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starsinthesky5 · 3 days ago

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nothings gonna hurt you baby II part 2 || joe burrow x reader

description: loving what you do doesn’t always mean it loves you back—it takes more than it gives sometimes

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! oh my goodness i am so sorry this took so SO long to get out! i really hope this was worth the (painful) wait!. this is flashback heavy with smutty smut smut, angst, and adorable fluffy fluffiness 😍 as a reminder, this is after the week two loss against KC. (yeah, i know this took me like 3 months)

warnings: angst, language, SMUT. MDNI.

songs listened to while writing: sailor song : gigi perez, nothings gonna hurt you baby : cigarettes after sex, you’re the only good thing in my life : cigarettes after sex, sweet nothing : taylor swift, slow hands : niall horan, nasty : ariana grande, look after you : the fray, die for you - the weeknd, call it what you want : taylor swift, teenage dream : katy perry

word count: 48 k (sorry. i know. im sorry)

NGHYB masterlist || part 1 → (read FIRST as this is a continuation of it)

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

and a special thanks to @sofferaddict for a bunch of these ideas :)

---------------------------------------------

“Hmph,” you mumbled as you jolted awake, a small gust of cold air slipping through the room, sending a chill down your spine. Your eyes quickly fluttered open at the sudden sensation, but the darkness that enveloped the room was thick, making it difficult for you to make anything out in the unlit room.

You shifted slightly to shake off the grogginess, but all you could see was the glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand. You squinted at the time–3:21 a.m.–which made your stomach churn. You never woke up like this in the middle of the night; you were always a heavy sleeper. Nothing could wake you once you passed out cold–not glass shattering, not a fire, not a hurricane, and certainly not a cool breeze. It had been a mildly concerning yet adorable habit you had since college, a habit Joe discovered when one night, the fire alarms went off in his apartment building and you couldn’t be more unbothered while his building was at risk of burning down.

Flashback to LSU

Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep.

“What the fuck?” Joe mumbled, flipping around in the shower as he wiped the water droplets off his face before slicking his hair back, his brows furrowing at the sudden & strange noise he heard.

Beep-Beep.

“The hell is that noise?” he said again while looking around the shower walls as if the noise was coming from inside of them, “Wait, do I have an alarm set?” he asked himself, then peeked out from the shower curtain to see if his phone was the source of the annoying beeping noise–which it wasn’t.

BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Why the fuck is it getting louder?” Joe grumbled as he let go of the curtain and turned the water off before stepping out of the shower in a hurry. He reached for his towel, carelessly wrapping it around his waist while the water dripped from his golden hair and trailed down his muscular back as he moved around in the bathroom to try to find the source of the sound that had disrupted his much-needed post-game shower.

“Can I not shower in peace?” he complained as he looked aimlessly for the source of the sound in the vanity drawers, medicine cabinet, and even the air vent. “It’s not coming from in here…,” he said a few seconds later before his eyes met the door, then his brain wandered to what...or who was outside of the door. “Hm, she better not have burnt something in the kitchen,” he laughed to himself, imagining you in his kitchen, half naked & half asleep, accidