

“Busy,” he replied, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses in the background. “We just finished a team dinner. I wanted to check in before it got too late.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said softly, but the words felt hollow. The call already felt like an afterthought, something he’d done out of obligation rather than desire.

“How’s work?” he asked after a pause.

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Same old, same old. Nothing exciting happening here.”

“I’m sure you’re still killing it,” he said, his voice softening a little. “You always do.”

You smiled faintly at the compliment, even though it felt distant, like he was saying it out of habit. “Thanks. How’s the team? Everyone holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Everyone’s been putting in the work. I think we’ve got a real shot.”

“That’s great,” you said, genuinely meaning it, but the words still carried a tinge of sadness. You wanted to be more excited, to share in his joy, but it was hard when you felt so far removed from his world.

There was another pause, longer this time. It felt like he was debating whether to say something. “Listen,” he started, “I might not make it back this weekend. Coach wants us to stay focused, and there’s some extra training we’re doing.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly, like he knew it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a lightness into your tone. “I get it. You’re busy.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, but the words felt like they were on autopilot. How many times had he said that now? And how many times had you let it slide, convincing yourself that next time would be different?

“Okay,” you whispered, unable to muster anything more.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening further. “I mean it. I hate being away this much. It’s not fair to you.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his tone, but it only made the ache worse. “I know you’re doing what you have to do, Joe. I just… I miss you.”

There was a beat of silence on his end. “I miss you too,” he said finally, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it. “As soon as I get a break, we’ll do something. Just us. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, even though you weren’t sure you believed him.

After the call ended, you stared at the phone, the screen dark and reflective. In it, you could see the faint outline of your face, tired and drawn. You thought back to the early days, when Joe’s attention felt like sunlight—warm and consuming, leaving no room for doubt. But now, the shadows had crept in, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were fighting for a space in a life that had outgrown you.

The rain outside grew heavier, the droplets cascading down the glass like tears you refused to shed. You wanted to call him back, to tell him everything—how lonely you felt, how much you missed the way things used to be. But what would that change? He was Joe Burrow, star quarterback, the golden boy of a city that adored him. And you? You were just the girl waiting for him to come home.

With a sigh, you set the phone down and turned away from the window. Maybe it was time to stop waiting. Maybe it was time to figure out who you were without him. But as you curled up on the couch, the thought of letting go felt like the hardest thing in the world.

The ache in your chest deepened, and a single tear slipped down your cheek. Maybe it wasn’t just time to figure out who you were without him. Maybe it was time to let him figure out what life was like without you. And maybe—just maybe—he’d realize what he’d lost.

You glanced back at your phone one last time, half expecting another call, a message, something—but the screen remained blank. In the silence of your apartment, you allowed yourself to wonder: if you walked away now, would he even notice? Would he fight for you the way you had always fought for him?

As the night stretched on, the doubt lingered, and the loneliness settled in like an old friend. Because deep down, you feared the answer more than the silence.

[starsinthesky5]

drunk in love || joe burrow x reader

description: after a whirlwind of a few months, Joe finds himself being more open with the public about your relationship, which takes you by surprise.

a/n: im glad i could get this up in time! i think the tag needs to be filled with more positivity and the usual joey b content. we can push through :) 

requested by the amazing and extremely talented @joeys-babe, you gave me great inspo! i have also learned that i loveeee writing little flashbacks into my fics just to add more context to the situation. when I’m writing it’s like i'm painting on a blank canvas, and i'm going wherever the brush takes me :) 

warnings: smuttttt, language, angst

word count: 7.7 k

——————————————————————

The sounds of enthusiastic fans echoed as you and Joe arrived at the Fifth Third arena for Joe’s podcast taping. Joe had been asked by the Kelce Brothers to be a guest on their live podcast recording of New Heights since they were in Cincinnati, and who better to have on than the QB1? And Joe being the polite and respectful man he is, agreed to do it. You were a bit surprised he was willing to go out in front of a big crowd of people like this and just talk. He rarely did podcasts or lengthy interviews because of the anxiety they brought him and he didn’t like to share his personal life in front of thousands of people, so you were watching him like a hawk the whole night to make sure he was doing okay. 

Right now, you both were sitting in the locker room while the brothers were doing the game portion of their podcast. You were snacking on some pretzels, offering Joe some since he hadn’t eaten anything since this afternoon, but he refused. 

“Joe, you have to eat something,” you say while pushing a bag of pretzels towards him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled while looking at the monitor to see what was going on in the arena. 

“I refuse to believe that. We’re going to Woodys after and we both know that you drinking on an empty stomach will cause carnage,” you giggle expecting him to laugh as well, but he continues to stare at the monitor, seemingly lost in thought. 

You look down and notice that he’s bobbing his left leg up and down and is picking at his fingers, an instant signal that his anxiety was slowly creeping in. 

You quickly place your snack down, scooch your chair closer to him, and place your hand on his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. He felt the light touch of your hand and stopped bouncing his leg before looking over at you. 

His eyes met yours and you could easily tell that he was getting anxious by the way they turned a shade of deep blue. “Are you alright J?” you ask. 

Joe stays silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, “Just a little nervous,” he quietly says causing your face to drop. “I haven’t done this in a while and I don’t wanna get weird out there if they ask anything specific, you know?”. 

Joe was referring to getting weird if they asked any questions about his personal life. He never talks about his life behind closed doors and rarely talks about you in respect of your privacy. He was worried that they’d ask him about you or your relationship and wouldn’t know what to say or how to answer them. He never really threw the “girlfriend” tag around many people for quite a few reasons. One was that it was mostly implied that you were together, another being that he didn’t want people who may not have known about your relationship to bombard you with questions about him. He kept your relationship carefully locked away because it was the most important thing in the world to him and he was afraid that the world would rip it to shreds if you opened the door a little too much. He wanted to talk about you all the time, even telling you that he might not even be able to stop once he starts. But he just never knew when or how to talk about your relationship without making you sensitive to public discourse.

“You won’t get weird Joe,” you say as you rub his thigh. “It’s okay to be a little nervous, especially because this is out of your comfort zone. You are going to do great and I am so proud of you for doing this,” you say. “I’m gonna be right there, front row on the side. Orlando will be up there with you too. And I know Jason and Travis will respect your boundaries. Maybe they’ll just keep it all about ball,”.

He nods and grabs your hand and gives it a gentle kiss. “Thank you for being here,” he says, finally flashing you a genuine smile. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you say while pressing a kiss on his cheek. Joe puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in for a warm hug. He knew he’d be fine out there but couldn’t help but get a little nervous when he realized all eyes would be on him. Sure, in a football game, all 50,000+ eyes are on him, but that never bothered him because the game was his shield. 

“If you feel flustered, give me a look and I’ll cause a distraction for you to run away,” you giggle against his neck. 

He laughs and presses a kiss on your forehead, “My knight in shining armor as usual,”. 

A few minutes and a handful of pretzels later, you’re sitting on the side of the stage while Jason and Travis introduce Joe. The crowd erupts as they say Joe’s name and the song choice for his introduction makes you laugh like a hyena. “Get the Gat” was playing, a nod to the era that truly started it all for Joe. He was scanning the crowd for you as he walked toward the stage, eventually catching you in the front row, just like you said, in your stunning white dress that highlighted your most precious features. 

You gave him two thumbs up and mouthed “You got this,”. He gives you a big smile before walking up onto the stage and greeting the brothers. 

Things were going pretty smoothly for him. They were talking to him about his injury and recovery, his questionable tweets about aliens that got the entire crowd laughing their asses off, and some playful football + rivalry talk between Travis and Joe. He seemed incredibly relaxed up there and you felt relieved, until they changed the subject to the one thing that Joe was worried about. 

“So enough about ball,” Travis said. “What has Joey B been up to this off season. Where you been, Who you been with?”. 

“Uh oh,” you whispered. 

Joe laughed softly before saying “Just hanging around. Obviously training and getting better, some UFC events here and there, some boy's trips, spending time with family, but mostly spending time with my girlfriend,”. 

Your eyes widen at his words and your mouth slightly falls open. He just mentioned you in front of god knows how many people, and so casually? What the actual fuck. 

“Ohhh,” Travis smiles. “Is your lovely lady here tonight?” He asks. 

“Yeah, she’s right there,” Joe smiles and points over to you, causing literally everyone in the arena to turn and look at you. 

“Ayeee,” the brothers say in unison as the camera points over to you. 

Your cheeks turn tomato red as everyone starts cheering and waving at you, and you flash a big smile in return even though you were completely freaking out internally.

“Yep, that's her. She’s the best person in the entire world. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her support and love,” Joe says as everyone turns back to face him. “She really knows exactly how to deal with me when I’m too in my head and always shows up for me no matter what happens. I owe a lot of how I am and how I handle things, to her” he adds.

“Awww,” said Jason. 

“Especially with this injury. I seriously don’t think I would’ve been able to get through it without her. I was in a really tough spot, mentally and physically, and she really stepped up for me,” Joe says. You feel a shift in his demeanor when he says that. From relaxed and positive, to now a little tense and serious. 

The wrist injury took a toll on Joe, and unfortunately your relationship. It took everyone by surprise when it happened as Joe was just hitting his stride after recovering from the calf strain. This was supposed to be his year and when that got taken away from him, he shut down. You tried your hardest to be there for him, and he appreciated you so much. But he needed to figure stuff out on his own which caused a bit of tension between you both. And all of it got too much for you to handle; you had to deal with his emotions, your own emotions, and help him recover on top of 100 other things that were being thrown your way. 

Little arguments became common as they always would stem at the most unexpected times. Sometimes they would happen when you would check in on how he was feeling, they’d happen during a happy moment where one of you said something that didn’t land correctly, and sometimes when he would come and apologize to you for snapping at you, but you would become a child and remain stubborn even though you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and let everything out. 

Flashback to December 

It had been a few weeks since Joe got surgery on his wrist. Ever since then, he’d been acting strangely and it was driving you insane. He was watching some film all day in his office so that he could help out at practice, so you’d hardly have seen him all day. 

You got off the couch and decided to bring him a snack, some strawberries and bananas, and made your way up the stairs. 

You made your way into his office, making sure that you weren’t getting in the way of anything. He was rewinding some footage with his left hand, but was struggling to do so since his dominant hand was in a cast. 

“Here, let me help,” you say as you place the bowl of fruit down in front of him.

“It’s okay, I got it,” he says trying to grab the mouse, but he was too late as you already grabbed it and fixed it for him. You looked over at him and smiled, but in return got a loud sigh and an eye roll. 

“Gee, I was just trying to help,” you replied. 

“And I didn’t ask for any,” he mumbled, slightly irritated. Your face dropped at his tone but you decided not to push it.

“I brought you some fruit. You skipped out on lunch so I thought you’d be hungry,”.

“Thanks,” he says as he pushes the bowl to the side and goes back to the film. 

You stand there for a few moments, debating whether or not you should leave him alone or talk to him. You decided to talk to him because this mood he’d been in was not welcomed. 

“Is there something wrong? Does your arm hurt?” You ask as you rub his shoulder. 

He immediately slams the mouse to pause the film and looks up. “What’s wrong is that you won’t let me watch the film for this week. I told you I'm not hungry and you’re bothering me,” he snaps.

You’re taken aback by his sudden anger, “I was just trying to help, Joe-”.

“And how many times have I said, I don’t need it,” he spit out. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step back. “I’m sorry, I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“I’m fine” He said, slightly shouting as he looked back over to you. 

The tears in your eyes made their way down your cheeks as you felt more angry than sad. His attitude was unfucking called for as you were just trying to check in on him. 

“You know what, fine. I’m done asking you if you’re okay and if you need something. I get that you’re hurt. I get that this is hard for you. But do not for one second think that I’m just going to sit here and take this bullshit. You’ve been acting like this for weeks, on and off. And quite frankly, it’s giving me whiplash,” you unload as more tears stream down your face.

“Y/N-,” he interrupts.

“No. Listen to me. If me helping you is bothering you, If I am bothering you, just say the word and I’ll stop. You don’t have to tell me how you’re feeling, and I’ll just stop asking. I love you, you know that. But I’m done acting like this is okay,” you spit out, tears running down your cheeks faster than a trackstar running a mile.  

He stays silent for a few seconds so you take that as a response and nod your head. You leave his office, making your way into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He immediately felt bad for yelling at you and making you cry. He fell back into his chair and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about how shitty he was. 

You lay down on your side of the bed, crying into your pillow. A million thoughts flooding your head, and a million emotions flowing through your body. You felt bad for him, you really really felt bad for him. But you started to feel bad for yourself because of how he was acting around you. Did you do something to make him act like this? He wouldn’t talk to you much about how he was feeling, so you were in limbo. 

You curled up into your pillow, a few tears still falling down your face as you heard the door open. Joe walked in and saw you laying on the bed, immediately feeling like shit because he did this to you. He walked over to the bed, crawling onto his side and gently rubbing your arm. 

“Y/N?” he asked. 

You didn’t look over at him and remained facing the windows. 

He let out a sigh before saying, “I deserve that.” 

“Listen, I am so fucking sorry for that. You didn’t do anything and I took my feelings out on you which was totally uncalled for. It’s just, I have alot going through my mind right now. But that is no excuse for me to do that to you, and you have every right to be mad. I’ve been putting you through alot lately and you’re just trying to help,”.

You turned over to face him and moved up. “So then talk to me, Joe?”. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I’m here, I’m always here,” you say as you wipe your tears. 

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I just don’t want to burden you with all my feelings,” he says.

“You could never. We’re in this together, we have been since we first met. I want you to talk to me whenever you need to. Please, do not keep your feelings bottled up like that,”.

“You’re right,” he says as he pulls you into his arms, his hand rubbing your back for comfort. “I am so so so sorry for treating you like shit. You have been nothing but helpful and patient since the surgery and my dumbass can’t seem to fathome that,” he says.

“You’re not a dumbass,” you say as you look up at him. “You just have alot going on in there,” you say as you move your hand into his hair. “Just let me in and let me help you figure it out,” you whisper.

So that’s exactly what he did. He unloaded all of his heavy feelings, self doubt, and fear onto you. And instead of running out of fear or anxiety, you stayed. You stayed and you helped him just as you said you would. 

End of Flashback 

You were holding your breaths around each other for a little bit, but luckily you got through it. It was a bumpy few months, but in the end, you got through it together and came out the other side stronger like you always do. 

“Seems like you got yourself a great lady,” Jason says, snapping you back to the present.

“I sure do,” Joe laughs while meeting your eyes, setting off butterflies in your belly. 

“So what have you guys been up to, if you don’t mind sharing? I think the fans would love to hear it,” Travis says as the fans begin to cheer.

Joe lets out a laugh and runs his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, why not. Well, we’ve gone on a few vacations, watched a bunch of movies we’ve been meaning to for a while, built some legos, and she’s taught me how to bake,”. 

The crowd lets out a laugh as he says that last thing. You were surprised at how he was being an open book right now and you didn’t know if you should be concerned at this newfound openness or ecstatic, but you were sure as hell enjoying it in the moment.

“You heard it here first, Joe Burrow knows how to bake!” They announced to the crowd. 

“Yup, it’s really not as hard as it looks,” Joe shrugs.

You let out a laugh when as says that. It really wasn’t that hard, but Joe was certainly not a pro baker as he was implying. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago 

It was a rainy evening in Cincy today, causing you and Joe to postpone your plans to walk around the neighborhood this evening. You were bored out of your mind, contemplating if you should take a nap or do something productive, but nothing sounded fun until an ad popped up on your phone for new cake pans which set off a lightbulb in your head.

“Cinnamon Rolls!” you said out loud as you just got an idea of what you could do for the evening. 

You quickly walked over to the kitchen and started pulling out everything you needed to make your famous Cinnamon Rolls, which happened to be one of Joe’s favorites, but Pumpkin Pie remained number 1. Joe was probably playing video games or watching something upstairs so you’d get to surprise him later with the delicious dessert. 

A few minutes later, you were in the zone and were starting to make the dough when you heard Joe come down the stairs. 

“Hey Babe, whatcha doing?” He says, a slight bounce in his step. He must be feeling good today, and rightfully so. He deserved to feel loose and cheerful after the past few months. 

“It’s a secret,” you giggle as you start making the liquid mixture. 

He raises his brows at you before examining the surroundings, eventually putting the puzzle together and realizing you are making Cinnamon Rolls.  

“Well, Can I help?” He asks as he walks over and hovers behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder. 

You stop mixing the Milk and Butter and look back at him, “You want to help me bake?”.

“Why are you saying it like that?” He asks as he begins pressing warm kisses on your neck. 

You stay silent for a few moments before taking advantage of his offer, “No reason. Here, let me show you how to make the dry mixture,” you say as he flashes you a big smile.

You spend a few minutes getting Joe situated with all the dry ingredients and then go back to your task. You peek over at him every few moments and although he’s making a huge mess, he seems to be doing just fine. Once you both were done with your mixtures, Joe insisted that he would make the dough in the mixer. So once again, you taught him how to use the mixer and left him to it as you started making the Cinnamon Sugar Filling. He was doing very well for someone who’s dominant hand is still not at 100%.

“Joe, this looks great!” you say as you look over his shoulder, rubbing it as you inspect the dough. 

“Yeah?” he asks, feeling proud that he was doing good for his first time baking.

“Mhmmm, just the right consistency. Very impressive for a rookie,” You tease. 

The next half hour passes by as you finish prepping the rolls. You roll out the dough and spread the cinnamon mixture across the sheet and Joe helps you roll it back up to cut the buns out. You place them in the fridge to rise and Joe takes responsibility for making the icing, so you pull over a barstool and watch him figure it out. 

“You’re doing great babe,” You smile as he begins mixing the ingredients while carefully looking at the recipe. 

“This isn’t so bad,” He says looking back up at you. “You wanna taste it? I’m almost done,”.

“Okay,” you say as he dips his finger into the icing and puts his finger out to you. A huge smirk appears on his face once you realize what he is implying. 

You pull his finger closer to your mouth and make direct eye contact for a few seconds before wrapping your lips around the sugary tip. You swirl your tongue around his finger, taking in all of the sweet icing. You both still hold eye contact, which makes you feel hot all around as you know how you are making him feel by doing this. A few seconds later, You take his finger out of your mouth and give him the same smirk he gave you.

“Was it good?” he teases. 

“Soooo good,” you purred. “Very warm, sweet, and delicious,” you say as Joe walks over to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you off the barstool, causing you to let out a squeal. “What are you doing?” you giggle.

“How long do the rolls take to rise?” he asks as he lifts you onto the messy counter, flour now covering your sweatpants. 

“About an hour. Why?” you ask as he starts to kiss your neck.

“Perfect. I think I need an hour to eat my favorite dessert,” He whispers in your ear before rubbing your upper thigh. 

You don’t follow what he’s saying, “I didn’t make pumpkin pie silly,”.  

“I’m not talking about pumpkin pie,” He says while coming back into your view, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, and his fingers untying the strings of your sweatpants. 

End of Flashback 

You were incredibly smiley and cheery for the rest of the recording and kept playing back everything Joe said about you. It warmed your heart that he felt a little more comfortable opening the door, even if it was just the slightest bit, to show fans your love for each other. But you were so curious as to what changed his mind. A million thoughts were filling your head, and it also didn’t help that he looked so fucking hot. Although he was wearing a comfy, laid-back fit, he looked mouthwatering and you were trying so hard not to jump at him. The extra few pounds of muscle he gained from his training this year was showing and that messy bedhead look he was sporting was filling your head with unholy thoughts the entire time. 

Once Joe had wrapped up his appearance, you headed back to the locker room area to find him. 

He was talking to some Bearcats coaches when you found him. No stress was apparent on his face and he looked like he was just fine. You let out a relaxed sigh as you leaned on the door, letting him have his conversation without any interruptions, but he immediately felt your presence and turned around. He mumbled something to the coaches and then they walked away. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say while moving off the door.

“Yes I did,” he says as he walks over to you, immediately pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a deep and thorough kiss. One hand cupping your face and the other sliding down your waist. You both were literally making out in the locker room and anyone could walk in at any time, but he didn’t care. He pulls away after a minute, leaving you a little breathless. 

“Cherry Lip Gloss,” He says. “My favorite,”. 

Joe loved your Cherry Lip Gloss. You remembered the moment when you both had your first kiss, he immediately pulled away from you and you didn’t know why until he told you how amazing you tasted and he had to let you know. 

Flashback to a few years ago 

You and Joe just got back to your apartment after your bowling date downtown. He parked the car in the parking lot and you both were sitting inside, wishing that the night would never end. He turned over to face you, a million thoughts flooding his head. A few being that you looked absolutely enchanting and he really really liked you. You both had been on a few dates so far, each one better than the last, and tonight felt like a dream. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked as he stared deeply into your eyes. 

“Best date ever,” you smiled. You were feeling a little nervous after tonight's date, only because you realized that you really liked him and that it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment feeling, and you didn’t know if he really felt the same way. Was he just looking for a girl to have on his side who would take care of him during the season and be good enough to hook up with? Or did he want a girl that he could have a genuine and meaningful relationship with?

He let out a deep breath and said, “You look really pretty by the way,”. 

A blush crept up your face, “Thank You,”. 

He kept staring into your eyes as you both remained silent. He moved closer to you but you couldn’t process it because you were caught up in your own thoughts. Was he waiting for you to make a move? You both haven’t kissed yet and every date felt like it would end with a kiss, but it never did. You were all in your head about how he felt about you and you didn’t know what to do, so you thought that it would be better to just go inside and avoid the awkward moment. 

“I should probably go,” you say while staring into his deep blue eyes, but before you can grab your stuff, Joe leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. You stay absolutely still for a few seconds before he suddenly pulls away. 

The blank look on his face fills your stomach with anxiety. Did your breath stink? Did he not enjoy it? Was it a mistake? You felt like hiding in a corner somewhere and never coming out. 

“Your lips,” he says. “Is that Cherry?”. 

You pause for a few seconds and say, “Yeah,”. 

“I love Cherry,” is all he says before pulling you back over to him, and completely attacking your lip with sloppy and eager kisses. You feel him grin into the kiss which immediately gets rid of your wandering thoughts. 

“You taste like love,” he says in between kisses. 

End of flashback 

He presses another kiss on your lips which snaps you back to the present. “You did great out there,” you told him. “They loved you,”.

“Yeah, it felt natural and easy,” he says as he leans back in for another kiss. 

Before you could ask him about his sudden change of heart about wanting to not talk about your relationship, a team member came over to tell you both that you’re allowed to leave and go over to the bar and that everyone would join you there in a little bit. Joe nods, wrappinh his arm around your waist, and leading you both out to the car. This newfound PDA was a little weird for you as you were walking through crowds of strangers and Joe seemed to not care. You decided not to push the subject just yet, it would be better to wait till you were alone so you could figure out what was going through his head. 

The after-party had a stereotypical College party vibe to it, and it being in a College Bar was definitely adding to the mix. Loud music and laughter, numerous cans of beer scattered across the room, and groups of people playing darts or beer pong. You felt like you were transported back to College and were drunk on nostalgia, and maybe something more. 

Joe was standing next to you, one hand firmly gripping your waist, and a beer can in the other, as you were extremely focused on the game of darts in front of you both.

“Andddd, Bullseye!” you yell as the dart hits the middle of the board. 

“Great Job, Y/N. I taught you well,” He says as you feel his hand migrate down to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“That you did,” You say as you look back up at him. Here he goes again with the PDA, not that you were upset at it. You loved it, but you were also just as confused. You watched him take another sip of his beer before breaking off to go greet a few more people. You watched as he was conversing with a group of people before he looked over at you and motioned for you to come over. 

“And this is my girlfriend Y/N,” he says as you join his side, his hand once again around your waist. You had no idea who he was introducing you to and were even more surprised that he was just tossing around the “girlfriend” tag so casually in front of people that he seems to have met for the first time. A few minutes later, you wrap up your conversation and decide to talk to Joe about what all this was about. 

“Hey Joe?” you say to get his attention. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” he responds.

“You wanna over there for a bit? I need to talk to you about something,” you say as you point over to the semi-secluded barstools in the back of the bar. He nods and you lead him over to the stools and sit down with your drinks. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks as he rubs your thigh. 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you say as you place your hand on his. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he questions. 

“Its just, before the podcast you were getting nervous about them potentially asking you about us, and they did,”.

“Yeaahh,” he drags out as he nods his head.

“And when they did, you seemed to be just fine and were like an open book. Not to mention the out-of-the-blue PDA you’ve been showing all night,” you giggle. “I just wanna know, why the sudden change of heart? You know I don’t mind not being so open and public with our relationship, I hope I didn’t make you feel like you had to say or do something,”. 

Joe looked deeply into your eyes for a few seconds before responding. “These past few months have been pretty hard for me, and us. You know that best,”. You nod in return, now feeling a little queasy at the mention of the rough moments you had. 

“And it gave me a lot of time to think about life,” he adds as he interlocks his fingers with yours. 

“I’m tired of acting like you’re not the reason why I can do most of this, aside from actually playing football. You always know exactly how to handle me when things get too chaotic, you know how to calm me down, you help me with literally everything, but most importantly, you put up with all the bullshit that being with me brings,”. 

“Joe,” you whisper. 

“Wait, I’m not finished. You’re the most important person in my life, and it’s time I make that known to everyone. I realized that I have no reason to be worried about what others will think, I love you more than anything and people need to know that. These past few months have shown me that I need you more than I need anything and the thought of you not being by my side freaks me the fuck out. Fuck their opinion. Fuck their comments. I love you and I chose you. Opening the door just a little will not hurt and if anyone has a problem with it, screw them,”. 

You felt like crying as he said all of this to you. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. You were relieved that his feelings towards you hadn’t changed, as odd as that sounds. There were a few negative thoughts about your relationship that piled up in the back of your mind over the past few months, but you never confronted them out of fear. The injury did a number on you both and you were scared that you’d lose this special thing you had to something that wasn’t in your control. 

“I love you so much, Joe. I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. 

“I love you more. And good, I think if you did I wouldn’t know how to function,” he says as he pulls you off the barstool and closer to him, slowly pressing his lips against yours. His lips tasted like your cherry lip gloss and beer, a familiar mix that you would often call ‘drunk in love’. He told you during your first kiss that the cherry lipgloss you had on tasted like love, and the beer was already intoxicating itself. A mix of both felt like you were well, drunk in love.

You were caught up in a heated moment in the dimly lit corner of the bar, not caring who saw you or who cared what you were doing. Your tongues tangled in your mouth as his hand navigated to your waist, holding you tightly. He lightly bit your bottom lip, causing you to moan into the kiss. His hands continued to wander around your hips, slowly moving down to your ass. He gives it a few squeezes, pushing you deeper into him. You pulled away from his lips and said, “Do you wanna get out of here? I’m all for being a little more open, but I think we should finish this one away from public view,” you wink. 

He playfully shakes his head and lets out a laugh, “Deal,”. 

He grabs your hand tightly and leads you through the bar, giving it a few squeezes as you make your way outside. 

“We didn’t tell anyone that we were leaving,” you said as he led you down the street to the Car. 

“We’ll be fine,” he reassures you as he opens the car door for you.

He gets you situated before going around and getting inside the driver’s seat. You couldn’t wait to get home and finish what started in the bar. Once he got on the highway his hand navigated to your upper thigh, rubbing it up and down, softly caressing your exposed skin. You were already on edge from your heated makeout before and his hand being this close to where you needed him most was driving you insane. 

“Did I mention that you looked absolutely sexy tonight? This white dress is really making me feel things,” Joe says. 

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle. 

“Hm?” He questioned, acting oblivious. 

“You know what you’re doing, Burrow. Got me all flustered from earlier and now this,” you say as you pat his hand that’s on your thigh. 

“How did I get you flustered?”.

You sit up in your seat and say, “Well for starters, you looked like walking sex tonight, even if it’s a laid-back fit kinda day. Something about you in all black makes me insanely horny. Secondly, your talking about me caught me off guard but my stomach was fluttering the entire time. And then that makeout earlier at the arena and in the bar? Yeah, I’m this close to literally passing out,”. You fall back into your seat for dramatic effect as Joe playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Well then, maybe I should do something about it,” he says while looking over at you for a second.

“What are you proposing?”. 

“Just lay back and relax,” he says. So you do as he says, knowing exactly where this would lead, especially because it wasn’t the first time.

His hand moves to part your legs, and then slowly moves higher up your thigh until his fingers are teasing the edge of your panties. He moved them to the side as you let out a quiet whimper because of the newly exposed skin meeting the cool air of the car. His fingers parted your folds, finding your wetness and sliding easily inside you. The feeling was intense, the rhythm slow and gentle as he explored the depths of your desire. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his hand, needing more of his touch.

“Joe, Fuck,” you moaned as you felt pleasure overcome you. 

His fingers moved in and out of you, a familiar sensation building with each stroke. Heat and pure ecstasy were coursing through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you reached the edge of pleasure. Joe’s thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud and sending you fully over the edge.

“Ohhh,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the headrest. 

You spent a few minutes catching your breath and he slid his fingers out of your core and up to his mouth, cleaning up the mess on his hand. “Sweet,” was all he said, flashing you a smile. 

You laugh and say, “Can’t wait to get home, It’s your turn,”. 

He looked over at you, pure lust in his eyes as he gripped the wheel strongly and pushed on the gas pedal a little harder. Once you got home, Joe parked in the garage and quickly pulled you out of the car, eagerly leading you through the halls of your home, not even giving you a moment to take your shoes off. 

“Joe, slow down,” you giggle, slightly holding him back so he stops. 

He turns around and stares into your eyes for a few seconds, then eyeing you up and down, before tossing you over his shoulders and leading you up the stairs. “Boy, someone is excited,” you laugh. He leads you into your bedroom and gently tosses you down against the silk sheets of your bed before slipping your heels off. He then kneels in between your thighs and captures your lips in a messy kiss. 

You slide your hands into his messy curls and pull him closer, if that was even humanly possible, as he starts to fiddle with the straps of your dress. A few minutes later, both your clothes are now on the floor and you are back to making out, ignoring the fact that his boner was poking your thigh. You would never get enough of his lips, so soft and plump, very easy to get lost in. He pulls away and presses a few sloppy kisses around your neck before moving down your body. 

You stop him before he goes further, “Wait. I told you that it was your turn next,”. 

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” he smiles. 

“Mmmm, too bad,” you say as you move out from under him, allowing him to lie back against the headboard. Once he gets settled, you straddle his hips and press a few kisses around his face, then kiss your way down his perfectly sculpted body. You reach his hard-on and wrap your hand around it, giving it a few pumps as pre-cum was beading at the tip. 

You looked up at him, making intense eye contact, as you wrapped your soft lips around the tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in pleasure. You start to move your head back and forth, going deeper each time as sounds of pleasure escape Joe’s lips. 

“Shit, you feel so good,”. 

You continued to bob your head up and down his shaft until you felt him getting closer. Your hands gripped his thighs as you took him deeper and deeper, nearly choking up. His breathing became more erratic as you sucked him harder and faster. He slid his hands into your hair as started to buck his hips into your mouth, a sure sign he was about to cum. 

“Fuckk,” he moaned as you felt hot spurts of his cum filling your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You slowly release him from your mouth and look up at him with nothing but love and adoration. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, wiping the spit and salvia off of your mouth.

“And you’re amazing,” he says as he pulls you back on top of him. You let out a soft laugh before kissing the tip of his perfectly sculpted nose. “You still up for a little more?” you ask him.

A huge grin appears on his face, “Always,” he whispers as he moves closer, once again kissing you passionately. You break away to put each of your legs around him and he grabs your waist while moving down to lie back against the bed all the way. You leaned down to press a final kiss on his lips before lining up his cock with your slick entrance. You slide down his length, soft moans leaving both your lips as the feeling of fullness feels like you’re coming home. 

You begin to move your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your hands rested on his chest and your fresh manicure left a few marks as you dug your fingers into his tan skin. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel so fucking good,”. His hands moved up and gripped your waist, helping you move back and forth to ease the soreness that you were definitely feeling by this point. 

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Faster Baby,” he whispered. You nodded and picked up the pace, riding him faster and harder. You could feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing beneath you as you moved with a steady, relentless pace. Joe started to buck his hips into your slick lower half, making you throw your head back in pleasure. Your breathy moans and sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. 

“Shit,” you moaned as he continued to pound into you. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. You looked back down at him and smiled, he never missed a chance to praise you. He looked absolutely fucked out; his lips were red and swollen from the many kisses you shared, his hair askew, and a content grin on his face. The next few minutes passed by blissfully as you continued to ride him into oblivion. You leaned down, pressing your breasts against his chest, and started to bounce back onto his cock while moaning sweet nothings into his ear. His hands wrap around your back, pushing you closer and closer to his warm body. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he moaned. 

You whimpered in response as heat was building in your belly. He picked up his pace and continued to pound into your core as he felt your walls start to tighten around him. The pleasure became too much for you, so you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your screams. 

“I’m cumming, Fuck,” he moaned. You felt his hands around your waist again, tightly gripping your plush skin, as you felt him shoot his load into your core. 

“Y/N,” he groaned.

You lifted your head out of his shoulder and pulled him in for a sloppy and needy kiss to stifle his moans. You were once again lost in his lips so you didn’t even realize it but he somehow managed to flip you over so now you were laying back against the bed. He moved one of your legs around his waist and ruthlessly thrusted into your core to help you find your pleasure. Your whole body shaking as he pushed you deeper and deeper into the bed which each thrust.

“Come on Baby,” he groaned. You were so fucked out and the alcohol from earlier was finally in full effect so you had zero thoughts in your head. You just felt your boyfriend pounding into your core and the pleasure building inside your sore body. 

“Mmph, Joe,” you whined as you felt the increasing wetness between you both. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you finally felt the rubber band in your belly snap, causing waves of intense and deep pleasure to wash over you.

“Fuckkk,” you whimpered. Joe gently collapsed on top of you, making sure he didn’t crush you with his weight. He pressed a few kisses on your neck as you remained in your high.

“Joeee, Fuck, you’re so good. It’s so good,” you moaned as your orgasm came over you. You spent a few minutes coming down from your intense high and held Joe close against your body. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you repeatedly how much he loved you like it was a sacred prayer. 

You felt him press a kiss on your cheek before slowly sliding out of you, causing you to shrudder at the loss of contact. He went into the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up before getting in bed; your body was too sore and tired to get up to wash off the sweat and cum.

“Thank you,” you said as he turned off the lights and got into bed next to you. 

“No need to thank me, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“God damn, that was a workout,” you laughed as you turned over to face him. 

“My favorite workout,” he smiled as he pulled you into his side. You rest your head on his bare chest as he plays with your messy hair for a few moments. 

You looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but love and warmth. “I love you, Joe,”.

He moved his hand down to your face, cupping the side and caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I love you so much, baby. I’m glad I get to show the world how much you mean to me. It’s you and me, forever,” he says before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“Always and forever,” you whisper against his lips. You moved back down to his chest and snuggled closer to him. You look back up for a second and see Joe falling asleep, a smile still present on his face. He was happy, you were happy. Everything was perfect. 

—The End—

[v6quewrlds]

LOVE DROUGHT, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x oc [chelsea brooks]. word count⠀⁎⠀26k.

summary⠀⁎⠀chelsea's life appears perfect. a beautiful home, a great job, and a valuable last name. leaving behind her life in atlanta to come to cincinnati presents new opportunities and new challenges in her marriage. the biggest challenge comes in the form of the handsome neighbor next door, every married inch of him.

author's note⠀⁎⠀don't do this ???? lmao. should really be named "joe and chelsea have an affair", happy ending! we love happy endings. i might have a part two in me, we'll see. takes place over a year give or take. this takes place in an alternate universe where joe never transferred to lsu/didn't go to the nfl, joe's "backstory" is entirely made up lmao, joe is 36, chelsea is 34, longest thing i've ever written in my life lol sorry? warnings⠀⁎⠀don't like it? don't read it <3 don't let your husband stop you from meeting your soulmate <3, infidelity, literally everyone in this story has questionable behaviors, several mentions of masturbation, mirror sex, infidelity as dirty talk?, booty calls.

Chelsea Brooks stepped out of her sleek black Mercedes, her Nike sneakers crunching the autumn leaves against the concrete driveway. She took a deep breath of the crisp, Cincinnati air, feeling the chilly breeze caress her cheeks. The house she and her husband, Terrence, had just bought was a beautiful monstrosity of stone and glass, a stark contrast to the warm, cozy homes of her Atlanta roots. She surveyed the quiet neighborhood, noting the perfectly manicured lawns and the welcoming porches that seemed to whisper tales of family gatherings and long summer nights.

Her husband, Terrence, was already inside, unpacking boxes filled with their lives from their old home. He was a neurosurgeon, a man of precision and order, and Chelsea knew that the chaos of moving would only add to his stress. But she couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement as she approached the front door. The house was a symbol of their success, a testament to their hard work and their families' legacies. As she stepped into the foyer, she heard the distant sound of Terrence's voice, muffled by the walls that now stood between them.

The house was cool and unfamiliar, smelling faintly of paint and new carpets. The echoes of their footsteps made it seem like a cavernous museum rather than a home filled with love and laughter. The grandeur of their new abode was a stark reminder of the expectations that had been placed upon them since childhood. Chelsea and Terrence had worked their asses off to maintain the status quo, to be the poster children for "love" and "excellence". But as she looked around, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It was as if their lives had been painted by numbers and they hadn't had the courage to scribble outside the lines.

"Terrence, where are you?" Chelsea called out, her voice echoing through the vast, empty space.

Terrence emerged from the depths of their future dining room, sweat beading on his brow. "In here, baby. I'm just getting the last of the china unpacked. Your momma's gonna love that we finally have our own china cabinet."

Chelsea couldn't help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. It was true, their parents had been thrilled with their move to Cincinnati. It was a step up for both their careers and a chance to rub elbows with the upper echelon of society. But for Chelsea, the move had brought a sense of suffocation. She was an entertainment lawyer, used to the fast-paced, glitzy world of celebrities and sports stars in Atlanta. Here, she felt like a fish out of water.

"I brought lunch," Chelsea announced, holding up a bag from the deli they passed on the drive in. She set it down on the marble kitchen countertop and opened it, revealing hot sandwiches and a side of chips. "I know how you hate eating cold food, so I figured I'd be nice and get you something warm."

Terrence looked up from the box he was unpacking, his eyes lighting up. "You're a lifesaver, baby," he said, stepping over to give her a quick smile. His hand lingered on the small of her back, a gesture that was somehow both casual and possessive. "How was your first day at the firm?"

Chelsea shrugged, trying to keep the doubt out of her voice. "It was great. Met some interesting people. The office is nice, but it's going to take some getting used to." She handed him a sandwich and watched as he took a bite, his eyes closing briefly in satisfaction. "It's not Atlanta, that's for sure," she added, unable to hide the wistfulness that crept into her tone.

Terrence looked at her, his expression softening. "I know it's a change, but it's for a good reason. I'm making more money, saving more lives... we're in this together." He took another bite, then paused. "What do you think about the neighborhood? They got some crazy-ass houses around here."

Chelsea nodded, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's nice. You saw the fuckin' three-story McMansion next door? I ran into the retired couple who own it, the Chens. They had their grandkids over, screaming and playing in the yard. It was cute." She took a bite of her cold sandwich, savoring the flavor of the turkey and avocado.

Terrence chuckled. "I'm sure it'll be quieter when they're not around." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Speaking of neighbors, I've heard the couple on the other side are pretty cool. The wife owns that fancy ass restaurant downtown. We should pop over there and introduce ourselves."

"Gianna Mora?" Chelsea's eyes widened. "The celebrity chef from that travel show? Are you for real, she's our neighbor?"

"That's the most excited I seen you all week," Terrence said with a laugh, his eyes sparkling at the mention of their famous neighbor.

"Well, it's not every day you live next to a celebrity chef," Chelsea replied, her curiosity piqued. "I've seen her show a few times. She seems really down-to-earth."

Terrence nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she's got that whole 'girl next door' vibe going on. Her and her husband, they seem like good people." He took another bite of his sandwich, his voice muffled slightly. "I think I saw him out jogging this morning. He got to be pushing six-four, 220 pounds, easy."

Chelsea felt a twinge of curiosity about the mysterious neighbor, Joe Burrow. She had heard Gianna's name often in the entertainment circles, but never knew much about her husband. The idea of a quiet, introverted man being married to a vibrant, outgoing celebrity was entertaining. She imagined him as a silent supporter, the rock that kept Gianna grounded amidst her culinary stardom.

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts, and Chelsea wiped her hands on a spare napkin before walking over to answer it. She was surprised to find Gianna on the other side, her bouncy, jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a warm smile on her face. "Hey, I hope you guys aren't too busy," she said, her eyes scanning the still-boxed living room. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself properly. I'm Gianna."

Chelsea stepped aside, gesturing for Gianna to come in. "Of course, we've been meaning to do the same," she said, feeling a little guilty for not taking the initiative. "I'm Chelsea, and this is my husband, Terrence."

Gianna's smile grew as she stepped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "It's so nice to meet you both," she said, her midwestern accent adding a layer of charm to her already bubbly personality. "I figured you guys might need a break from all the unpacking. Plus, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. My husband Joe will be home from his business trip, and I love any excuse to mess around in the kitchen."

Terrence wiped his hands on his pants, setting down his half-eaten sandwich. "That's incredibly kind of you, Gianna. We'd love to come over."

Gianna's smile widened. "Perfect. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"We'll be there," Terrence said, flashing his most charming smile. "Looking forward to tasting some of that famous cooking of yours."

Gianna's eyes twinkled with excitement. "It won't be anything too fancy," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just a little welcome dinner for the new kids on the block." She handed Chelsea a business card with the address of her restaurant. "And if you're ever in the mood for something special, feel free to stop by the restaurant. I can always whip something up for you."

"Thanks for the invite, Gianna," Chelsea said, her eyes flicking to the paper before setting it down on the counter. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. We'll see you tonight."

As the door closed behind Gianna, Terrence turned to her. "You okay with this?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. "I know you've had a long week."

Chelsea nodded, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. "Yeah, I'm fine. It'll be nice to get to know our neighbors."

Terrence leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And maybe get a little gossip on the local celeb scene," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Chelsea couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You just want to get closer to her recipes," she said, tossing a napkin at him. "But sure, let's get ready. I need to find something to wear that doesn't look like I just rolled out of a moving van."

"Wait, baby, hold on," Terrence called out, reaching for her hand as she moved to stand up. "I think we have to christen the house, don't you?"

Chelsea sighed, the weight of his words not lost on her. She knew what he wanted, and while the timing was less than ideal, she also knew it would be a quick and easy way to keep him satisfied. She nodded, a forced smile playing on her lips as she let him pull her back down to the couch. He kissed her, his hands moving to the zipper of her skirt. It was a dance they had performed countless times before, a routine that lacked the passion it once had.

As they undressed each other, Chelsea couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. Terrence was still the same romantic he had been in college, but that was precisely the problem. He had stayed the same while she had grown into a woman who craved more. More excitement, more adventure, more everything. But she pushed her thoughts aside as she focused on the task at hand, trying to find some semblance of satisfaction in their lovemaking.

Terrence, oblivious to her inner turmoil, whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he kissed along her neck. Chelsea closed her eyes, willing herself to feel something, anything, other than the coldness that had settled in her chest. She let out a moan, hoping to convince herself more than him, and he took it as an encouragement to go harder. The couch creaked under their weight as they moved in a rhythm that had become all too familiar.

Afterwards, Chelsea stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, and she looked tired. She quickly cleaned herself up and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the feeling of emptiness that lingered. When she emerged, she found Terrence getting dressed for the dinner, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

"You look amazing," Terrence said, his eyes appreciating her figure as she stepped out of the bathroom. "Like you just stepped out of a magazine."

Chelsea forced a smile, wrapping a towel around her body. "Thanks, T," she said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. She had chosen a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was a classic choice, one that she knew would make her look put together without trying too hard. She didn't bother with the lingerie Terrence typically encouraged her to slip on; it was just for show tonight.

They arrived at Gianna and Joe's home promptly at eight, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, making Chelsea's stomach rumble. Terrence knocked on the door, and after a moment, it swung open to reveal Joe. He was dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans, his hair slightly ruffled as if hastily blow-dried.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea a beat too long before looking at Terrence. "I'm glad you could make it. I'm Joe Burrow." He shook Terrence's hand firmly and then offered his hand to Chelsea. She took it, feeling a spark of something unfamiliar jolt through her at the touch. The two men exchanged a bottle of Terrence's homemade apple cider, as Chelsea attempted to moderate her heartbeat.

Gianna emerged from the kitchen, a vision in a flowy red dress that hugged her petite frame. She had a warm smile that seemed to light up the room, and her eyes were bright with excitement as she greeted them. "Come in, come in," she said, her accent a delightful blend of her midwestern roots and her PR training. "I hope you're hungry, I made some pozole rojo that I've been dying to share with someone other than Joe."

The four of them settled around the dinner table, the conversation flowing easily. Chelsea found herself drawn to Joe's deep blue eyes and the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he reached for the bread. He was handsome in a way that was almost old fashioned, like a 1940s movie star who'd stepped out of the screen into their modern lives. And there was something about the way he talked, the quiet confidence in his voice, that made her want to lean in closer, to hear every word he said.

Terrence and Gianna talked about their work, the challenges of balancing their demanding careers with their personal lives. Chelsea listened, nodding along, but her mind kept drifting back to Joe. She could feel the tension between them, a palpable force that seemed to thicken the air in the room. It was as if they were the only two people there, and everyone else was just a blurry backdrop to their clandestine attraction.

Dinner was a delightful array of flavors and textures, each bite a testament to Gianna's culinary talents. But Chelsea had to admit, she was having a hard time focusing on the food. Her focus kept wandering to Joe, the way his strong hands moved as he reached for a tortilla, the way his voice rumbled in his chest when he laughed. She took a sip of the wine from the winery Gianna and Joe owned, trying to keep her cool. The conversation turned to their hometowns, and Chelsea talked about growing up in the bustling streets of Atlanta, the vibrant culture and the endless energy that had shaped her into who she was today. Joe spoke of his small-town upbringing, his voice filled with a hint of nostalgia that made Chelsea's heart ache.

Terrence excused himself to take a work call, leaving Chelsea, Gianna, and Joe to continue the evening. Chelsea felt a strange sense of relief, as if she had been waiting for this moment all night. The conversation grew more intimate, the three of them sharing stories of their college days and their early careers. Chelsea found herself laughing at Joe's tales of his college football days, his face lighting up with the memories. Gianna, ever the gracious host, listened intently, her eyes shimmering with pride.

As the wine bottle grew empty, Joe suggested they move to the living room, where a crackling fire and comfortable couches beckoned. Chelsea agreed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her body, loosening her inhibitions. She across from Gianna whose head rested against Joe's broad shoulder, his wedding ring glistening as he rested his left hand over the back of the couch. Terrence joined them, his eyes glazed over with the fatigue of a doctor's schedule.

The conversation took a turn to their respective careers and how they had met their spouses. Chelsea and Terrence talked about their college romance, their paths diverging and then converging again in the world of law and medicine. Gianna shared her journey from culinary school to opening her own restaurant, which Joe had supported her through every step of the way. It was clear that Joe and Gianna had a strong bond, built on respect and a shared history. Yet, as the night grew late, Chelsea couldn't shake the feeling that Joe's eyes kept straying to her.

When Terrence finally stood up, yawning and checking his watch, Chelsea felt a jolt of disappointment. She didn't want the evening to end, not yet. But she knew she couldn't ask him to stay. "We should get going," Terrence said, "It's been a long day and I've got an early surgery tomorrow."

"Let's exchange numbers," Chelsea suggested, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "We should get together again once we're all settled in."

Gianna beamed, and the two women exchanged numbers while Joe quietly observed. Chelsea felt his gaze on her as she said goodbye, the intensity of it making her heart race. They stepped out into the cool Cincinnati night, the stars glinting in the sky above their heads. Terrence walked them down the sidewalk to their home, his hand resting protectively on the small of Chelsea's back.

The next few weeks saw Chelsea and Joe's paths crossing more often than not. They'd wave from their respective lawns as they mowed the grass or tended to their flowers. They'd bump into each other while out at their mailboxes, exchanging pleasantries and small talk. Yet, the charged energy between them grew with each encounter, the unspoken desire thickening like the humidity in the air before a summer storm.

Work kept both Chelsea and Joe busy, allowing their attraction to simmer under the surface of their daily lives. Yet, every time their eyes met, the electricity was undeniable. Chelsea found herself looking forward to these casual meetings, her heart fluttering as she anticipated their next encounter.

Chelsea closed out a huge contract with a professional basketball player about two months after moving to Cincinnati, feeling a high she hadn't experienced in weeks. As she pulled into the driveway, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Terrence's car in the garage. He was rarely home before dark. She bounced into the house, her heels echoing through the grand entryway, and found him in the living room, surrounded by the last of their cardboard boxes. "Surprise," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I took the afternoon off. I thought we could finally get this place in order."

Their relationship had been chilly since the move, but Chelsea felt a spark of hope at his gesture. They worked side by side, unpacking and rearranging furniture, and when the last box was empty, they collapsed onto the couch, laughing and sweaty. It was the most relaxed she'd been around him in months, and Chelsea allowed herself to feel a flicker of affection for him.

"Thank you for helping me today," she said, leaning into his side.

Terrence grinned, his eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the TV. "No problem. It's what we do for each other."

But as the days rolled into weeks, the spark didn't catch. The routine of their marriage resumed its monotonous cycle, and Chelsea found herself looking out the window, watching Joe jog past her house in the early mornings. His tall, muscular frame was a stark contrast to Terrence's slim build, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel those arms around her instead.

"I'm all packed, Chels," Terrence called out from their bedroom, interrupting her thoughts. "Don't wait up for me tonight, I've got a full surgical schedule and an even longer flight. I'll be back in a week." He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded. Terrence would be attending a medical conference in London, leaving Chelsea to hold down the fort and entertain her best friend flying in from Atlanta for the weekend.

Chelsea watched Terrence's taillights disappear into the early morning sunlight, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. The house was quiet, almost too quiet without his constant presence. She had the weekend to herself, but she knew the silence would only amplify her thoughts of Joe. But with her best friend, Jasmine, arriving that evening, she had no time to wallow in her illicit desires.

With a deep breath, Chelsea turned her focus to the impending weekend. She had plans to take Jasmine to all the local hotspots, including Gianna's restaurant. As they unpacked her luggage, Chelsea's phone buzzed with a message from Gianna, supportive of Chelsea's suggestion they all grab dinner together the following night at the restaurant.

That evening, as Chelsea and Jasmine lounged on the plush couch with a bottle of wine, both Terrence and Joe were the furthest thing from her mind. They laughed and reminisced about their old antics, filling the air with nostalgia. Chelsea had missed this, the genuine connection with someone who knew her before she became Mrs. Brooks, the high-powered, ultra-successful attorney. Jasmine was a reminder of the wild, carefree woman Chelsea used to be before the expectations of her family and marriage had tamed her spirit.

The next night, Chelsea and Jasmine got dressed to the nines for dinner at Gianna's restaurant. The scent of garlic and spices wafted from the kitchen, tantalizing their senses. As they waited for their table, Joe strolled in, looking as suave as ever in a tailored suit. Chelsea felt a jolt of electricity at the sight of him, and she knew that she hadn't been able to shake the attraction she'd felt that first night. She introduced Jasmine and the two of them chatted for a bit before Gianna whisked them away to show off the kitchen.

Jasmine leaned in to whisper, "Damn, girl, your neighbor is fine."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, "Really? I didn't notice."

The evening passed in a delightful blur of exquisite food and lively conversation. Gianna regaled them with tales from her show, and Joe shared stories from his corporate world. Despite their different backgrounds, Chelsea found herself drawn into Joe's world, his quiet confidence and sharp wit a refreshing change from Terrence's stoic nature. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of something she hadn't felt in a long time—desire.

As they said their goodnights, Joe's hand grazed Chelsea's arm, sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't resist the allure of the flame. The following day, as Chelsea pulled out of the driveway to drive Jasmine back to the airport, she saw Joe outside, dressed in a suit again, presumably heading off to work. He waved and she felt her cheeks warm, the memory of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension between Chelsea and Joe grew thicker than the humid Cincinnati air. They saw each other in passing, exchanging polite smiles and lingering stares, but not much else. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying her thoughts in contracts and negotiations, but Joe's magnetic presence was never far from her mind.

One sweltering afternoon, as Chelsea returned from a particularly grueling day at the office, she spotted Joe in his backyard, sweat glistening on his forehead as he tended to the garden. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and strong hands. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she found herself walking over, her high heels sinking into the soft grass.

"I didn't know Mr. CFO had a green thumb," Chelsea called out, her voice carrying over the fence that separated their properties.

Joe looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's one of the few things that keeps me sane," he responded, straightening up to give her a better view of his body. His white dry-fit pulled taut across his broad chest. "Gigi likes to grow her own herbs and somehow, I got roped into it."

Chelsea stepped closer, the heat from the sun matching the warmth that spread through her body. "I can see the appeal," she said, her eyes raking over his muscular physique. "It's therapeutic."

Joe nodded, his gaze lingering on her figure. "It's a good distraction," he said, the double meaning clear in his voice.

"I could use a distraction," Chelsea admitted, her voice low and sultry. She stepped back from the fence, work bag in hand. "It was nice to see you. Happy gardening."

Another five weeks passed, and Chelsea found herself getting ready for the annual fundraising gala for her firm. The event was a mix of high-profile clients and potential new business connections, so the pressure to make a good impression was high. As she slipped into her form-fitting black gown, she couldn't help the sinking disappointment flood through her when Terrence called to say he had to cover an emergency surgery. He'd miss the gala, leaving her to attend alone.

The hotel ballroom was a whirlwind of glitz and glamour, the air thick with ambition and expensive cologne. Chelsea felt both out of place and completely at home as she mingled with the city's elite. She had hoped to use the evening to put Joe out of her mind, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Sure enough, when she turned to grab a glass of champagne from the waiter, she saw him standing by the bar, looking every inch the powerful CFO he was. His eyes met hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. They hadn't talked since the day she saw him in the garden, but the heat was as potent as ever.

"Joe," she said, trying to sound casual. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

He approached her, his smile wry. "Gianna had a last-minute filming gig," he said, holding up his own glass. "I thought I'd come to support a good cause. I didn't realize this was your firm?"

Chelsea felt her heart race as she took a sip of the bubbly. "It's a small world," she murmured, her eyes darting around the room. "But I should probably go mingle."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Or you could stay here and mingle with me," he suggested, his hand brushing against her bare back.

Chelsea's skin prickled with desire, and she knew she was playing with fire. "I shouldn't," she whispered, trying to pull away. But Joe's touch was like a magnet, drawing her back in.

"Why not?" he challenged, his voice low and seductive. "We're just two adults enjoying a bit of conversation." His hand slid down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The heat of his palm seemed to burn through the fabric of her dress.

Chelsea's resolve was slipping. The room felt too warm, the noise of the party a distant buzz. "Because we're both married," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "to two great people who don't deserve to be hurt."

Joe's expression grew serious, his hand lingering on her back. "You're right," he said, "but we're also two people with needs." His thumb traced small circles on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "Needs that aren't being met."

Confusion flickered in Chelsea's eyes, the conflict between her desires and her conscience playing out on her features. "Gigi's drop-dead gorgeous," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "and Terrence... he's a good guy. Why isn't that enough?" She practically scoffed at the thought as if scolding herself for being unfulfilled.

Joe's gaze grew intense. "It's not about what's enough," he replied, his hand sliding lower to rest just above the curve of her ass. "It's about what we want." His voice was a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep within her. "And I know what I want."

Their conversation was interrupted by a colleague of Chelsea's, breaking the tension like a knife through hot butter. She was torn, part of her relieved for the interruption, the other part craving Joe's touch. As she was dragged away to schmooze with potential clients, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. The evening grew longer, the conversations more forced, and she found herself counting down the minutes until she could be alone with her thoughts.

When the event finally wound down, Chelsea made her escape to the hotel's lobby, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She was about to call for a ride home when Joe appeared beside her, his hand on her elbow. "Let me take you home," he offered, his voice thick with intent.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed the consequences of her decision. With a deep breath, she nodded. They made their way to his car, the cool night air doing little to calm her racing thoughts. The drive was filled with tense silence, their eyes meeting every time they stopped at a red light. The anticipation was palpable, a silent crescendo building between them.

When they arrived at her house, Joe's hand lingered on the gear shift. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with unspoken desire. He turned to her, his eyes searching hers.

"Chelsea," he began, his voice gruff with want.

With a surge of control, Chelsea moved to open the passenger door. "Thank you for the ride, Joe," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I should get inside. I'm exhausted."

He nodded slowly, the tension in the car thick as they both knew what they were walking away from. "Alright," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she replied, her voice a soft sigh. "See you around."

The door clicked shut, and Joe waited until she was safely inside before driving away. Chelsea leaned against the door, her hand on her racing heart, feeling the weight of the evening's events pressing down on her. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't deny the excitement that danced within her.

Her body felt heavy as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the memory of Joe's touch still electric on her skin. She slipped out of her dress and into her silk nightgown, her mind replaying the night's events in a dizzying loop. As she slid between the cool sheets, she couldn't shake the feeling of Joe's eyes on her, his touch, his voice. Her hand traveled down her body, tracing the same paths he had earlier. Her breath grew ragged as she reached her own release, moaning his name out loud into the darkness, the syllables falling off her tongue as if destined.

The next day, she found herself unable to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed by Joe. The office felt stifling, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same. She found her eyes darting to her phone, waiting for a message that never came. It was as if the universe knew she was teetering on the edge, and it was holding its breath.

When she got home, she was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her doorstep with a note that simply read, "All my best." She knew immediately they were from Joe, and the gesture sent a shiver down her spine. She brought them inside, placing them on the kitchen counter, and stared at them for what felt like hours, the scent of roses filling the room.

They kept running into each other, the tension growing with every passing encounter. They exchanged glances that spoke volumes, but neither made a move. The weight of their secret grew heavier with each shared smile, each lingering touch. It was a dance they both knew could end in disaster, but the music was too tempting to resist.

The next time she spoke to him was a Saturday afternoon in May. Terrence was out playing golf with colleagues, and she had spent the day cleaning from top to bottom. The house was finally starting to feel like home, but she couldn't ignore the emptiness that echoed through the halls. The sun cast a gorgeous glow over the neighborhood as she stepped outside to get some fresh air. She exchanged her usual business attire for a pair of shorts and a simple tank top, her freshly pressed hair pulled into a high ponytail.

As she sat on the porch swing, the sound of faint grunts and huffed counting from Joe's backyard caught her attention. Curious, she slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look. She found him shirtless, a sheen of sweat glistening on his broad chest and shoulders as he worked through a set of push-ups. Chelsea couldn't help but admire the play of muscles beneath his skin, her gaze lingering longer than she intended.

Their eyes met, and Joe paused mid-push-up, a smirk playing on his lips as he held his hover over the shaded pavement effortlessly. He didn't bother getting up, instead continuing his workout, clearly enjoying the attention. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks and turned away, looking down as she pretended to examine the fence. The sound of his footsteps grew closer until he was standing on the other side, just a few wooden slats separating them.

"You know, I could use a spotter," he called over with a laugh, his voice low and teasing. "Or are you just here to admire the view?"

Chelsea rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her own smirk. "I wouldn't dare interrupt your workout routine, Mr. Burrow," she quipped, trying to sound more casual than she felt.

"Joe," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "And I could use the company."

The air thickened between them, charged with unspoken desire. Chelsea felt her heart quicken. She knew she should go inside, maintain the facade of a contented wife. But she didn't move. Instead, she found herself saying, "I make a kick-ass iced tea, if you're thirsty."

Joe's grin widened, and without missing a beat, he responded, "I'm parched. I'll be right over."

The moment Joe stepped into her kitchen, the air grew electric. Chelsea poured two tall glasses of iced tea, her hands shaking slightly as she handed him one. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast, and she took a sip, the sweetness and coolness providing a brief respite from the heat building inside her. He drank deeply, watching her over the rim, his eyes never leaving hers. The silence stretched out, a taut thread ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

"Your house is beautiful," Joe said finally, breaking the silence as he scanned the open-plan living room. "I don't think I've seen it all put together yet."

"Thank you," Chelsea replied, her eyes following the trail of condensation down the side of her glass. "It's still a work in progress, not 100% what I want, but it's coming together." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the space, making the house feel both smaller and more alive than it had in months.

They made small talk as they walked around the house, Joe nodding and making the occasional comment about the decor, though his eyes never strayed from hers for long. The conversation grew more intimate as they sat down in the living room, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea's eyes flicked to the clock on the mantle, reminding her that she had a few hours before Terrence was due home.

"So, what's been keeping you busy?" Joe asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

"Coaster, please," Chelsea said with a smile, gesturing to the spot where his glass was leaving a ring. Joe's eyes followed her gesture and he chuckled, placing it on the provided coaster. "I got thrown into an image rights case last minute," she continued. "I've been in and out of court most days, so not much time for anything else."

"Sounds hectic," Joe said, leaning back into the couch, his muscular arms flexing under the fabric of his shirt. "But I'm sure you're crushing it."

"I try," Chelsea said, sipping her tea, her gaze lingering on the way his biceps bulged. "But sometimes, I wish I could just take a break from it all."

Joe leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "What would you do if you could?"

Her breath hitched. "I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe just escape."

Joe set his glass aside and shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. "Where would you go?"

"Somewhere tropical," she said, observing the brown drink in her hand. "White sand beaches, clear water, and zero cell service. Terrence gets so antsy when he's away from work, I doubt he'd even come with me." She lifted her eyes to find Joe studying her, his expression unreadable.

"You deserve a break," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone should take care of you."

The words hung in the air, and Chelsea's heart raced at the implication. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "I'm sure you're busy too, with the winery and your work."

Joe leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's been a grind. But sometimes, you need to make time for what's important." His hand hovered over her thigh, and she felt the warmth of his touch pressing into her skin. She didn't move away.

The room grew quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the AC and the distant sound of a lawnmower outside. Chelsea's skin prickled with anticipation as Joe's hand slid closer to her, the fabric of her shorts the only barrier. She took another sip of tea, the ice cubes clinking against the glass, the sound amplified in the tense silence.

"What do you think is important?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe's hand stilled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her thigh. "Well, I think taking care of yourself is pretty high on the list." His eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her feel both exposed and desired. "And maybe," he paused, his smile growing, "finding someone who enjoys taking care of you too."

Chelsea's breathing grew shallower, her eyes flicking to his hand, then back to his face. She knew what he was implying, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. "We're married, Joe," she reminded him, her voice strained.

Joe shrugged, his thumb continuing its tantalizing dance. "Doesn't mean we can't take care of each other."

Chelsea's resolve was wavering, the heat of his touch spreading through her like wildfire. She set her glass down on a duplicate coaster, her hand trembling slightly. "Joe..." she began, unsure of what to say next.

He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against her ear. "No one has to know," he whispered. "We can keep it our little secret." His hand inched higher, and she could feel the heat of his palm through the material of her shorts. "Tell me you don't want this."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine a life where she could be with Joe, free from the shackles of her unfulfilling marriage. But reality crashed back down on her, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself. "We can't," she said firmly, moving his hand away. "We're married to other people, and we have to respect that."

Joe leaned back, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "I know," he said, his voice softer. "But I also know that sometimes, you need more than what you have."

Chelsea sighed, unable to deny the truth of his words. "Fuck," she whispered, feeling the weight of the unspoken agreement between them. They sat there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken desires.

Then she leaned in, her lips a breath away from his. "Fuck me," she murmured, her voice thick with need. "Here. Now."

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He stood, pulling Chelsea to her feet, their bodies colliding in a frenzied kiss. His hands roamed her body, and she moaned into his mouth, feeling alive in a way she hadn't in years. They stumbled through the living room, knocking over a vase in their haste. Chelsea didn't care. All she could focus on was the heat of Joe's touch and the promise of the pleasure he offered.

They fell onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and need. Joe's hands were everywhere, pulling her tank top over her head and unhooking her bra with deft fingers. Chelsea's own hands were equally busy, her nails trailed down his back, feeling the power beneath his shirt. They were like starving lovers, desperate to devour each other, their clothes flying off in a frenzy of passion.

The couch creaked under their weight as Joe positioned himself over her, his erection pressing against her thigh. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him closer. His kisses grew more demanding as he kissed a trail down her neck, making her arch her back in response. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her collarbone, eliciting a gasp. The feel of his stubble against her skin was exhilarating, opposing the sleek smoothness she was used to with Terrence.

Chelsea reached down and fumbled with his athletic shorts, her heart racing. The fabric slid down his hips, revealing his hardened length concealed under his boxer briefs. She took him in her hand, stroking him gently. Joe groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her touch. His own hand found her center, and she was wet and ready for him. He teased her with his fingers, exploring her folds and finding her clit. She moaned, pushing herself into his hand, eager for more.

With a growl, Joe kissed her again, his tongue claiming her mouth as he entered her. Chelsea's eyes widened with pleasure, her body responding to him in ways it hadn't for Terrence in so long. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. The couch protested with every movement, but the sound was lost in their muffled cries and gasps. Chelsea's breasts bounced with the rhythm, her nipples tight and sensitive. Joe's eyes were locked on hers, the intensity in them making her feel like the only woman in the world.

The room spun as Chelsea moaned out at the feeling of the stretch. She raked her nails down his back, urging him on. He responded, his strokes growing more erratic and his breathing more ragged. The friction between them was electric, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She willed him closer, pulling her into her sweet heat, as if wanting to embed his skin onto hers.

"Wait, do you have a condom?" Chelsea managed to ask breathlessly, the realization hitting her like a cold shower. Joe paused, looking surprised for a moment before nodding and reaching for his discarded pants. He fished out a foil packet from his wallet and tore it open with his teeth, sliding it onto himself with an efficiency that spoke of experience.

She couldn't bring herself to think too hard about the implications of Joe carrying a condom at the ready. Instead, she focused on the feeling of him sheathing himself and sinking back into her. The sensation was exquisite, filling a void she hadn't even realized existed. They moved together, their bodies syncing in a way she had thought was reserved for movies and romance novels. The passion between them was intoxicating, the air thick with desire.

Sweat glistened on their skin as Joe picked up the pace. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge of a climax she hadn't experienced in years. Her eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, her toes curling into the plush rug beneath them. When it finally crashed over her, she called out his name, her voice echoing in the quiet room. Joe followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into the latex barrier.

Chelsea's body felt like jelly as Joe pulled out and they both lay panting on the couch, their clothes in disarray. The moment of passion hovered over them like a cloud, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Chelsea's mind raced as she stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what they had just done. The weight of their actions settled on her shoulders, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction that coursed through her veins.

They both knew they had crossed a line, and the guilt began to creep in. Chelsea sat up, smoothing her hair before reaching down to pull her underwear back up her shapely legs. She searched Joe's eyes for a sign of what was to come, but all she found was a mirror to her own tumultuous emotions. He stood and offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. They were silent as they redressed, the sound of fabric rustling and their hearts beating loudly in the quiet.

A notification pinged, echoing through the tense space. Chelsea's phone vibrated on the coffee table, and she reached for it almost instinctively. It was a message from Terrence, checking in on her evening. The irony wasn't lost on her as she typed out a quick response, playing the role of the devoted wife. Joe leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her with a mix of satisfaction and something else she couldn't quite place. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust that hadn't fully subsided.

"We should probably talk," Joe said, his voice low and serious, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

Chelsea's head shook from side to side, her mind racing with the gravity of their actions. "What is there to talk about?" she replied, her voice thick with emotion. "We both know this can't go anywhere. We are married, Joe."

Joe's eyes searched hers for understanding. "I know, Chelsea. But I can't ignore this connection. And I don't think you can either."

"But we have to," Chelsea insisted, her voice trembling as she tried to convince herself more than him. She knew the rules of their social circles, the expectations of their families. A scandal like this would ruin everything they'd worked so hard to build. She stepped away, creating a physical distance between them as she tried to reconstruct the walls she'd allowed to crumble.

"I don't know what your marriage is like," Joe began, his voice gentle yet firm, "but I know mine hasn't been the same in a long time." His eyes searched hers, looking for a flicker of understanding. "And something tells me you're not exactly thrilled with yours either."

Chelsea's heart thudded in her chest as she took in his words. The truth in them resonated deep within her, making it difficult to maintain her stance. She knew he wasn't wrong, but admitting it aloud was another matter entirely. "It's complicated," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just throw away everything I have with Terrence."

Joe nodded, his expression understanding. "I'm not asking you to," he assured her. "But I'm also not going to pretend that what just happened didn't mean something." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush her palm to her warm cheek. "I want to see you again, Chelsea. I want to explore this—whatever it is—between us."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to lean into it. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their situation pressing down on her. When she opened them, she found Joe's gaze still fixed on her, filled with a determination that she hadn't seen before. "Joe, we can't," she said, her voice a barely-there whisper. "This isn't right."

"I know," Joe replied, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "But sometimes, things that aren't right feel incredibly right." His hand dropped, and he took a step back, giving her the space she needed to breathe. "Look, I'm not asking you to leave Terrence or for us to run away together. But we both know we can't keep pretending we don't feel something. If we can find a way to do this without hurting anyone, I think we owe it to ourselves to see where it goes."

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing. The thought of being with Joe, of feeling alive again in a way she hadn't in years, was tempting beyond measure. But she was also a woman of integrity, and the thought of deceiving her husband and new friend was unbearable. She searched Joe's eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or insincerity. What she found instead was a man who was lost, just as she was, seeking solace in a connection that transcended their stagnant marriages.

"I think you should leave," Chelsea said finally, her voice trembling with the effort it took to keep her emotions in check. "I'm sorry, Joe, but we can't do this again. It's not fair to either of them."

Joe nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Okay," he murmured, "but you know where to find me if you change your mind." With a sigh, he pulled back, collected himself, and walked out the door. For a moment she watched him go, the ache in her chest growing with every step he took.

The days that followed were a tumultuous blend of guilt and longing. Chelsea threw herself into her work, burying herself in contracts and negotiations to keep her mind off Joe. But every time she saw his car pull into the driveway next door, her resolve wavered. The memory of their illicit encounter burned into her every thought, tempting her to abandon caution and explore the depths of their shared desire.

Terrence was increasingly more absent, a side effect of his new position that required frequent travel and long hours. Chelsea's mind wandered to Joe during the lonely nights, the quiet house a punishing reminder of the void in her life. Her fantasies grew more daring with each passing day, and she found herself craving the thrill of their clandestine meeting. She could practically smell Joe's cologne still. It was dark, musky, and filled her with a hunger that she had never felt with Terrence.

Work proved to be the only respite from the chaotic whirlwind of emotions Chelsea felt. Each day at the office was a battle to keep her thoughts from drifting to Joe, the way his eyes had lit up when they talked, the warmth of his touch, and the raw passion that had overtaken them that night. Her interactions with Gianna had become that much more painful, knowing she was hiding such a massive secret from her friend. The weight of their affair grew heavier with every shared smile or casual wave between their houses.

Chelsea couldn't help the scoff that escaped her as she read through the loophole-ridden contract displayed on her computer screen. The office had been buzzing as usual, the Monday morning rush bringing in a wave of new cases and clients. With Terrence being so busy with his new role, she had logged more hours in, catching the attention of a senior partner at the firm. He had, not so subtly, hinted at a promotion to junior partner on the horizon if she kept up her current pace.

So she dove head first into her work, the pile of legal documents becoming a welcome distraction from the tempest of guilt and desire that swirled within her. Her days grew longer, her nights lonelier, and with each passing hour, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

Months ago she had known things with Terrence had grown stale, but now, with Joe's presence a constant reminder of what she was missing, the cracks in their marriage had become a chasm. The weight of her secret grew heavier with every encounter, yet she couldn't bring herself to confess.

Part of her knew that she was reluctant to confess because she was holding onto a bit of hope that things would change. That the infatuation she once held for the older, charming medical student would return. That the man who had swept her off her feet and promised her the world would remember that they had once been each other's everything. But with each passing day, she realized that hope was fading into the shadows of her reality.

If she was being honest with herself, the most disheartening part of her marriage was the fact that she couldn't tell if Terrence had noticed the change in her. His work kept him away more and more, and when he was home, it was as if he couldn't be bothered to see her, blind to the tumultuous emotions she wrestled with.

Maybe it hurt her so much because she knew he wasn't entirely oblivious. There were moments when she'd catch him looking at her with a hint of longing in his eyes, as if he knew she was slipping away but was too proud to ask why. There were others still when he would attempt to reconnect with her, hinting at their former passion with gentle touches and whispers. But it was only ever through sex that he seemed to try to bridge the gap between them, and even that had grown mechanical and forced.

The ringing of the office phone cut through her focus and Chelsea found herself eager to escape the claustrophobic walls of her thoughts. The caller ID revealed the incoming call from the reception's desk. "This is Chelsea Brooks," she answered in her professional tone, hoping it was a new client or an emergency that could occupy her mind and free her from the spiraling thoughts of her personal life.

The receptionist's voice was smooth, unknowing even, "Mrs. Brooks, there's a Mr. Joe Burrow here to see you. He said it's important and that he won't take up much of your time."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She had told Joe to stay away, yet here he was, barging into her workplace like he had every right to be there. "Tell him I'm busy," she instructed firmly, trying to keep her cool.

The receptionist's voice returned a moment later, "Mr. Burrow insists it's urgent, Mrs. Brooks. He says he'll wait if you're busy."

Chelsea sighed, her hand tightening around the phone. She couldn't risk a scene at work. Not with Joe. "Send him in," she said, resigned to the inevitable.

Joe entered her office with the same confidence he had that day in her kitchen, his tall frame and broad shoulders seemingly swallowing the space. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair. His tailored suit hugged his body in all the right places, reminding her of the power she felt when he was inside her.

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with a hundred different ways to tell him that this couldn't continue. She had to end it before it destroyed everything she had worked so hard to build. "Joe, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

He stepped closer to her desk, his eyes glued to hers. "Chelsea, I can't stop thinking about you," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

Her chest tightened. She knew she should be firm, but the raw desire in his words made it difficult. "Joe, we agreed..." she started, but he cut her off.

"I know what we agreed," he said, his voice gruff with passion. "But I can't help it. When I see you with Terrence, it kills me. You deserve more than what he's giving you."

Chelsea felt the heat of his words, the truth of them burning through her resolve like a hot knife through butter. She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond. "What about Gianna? Do you think this is what she deserves? For you to be here, showing up at my office, telling me you can't stop thinking about me?"

Joe took a step closer, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Gianna and I have our own issues, Chelsea. You know that. And I don't expect you to fix them. But I can't ignore what we have either. I can't let this go without knowing if there's something more to it."

Chelsea felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his body invading her space. The smell of his cologne, so different from Terrence's, was intoxicating. She wanted to lean into it, to let him take her again. But she knew she couldn't. Not here. Not now. "Joe, please," she whispered, her voice a plea for sanity. "Don't make it harder on me than it already is."

He stepped back, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a mix of regret and apology. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I just..." He trailed off, his hand raking through his hair. "I miss you."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was raw need. She stood up, the need to keep distance between them overwhelming. "Miss me?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "Joe, we can't. We're married to other people."

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching out to her. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But we can't ignore this either." His hand grazed her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "I need to feel you again, Chelsea."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or regret, but all she found was a deep, burning passion that mirrored her own. The room felt smaller, the air charged with a tension that was palpable. The sound of her own breathing was loud in her ears, her pulse racing with every beat.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. But Gianna's in Europe filming for the rest of the week, and I'd like to talk, really talk, over dinner. Just us," Joe said, his voice low and urgent. "Swing by around 8, I'll cook. It'll just be us, no expectations, no pressure."

Chelsea hesitated, Joe's gaze holding hers. The room seemed to spin around them, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. She knew she should say no, that she should put a stop to this dangerous dance before it spiraled out of control. But the memory of his touch, the way he made her feel alive, was too strong.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Joe stepped back, giving her space. "Think about it," he said gently. "I'll be waiting for you, whether you come tonight or not."

The rest of the day was a blur for Chelsea. Her mind raced with thoughts of Joe, their passionate encounters, and the life she had built with Terrence. She tried to focus on work, but her mind kept wandering. She knew that going to Joe's tonight was playing with fire, but she also knew that she was already burned. The flame between them had never truly been extinguished, and she was drawn to it like a moth to a candle.

When 8 PM rolled around, Chelsea found herself standing in front of Joe's house, her hand hovering over the doorbell. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. This was wrong, she thought. But then she remembered the emptiness she felt in her marriage, the lack of connection with Terrence, and the way Joe looked at her - like she was the only person in the world that mattered. She pushed the button and waited, her heart hammering in her chest. No going back now.

Joe answered the door, looking surprised yet pleased to see her. He was dressed casually, his shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her body as she took in the sight of him. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, stepping aside to let her in. The house was filled with the aroma of something delicious cooking, and Chelsea's stomach rumbled in response.

They sat in the cozy dining room, the candlelight flickering across their faces. The dinner was simple yet exquisite, a far cry from the fancy meals they'd shared before. As they ate, Chelsea felt a sense of ease she hadn't experienced in months, a comfort that was intoxicating. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on their hopes, fears, and the paths that had led them to this moment.

For the first time in a long time, she laughed—truly laughed—at a man's jokes. The candlelight danced in Joe's eyes as he told her a story from his college days when he played quarterback for the Ohio State University before giving it all up to support Gianna's culinary dreams. But as the night grew later, the conversation grew heavier, and the weight of their situation settled on the room.

"Why do you stay with him?" Joe asked, his voice low and intense. The question hung in the air like the last note of a heartbreaking melody. Chelsea looked down at her plate, her appetite lost amidst the swirl of emotions. She knew he was referring to Terrence, but the question was more about her than her husband. She took a sip of wine, buying time to formulate a response.

"Because it's what's expected," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My family, Terrence's family... they've all imposed their idea of what our marriage should look like to be perfect." She paused, looking into Joe's eyes, searching for understanding. "And what we have... on paper, it is perfect. Successful careers, a beautiful home, the potential to have beautiful, intelligent children." She paused again, her voice thickening with emotion. "When I first met him, I just knew that we'd be here. I knew that I had to marry him. Because he was exactly what was expected of me, you know? From a good family, studying to be a neurosurgeon, it was all so destined. I couldn't say no."

Joe reached across the table, placing his hand on hers. His touch sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the passion that had been missing from her life for so long. "I gave up a lot to marry Gianna. My dreams, my career... all for her restaurant. With the show, it's like we're back in high school again. Everyone loves us, everyone thinks we're the perfect couple." He squeezed her hand gently. "But it's all just an act. I can't remember the last time we talked about anything real. Anything that wasn't about the restaurant or her show."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt, recognizing the echo of her own discontent in Joe's words. "So why do you stay?" she asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Joe's gaze drifted to the floor, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly at the skin on her hand. "Honestly, I don't know what the alternative is," he said, his voice thick with unspoken pain. "We broke up for a year when we were in college because of my football dreams, and she was so angry with me. Our moms, they were devastated. They’ve had our lives planned out since we started dating in high school."

Chelsea nodded, her own heart aching for him.

"I've spent my whole adult life making Gianna happy," Joe continued, his eyes returning to meet hers. "I gave up football. I make appearances on her show. I work in finance because it helps keep her restaurant afloat. And now..." He trailed off, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts. "Some days I can't even tell if we're together because we truly love each other or because we're afraid of what everyone else would say."

Chelsea felt a knot in her stomach tighten. She knew the feeling all too well. Her own marriage had become a performance, a dance of appearances and expectations. "It's like you're trapped with no way out," she murmured, her voice filled with a sadness she hadn't realized she felt.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air. Chelsea knew that she should pull her hand away, stand up, and leave. But she didn't. Instead, she leaned closer to Joe, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You wanna know something really fucked up?" Chelsea said, her voice laced with a mix of anger and desperation. Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sometimes, when I'm with Terrence, all I can think about is you. How you make me feel, the way you touch me, the way you look at me." She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. "And then I hate myself for it. I'm supposed to love him, to only think about him, to only want him. But I can't."

Joe leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "You don't have to justify how you feel, Chelsea," he murmured. "Gigi and I have been married for 11 years, and I feel like she barely knows me. But when you showed up on my doorstep, it was like the wind got knocked out of me. You're all I think about."

Their faces were so close that Chelsea could feel the warmth of his breath. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "But I don't know how to stop wanting this."

Joe reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he said softly. "But we can't keep pretending."

Their eyes held for a moment longer before Joe leaned in and kissed her, gentle but urgent. Chelsea's body responded immediately, her hand curling into his shirt as she pulled him closer. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues dancing together as the heat between them ignited once more.

"Damn," Joe hissed under his breath, his hands holding Chelsea's face in his hands. His thumbs traced the line of her jaw as they broke the kiss, both of them panting. "I want you so badly."

"I know," she replied, her voice a ragged whisper. "This sucks."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions thick in the air. Chelsea's heart pounded in her chest, the guilt she'd been feeling for months now mixed with something new—relief. It felt like a dam had burst, releasing all the pent-up emotion she'd been holding onto.

"So what do we do now?" Joe asked, his voice hoarse.

Chelsea looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and desire. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I guess we have to figure out where this goes. If we can keep it just between us. Just for the time being."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "Okay," he said. "But I need to tell you something." He took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "I'm falling for you, Chelsea. I'm falling for you so hard, I'm gonna do something stupid if I can't have you."

Chelsea's stomach flipped. She didn't know what to say. Her heart raced, torn between the love she had for Terrence and the fiery passion she felt for Joe. She took a moment, looking into his eyes, searching for answers. Finally, she spoke. "So have me."

The words hung in the air, and Joe leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed down her body, pulling her closer until she was straddling him on the dining room chair. Chelsea moaned into his mouth, the sound echoing through the quiet house. They were lost in each other, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been building for so long.

As they kissed, their hands explored, pulling at clothes and unbuckling belts. The air was electric with tension, and the smell of their arousal filled the room. They managed to undress, Joe again reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a condom. They didn't bother moving to the couch this time; the chair was as good as anywhere. Chelsea wrapped her legs around him, and Joe pushed into her, both moaning desperately into each other's mouths.

The sex was raw and unbridled, fueled by their months of repressed desire. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through Chelsea's body, and she could feel Joe's need growing more intense with every second. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync, as if they'd been doing this for years. Joe gripped her hips tightly, guiding her movements, her hands tugged at his dark blonde hair, her nails digging into his scalp. There should have been a hint of shame in the way they were acting, but all Chelsea felt was a fierce craving that only Joe could satisfy.

The chair creaked under their weight, a symphony of passionate sounds that filled the room. Chelsea's moans grew louder, and she threw her head back, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Joe's eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a mix of power and vulnerability. They were risking everything for this fleeting moment, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming.

As their pace grew frantic, Chelsea felt the familiar tightness in her core that signaled an approaching climax. She bit down on Joe's shoulder to muffle her cries, her nails digging deeper into his skin. He grunted in response, his hands pressing harsh marks into her skin, as if he was trying to imprint every detail of this moment into his mind. The tension grew, coiling tightly inside her until she couldn't hold back any longer. She came hard, her body shuddering around him, and Joe followed soon after, burying his face in her neck and groaning out his release.

They remained intertwined, panting and trembling, for several moments. Unlike the first time, however, Chelsea allowed herself to bask in the afterglow. Joe's arms were strong and warm around her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that soothed her racing heart. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, feeling the sticky warmth of their combined sweat. The guilt was still there, lurking at the edges of her mind, but it was dulled by the overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

Joe eventually pulled out, and they both stood, his hands reaching for her in an effort to redress her, his touch gentle yet still searing into her skin. Chelsea felt a strange mix of emotions: excitement, fear, and a deep-seated longing for more of what they had just shared. She allowed him to fix her clothes, her eyes watching his strong features, searching for any sign of regret or hesitation. But Joe's gaze remained steady, filled with a tenderness that she hadn't seen from Terrence in a long time.

"Thank you," Chelsea murmured as Joe tucked her shirt back into her pants, his hands lingering for a brief moment longer than necessary. The words felt strange in her mouth, a blend of gratitude and apology for what they had just done. He nodded, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip before dropping away.

They stepped out of the dining room, the air thick with their combined scents of arousal and the faint aroma of their lunch. Joe walked her to the door, his hand resting on the small of her back. As he opened it, Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. The sun had set, casting a soft glow over the neighborhood. The sight of the quiet, suburban street was a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions raging within her.

"Wait," Joe said suddenly, his hand on her arm as she stepped onto the porch. "Come here. Gimme a kiss."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't resist. She leaned in, her body colliding with his, and kissed him with the same passion that had just consumed them. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things they hadn't yet said out loud—their magnetism, their fear, and the understanding that there was no going back.

As they parted, Joe whispered, "I'll see you soon, okay?" His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded, not trusting her voice to respond. With one final squeeze of her hand, he stepped back, allowing her to leave. Chelsea walked home, her mind racing with thoughts of Joe and what had just transpired. She knew that she couldn't continue down this path without consequences, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was already lost in it.

That evening, as Terrence returned from work, Chelsea tried to slip back into her position, fixing dinner and asking about his day. But every time she glanced at him, she saw Joe's face, heard his voice, felt his touch. The guilt was a heavy weight that she couldn't ignore, and she wondered if it would ever get easier. Terrence seemed oblivious, his eyes lighting up when she asked him about his surgeries and consultations, hoping it would keep him talking, and keep her from thinking about the man next door.

The next two months passed in a blur of work, stolen moments, secret lunch dates, and heated exchanges between Chelsea and Joe. Each time they saw each other, the tension grew thicker, a palpable electricity that neither could ignore. Chelsea found herself looking forward to the nights when Terrence was at the hospital, the quiet house providing the perfect cover for their clandestine meetings. They tried to keep things casual, but every touch, every whispered word, felt like a declaration of something much deeper.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, Chelsea received a text from Joe. "Can you come over?" it read. She felt a thrill of excitement and a stab of guilt. She knew she should say no, that she needed to end this before it spun further out of control, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Terrence was away, again, off to San Francisco for a medical conference, leaving her with an empty house and an empty bed.

Chelsea slipped into something less than business casual, opting for a short, floral sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She knew Joe liked it—he had told her so the last time they were together. With a quick spritz of perfume and a final look in the mirror, she stepped out of her house and into the mild summer evening. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of the Chen's grandchildren running around in their backyard. She walked over to Joe's, her heart racing with every step.

When she arrived, he greeted her at the door with a smoldering look that sent her stomach into a frenzy. His tie was loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, showing a hint of the warm skin she had come to yearn for when she was away from him. "You look gorgeous," he murmured, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but friendly. Chelsea melted into him, letting his arms wrap around her and his hands roam her body. They stumbled into the living room, their kisses growing more desperate, as if they hadn't seen each other in years rather than mere days.

The dinner they had planned remained untouched, forgotten in the face of their overwhelming need for each other. They made their way upstairs, shedding their clothes along the way, leaving a trail of fabric that whispered their secrets through the quiet house. In the guest bedroom, Joe's large hands turned her around to face the mirror, pressing her against him as he kissed her neck. Chelsea could see their reflection, their bodies entwined, and the desire in their eyes as Joe's hands cupped her breasts, teasing her already hard nipples.

"I love watching you," Joe growled in her ear as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. Chelsea's breath hitched as his hands slid down her waist and around to the zipper of her dress. She felt the heat of his arousal pressing against her, and she knew that she wanted him just as badly. They had been playing this dangerous game for months now, and the thrill of it had only grown stronger.

"You're so down bad, Joey," Chelsea teased, her voice breathless as she reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair. He smirked in the mirror, his eyes dark with need. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over their bodies.

"Call me that again," Joe responded playfully, his hand slipping down to her ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Chelsea giggled, the sound a stark contrast to the heavy lust in the air.

"Joey?" Chelsea repeated with a grin, watching his expression in the mirror. "Is that what you want, baby?" She could feel his body tense with every word, his grip tightening slightly. "Want me to call you cute little names?"

"Chelsea," Joe groaned, his voice strained with restraint as he shook his head, blue eyes squeezing shut in concentration. "What do you want to call me?"

Chelsea leaned back into him, her eyes locked on their reflection. "Joey. Baby. Mine." The last word was a whisper, but it held the weight of their unspoken truth. He audibly swallowed, his hands moving to unzip her dress, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, leaving her in nothing but a matching set of skimpy, lace lingerie.

"Want me to be yours?" Joe murmured into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, spinning around to face him. "I want a lot of things," she said, her voice low and seductive. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, lingering kiss. His hands slid over her body, exploring every inch of her soft curves, as they kissed with an urgency that had been building for months.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathless whispers and the rustling of clothing as they undressed each other. The tension was palpable, a heady mix of excitement and guilt that only made the moment feel more forbidden and exhilarating. They tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entangled as they explored each other with hungry kisses and roaming hands. Chelsea felt alive in a way she hadn't in years, her skin tingling with every touch from Joe's rough, calloused hands.

"Get on your stomach, face the mirror, baby," Joe ordered, his voice thick with desire. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat as she obeyed, the coolness of the silk sheets against her skin making her shiver. Joe's strong hands gripped her hips, positioning her just right so that she could see their reflection in the full-length mirror. He slid into her from behind, their eyes locking as he began to thrust, slow and deep.

One hand steadied himself on the curve where her back met her ass, the other hand gripping the plush of her hip. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and completely owned in the best way possible. Each thrust was a declaration of his possession, a silent shout of possession echoing in the quiet room. Her cheek pressed into the cool silk as she watched their reflection. He looked so commanding, so powerful, and she looked blissed out of her mind. Her eyes met his in the mirror, the blue of his burning into hers, and she could see the raw hunger there. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Tell me you want this," Joe murmured in her ear, his breath hot and uneven. "Say it."

"I want this," Chelsea whispered, the words escaping her in a rush. "I want you."

Joe's eyes darkened, a smoldering intensity in his gaze that made Chelsea's knees wobble. He leaned over her, a thumb reaching underneath to tease her clit as he whispered, "Say it louder."

With a gasp, Chelsea's voice grew stronger, "I want you, Joe."

The room seemed to vibrate with the weight of her admission, the words echoing through the silent house like a confession whispered in a hallowed space. Joe's hand slipped away from her throbbing core, his touch replaced by the coolness of the air. He leaned back on his heels, pulling Chelsea up with him so she was fully exposed in front of the mirror, her body quivering with need. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest pressing against her back as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She could feel his arousal leaking into the condom, warming her insides as he pushed into her, setting a rhythm that mirrored the erratic beat of her heart.

Their eyes locked in the reflection, a silent dance of passion and power that neither could deny. Chelsea's hands gripped his forearms as Joe's hands roamed her body, teasing her nipples, pressing into her needy clit. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Joe's strokes grew more demanding. She felt the tension coiling in her belly, her orgasm approaching, unstoppable and exhilarating.

"Fuck," she breathed, her voice a mix of pleasure and surprise. "You make me feel so good, baby. So, so good."

Joe's grip tightened on her hips, his movements growing more erratic as he neared his own release. "You're fuckin' everything to me, Chelsea," he grunted, his voice strained. "Look at yourself. Look at us."

Chelsea's eyes remained glued to the mirror, watching Joe's face contort with pleasure as he claimed her body. His words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of euphoria and trepidation. This wasn't just a casual fling anymore; it was love wrapped in a dark, illicit embrace. They climaxed together, their bodies trembling and skin slick with sweat.

They collapsed onto the bed, both trying to catch their breaths, their hearts beating in a chaotic symphony. The silence was deafening, filled with the weight of their shared secret. Joe leaned back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, Chelsea allowed herself to believe that this was real, that they could somehow make this work.

"How do you manage to do that?" Chelsea panted, rolling onto her side to face Joe. "Every single time."

Joe smirked, tracing a finger along her jawline. "It's all you, darling," he said, his voice smoky. "You do this to me. You come around me and suddenly I'm like a man who hasn't had water in days."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of regret or doubt, but she only found hunger and adoration. It was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't experienced with Terrence in a long time. The guilt of their infidelity was a constant presence, but in the throes of passion, it was a distant echo. They lay there, their bodies entwined, basking in the aftermath of their love-making. The scent of their desire lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of their connection.

They tore away from each other reluctantly, Chelsea needing to make a quick run to pick up dinner before Terrence returned from his shift. As she slipped into her clothes, Joe watched her with a sense of longing that made her heart ache. They'd agreed to keep this between them, but the cracks in their façade were starting to show.

"I'll text you later," Chelsea murmured, kissing him softly before slipping out the door. The pout on his lips almost drew her back in, his blue eyes clouded over with sadness as she left. She stepped into the cool evening air, trying to ignore the feeling that she was leaving a part of herself behind.

Her mind raced as she drove to a local Italian spot. How had it come to this? She'd never been the type to cheat, had never even thought about it. Yet here she was, carrying the weight of a love affair she didn't know how to end. Her phone buzzed with a message from Joe, a simple "I miss you already," that sent a warmth through her chest she hadn't felt in years. She replied with, "I'll see you soon. Promise," and forced herself to focus on the mundane task of picking up dinner.

When she got home, Terrence was already there, the smell of antiseptic lingering. He greeted her with a squeeze to her arm and took the bag of food from her hand. As they sat down to eat, that pesky sense of apathy spread through her chest. She didn't want to be here, with him, going through the motions of a loveless marriage. Her thoughts drifted back to Joe, and she felt a pang of regret for what she'd left behind.

"Did you hear me?" Terrence's voice pulled Chelsea back to reality. He was looking at her expectantly, a question hanging in the air. She realized she'd been lost in thought, her eyes glazed over, staring into the distance.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she replied, snapping out of her Joe-induced trance.

Terrence raised an eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of concern and annoyance. "I don't know why I bother sometimes," he muttered under his breath. "I said I might be promoted to head of the Neurosurgery department. It's longer hours, but that's why we moved here. So we can both achieve our dreams."

Chelsea's eyebrows furrowed, an unsavory sense of irony coating her tongue as she responded, "More hours? Terrence you worked 90 hours last week, how many more can you possibly take on?"

"It's what I have to do to be the best," he said, noticing the weariness in her voice. "What about you? Any big cases coming up?"

"Don't change the subject on me, Terrence. How effective could you possibly be when you're working almost 100 hours a week?" Chelsea retorted, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation. She had been trying to bring this up for months, but he always had a new excuse or a new goal to pursue. She was never her husband's priority.

Terrence sighed heavily, his eyes searching hers for a brief moment before he turned away to grab a beer from the fridge. "You know I have to make my mark," he said, his back to her. "It takes hard work to be the best."

Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched him, the coldness in her marriage starkly highlighted against the heat of her secret affair with Joe. "Yeah, I know," she murmured, trying to push down the resentment bubbling up. "But you're never home. You don't eat well, you don't sleep enough, and you're always stressed. That's not good for you and it's not good for your patients. What's the point of being the best if you can't even enjoy it?"

Terrence paused, his hand hovering over the fridge handle. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You don't get it, do you, Chelsea?" he said finally. "This isn't just about me. It's about our legacy, what we leave behind."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, feeling a surge of anger. "Oh, please. Legacy, huh? You know what our legacy is looking like right now? A tired, burnt-out doctor with a lonely, lawyer wife. Is that really what you want?" Terrence didn't answer, instead popping the cap on his beer and taking a long gulp.

"Does everything have to be about you, Chelsea?" Terrence said, his voice tight with frustration. "If you had a real, life or death job, maybe you'd understand. But you go drinking with celebrities and throw parties when someone signs their name on a dotted line. You don't know what real work is, Chelsea."

The room grew colder with each word, and Chelsea felt a sting of anger. She had worked hard to get where she was in the field, and she wasn't about to let him belittle her. "I'll tell you what's real work," she shot back, her voice rising. "It's trying to keep a marriage afloat when my husband is more in love with his career than he is with me. It's real work pretending to be satisfied with a man who can't even bother to make time for me! It's real work covering for you when your mother calls me every afternoon asking why you haven't spoken to her in a month!"

Terrence slammed the beer bottle on the counter, the sound echoing through the kitchen. "You think this is easy for me?" he yelled. "I'm trying to make a difference here, trying to be more than just another man with a fancy title! I'm doing this for you, Chelsea. For us!"

Chelsea's eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer to him. "Don't you dare say you're doing this for us. You're doing this for yourself and your ego! You haven't thought of me since we left our honeymoon. As a matter of fact, Terrence, tell me something. What's the name of my firm?"

Terrence's jaw tightened as he stared at her, unable to answer. The silence between them was deafening.

Chelsea took a deep breath, her chest heaving as her eyes began to cloud with tears. "Do you know what's pathetic?" she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "It's that I can't even be mad at you for not knowing the name of my firm. Because I've become so used to being second best in your eyes. I've accepted that your work comes first. That your success has to come at the cost of our marriage."

Terrence looked at her, his expression a mix of shock and pain. "Chelsea," he started, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Don't," she said, jerking away. "Don't touch me." She turned away from him, her eyes landing on the fridge, where their wedding photo stared back at her. They looked so happy then, so full of hope and promise. Now, it felt like a lie.

Terrence's silence was deafening as he took in her words. He knew she was unhappy, but he had always thought it was just a phase. That her passion would return once the dust of their new life in Cincinnati had settled. But now, hearing it laid out so starkly, he was forced to confront the truth.

"Chelsea," he finally managed, his voice thick with regret. "You know I love you. You're everything to me."

"No, I'm not, Terrence." she said firmly, her voice steadying. "If I was, you'd know what I do for a living. You'd know that my work isn't 'drinking with celebrities', you'd know that I was just going through the motions. That every day feels like I'm drowning in a sea of your ambition."

He took a step towards her, but she held up her hand. "Don't. You don't get to fix this with your charm. This isn't just about tonight."

Terrence stopped in his tracks, the weight of his wife's words sinking in. "If that's what you think of me, what could I possibly do to change your mind, huh? After everything I've given you?"

Chelsea faced him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm not doing this with you, Terrence. After a full day of drinking with celebrities, I'm exhausted." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she turned on her heels and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Terrence standing there, feeling more lost than ever before.

The days that followed were tense and fraught with unspoken tension. Terrence tried to make amends, bringing her flowers—notably, the wrong ones—and making grand romantic gestures, but Chelsea remained distant, her heart and mind elsewhere. Her thoughts swirled with Joe's touch, his whispers, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world that mattered. At work, she threw herself into her cases, finding refuge in the cutthroat world where the only battles she could control were the ones she waged on paper.

When Terrence announced that Joe invited him, and a few of the other guys in the neighborhood, to go golfing the next weekend, Chelsea couldn't even bring herself to care.

The day of the golf trip dawned bright and early. Terrence was practically bouncing out the door, eager to bond with his new neighbor and escape the suffocating silence that had settled over their marriage. Chelsea watched him go with a mix of resentment and relief. As the door clicked shut behind him, she felt the weight of their unresolved issues crash down on her, but she quickly shoved the thoughts aside, focusing instead on her plans to spend the day with her friends, popcorn and wine.

The green of the gold course stretched out before them, the crisp spring air carrying the faint scent of freshly trimmed grass. Terrence felt a strange sense of relief as he swung his club, sending the small white ball soaring into the sky. The conversation between the men was light, mostly about their jobs and the neighborhood gossip. Joe was completely carefree, his Cartier sunglasses reflecting the sun's rays. Terrence couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how relaxed he looked, especially knowing that Joe's job required so much less of him than his own demanding career.

"Chelsea's been on my ass about my hours this past week," Terrence complained, taking a sip from his water bottle as they approached the next hole. "It's like she thinks I don't give a shit about our marriage."

Joe's grip tightened around his golf club, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Well, you know what they say, work is the best form of birth control," he quipped, watching Terrence's face fall. "But in all seriousness, man, marriage isn't easy. Sometimes you've got to make sacrifices for the girl you love."

Terrence nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of Chelsea. "Yeah, I know. I just... I don't know. The last time we had sex, she straight up couldn't orgasm. It's like she's not even into it anymore." He took a swing, the ball soaring through the air in a perfect arc before landing on the green.

Bryan, one of the other golfers, chuckled cruelly. "Maybe she's taking care of herself, man." The lewd remark hung in the air, gaining a few snickers from the group.

Terrence shook his head grumbling, "Chelsea? Nah, she's too... I don't know, too classy for that." He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his water, reaching in the cooler for a beer instead.

Joe felt a strange mix of guilt and triumph at Terrence's words. "Classy or not, everyone has needs," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Inside, his mind reeled with the memory of Chelsea's cries of pleasure just a few nights ago. He knew all too well the passion she kept hidden from her husband.

"See, if that was me, Chelsea wouldn't be able to think about leaving the bedroom. They'd have to do a wellness check on her to see if she was alright," Chris, another one of the golfers, chimed in, slapping Terrence on the back.

Terrence's eyes narrowed slightly, the conversation suddenly taking a turn he wasn't expecting. "I know, I know." He took a sip of his beer. "We used to be like that when Chelsea was in college." He chuckled, but Joe didn't miss the hint of sadness in his voice. It was the same sadness Chelsea had confessed to feeling in their own relationship.

"Maybe it's just stress," Joe offered, trying to keep his tone light despite the dark thoughts swirling in his head. "The move, the new job, all that can really mess with someone's head." He knew it wasn't just stress. He had felt it in her touch, heard it in her moans when they were together. The desperation and craving for something more.

"Personally, I don't think I've ever seen you even think about tapping that ass," Bryan, one of Terrence's golfing buddies, chimed in, nudging Terrence with a laugh. "Not even a kiss. Terrence, you gotta do better."

Joe's jaw clenched, the comment hitting too close to home. He shot a warning glare at Bryan, who shrugged it off, oblivious to the tension he had just stirred up. Chris, the more foul-mouthed of the two spoke up again, "I'm telling you, if she was mine, she'd be begging for it every night."

Terrence's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he replied, "Alright, alright. Remember this is my wife we're talkin' about? Joe, you got any advice? Gianna's always skipping around all happy, I'm sure you've got some moves."

Joe's heart thumped in his chest. He felt like he was being goaded, and his mind raced with the desire to reveal all. Instead, he took a deep breath and replied, "Nah, man. I've only ever been with Gianna long-term, so I wouldn't know what to tell you." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he knew the truth was too explosive to share.

The golf game continued, but Joe's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but think of the times Chelsea had whispered sweet nothings in his ear, her nails digging into his skin as she climaxed. The way she looked at him with a mix of adoration and hunger was something Terrence would never know. Despite the guilt, Joe felt alive in a way he hadn't in years.

Back at the office, Chelsea was busy wrapping up a case when her phone buzzed with a text from Joe. "You have fans," it read. She raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding the context. He followed up with a, "Your husband's golf buddies talked about you a lot today." A chill ran down her spine, and she felt a strange mix of anger and arousal. She texted back, "What did they say?"

Joe's response was succinct. "Doesn't matter. They'll never get to hear your pretty voice moan for my cock." The possessive undertone was unmistakable, sending a jolt of excitement through Chelsea's body. She quickly put her phone away, trying to compose herself before her colleagues noticed her flustered state. She was torn between the thrill of Joe's claim and the fear of their secret being exposed.

Chelsea stepped out of her downtown office building, the cool breeze of Cincinnati's early autumn brushing against her cheeks. The scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street filled her nose, momentarily distracting her from the mountain of work emails waiting for her attention. She took a deep breath, letting the aroma mingle with the exhaust from the passing cars. It was a peculiar blend, but somehow Cincinnati was starting to feel more and more like home.

Though she was sure Joe had a lot to do with that, Chelsea couldn't ignore the comfort she felt when she thought of the city now. The two of them had been sneaking around for nearly five months, finding moments of stolen intimacy amidst their chaotic schedules. They had become experts at choosing the most discreet locations, the quietest times of the day, and the most unassuming town cars to keep their affair under wraps. As she walked towards their usual spot, a cozy Italian restaurant tucked away from prying eyes, Chelsea felt her heart race in anticipation of their lunch date.

Once a week, Chelsea and Joe met for lunch at the Italian restaurant. The hostess knew them by name and always reserved the same booth at the back, the one with the slightly faded red velvet seats that had seen better days but somehow added to the intimate charm of their secret rendezvous. The restaurant was typically empty this time of day, with a disinterested college student working the register and a tired-looking, middle aged chef peeking out from the kitchen. A soft murmur of Italian jazz would play, providing a backdrop to their stolen conversations. By this point, Chelsea knew the rotation of songs almost by heart.

Joe was already waiting, his tall frame bent slightly over the menu he always pretended to need to read. He was stubborn, alternating between his usual Margherita pizza and the chicken parmesan sandwich, but Chelsea knew he had it all memorized by heart. She slid into the booth opposite him, her eyes lingering on the strong line of his jaw, the way his tie was just loose enough to show a hint of the collarbone she was sure had a fading love bite where the bone met his shoulder.

"Hey, you," Joe said, looking up with a smile that never failed to make her stomach flutter.

Chelsea returned his smile, sliding the menu aside as she delicately placed her purse on the seat beside her. "Hi," she whispered, her voice soft and warm. "How was your morning?"

Joe leaned back, his eyes scanning the room to ensure no one of importance was within earshot. "The same as always," he replied with a hint of weariness. "Just trying to keep up with the numbers and the egos."

Chelsea nodded sympathetically. She knew the type; the kind of people who thought the world revolved around their next big deal or their latest acquisition. "Wish I could make it easier for you," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. Her wedding band felt heavy on her left ring finger, a constant reminder of the life she had chosen, or rather, the one that had chosen her.

Joe took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You do," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "More than you know."

Their conversation today was different from their usual lightness. There was a weight in the air, a heaviness that neither of them could shake off. It was as if the walls of their secret hideaway had grown thin, threatening to expose them at any moment. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach as she wondered if Joe was feeling the same way she was: trapped in a life that didn't quite fit.

"I've been thinking," Joe began, his eyes searching hers. "About us, I mean."

The words hung in the air like a question unasked. Chelsea felt the knot in her stomach tighten. "What about us?" she prodded, her voice steady despite the tumult in her chest.

Joe took a deep breath, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I can't help but wonder if things might've been different if we had waited, if we hadn't married so young." His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of agreement or a spark of hope. "It's funny, I feel like a dumbass whenever I think that if I had just waited, I could've found you."

Chelsea felt the air thicken as the gravity of his words settled between them. The what-ifs of life had always been a silent companion to their secret affair, but today, they were speaking louder than ever. "I know," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the table. "I've been thinking about that too."

The waiter arrived, a young man with a crooked smile and a notepad at the ready. They ordered their usual, the routine comforting in its predictability. As he retreated, Joe leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. "Did I tell you much about my family?"

Chelsea tilted her head, trying to recall any details beyond the fact that he had worked hard to support them. "Not really," she said, intrigued.

Joe's eyes took on a distant look as he spoke about his childhood in a small town in southeastern Ohio. His parents had been high school sweethearts, just like he and Gianna, but they had struggled to make ends meet. His father had coached at the junior college while his mother held down two jobs to keep their heads above water. He had two older brothers, both of whom had moved away to escape the shadow of their hometown's limitations.

"They had big dreams for me," Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. "They pushed me to do better, to be better."

Chelsea nodded, understanding the unspoken burden of parental expectations all too well. "And football was your way out?"

Joe's smile was bittersweet. "Yeah, it was. I was okay at it. Nothing special, I had a couple of offers but I didn't want to be too far from my parents or Gianna. So I chose Ohio State, thinking I'd keep playing, maybe make it to the NFL." His eyes grew darker with the memory. "But Gianna was already set on becoming a chef, and she had this opportunity in New York to work under a big name. I couldn't ask her to wait for me."

Their food arrived, the warm scents of cheese and marinara sauce briefly interrupting the flow of their conversation. They picked at their plates, the tension between them palpable. Chelsea listened intently, her heart aching for the sacrifices Joe had made. Her own family had mapped out her life from birth: the right schools, the right job, the right husband. Terrence had been the perfect package, but she had never felt like she had made the choice.

"So what happened?" she asked softly.

Joe took a bite of his pizza, the cheese stretching like an elastic band before breaking with a satisfying snap. "I quit football," he said, swallowing before continuing. "I figured if I couldn't have it all, I'd focus on making sure Gianna got what she wanted. I transferred to NYU to be with her. That's when I started getting serious about finance. I figured if I couldn't throw a ball for a living, I might as well find another way to make some real money."

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. Chelsea reached across the table, her hand resting gently on his forearm. "It wasn't a complete loss," she said, trying to ease the tension. "Look at you now, CFO of a Fortune 500 company. I'm sure your family's proud of you."

Joe nodded, but his eyes remained clouded. "They are," he admitted. "But it's not the same. I gave up something I loved for… for what? A marriage that feels more like a business deal every day?" He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the window where passersby walked in pairs, oblivious to the turmoil inside the restaurant. "Gianna's always been the star, you know? And I've just… I've just been her plus-one, the guy who writes the checks and makes sure she's happy."

Chelsea's heart twisted at the raw honesty in Joe's voice. She knew all too well the feeling of being an accessory to someone else's ambition. "You said you retired both yours and Gianna's parents, right? That's a big deal, Joe," she offered, trying to remind him of his worth beyond his marriage.

He nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. "It is," he said, his voice devoid of the pride she knew should accompany such an achievement. "But it's like… I don't know. Like I've spent my whole life doing what everyone else wanted, and now…" His voice trailed off as he took a sip of his water, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. "I just don't know if I have anything left for myself."

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt for her part in adding to Joe's burdens. "What about you?" he asked, his gaze back on her. "What would you have done if you weren't married to Terrence?"

She took a moment to consider the question, the weight of the words sitting heavily on her tongue. "I don't think I've ever really considered any alternative, honestly," she said, her eyes meeting his. "My parents had my life mapped out for me from the day I was born. They picked out everything. The perfect name, the perfect schools, the perfect career, and of course, the perfect husband. If it wasn't Terrence, it would've been someone just like him."

Joe leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty young when the two of you got seriou-"

"I was a sophomore in undergrad," Chelsea interrupted, the words spilling out like a confession. "Terrence was in medical school, already the golden boy of our families. He was charming, ambitious, same frat as my Dad, everything my parents wanted for me. They didn't even blink an eye when he proposed on my birthday less than a year after we met. It was like they had been waiting for it."

Joe nodded, understanding the weight of familial expectations. "And do you think you'd have chosen differently?" His eyes searched hers, looking for a glimmer of regret or perhaps a hint of a road not taken.

Chelsea's gaze fell to the breadsticks on the table, her mind racing back to those college days filled with hope and promise. "I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe. But by the time I realized I didn't love him the way they wanted me to, it was too late. I was standing at the altar, reciting vows I didn't even believe in. Just holding my breath, hoping someone would stand up and shout their objections."

Joe reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You can't change the past," he said gently. "But you can decide what you want for the future."

Chelsea nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I know," she said, her voice wavering. "It's just hard to imagine a life without Terrence, without the life my parents worked so hard to set up for me. Anytime I try to imagine something different, it feels like I'm betraying them, like I'm throwing it all away."

Joe squeezed her hand tighter. "What do you think you'd be doing if you weren't married to Terrence?"

Chelsea took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. "I'd probably still be in law," she said after a moment. "But maybe I'd be dabbling in politics, like I always talked about in college. Or maybe I'd start my own firm, one that focused on helping people who couldn't afford representation."

Joe's eyes lit up with genuine interest. Pausing to think as he observed the way Chelsea's eyes sparkled with the thought of a life untethered from her current reality.

"What about you?" Chelsea asked, eager to shift the focus. "What would you be doing if you weren't married to Gianna?"

Joe's gaze grew distant, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd probably still be in finance," he said. "But I'd be traveling more, see the world." He chuckled, a sound that was a rare treat in their secret meetups. "But more importantly, I'd be taking chances, you know? Investing in little start-ups with potential instead of playing it safe."

Their conversation grew quieter, their food forgotten as they shared more of themselves than they ever had before. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in around them, insulating them from the outside world and the lives they had left at the door.

"Joe," Chelsea began, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want from this?" She searched his eyes, desperate for an answer that could give her clarity in the chaos of their situation.

Joe took a moment to consider, his thumb still tracing circles on her hand. "I want to be happy," he said finally. "I want what everyone wants, I guess. To love and be loved in return. To feel like I'm living my own life."

The words hung in the air like a confession, and for a moment, Chelsea felt like she could see right through to his soul. "What does that mean for us?" she asked, her voice barely audible above the clinking of silverware and the muffled conversations of other patrons.

Joe took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't want you to feel trapped, Chelsea. I want you to be able to explore those things you've always talked about. If we can help each other find happiness, maybe that's enough for now."

Chelsea felt a tear slip down her cheek. "It's just…" she began, her voice cracking. "I've never felt like I could disappoint my family. They've given me so much, and I owe them so much."

Joe leaned in, his voice gentle. "But what about what you owe to yourself?"

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a reflection of the same yearning she felt. "I just don't know how to do that without letting them down," she confessed. "My identity is so tied up in being the successful daughter, the perfect wife. What happens when I'm just… Chelsea?"

Joe's smile was kind, understanding. "You're more than that already," he said. "But I get it. Sometimes it feels like we're all just playing roles, huh?"

The waiter refilled their water glasses, oblivious to the gravity of the conversation happening in the dimly lit corner booth. Chelsea nodded, taking a sip to gather her thoughts. "To this day, I slip up and forget that I'm 'Mrs. Brooks' and not 'Miss Hayes'." She chuckled sadly. "It's like I'm watching someone who looks like me live a life I didn't choose."

Joe leaned in closer, his voice low and earnest. "I was just Joey Burrow, the kid who could throw a football pretty good. But then I became 'Gianna's husband' and I wonder if I lost myself in that transition." His eyes searched hers, looking for understanding. "I know we can't change who we are or where we come from, but maybe we can start making choices that feel more like us."

Chelsea nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. "It's just…" she began, her voice trailing off. "What if we make the wrong choice?"

Joe's expression grew solemn. "There's no way to know," he said. "But I'd rather live with the regret of a risk taken than the regret of a life never lived. Gianna and I haven't been happy for a long time. I keep telling myself it's for the sake of stability, for Gianna's brand, but the truth is, I've been living for her happiness, not my own." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm tired of pretending."

Chelsea felt a lump form in her throat. The honesty in Joe's voice was stark and raw, mirroring her own thoughts. "Terrence still doesn't know what it is I do all day," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "He's so caught up in his own world, he doesn't see me. I'm just another trophy for him to show off to his colleagues and family."

Joe nodded, his gaze never wavering from hers. "We both know what it's like to be someone else's accessory." He took another deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say next. "But I'm not going to lie to you, Chels. Being with you…it's the first time in a long time I've felt like myself again. It's refreshing. You're refreshing."

Chelsea felt a warmth spread through her chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "I feel the same way," she confessed.

"Then maybe," Joe began, his voice hopeful, "we could start making choices that lead to us being happy. Together."

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat, the implication of his words sinking in. The thought of being with Joe, openly and without fear of judgment, was both terrifying and exhilarating. She took a moment to process, her mind racing with the consequences and the potential joy that could come from such a choice.

"I've been holding off on saying this," Joe continued, reaching for his water after he quickly glanced at his watch. "But I love you. I know it's crazy, given the circumstances, but I think I have for a while now."

Chelsea's breath caught in her throat. Love? That was a word she hadn't dared to entertain in the context of their affair. She felt the weight of their secret pressing down on her, the fear of the consequences of admitting such a powerful emotion. But when she looked into Joe's eyes, she saw something that she hadn't seen in a very long time: genuine affection, untainted by duty or expectation.

"Joe," she said, her voice barely audible over the soft jazz playing in the background. "That's… I'm not sure how to respond to that."

Joe nodded, understanding the gravity of his confession. "You don't have to say it back," he said quickly. "I just wanted you to know. I need you to know that this isn't just about the physical stuff for me. You're more than that. You're the only one who gets it, who gets me."

The air grew thick with the unspoken words hanging between them. Chelsea felt the weight of his love like a warm blanket, comforting yet suffocating. She had never allowed herself to believe that someone could love her beyond her status or her marriage to Terrence. But Joe was different; he saw the real her, the woman buried beneath the layers of expectations and responsibilities.

"I… I love you too, Joe. I didn't know how to say it," Chelsea admitted, her voice trembling. The words felt strange on her lips, but also incredibly right. For the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was lying to herself or to someone else. "But I'm sure I do. You feel right."

Joe's smile grew, a warm light in the dim restaurant. He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his. "I know we're in a tough spot, Chelsea," he said, his voice earnest. "But I want us to find a way to be happy together. To build a life that's ours, not anyone else's."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all she saw was a man who had found something precious in her, something she hadn't realized she had lost until she saw it reflected in his gaze. Casting a quick glance around the empty restaurant, Chelsea leaned in, cupping Joe's face in her hands to kiss him. It was a soft, lingering kiss filled with a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of.

When they finally pulled apart, the silence was deafening. The realization of their confession settled over them like a warm blanket, both comforting and suffocating. "I need to get back to the office," Joe said, his voice husky with emotion.

Chelsea nodded, her eyes still locked on his. "Me too," she said, the gravity of their conversation still weighing heavily on her. They both knew that their lunch break was over, but the world outside the restaurant felt foreign and daunting.

They gathered their things and Joe helped her with her coat, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary on her arm. As they stepped out into the cold Cincinnati afternoon, the reality of their situation crashed down on them like a wave. They walked side by side, their hands brushing but not quite touching, the air between them charged with a tension that was no longer just sexual.

"I'll see you next week," Joe said, his voice a mix of hope and resignation. "It's about seven days too long, but I'll take what I can get."

Chelsea nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Seven days," she echoed, the number feeling both endless and insignificant. They stood outside the restaurant, the chilly breeze a stark contrast to the warmth they had shared inside.

"Yeah," Joe said, his eyes searching hers. "You'll text me when you get back to the firm?"

"I will," Chelsea promised, her hand reaching for her phone to ensure it was still there. The cold air stung her cheeks, reminding her of the world waiting outside their bubble. "And Joe…" she called out as he started to walk away. He turned back to her, the wind ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Thank you."

Joe stopped in his tracks, his breath puffing out from his lips as he mouthed, "I love you," before turning back around. Chelsea watched him disappear into the crowd of people, feeling a pang of something akin to teenaged infatuation. As she walked towards her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that their lunch had irrevocably changed things. The weight of their confessions hung heavy in the air, a secret they both now had to carry.

The next month, Chelsea was whisked off to a work trip in Dayton. Her job required her to be there for a few days, and as much as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Joe. She missed the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel alive again. On the second night of her trip, she found herself in her hotel room, alone with nothing but room service and a bottle of wine for company. The silence was deafening, and she couldn't ignore the ache between her legs that Joe so effortlessly satisfied.

Manicured fingertips reached for her phone, tapping on Joe's contact with a sense of urgency. "Miss me?" he answered, his voice deep and smooth, like a fine whiskey. Chelsea bit her lip, her heart racing as she whispered into the phone, "I need to see you."

"Aren't you in Dayton this week?" Joe's voice held a hint of surprise.

"And?" Chelsea challenged, biting at her bottom lip. She could almost see the heave of his chest as he sighed through the phone. Suppressing a giggle, she waited for his response.

"Goddammit, Chelsea," Joe murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Send me the address, I'll be there in 45."

"Joey, it's an hour drive," Chelsea protested, her voice a blend of excitement and caution.

"I'll do it in 40, don't argue with me," Joe said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Just send me the damn address before I lose my mind."

The anticipation grew as Chelsea sent him the details, her heart hammering in her chest like a drumline. She took a quick shower to wash off the day's stress and slipped into a lazy pair of Calvin Kleins. The minutes ticked by like hours until finally, she heard the door to her hotel room click open. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, her eyes widening at the sight of Joe in a crisp suit, looking like a man on a mission.

"I came straight from work," Joe said, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. He dropped his briefcase and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing his broad shoulders and the muscular physique Chelsea craved. She stepped into his arms, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth as if he'd been starving for her taste. Their kiss was desperate, hungry, and filled with the kind of passion that could never be contained within their marriages.

The room was suffocating with the scent of their desire as they tugged at each other's clothes, needing to feel skin on skin. Joe's hands were everywhere, tracing the contours of Chelsea's body with a familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. They stumbled backward to the bed, tearing away the barriers between them, leaving a trail of fabric scattered across the floor.

"So fuckin' needy for me, begging me to drive an hour just to fuck you?" Joe whispered in her ear as he pulled her closer, his hands cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Chelsea felt a thrill of arousal at his words, biting her lip to hold back a moan. He carried her to the bed and tossed her down onto the soft hotel comforter. He stepped back and took a moment to admire her, his eyes raking over her naked body as if she were a feast laid out just for him.

"Bless me," Chelsea murmured, her eyes locked on Joe's as he undid his tie with purposeful strokes. She watched as each button of his shirt came undone, revealing his chest, his abs, the V of muscle that pointed down to the bulge in his trousers. He stepped closer, kicking off his shoes and dropping his pants. He was already hard for her, and the sight made her wetter.

"You're so beautiful," Joe said, his voice thick with desire. He climbed onto the bed and claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her feel alive. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach, and Chelsea arched her back, eager for his touch. His mouth found her clit, and she gasped as he flicked his tongue against it, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Joe's skilled hands worked their magic as he brought her to the edge, her moans growing louder with each stroke. Chelsea's fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on, her hips bucking against his mouth. She felt herself falling apart, her orgasm building like a crescendo. And when it hit, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with pleasure.

He slid up her body and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, the taste of her own desire on his lips. Chelsea wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him into her. He filled her completely, stretching her with his thickness. They moved together in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, a dance of passion and need that transcended their marriages. The sounds of their skin slapping together melded with their gasps and moans, echoing in the quiet hotel room.

It was uninhibited, raw, and absolutely everything Chelsea had been craving. With every thrust, Joe seemed to claim a piece of her she hadn't realized she had been holding back. She clawed at his back, her nails digging in as she matched his intensity. They moved as one, their breaths mingling in the air, their hearts beating a tempo of pure desire. The room was filled with the scent of their passion, the heat from their bodies raising the temperature of the space.

"I think you enjoy this too much," Joe murmured, his breath hot against Chelsea's ear as he drove into her.

"You think?" she quipped, her voice thick with sarcasm.

He smirked, his blue eyes piercing hers. "I know."

The truth of his words stung, but she didn't refute them. Instead, she pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and taking control. She set the pace now, her hips rolling and grinding against him, drawing out every delicious sensation. Joe's hands found her breasts, teasing and playing as she rode him, their eyes locked in a silent challenge.

"What? You want me to feel guilty about enjoying this?" Chelsea challenged, her voice low and husky as she rocked her hips against Joe's. "Want me to feel guilty—fuck, yes—about the way you get me so wet, so hot, so—" she gasped as he sank his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, "—so fucking desperate to feel you inside me?"

Joe's eyes darkened at her words, his grip on her hips tightening. "I could never ask you to feel guilty about that, baby. I know he isn't giving you what you need."

Chelsea moaned at his words, her hips moving faster as she neared another peak. "And her?" she panted, needing to hear him acknowledge it. "You ever fuck her like this?"

Joe's expression grew serious. "No, never." He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "I haven't touched her in months, baby. Not since I first saw you."

The confession sent a thrill through Chelsea's body, and she leaned down to kiss him hard, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she rode him with a newfound urgency. The truth was a heady aphrodisiac, making her feel even more alive and desired. She didn't want to think about the consequences or the pain they were causing. Right now, all that mattered was Joe's cock filling her up and the sound of their skin slapping together.

"I love you, Joey," Chelsea murmured against his lips, the words slipping out as he began to buck up into her.

He stilled beneath her, his eyes searching hers. "You can't just drop that shit, Chelsea," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempted to hold off his climax. "You know what that does to me."

Chelsea felt a surge of power, her heart racing as she leaned back slightly to look down at him. "You're all I think about. I love you." Her words were like a drug, pushing him closer to the edge. He groaned, his hands clutching her hips, and she knew she had him.

"Fuck," Joe growled, his eyes snapping open. "I love you too. So much it scares me." His hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as he began to thrust up into her. The room was filled with their desperate moans and gasps, their bodies moving in a symphony of passion that neither of them had ever felt before.

Their lovemaking grew more intense, the emotions bubbling up inside of them fueling the fire between them. They were no longer just two people caught in a moment of passion; they were two souls confessing their love in the most primal of ways. Chelsea felt her orgasm building, her entire body tightening around Joe as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

"Chelsea," he moaned, his voice thick with lust and love. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, and she knew he was close too. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. It was all she needed. With a cry that was equal parts pleasure and pain, she shuddered around him, her muscles clenching as she came hard.

Joe watched her, his own climax following close behind, his eyes never leaving hers. They held onto each other tightly as they rode the waves of pleasure, their breathing heavy and erratic. When it was over, Chelsea collapsed on top of him, her body feeling boneless and satisfied. They lay there for a moment, their hearts pounding in unison, their limbs tangled together.

"Joe," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he kissed her forehead. "I know," he murmured, understanding the unspoken question in her eyes. They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and now they had to deal with the consequences.

The silence was heavy as they both thought about the future of their affair. The hotel room felt like a sanctuary, a bubble where the outside world couldn't touch them. But reality waited just beyond the door, and they both knew it couldn't last forever.

Joe pulled her closer, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I know it's not my place to say, but maybe it's time to think about what you really want," he murmured. "You deserve to be happy, Chelsea. If you want something different, if you want more from your marriage, you should take it. Whether it's with me or not, I just want you to be happy."

Chelsea's eyes searched his, finding a genuine concern that she hadn't seen in a long time from Terrence. She knew Joe was right, but the weight of expectations and the fear of losing what she had built was too much. She leaned her forehead against his, whispering, "If I pull the trigger, everything changes. Our families, our reputations, our lives."

"But if you don't," Joe countered, "are you just going to keep living like this?" His voice was soft, but the question hit hard. Chelsea felt a knot form in her stomach, acknowledging the truth in his words.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love, fear, and indecision. "I don't know what's going to happen," she admitted. "But I can't keep lying to them, Joe. And I can't keep lying to myself. I love you, but I'm terrified."

Joe kissed her gently. "I know, and I'm scared too. But we can't keep going on like this. We need to make a choice." He held her tightly, feeling her warmth, her heart racing against his chest. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken truth of what lay ahead.

The Dayton trip came and went, leaving Chelsea fluttering from room to room, preparing her home for her parents' first visit to Cincinnati. She was a tornado of emotions, trying to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Joe and the love they'd confessed in that hotel room. She knew she needed to keep up appearances, especially with her mother's keen eye for detail.

The doorbell chimed, pulling her out of her reverie, and she took a deep breath, pasting on a smile before opening the door. Her parents swept in, her mother's arms wide as she greeted her with a tight hug. "Look at you, living the dream," she said, her voice filled with pride. Chelsea's father nodded in approval, shaking Terrence's hand firmly.

The four of them sat down for dinner, the tension palpable as they made small talk. When the doorbell rang, Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. She excused herself, expecting it to be a delivery or a neighbor. To her shock, it was Gianna and Joe. The celebrity chef was holding a bottle of wine, her perfectly manicured hand outstretched. "I saw your parents flew in. Thought we'd pop by," she said, her smile bright and genuine. Chelsea managed to keep her cool, inviting them inside.

Joe's gaze lingered on Chelsea, a silent apology in his eyes. She knew he could feel the electricity between them, the secret they shared threatening to crackle into the open. Terrence was oblivious, chuckling at something Joe said about golf as they settled into the living room. Naturally, Gianna dazzled everyone with stories of her latest television appearances and culinary adventures. Chelsea's parents were delightfully entertained, nodding along and sharing their own tales with their daughter's neighbors.

As the evening progressed, Chelsea's mother stood, requesting her daughter join her in the kitchen for a brief moment. None the wiser, Chelsea followed, trying to play it cool despite the knowledge that Joe was likely watching her leave.

In the kitchen, her mother's eyes searched hers, a stern look replacing her earlier smile. "I hope you know what you're doing, Chelsea," she whispered, the clinking of glasses from the living room a stark contrast to the gravity of her words.

Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. "Momma? What are you talking about?" she replied, feigning ignorance as she reached for a glass of water to steady her nerves.

Her mother leaned in closer, her voice low. "I've never seen you look at a man like that before, not even Terrence, the man who's supposed to be your husband. What are you doing with that man, baby?"

Chelsea froze, attempting to collect herself before responding. "Momma, I don't know what you think you saw, but nothing is happening. He's just a neighbor." She took a sip of water, trying to ease the dryness in her mouth.

Her mother's gaze was unwavering. "Chelsea, I've been married to your father for thirty-five years. I know love when I see it and I know lust when I see it. And let me tell you, honey, you don't got either one of those for Terrence." She paused, giving her daughter a moment to absorb her words before continuing. "And compared to the way you look at Joseph, I don't think you ever have."

The room grew still, the air thick with accusation and truth. Chelsea felt the heat rising in her cheeks but she kept her composure. "Momma, you're reading too much into it," she replied, trying to lighten the mood with a forced smile. "Nothing to worry about."

Her mother's expression softened, but the knowing glint in her eye didn't fade. "Look, baby," she said, taking Chelsea's hand, "I'm not judging you. But I am your mother, and I know you. I want you to be happy. And if that means making some hard choices, then maybe it's time for you to consider what truly makes you happy. I know I have put a lot of pressure on you to find a good man, to marry well, and I'm sorry. I really am. But that doesn't mean you should settle for someone who doesn't take care of you."

Chelsea felt the weight of her mother's words, and she couldn't help but look over at Joe, who was chuckling at a story Gianna was telling. His eyes caught hers briefly, and she saw a hint of understanding in them, as if he knew what she was feeling. She turned back to her mother, unsure of what to say. "Momma, I'm okay. Really. Terrence is a good man. We're just going through a rough patch, that's all. Don't worry about me."

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. "Chelsea, I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about you wasting your life on a man who doesn't make you feel like the way you should." She took a deep breath. "Your father and I, we have our problems, but we always make sure to keep the spark alive. And let me tell you, the way you look at Joseph? That's a spark that could light up the whole damn neighborhood."

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug, whispering into her ear, "Just remember, baby, you deserve to be happy. And if that happiness isn't with Terrence, then maybe it's with someone else. I will always be proud of you, no matter what." With a knowing smile, she released her and returned to the dinner table. Chelsea felt a mix of relief and fear wash over her. It wasn't the first time her mother had hinted at her dissatisfaction with Terrence, but it was the first time she'd ever suggested that Chelsea's eye had wandered.

The evening ended with polite goodbyes and promises of future visits. As Joe and Gianna left, Joe gave Chelsea one last lingering look that sent shivers down her spine. Terrence, blissfully unaware of the tension, collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost instantly. But as Chelsea lay in bed, her thoughts were consumed by Joe's words and her mother's warning. Was she really just going through a phase, or had she found something real? And if so, was it worth risking everything for?

The following days were a blur of work, social engagements, and secret glances. Chelsea and Joe danced around each other, the air thick with unspoken desires and fears. They didn't dare to text or call, not with their spouses so close by, but the silence between them was deafening. It was during one particularly stressful workday that Chelsea decided she needed to get out of the office. She drove aimlessly, her mind racing until she found herself parked outside Joe's office building.

Her heart pounding, she waited until she saw him emerge, his tall frame cutting a stark contrast against the grey concrete. He looked surprised when he saw her, but there was something in his eyes that told her he'd been expecting this. They decided to grab a quick lunch at a nearby café, choosing a secluded booth in the back. The conversation was stilted at first, filled with awkward pauses and forced laughter, but eventually, the dam broke. They talked about their marriages, their dreams, their fears, and their longing for something more. Chelsea felt as though she was peeling back layers of herself she hadn't realized were there, revealing parts she'd kept hidden even from her own husband.

"I hired a divorce attorney," Joe announced, his voice low and serious. "I can't keep pretending anymore, Chelsea."

Her eyes widened, and she took a sip of her iced tea, the condensation on the glass slipping over her fingers. "Okay," she breathed out. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. Chelsea felt a rush of emotions—relief, excitement, fear, and guilt. She knew that she felt the same way, that she couldn't continue living a lie, but the prospect of the truth coming to light was terrifying. She took a deep breath and leaned in, her eyes finding Joe's.

"Look, I don't expect you to leave Terrence today, or even a month from now," Joe said, his gaze focused on hers. "But I want you to know that I'm serious about this. I haven't seen Gianna in weeks, and when I do, it's for appearances only. Even if we weren't doing this," he gestured between them, "I would've ended it because neither of us is happy and I know she's just waiting for me to take the first step."

Chelsea's stomach twisted into knots. The thought of leaving Terrence and the life she'd built with him was overwhelming. Yet, she felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could have the love she craved with Joe. She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll think about it," she murmured.

They finished their lunch in near silence, the conversation drifting back to work and the mundane. It was a strange dance of normalcy in the face of a revelation that could shatter their worlds. When the check came, Joe reached for it, his hand brushing hers. The electricity that passed between them was undeniable. As they stood to leave, Chelsea felt a strange mix of excitement and dread.

They both retreated back to their own offices as the day wound down. As Chelsea drove back home, every red light, every stop sign, felt like a countdown to a moment that would change everything. When she pulled into her driveway, the house was dark. Terrence was still at the hospital. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Once inside, she poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, the same couch where she and Joe had first given into temptation. She couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her at the memory. But she knew that if she acted on Joe’s confession, she would be crossing a line from which there was no returning. The weight of their shared secret grew heavier by the second.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Joe, "You okay?"

Chelsea took a sip of wine, the liquid doing little to soothe her nerves. She responded, "Yeah, just processing."

Joe's reply was almost instant, "We don't have to rush into anything. I just needed you to know where I stand."

The gravity of Joe's words sank in. Chelsea knew that once they made this move, there would be no going back. The walls of her marriage, which had felt so stifling, now felt like a cocoon protecting her from the inevitable storm that lay ahead. But as she sat there, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her, she knew she didn't want to be protected anymore. She wanted the raw, unfiltered passion that Joe brought to her life.

The next night, Chelsea had resolved to break the news to Terrence. She waited for him to come home from a short day of consultations, her heart racing as she heard his footsteps through the front door. She took a deep breath as she opened the door, a bit miffed but not surprised when he completely brushed past her, heading for their drinks cart without so much as a hello. He was always like this after a day of dealing with patients and their families—distant, cold.

"Terrence, can we talk?" she called out, her voice echoing through their grand foyer. He didn’t respond immediately, taking his sweet time to fix himself a whiskey on the rocks before finally walking into the living room and reaching for the TV remote. Chelsea bit her lip, steeling herself for the conversation she’d been dreading. She’d picked out her words carefully, rehearsing the speech in her mind a hundred times. But now, with him so disconnected, it was harder than she thought.

He took a sip, his eyes never leaving the flickering screen. "What is it, Chelsea?"

Chelsea took a step closer to him, her heart hammering in her chest. "I have to tell you something. It's important."

"Yeah, okay," Terrence said distractedly, his gaze still glued to the TV.

Chelsea took a deep breath, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. "Terrence, I've been thinking a lot about us."

He finally tore his eyes away from the TV, looking at her with a mix of irritation and curiosity. "Chelsea, what is it?" The words were choppy, as if he had to force them out.

"I'm having an affair with Joe," Chelsea blurted out, the words leaving her mouth before she could second-guess herself. Terrence froze, the glass of whiskey halfway to his lips. For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the low volume from the TV. His eyes grew wide, and his grip on the glass tightened.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Terrence's voice was low, a warning growl. He set the drink down hard on the coffee table, the ice clinking against the glass.

Chelsea swallowed, her throat dry. "I've been seeing Joe. We've been having an affair."

Terrence's face contorted into a mask of rage and disbelief. He took a step towards her, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You what? How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, Terrence," Chelsea said, her voice trembling as she took a step back.

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say?" Terrence's voice was a thunderstorm, his eyes flashing with anger. He took another step closer to her, and she could almost feel the heat of his rage. "How long has this been going on?"

"It just happened," Chelsea lied, her voice shaking. "I'm filing for divorce."

Terrence's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare do this to me, Chelsea." He stepped closer, his towering frame looming over her. "We had an agreement, a promise to each other and our families."

"I know, but I can't help how I feel," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not happy anymore, Terrence."

"You're not happy?" Terrence's voice was incredulous. "So you go fuck your married neighbor? Do you hear yourself?"

Chelsea flinched at the harshness of his words, but she stood her ground. "It's not just that, Terrence. We've been drifting apart for a while now. We're not the same people we were when we met in college."

"You think I don't know that?" Terrence snapped, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Does Gianna know that you fucked her husband?"

Chelsea felt a pang of guilt stab at her. "I don't know, Terrence. That's on Joe to tell her."

Terrence took another step towards her, his breath hot on her face. "You're unbelievable. You're going to ruin everything we've built together."

Chelsea's eyes filled with tears. "I know, but I can't keep living like this. I need more than just a good last name and a nice house."

Terrence's expression softened slightly, but the anger was still a palpable force between them. "What do you want from me, Chelsea? What could I possibly do to fix this?"

"It's not about fixing, Terrence," she said, her voice firm but filled with sadness. "It's about accepting that we're not right for each other anymore."

Terrence's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of doubt or regret. Finding none, he sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say. I just... I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Chelsea replied, wiping away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. "I just need you to understand that I'm walking away. I don't expect you to be okay with it, but I need you to respect my decision."

The silence between them grew thick, each one of Terrence's breaths seemingly louder than the last. Finally, he spoke again, his voice quieter, more measured. "What now, Chelsea? What's your plan?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. "I'm going to file for divorce. I booked a room at Marriott Downtown for a few days. I need some space to think."

Terrence's face fell, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "And Joe? What about him?"

"What about him?" Chelsea challenged, her voice laced with defensiveness. "He's going to leave Gianna. He loves me."

Terrence scoffed. "Love? You think this is love? You're throwing away our marriage for a quick fuck and a few moments of excitement? That's not love, Chelsea."

Chelsea's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to define love for me, Terrence. You don't get to tell me what I feel. Even if Joe doesn't leave Gianna, I need to find myself again. This isn't just about sex. It's about connection and what I need to be happy."

Terrence stepped back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I can't believe this is happening." He turned away from her, his hand rubbing at his forehead. "Go to the Marriott, whatever. Just do me a favor and break the news to our parents yourself. Tell them what the fuck you did, yeah?"

With that, he stormed out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. Chelsea stood there, trembling, her heart racing in her chest. She had never seen Terrence like this before—so raw, so broken. The reality of what she had done began to sink in, and she felt the weight of their crumbling marriage pressing down on her. She picked up her phone, staring at the screen, Joe's contact staring back at her but she couldn't bring herself to press the call button.

Instead, she turned and walked out the front door, the cool night air hitting her like a slap in the face. The quietness of the neighborhood was eerie, a stark contrast to the tumultuous storm brewing in her soul. She wandered the streets, her thoughts racing. Was this love? Was she being selfish? Would she regret this? But with each step, she felt a sense of relief, as if she were shedding a heavy burden she had been carrying for too long.

The drive was a blur of streetlights and the occasional passing car. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was driving away from everything she had ever known and into the unknown. Her mind was racing with the consequences of her actions, the potential for scandal, and the pain she knew she had caused Terrence. Yet, as she pulled into the Marriott parking lot, she felt a strange sense of liberation. For the first time in years, she was making a decision solely for herself.

In the hotel room, Chelsea took a deep breath and picked up the phone, her hand shaking. She dialed Joe's number, the anticipation building with each ring. When he finally answered, she could hear the tension in his voice. "Hey," she whispered, "I did it. Terrence knows."

There was a heavy pause on the other end, and then Joe exhaled. It was a deep, relieved sigh, one that told her everything she needed to know about his reaction. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

"Honestly, yeah," she replied truthfully, "I think I've been holding this in for so long that it feels like a weight has been lifted. What about you?"

Joe took a moment before speaking, "It was weird, she didn't fight with me. Just said 'okay' and asked me to leave," Despite the tension in his voice, Chelsea couldn't miss the hint of relief. "But it's the right thing to do, I know it is."

"What's going to happen now?" she asked, her heart racing.

"I could come see you?" Joe suggested tentatively, "We could talk about it in person."

Chelsea felt a warm rush of excitement at the thought. "Okay," she murmured, "I'll be waiting." She hung up the phone and paced the room, trying to calm her racing thoughts. When Joe finally arrived, the tension between them was palpable. He looked tired, his eyes carrying the weight of the day's revelations. His arms were warm, strong, and comforting as he pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "I didn't mean for it to go down like that."

Joe held her tighter, his breath warm against her hair. "It's okay," he murmured, "This is on me too. We both knew this wasn't going to be easy." He led her to the bed, his hand never leaving hers, and they sat down. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

"I want you to know that I'm all in," Joe said, his voice firm but gentle, breaking the silence. "Whatever happens next, I'm here for you. Romantically or otherwise."

Chelsea looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. All she found was a fierce determination that mirrored her own. "I'm all in too," she whispered, her heart swelling with emotion.

They lay down together, their bodies fitting perfectly. Chelsea felt a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in years. Joe kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, before capturing her lips in a gentle, yet urgent kiss. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate, as their bodies began to move in sync. They made love slowly, savoring each touch, each caress, as if it were the first and last time. Their moans filled the quiet hotel room, echoing off the walls in sweet surrender.

Afterwards, they lay entwined, the silence between them no longer filled with tension but a quiet understanding. "On the bright side," Chelsea spoke up, a small smile playing on her lips, "I don't mind taking you to a firm event. Terrence never gave me the chance to introduce him to my coworkers."

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I guess that'll be our first official appearance together, huh?" He stroked her arm lightly, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. "I can't wait to tell the world you're all mine. That you chose me over all the other eligible married men out there."

"Stupid," Chelsea muttered, narrowing her eyes as Joe laughed at his own joke. "But true," she conceded with a smile, snuggling closer to him. "I can't wait to kiss you in public. Without hiding."

Joe's eyes grew serious as he pulled her closer. "We'll do it right," he promised. "I'll introduce you to my colleagues, my friends, my family. And we'll tell them the truth—that we're together because we love each other, no more guilt, no more anxiety."

The warmth of Joe's embrace washed over Chelsea like a gentle summer rain, soothing her raw emotions. She nodded, feeling the weight of her decision settle into her bones. As they lay together, the silence was punctuated only by their synchronized breaths and the muffled sounds of the bustling city outside. The reality of their newfound freedom both thrilling and terrifying.

[goldfades]

all my tomorrows | JOE BURROW⁹ [001]

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your wedding day - from start to (semi) finish. a night woven with love and laughter, where heartfelt speeches echo through the air. joe and y/n’s wedding glows with tenderness, from ja'marr’s playful tribute to y/n’s unshakable place in joe’s heart, to your best's teary words of lifelong friendship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluff, mentions of drinking, emotional, ummmm pretty much nothing else! just tooth-rotting fluff!!

MAY 23RD, 2021

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐔𝐙𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, painting the bridal suite in a soft, golden light. The air is alive with the hum of excitement, laughter bubbling over as your bridesmaids flit around the room. The scent of fresh coffee and the faint floral aroma from your bouquet mix with the sharp tang of hair spray.

Maisie, your maid of honor and partner-in-crime since middle school, perches on the edge of the vanity chair, scrolling through her phone. “Okay, ladies,” she announces, holding up a to-do list like it’s a sacred text. “We’ve got exactly three hours until we need to head down. Hair? Check. Makeup? In progress. Emotional stability?” She raises an eyebrow at you. “Questionable.”

“Excuse me,” you say, leaning back in your chair as one of the stylists curls another section of your hair. “I am perfectly stable.”

Maisie smirks. “Sure, sure. That’s why you’ve been bouncing your knee like a jackhammer since you sat down.”

You glance down at your leg, which is, indeed, in overdrive. With a sheepish laugh, you press a hand to your knee. “Okay, maybe a little nervous.”

“A little?” Olivia, one of your bridesmaids, arches a perfectly sculpted brow from her spot on the couch, where she’s applying a flawless coat of mascara. “Babe, you’re marrying Joe freaking Burrow. Nerves are allowed.”

“Not just allowed,” adds Camila, another bridesmaid, who’s currently rifling through a box of pastries. “Expected. Honestly, if you weren’t nervous, I’d be concerned.” She holds up a croissant. “Carb therapy?”

You laugh, waving her off. “Later. If I eat now, I’ll definitely spill it on the dress.”

From her seat by the window, Elena, your quiet but fiercely loyal bridesmaid, sips her coffee and smiles. “You’ll be stunning, no matter what.”

“Exactly,” Maisie says, setting her phone down and standing up with a dramatic flourish. “Now, let’s get down to business. Who’s ready for some champagne?”

There’s a collective cheer as Maisie grabs a bottle from the mini fridge and expertly pops the cork, sending a small shower of bubbly onto the floor.

“To Y/N,” Maisie says, raising her glass high. “The calmest, coolest bride in history. May your day be perfect, your vows unforgettable, and your dance moves questionable.”

You all burst into laughter as you clink glasses, the bubbles fizzing against your lips. It’s a moment of pure joy, a snapshot of the love and friendship that’s carried you to this day.

As you sip your champagne, Maisie sets her glass down and turns to the garment bag hanging on the door. “Alright, who’s ready to see the dress one more time before the big reveal?”

Your heart skips a beat as you watch her carefully unzip the bag, revealing the gown that feels like a dream. The room falls silent, the air thick with awe as your bridesmaids crowd around.

“Oh my God,” Olivia breathes. “It’s even more beautiful than I remember.”

“You’re going to take his breath away,” Elena whispers, her eyes shimmering.

Camila sniffs dramatically, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m not crying, you’re crying.”

Maisie steps back, hands on her hips, beaming with pride. “This is it, Y/N. Your moment.”

You stand, the nerves from earlier settling into a warm, steady excitement. Maisie reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “How are you feeling?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze flickering to the gown, then to the faces of your best friends. “Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

Maisie grins. “Damn right you are.”

The rest of the morning unfolds in a flurry of final touches, shared memories, and stolen glances at the clock. With every passing minute, the reality sinks in deeper. In just a few hours, you’ll walk down the aisle, and at the end of it, Joe will be waiting.

The laughter and chatter around you start to blur, their voices melding into a soft, comforting hum. You watch the light bounce off the champagne flutes, the delicate lace of your wedding dress shimmering under the glow of the morning sun. Everything feels surreal, like you’re walking through a dream that somehow came to life.

This is really happening.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over you. The first time you saw Joe in that high school hallway, head buried in a playbook, hair a little too long, and a smile that made your heart stumble. The late-night phone calls during college, when the distance felt unbearable but his voice kept you tethered. The endless games, the victories and losses, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you against the world.

You think about LSU, that electric night when the stadium roared and confetti rained down like the universe was celebrating your love. Joe, on one knee, looking at you like you were the only person who mattered in the sea of screaming fans. And now, here you are, hours away from saying “I do” to the person who has been your anchor, your partner, your everything.

A soft voice breaks through your reverie. “You feeling it?”

You blink, returning to the present. The makeup artist, a kind-eyed woman named Grace, is watching you with a gentle smile, her brush paused mid-air.

You nod, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Yeah, I’m feeling it.”

And then, without warning, the weight of it all hits you. The love, the journey, the sheer magnitude of this moment—it’s overwhelming in the best way. Your eyes start to sting, the tears welling up faster than you can stop them.

Grace’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh no, no, no,” she says quickly, setting down her brush and grabbing a tissue. “Not the tears, honey, not yet! Think dry thoughts! Puppies! Deserts! That scene in The Lion King where Mufasa—wait, no, not that.”

Maisie, ever the quick thinker, swoops in with a hand fan and starts fanning your face like her life depends on it. “Deep breaths, Y/N. In through your nose, out through your mouth. We are not letting you walk down the aisle with streaky mascara.”

Camila appears on your other side, holding a tiny bottle of setting spray like it’s a weapon. “I’ve got reinforcements. Don’t worry, we’ll seal it in if we have to.”

You laugh through the tears, shaking your head as you try to compose yourself. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice wobbly. “It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and it’s actually happening.”

Grace dabs at the corners of your eyes with the tissue, her touch light and practiced. “Of course, it’s a lot,” she says, her tone soft and understanding. “But that’s a good thing. It means you’re present. You’re feeling every bit of this moment, and that’s exactly how it should be.”

Maisie leans in, her fan still going strong. “And we’ll make sure you feel it after the ceremony too. Right now, though, we’re keeping that face flawless, okay?”

You nod, a watery smile spreading across your face. “Okay.”

Grace picks up her brush again, giving you a reassuring wink. “Alright, let’s get back to it. By the time I’m done, you’ll be glowing like the goddess you are.”

As the room falls back into its rhythm, you take another deep breath, letting the love and support of your friends steady you. This is it—the beginning of forever. And you’re ready.

┈┈┈

The low rumble of laughter echoes off the walls of the groom’s suite, mixing with the faint scent of cologne and the crisp aroma of freshly pressed suits. Joe adjusts the cufflinks on his shirt, his fingers moving with the kind of calm precision he usually reserves for pre-game rituals. Except today, he’s not suiting up for a game—he’s preparing for the most important moment of his life.

“You good, man?” Ja’Marr Chase, his best man and long-time teammate, asks from across the room. He’s lounging on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His tie is still untied around his neck, but Ja’Marr never rushes.

Joe glances at him in the mirror, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Yeah, I’m good.” He adjusts his collar, taking a step back to inspect himself. The suit fits like a glove—sharp, tailored to perfection—but it’s not the suit he cares about. It’s the moment waiting for him just a few hours away.

“Good?” Ja’Marr raises an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter. “You’re about to marry the love of your life, bro. You better be more than good.”

Joe laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. I’m better than good. Happy now?”

Ja’Marr grins, setting his glass down and standing up. “That’s what I like to hear.” He walks over, clapping a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You nervous at all?”

Joe considers the question for a moment. “A little,” he admits. “But it’s a good kind of nervous. Like, the kind you get before a big game. You know what you’re doing, but it still hits you that it’s a huge deal.”

“Except this time,” Ja’Marr says, leaning against the dresser, “you’re not just playing for a win. You’re locking down your forever.”

Joe chuckles. “Exactly.”

The door swings open, and a few more of the guys—Sam, Tee, and Tyler—stroll in, already dressed and ready.

“Look at you,” Tee says, whistling as he takes in Joe’s suit. “Sharp as hell. Y/N’s gonna lose it when she sees you.”

Joe smirks. “That’s the plan.”

Sam drops into one of the chairs, pulling out his phone. “Alright, we’ve got time before we head down. Who’s up for a quick game of Madden?”

Tyler shakes his head, laughing. “You’re seriously trying to play video games right now?”

“Hey, it’s tradition,” Sam says with a shrug. “Pre-game warm-up, right?”

Ja’Marr rolls his eyes but grabs a controller anyway. “Fine. One game. But I’m playing as the Bengals, and if I win, Joe owes me a drink later.”

Joe leans against the wall, watching as they set up the game. It’s the kind of easy, familiar energy that’s followed them through years of locker rooms, road trips, and big games. And as much as he appreciates the distraction, his mind keeps drifting back to you.

He pictures you in your dress, walking down the aisle, the way your smile will light up the entire room. The thought sends a wave of anticipation and love crashing over him, so powerful it’s almost dizzying.

“You zoning out over there?” Ja’Marr asks, glancing over from the couch.

Joe snaps back to the present, his grin widening. “Just thinking about her.”

Ja’Marr nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, man. She’s something else.”

The game kicks off, and the room fills with shouts and laughter as the guys trash-talk and celebrate their plays. But through it all, Joe stays grounded in the reality that today, his life changes forever.

“Hey,” Ja’Marr says after scoring a touchdown, “just remember—when you’re standing up there, take a second to really take it all in. Don’t rush through it. That’s a moment you’ll wanna remember for the rest of your life.”

Joe meets his best friend’s gaze and nods. “I will.”

Because as much as this day is about promises and celebrations, it’s also about the journey that brought them here. And Joe’s ready to embrace every second of it.

┈┈┈

The sunlight streams gently through the wide windows of the bridal suite, filtering through gauzy curtains and casting a golden glow across the room. The air hums with quiet anticipation, the kind that wraps itself around every detail—the rustle of satin, the soft click of heels against polished wood, the faint notes of the string quartet warming up outside.

You stand before a full-length mirror, the lace and tulle of your wedding dress spilling elegantly around you. Every bead and stitch feels like a promise, every delicate detail a testament to the day you’ve dreamed about for so long.

Grace, the makeup artist, gives your hair one last fluff before stepping back. “Alright,” she says, her voice warm and steady. “You’re officially ready.”

You barely hear her. Your eyes are locked on your reflection, taking in the way the dress hugs and flows, the way the soft waves in your hair frame your face. It’s not just the look—it’s the weight of the moment that catches in your chest.

Maisie appears at your side, her own dress swishing as she moves. “You look perfect,” she says, her voice hushed, like speaking too loudly might break the spell.

You nod slowly, your hands brushing against the smooth fabric of your gown. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whisper.

Maisie grins. “Believe it, babe. You’re about to marry Joe freaking Burrow.”

The mention of his name sends a flutter of excitement through you. You can almost picture him now—standing somewhere in the men’s suite, probably adjusting his tie for the hundredth time or cracking a joke with Ja’Marr.

As if reading your thoughts, Maisie nudges you playfully. “Think he’s as nervous as you are?”

You laugh softly. “If he is, he’s hiding it better.”

A knock at the door pulls your attention, and your mom steps in, her eyes already glistening with tears. “Sweetheart,” she says, her voice catching. “You look… oh, my goodness.”

Her reaction sends another wave of emotion crashing over you, and you have to blink back tears to keep your makeup intact. She walks over, taking your hands in hers, her smile warm and full of love. “You’re radiant.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

Grace, ever vigilant, gives a soft warning from the corner. “No tears yet, ladies. We’re too close to mess up perfection.”

The room dissolves into light laughter, the tension easing just a bit. Your bridesmaids begin gathering their bouquets, Maisie organizing everyone with the efficiency of a seasoned event planner.

Meanwhile, across the country club, Joe is standing in front of another mirror, adjusting his tie for what must be the fifth time in as many minutes.

“Man, you’ve got it,” Ja’Marr says from behind him, lounging in a chair with a relaxed grin. “Your tie’s fine. You’re fine. Stop messing with it before you undo all of Grace’s hard work.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh but lets his hands fall to his sides. He steps back, taking in the full picture—charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt, tie perfectly aligned. It’s a look he’s worn before, but today it feels different. He looks like a groom. He looks like someone about to marry the love of his life.

Ja’Marr gets up, straightening his own jacket before patting Joe on the back. “You ready for this?”

Joe meets his best friend’s eyes in the mirror, and for a moment, the usual swagger softens. “Yeah,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ve been ready.”

The groomsmen begin to gather, straightening lapels and exchanging last-minute words of encouragement. There’s a knock at the door, and the wedding coordinator peeks in. “Five minutes, gentlemen.”

Joe nods, the weight of the moment settling in. He takes a deep breath, letting it anchor him. Then, with one last glance in the mirror, he turns to Ja’Marr. “Let’s do this.”

Back in the bridal suite, the final touches are being made. Maisie adjusts the hem of your dress, while Camila ensures your veil is perfectly in place. The air buzzes with quiet excitement, but as the minutes tick down, a hush falls over the room.

Your heart pounds as the wedding coordinator steps in, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “It’s time,” she says with a smile.

Your bridesmaids file out first, their dresses swaying softly as they move down the hall. Maisie lingers for a moment, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you out there,” she says, her eyes shining.

Finally, it’s just you and your dad. He steps forward, offering his arm with a look that says everything he doesn’t need to.

“Ready?” he asks softly.

You nod, your heart full. “Ready.”

Together, you step into the hallway, the sound of the string quartet growing louder with each step. The doors to the ceremony space are just ahead, and beyond them—Joe.

As you pause at the threshold, waiting for the doors to open, you take a deep breath, grounding yourself in the moment. This is it. The beginning of forever.

The double doors swing open with a soft creak, revealing the grand expanse of the ceremony space. The world narrows, and for a moment, all you hear is the soft hum of the string quartet, transitioning seamlessly into Canon in D. The light spills in golden rays through the tall windows, catching on the polished wood of the pews, the delicate floral arrangements lining the aisle, and the beaming faces of friends and family.

But none of that matters, not really. Your eyes find him instantly.

Joe stands at the end of the aisle, a picture of calm and quiet strength in his charcoal gray suit. His hands are clasped in front of him, but even from here, you can see his fingers fidgeting just slightly. His lips are curved in a soft smile, but his eyes—those clear blue eyes—are what hold you. They shine with an emotion so raw, so overwhelming, that it catches in your throat.

And then, just as you take your first step forward, you see it. His smile falters for a second, his jaw tightens, and he blinks rapidly, a single tear slipping free and tracing a line down his cheek. You feel your own breath hitch, your chest tight with a swell of love so profound it feels like it could lift you off the ground.

Your father tightens his hold on your arm, his silent support grounding you. Together, you walk down the aisle, each step measured and deliberate, as if savoring every second leading up to this moment. The murmurs of the crowd fade, the music becomes a soft, distant melody, and it’s just you and Joe, two halves of a whole, moving closer with every heartbeat.

When you finally reach him, your father gently lifts your veil, pressing a kiss to your temple. He steps back, his eyes glassy, and places your hand in Joe’s. The warmth of Joe’s touch sends a comforting rush through you, anchoring you in the present.

The officiant begins, his voice calm and steady, weaving words of love and commitment. But it’s hard to focus on anything beyond Joe—his steady breathing, the way his thumb brushes over the back of your hand, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

Then, it’s time for the vows.

Joe goes first. He clears his throat, his fingers tightening around yours as he begins.

“I was sixteen when I first knew I wanted to spend my life with you. You were standing in the bleachers, cheering me on like you always do, and I remember thinking that nothing else mattered as long as I could keep seeing that smile.”

His voice catches slightly, and he pauses, taking a steadying breath. “You’ve been my biggest supporter, my best friend, my home. Through every victory and every loss, you’ve been there, steady and unwavering. Today, I promise to be that for you. I promise to love you unconditionally, to stand by your side in every challenge and every joy, to be your partner in all things. You’ve given me a life I never dreamed possible, and I will spend everyday making sure you know how deeply you are loved.”

You’re barely holding it together by the time he finishes. Your heart is a mess of emotions, tears pooling in your eyes, but you manage a small, watery smile.

It’s your turn. You squeeze Joe’s hand lightly, drawing strength from his steady presence as you begin.

“Joe, from the moment we met, you’ve been my safe place. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst, and through it all, you’ve loved me without hesitation. You’ve shown me what it means to be truly known and deeply loved.”

Your voice wavers, and you pause for a moment, blinking back tears. “You’ve given me so much—your love, your dreams, your heart—and today, I vow to give you all of me. I promise to stand by your side through every adventure, every challenge, and every quiet, ordinary day. I promise to support your dreams, to cheer you on, to be your rock, your home, your everything. You are my greatest love, my greatest joy, and I can’t wait to build a life with you.”

The silence that follows is filled with the quiet rustle of tissues and soft sniffles from the crowd. Joe’s eyes glisten, and his grip on your hands tightens ever so slightly, as if to say I’m here, always.

The officiant smiles warmly. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Joe, you may kiss your bride.”

Time seems to slow as Joe steps closer, his hands coming up to gently frame your face. His touch is tender, reverent, as if he’s holding the most precious thing in the world. He leans in, and when his lips meet yours, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. The kiss is soft, unhurried, a perfect melding of love and promise, and the crowd erupts in cheers and applause around you.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, basking in the glow of a love that feels infinite.

“Hi, Mrs. Burrow,” Joe whispers, his voice filled with a mix of awe and joy.

You laugh softly, your heart full. “Hi, Mr. Burrow.”

As the applause swells around you, Joe flashes that signature grin—the one that’s a little mischievous, a little playful, and entirely him. Before you can register what’s happening, he scoops you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other around your back.

A collective cheer erupts from the crowd, and you let out a surprised laugh, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Joe!” you exclaim, your face flushing with joy and a hint of embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my bride into forever,” he says, his voice low and warm, eyes sparkling with pride and love. “Figured I’d start now.”

The guests eat it up, laughter and whoops echoing throughout the grand hall. Your bridesmaids are clapping and cheering, Maisie yelling, “That’s right, Joe! Set the standard high!” Jamarr, Joe’s best man, is laughing so hard he’s doubled over, while the rest of the groomsmen slap each other on the back.

Joe walks down the aisle, steady and sure, carrying you like you weigh nothing, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. The light from the chandeliers above casts a golden glow on the scene, making everything feel almost dreamlike.

You lean in close, your forehead brushing against his temple. “You know you’re setting a pretty high bar for the rest of the night,” you murmur, your lips curling into a soft smile.

He glances down at you, his grin widening. “Good. I want this day to be perfect, just like you.”

You feel your heart swell, your chest tight with emotion. How did you get so lucky? To have this man—this steadfast, loving, utterly wonderful man—as your partner for life feels almost too good to be true.

As you reach the end of the aisle, Joe gently sets you down, but not before placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. The two of you stand there for a moment, hand in hand, soaking in the love and energy radiating from your friends and family.

The officiant steps forward, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to present to you, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Joe Burrow!”

The applause erupts once more, and this time it feels like the sound of a thousand well-wishes, all wrapped up in joy and celebration. You and Joe raise your joined hands in triumph, sharing a laugh as you begin your walk—together—toward the next chapter of your lives.

But Joe, ever the showman, has one more trick up his sleeve. Just before you step out of the grand hall, he pauses, turns to face the crowd, and dips you dramatically, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips. The guests erupt in laughter and cheers, and you can’t help but laugh with them.

“Always gotta go out with a bang,” he whispers as he pulls you upright again.

“You’re impossible,” you reply, but your eyes are shining with love.

“And you’re mine,” he says simply, guiding you toward the door, where a new adventure awaits.

┈┈┈

The reception hall is bathed in a soft, romantic glow, the kind that makes everything feel like a scene out of a dream. Fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting a warm shimmer over the room, while candles flicker on every table, their golden light reflected in the delicate crystal glasses and polished silverware. The gentle hum of laughter and conversation fills the air, mingling with the soft clinking of glasses.

But now, the room falls quiet. The band begins to play the familiar, soulful opening chords of Tennessee Whiskey, and a hush settles over the crowd. All eyes are on you and Joe as he takes your hand, his touch warm and steady. The two of you step onto the dance floor, the world around you fading away until it’s just the two of you and the music.

Joe pulls you close, his hand settling at the small of your back, while your free hand rests lightly on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your fingertips, a grounding rhythm that anchors you in the moment. He leans in, his forehead brushing against yours, and you can feel the soft, slow exhale of his breath.

The lyrics begin, the singer’s rich, velvety voice filling the room.

“Used to spend my nights out in a barroom…”

Joe’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “This is it,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “Our first dance as husband and wife.”

You smile, your throat tight with emotion. “I can’t believe we’re here,” you reply softly. “It feels like a dream.”

He tilts his head slightly, his lips quirking into that familiar, heart-melting grin. “If it is, I don’t ever want to wake up.”

The two of you begin to sway, the movement slow and intimate, as if the music is a secret meant only for you. His hand tightens slightly at your back, pulling you just a bit closer, and you let yourself melt into him, your head resting against his chest. The deep timbre of his voice as he hums along to the song vibrates through you, a comforting resonance that feels like home.

“But when you poured out your heart, I didn’t waste it…”

The lyrics seem to speak directly to your souls, each word a reflection of the journey that’s brought you to this moment. From high school hallways and Friday night lights to the bright glare of championship stadiums, every step has been a testament to the love you share, a love that’s only grown stronger with time.

As the chorus swells, you lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. Joe’s gaze is soft but intense, filled with an unspoken promise, a silent declaration of just how much you mean to him. His hand moves from your back to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that’s escaped down your cheek.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his voice full of tenderness.

You nod, your smile trembling. “I’m just… so happy.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Me too,” he murmurs, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls back. “More than I can ever say.”

Around you, the room fades into a blur of soft light and smiling faces, but you barely notice. You’re lost in the moment, in the feel of his arms around you, in the weight of everything this dance represents. Every twirl, every step feels like a promise: of love, of partnership, of a future filled with shared dreams and unwavering support.

“You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey…”

The song reaches its final chorus, the music swelling with a quiet power that mirrors the emotions building in your chest. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the melody wash over you, and when you open them, Joe is still watching you, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely audible over the music but carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

As the final notes of the song fade into the air, Joe twirls you gently one last time before pulling you back into his arms. The room erupts in applause, but it feels distant, like the sound of waves crashing far off on the shore. All you can focus on is him, the love in his eyes, and the way his arms feel like the safest place in the world.

For a moment, the two of you stand there, holding each other as the world moves around you, and you know, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning of a lifetime of dances, each one more beautiful than the last.

The first dance gives way to the gentle hum of conversation and the soft clinking of cutlery. Dinner is served: a beautifully plated meal that looks almost too good to eat. Almost. You and Joe laugh as he insists on stealing a bite from your plate, claiming, “What’s yours is mine, right?” You retaliate by snagging a forkful of his mashed potatoes, and soon the two of you are sharing more food than you expected, all while sneaking adoring glances at each other.

As the last plates are cleared and the sound of laughter echoes from every table, the evening’s next act begins. Joe’s best man, Ja’Marr, stands and taps his champagne glass, the sharp ting ting ting drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, alright, listen up!” Ja’Marr’s grin is wide, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he adjusts his tie. “First off, I want to say how honored I am to stand here as Joe’s best man. It’s a big job, but hey, someone’s gotta keep this guy in line, right?”

Laughter ripples through the room, and Joe shakes his head with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence.

Ja’Marr continues, his tone light but sincere. “Joe and I have been through a lot together. We’ve shared victories, defeats, endless practices, and even more late-night fast food runs than I care to admit. But what’s always stood out about Joe is his drive—not just on the field but in every part of his life. And that includes how he loves Y/N.”

He pauses, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Y/N, I gotta tell you, this guy…he’s been head over heels for you since day one. You’ve been his biggest cheerleader, his rock, and the love of his life. And if anyone ever doubted how much he loves you, well, they weren’t around for that time he turned down a post-game party just to FaceTime you for three hours.”

The crowd bursts into laughter, and you cover your face, laughing as Joe groans, muttering, “Thanks, Ja’Marr.”

“But seriously,” Ja’Marr adds, his tone shifting to something deeper, “what you two have is rare. It’s the kind of love that inspires everyone around you, and I’m lucky to witness it up close. Here’s to a lifetime of happiness, love, and, knowing Joe, a whole lot of competitive board games.”

He raises his glass. “To Joe and Y/N!”

“To Joe and Y/N!” the guests echo, glasses clinking and laughter bubbling up once again.

Next, Maisie rises, her expression a mix of excitement and nerves. She smooths down her dress and clears her throat, giving you a wink.

“Okay, I’m not great at public speaking, but for my best friend, I’ll give it a shot,” Maisie begins, her voice warm and steady. “Y/N and I have been friends since middle school, back when braces and awkward school dances were our biggest worries. From the moment we met, I knew she was someone special—kind, fiercely loyal, and with a laugh that could brighten anyone’s day.”

Maisie pauses, her eyes glimmering with fondness. “And then Joe came along. At first, I was skeptical—football star, all the confidence in the world. I thought, ‘Great, here comes the cliché.’” She smirks, and the guests laugh knowingly. “But then I saw the way he looked at her, like she was the only person in the room. And it wasn’t long before I realized he wasn’t just the star quarterback. He was the guy who would drive hours just to surprise her, who’d send her good morning texts every single day, and who always made her laugh, even when she didn’t feel like smiling.”

Maisie’s voice catches slightly, and she takes a moment to compose herself. “Joe, you’ve made my best friend so incredibly happy, and for that, I’ll always be grateful. And Y/N…you’ve found the kind of love people write songs about, the kind that lasts a lifetime.”

She raises her glass, her smile radiant. “To Joe and Y/N, and to a love that’s as smooth as Tennessee whiskey.”

The room erupts into cheers and applause, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek. Joe squeezes your hand under the table, his thumb brushing against your skin in a silent gesture of love and reassurance.

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[jburrgf]

Easily.

“Don’t you tell me it wasn’t mean to be, call it quits, call it destiny. Just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

pairing: joe burrow x reader

summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship, reunion, patient x nurse, first love, a lot of fluff

description: after playing with his nephews, joe strained his ankle and ran to the ER. but he didn’t though he was going to meet his childhood best friend there.

—————————————

It was past midnight, the time when the world outside the hospital walls seemed to stand still. Inside, though, it was a different story. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly above me as I made my way down the hallway of the ER. My feet ached, the usual dull throb that comes after ten hours on your feet, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to. Nights like this were routine, predictable even, and I had learned to find comfort in the chaos.

I adjusted my stethoscope and glanced at the clock above the nurse’s station—1:37 AM. Still hours to go. The hum of monitors and the occasional beeping of machines filled the space, blending into the background noise I’d grown accustomed to over the years. My shift had been steady, a couple of minor accidents, a handful of routine check-ups, nothing too serious. Until the doors of the ER flew open, and everything changed.

I didn’t look up right away, too focused on updating a patient’s chart, but the sudden rush of voices—urgent, yet not panicked—caught my attention. I turned to see two nurse helping a patient to get on a stretcher, their faces set in calm determination. One of them was giving a brief rundown to the admitting nurse.

“Thirty minutes ago, pickup football game. Possible sprained ankle, maybe a mild concussion, conscious the whole time, though.”

I barely glanced at the patient on the stretcher at first, but then something made me pause. The man lying there was in a football jersey, but it wasn’t the jersey that gave me pause—it was his face. He had one hand pressed against his head, his eyes half-closed in obvious discomfort. But it wasn’t the injury that had my heart skipping a beat. It was him.

Joe Burrow.

The name echoed in my mind before I could stop it. Joe Burrow, Joey, my childhood friend, the boy who lived down the street, the one I used to spend all my summer afternoons with before life drifted us apart. The boy who had grown into one of the NFL’s brightest stars.

And now, apparently, my patient.

I blinked, trying to process the scene in front of me. Joe Burrow, here, in my ER, in the middle of the night, looking very different from the kid I used to race bikes with down the block.

"Y/N, can you take this one?" The nurse's voice broke through my daze, and I nodded, my training kicking in despite the sudden rush of memories swirling in my mind.

I approached the stretcher, my steps slower than usual, my mind still catching up with the present. Joe hadn’t noticed me yet. He was too busy wincing as one of the paramedics adjusted the ice pack on his ankle. My hands trembled slightly as I picked up his chart, scanning it quickly.

“Joe Burrow,” I said softly, almost testing the name out loud to see if it would break the spell of disbelief hanging over me.

At the sound of my voice, his head turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes were unfocused, likely from the mild concussion they suspected. But then his gaze sharpened, recognition flickering in his eyes. He blinked, then squinted, as if trying to place me, and I saw the exact moment it clicked.

“Y/N?” His voice was rough, slightly hoarse from exertion, but there was a hint of surprise there, maybe even something softer—something familiar.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, professional, even though my heart was doing somersaults in my chest. “Looks like you’ve had quite the night.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a small smile despite the pain etched across his face. “You could say that.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the years between us hanging in the air like something tangible. It felt like an eternity since we’d last seen each other, though in reality, it had only been... What, ten years? Maybe more? The boy I remembered was long gone, replaced by the man lying in front of me — taller, broader, more grown-up in every way. But the spark in his eyes was the same, that playful glint that always used to get us into trouble.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the lingering sense of nostalgia. “Let’s get you checked out. You said you were playing football?”

“Yeah, with my nephews,” Joe replied, wincing again as he shifted on the stretcher. “Thought I’d show them a few moves, but I guess I got a little too into it.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” I teased, grabbing the clipboard to make notes. “Still trying to prove you’re the toughest one out there?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Some things don’t change.”

As I moved to assess his injury, my hands were steady, but my mind raced with questions. How had he ended up here, in this hospital, on this night? And how had we managed to go so long without crossing paths again? Life had taken us in such different directions, but in this moment, it felt like the universe had pushed us back together.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the present. “Let’s take a look at that ankle.”

I knelt down beside the stretcher to examine his ankle. The swelling was already visible, and the skin around it was starting to turn a soft shade of purple. It didn’t seem like anything too serious, but given the hit to his head, he’d probably need to stay overnight for observation. My fingers brushed against his skin as I checked for tenderness, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he’d changed. Stronger, tougher than the lanky boy I remembered, but still the same person, somewhere underneath all that.

“This looks like a sprain,” I said, grabbing an Ace bandage from the tray beside me. “We’ll get you some crutches and probably keep you here for a bit to monitor your head injury. How does your head feel? Any dizziness or nausea?”

He grimaced slightly. “Just a headache. Nothing too bad, though. I’ve had worse hits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like I should be more worried about your career than this injury.”

His laugh was soft, but it was there. “Maybe, but I think I can survive a game with some six-year-olds.”

I wrapped the bandage around his ankle carefully, trying not to let my hands shake. It was bizarre how easily we fell into conversation, even after all these years. We’d lost so much time, and yet it felt oddly natural to be here with him, even if it was under the fluorescent lights of an emergency room.

Once I finished wrapping his ankle, I stood up and met his eyes again. There was a question in them, unspoken but heavy in the silence that followed.

“So…” Joe began slowly, his voice quieter now, as if we were stepping into more uncertain territory. “How long has it been?”

“Since we last saw each other?” I asked, tilting my head as I thought back. “I don’t know… over ten years, I think.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He shifted his weight slightly, sitting up more on the stretcher. “I meant to stay in touch, you know. Things just got… crazy.”

I could see the apology in his eyes, though he didn’t say the words outright. And I understood. Life had a way of sweeping you up, pulling you in directions you never saw coming. He had his NFL career, the spotlight, the pressure. I had my nursing career, the long hours, the exhaustion that came with it. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered how different things might have been if we’d made more of an effort. If I had.

“Yeah,” I said, offering him a small smile. “Life does that.”

There was a beat of silence, not uncomfortable but reflective. We were both thinking about the past, the what-ifs and the roads we didn’t take. But before I could dwell on it too long, Joe spoke up again, breaking the tension.

“You look good,” he said, his tone genuine but light. “Not much has changed. Except the scrubs, maybe.”

I laughed softly, grateful for the shift in conversation. “I could say the same about you. Except maybe… all of this,” I gestured vaguely to him—the athletic build, the worn jersey, the presence that came with someone used to being in the spotlight.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed a little,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But you know, underneath all of this, I’m still the same guy who used to lose every bike race to you.”

I smirked. “Oh, I remember. You hated losing.”

“I still do.” His eyes sparkled with that playful glint I recognized so well.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, talking about everything and nothing as I finished up his assessment. It was strange how easy it was, how natural it felt to slip back into the banter we used to share. I’d always liked that about Joe—he made you feel at ease, like no matter how much time passed, nothing between us had really changed.

As I finished updating his chart, the doctor on call came over to check him out, confirming what I’d suspected: Joe would need to stay overnight for observation, just to be safe. I told him I’d come back once I was done with my rounds, but I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked away.

[…]

Couple hours passed, the usual rhythm of the ER taking over once again. But every now and then, I found my thoughts drifting back to Joe. He was resting in one of the private rooms now, probably bored out of his mind. And for some reason, I felt compelled to check on him, even though I knew he didn’t really need me. It was something about seeing him again—after all this time, after all we’d been through separately—that made me want to stay close, to not let this second chance slip away.

By the time I finally had a break, it was close to 4 AM. The hospital had quieted down, the late-night lull settling in. I made my way back to Joe’s room, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like to admit. I told myself it was just a routine check-up, nothing more. But deep down, I knew it was more than that.

When I pushed open the door, Joe was awake, staring at the ceiling, his expression lost in thought. His head turned at the sound of my entrance, and a small smile crossed his lips when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up slightly. “Back to check on me again?”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Can’t leave you alone for too long. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N. I mean it.”

I shrugged, trying to keep things light, but there was something about the way he said it that made my chest tighten just a little. “Just doing my job.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure something out. “It’s been good seeing you again. I didn’t think I’d run into you like this, but… I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. The air between us felt heavier, like there was more to be said, but neither of us knew exactly how to say it.

For a while, we just talked—about life, work, the things that had happened since we last saw each other. Joe opened up about the pressures of being in the NFL, how sometimes it felt like everything was spinning too fast and he couldn’t slow it down. I shared a little about my life too, about how nursing had become my world and how hard it was to balance that with anything else. We were both a little vulnerable, a little raw in the way you could only be when the rest of the world was asleep and you were left with nothing but your thoughts and the quiet of the night.

The conversation between us flowed easily, like slipping back into a comfortable rhythm. There was something about talking to Joe in the middle of the night, the world outside the hospital walls so still, that made the years between us seem to melt away. It was like we were kids again, sitting on the porch steps after a long day of playing outside, just talking about anything and everything.

“So, you stayed in Cincinnati?” Joe asked, shifting on the hospital bed to sit up more comfortably.

I nodded. “Yeah, never really left. Got into nursing school here and stuck around. I like the pace of it. My family’s here, too.”

He smiled softly. “It’s good that you stayed close to them. I’ve missed a lot of that, being away.”

I could hear the hint of longing in his voice, the weight of the sacrifices he’d made for his career. Joe had always been focused, even when we were kids. When he said he was going to be a football player, I believed him because he believed it with his whole heart. But I could see now, in his eyes, that the road had taken a toll.

“You’re always traveling, huh?” I asked, curious.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied. “It’s part of the job, but it gets lonely sometimes. The only time I get back home is for the off-season, and even then, it’s not much.

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. He was living the dream, the one we’d all seen coming, but it was clear there was a price. I hadn’t thought much about that before, what his life must be like now. To everyone else, he was Joe Burrow, NFL star, the guy who won championships. But sitting here, under the soft glow of the hospital room lights, he just seemed like the same boy I used to know—the one who liked backyard football and riding bikes through the neighborhood.

“It’s not easy, is it?” I asked softly, sensing the exhaustion behind his smile. “Being Joe Burrow.”

He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine, and for a moment, I saw something vulnerable there—something real. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as he touched the sore spot on his head.

“It’s not always what people think,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Football’s everything to me. But there’s so much more that comes with it—the pressure, the expectations. Sometimes it feels like I’m always on. Like I can’t just...be.”

His words hung in the air between us, raw and unguarded. I hadn’t expected him to open up like this, but maybe that’s what the night did to people. Maybe it made us feel safe enough to say the things we wouldn’t admit in the daylight.

“I get that,” I said after a beat. “In a different way, I mean. Being a nurse… it’s all-consuming sometimes. I see my family when I can, but I’m always here, always on call. You start to lose parts of yourself, you know?”

Joe nodded, his eyes softening as he listened. “Yeah. It’s like you give so much of yourself to what you do that there’s not much left for anything else.”

I swallowed, realizing how true that was for both of us. We’d grown up chasing different dreams, but somehow, we’d both ended up feeling the same way—exhausted, a little lost, trying to figure out how to balance it all.

Silence fell between us for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that comes when two people are just...understanding each other. No need for words, just a shared recognition of something deeper.

I laughed softly, and the tension between us seemed to ease a little. It was strange how easy it was to be around him again, like no time had passed at all. But there was also something new between us now—something unspoken but very real.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said again, his voice quieter this time, more serious. “I don’t know if I said that already, but... I mean it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It’s my job, after all.”

Joe shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “No, I mean... thanks for being here. I needed this. More than I realized.”

The quiet of the night wrapped around us, like the world outside had fallen away and left just the two of us in this small, dimly lit room. I sat down on the edge of the chair beside Joe’s bed, my mind still buzzing with everything we’d talked about—the years that had passed, the memories we shared, and the things we’d never said.

I watched him for a moment, noting the way his face softened when he wasn’t wearing that confident, composed mask that the public always saw. He looked more like the boy I used to know, the one who’d always been up for an adventure, always quick with a joke or a grin. But now, there was a weight behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that came from carrying the expectations of an entire city on his shoulders.

“How do you do it?” I asked quietly, my voice almost a whisper in the stillness of the room.

Joe’s brow furrowed, and he turned his head to look at me. “Do what?”

“Handle the pressure,” I said, gesturing vaguely to him, to the life he lived now. “Everyone watching you, expecting so much from you all the time. Doesn’t it get overwhelming?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It does.” His voice was low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t used to admitting that to anyone. “I mean, I love the game. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But sometimes, it feels like it’s all moving so fast, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

I nodded, understanding more than I thought I would. It wasn’t the same as the pressures he faced, but I knew what it felt like to be stretched thin, to feel like there was never enough time or energy to meet everyone’s expectations.

“There are moments,” he continued, “when I think back to when we were kids, and everything was just… easier, you know? No pressure, no cameras, no one expecting anything from me except to show up and play. It felt simple back then.”

I smiled at the memory, my mind drifting back to those endless summer days when we’d race our bikes down the street or spend hours at the park, just the two of us against the world. “Yeah, it was simpler. We didn’t have a care in the world.”

Joe looked at me, something softer in his gaze now. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

That caught me off guard. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat at the unexpected confession. “You have?”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve kept up with you a little, here and there, through social media and stuff. But it wasn’t the same. I always wondered what happened—why we lost touch.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling a small pang of guilt. “I wondered the same thing sometimes. Life just got in the way, I guess.”

Joe smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “Yeah. But it’s good to see you now. Even if I had to get knocked out by a bunch of kids to do it.” He was quiet for a moment, like he was working up the courage to say something. Then, his voice dropped even lower, almost like he was afraid to let the words out. “You were… my first love, you know. Back when we were fourteen.”

The room seemed to still completely, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart thudded in my chest. “What?”

Joe met my gaze, his expression open, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “I never told you back then, but you were. I had the biggest crush on you. I was too scared to say anything, though, so I just... never did.”

My mind was reeling, flashes of our time together when we were kids playing in my head—the way he’d always try to impress me, the way he’d get competitive when we played games, the times we’d sit in the park talking about anything and everything. And now, it all made sense.

“Joe…” I started, my voice soft, unsure of what to say. “I had no idea.”

He laughed a little, though there was a hint of nervousness in it. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly smooth back then. I thought maybe you figured it out when I kept challenging you to races just to spend more time with you.”

I laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension between us. “I just thought you really hated losing.”

“I did,” he admitted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I hated the idea of not being around you even more.”

There was something so honest about the way he said it, and it hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. All this time, I’d thought we were just two kids having fun, never realizing that there was more beneath the surface. And now, sitting here with him all these years later, it felt like a door had opened, revealing all the things we hadn’t said back then.

“I used to think about you a lot too,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “After you moved away for college, I wondered what would’ve happened if we’d stayed in touch.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the edge of the bed. His touch was warm, grounding, and my breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “But maybe we can find out now.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The air between us felt charged, like the years we’d spent apart had collapsed into this one moment, and everything was suddenly within reach—everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t done.

I looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, maybe, or just the courage to let myself feel what I was feeling. And what I felt was undeniable. All those years ago, when we were kids, I hadn’t realized what was growing between us. But now… now I could feel it, and it was as real as the heartbeat thrumming in my chest.

“You really had a crush on me, huh?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment, though my voice wavered slightly.

Joe laughed softly, but there was nothing teasing in his gaze. “Yeah. And maybe I still do. And I know it can sound weird, but I know you don’t have anyone now. So I think it’s ok if I hit on you… I guess.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of us. I felt the warmth of his hand against mine, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder what could happen—what this could mean.

The moment hung between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Joe’s hand lingered on mine, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a warmth through me I hadn’t felt in years. It was surreal, sitting here in the quiet of the hospital room, realizing how much had passed between us, and how much still remained.

“So,” Joe said after a beat, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Maybe it’s time we don’t lose touch again.”

I looked up at him, my heart still racing, a small smile playing on my lips. “What are you saying, Joe?”

He held my gaze, his expression serious but hopeful. “I’m saying… I want to see you again. Outside of this hospital.” His smile grew slightly, a little more of that old playfulness creeping back into his voice. “Maybe when I’m not half-concussed and in a hospital gown.”

I laughed at that, though my stomach fluttered at the idea of it. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah,” he said, more confidently this time, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m asking you out, Y/N. I don’t want to miss out on this again. I don’t want to wonder what would’ve happened if we’d given this—us—a real shot.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. There was something so earnest in the way he said it, like he’d been carrying this feeling for a long time. And maybe I had been too. All these years, I’d tucked away those memories, convinced that whatever we could have had was lost in the past. But now, sitting here with him, it felt like the door had opened again.

I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to say yes, but because this felt big. It wasn’t just a casual date—it was a reconnection with the person who had been a part of some of the best years of my life.

“Joe…” I started, unsure of how to put my feelings into words.

He squeezed my hand gently, his eyes soft and understanding. “I know. It’s a lot. But I don’t want to let you slip away again, Y/N. Not this time.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

His smile lit up the room, and it sent a rush of warmth through me. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said, my own smile widening. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what happens.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt my heart skip a beat. There was something in the way he was looking at me—something different from how he used to look at me when we were kids. It was deeper now, more intense, like he was seeing me for the first time in a long time, really seeing me.

Before I could say anything, the doctor stepped in, clearing his throat as he entered the room. The moment broke, and I stepped back, letting the doctor check Joe’s vitals one last time. The distraction gave me a moment to breathe, to calm the fluttering in my chest that his words had caused.

“Alright, Joe,” the doctor said after a brief exam. “Everything looks good. You’re clear to go, but take it easy for a few days, alright? No more football with the nephews.”

Joe grinned. “No promises, doc.”

The doctor chuckled, handing me the discharge paperwork. “He’s in your hands now, Nurse Y/N. Make sure he behaves.”

“I’ll try,” I said with a smirk, shooting Joe a playful look.

As the doctor left, I turned back to Joe, holding the paperwork in my hands. “Looks like you’re free to go.”

Joe nodded, though there was a glimmer of something playful in his eyes. “I guess that means you get to help me to my car, too.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at my lips. “Don’t push your luck, Burrow.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his ankle wrapped and his movements slow as he tested his balance with the crutches the nurse had given him. I stood by the door, watching as he struggled for a second, clearly still groggy from his head injury.

“Need a hand?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

He glanced up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I’m good, but if you want to help, I’m not going to say no.”

I laughed, stepping forward and looping my arm around his back, steadying him as he got to his feet. His arm draped over my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine, a small reminder of how close we were.

We made our way down the hallway slowly, Joe leaning on me more than he probably needed to, though I didn’t mind. As we stepped outside, the cool morning air greeted us, fresh and quiet, the world still waking up. Joe’s black SUV was parked a few steps away, and I helped him hobble over to the passenger side.

“You really don’t have to help me into the car, you know,” he said, though there was no real protest in his voice.

“Just shut up and let me do my job,” I teased, opening the passenger door and carefully guiding him as he eased himself into the seat. His face tightened in discomfort for a moment as he shifted his injured ankle into the car, but I held onto him, making sure he was steady.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer now, his eyes meeting mine. And for a moment, we just stood there, his hand still on my arm, our faces inches apart. The morning light cast a soft glow over everything, making it feel like we were in our own little world again, like there was nothing between us but the weight of this moment.

Without thinking, I leaned down slightly to help him adjust his seatbelt, and that’s when it happened. His hand slipped from my arm to my waist, his grip firm but gentle, pulling me just a little closer. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, and when I looked up, his eyes were locked on mine, something intense and unspoken passing between us.

Before I could say anything, before I could even think, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, but it was full of everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d been holding onto for years. His hand tightened slightly on my waist, and I could feel the warmth of his body pulling me in.

I kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with all the memories of us, of the boy he used to be and the man he was now. And for that moment, nothing else mattered. Just him, just this.

When we finally pulled away, I could feel the flush on my cheeks, the air between us charged with the promise of something more. Joe smiled, that familiar, lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft but full of that teasing edge, “I guess that was a good start.”

I laughed, trying to steady my breath. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“About that date…” Joe began, his eyes still locked on mine. “How about tomorrow night? Dinner? Maybe a chance to do this properly?”

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

He grinned, and for a moment, we were just two people who’d finally found their way back to each other, after all these years. As I stepped back, closing the passenger door, I felt lighter, like something had shifted between us—something good.

“Drive safe, Burrow,” I called out, stepping away as he started the engine.

Joe smirked, giving me a mock salute as he pulled out of the parking lot. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And as I watched his SUV disappear down the quiet street, I couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was only the beginning of something we’d both been waiting for.

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we kinda lost today lol, but I wanted to give this one for you guys. love a fluffy joey in love with his best friend (wishing it was me).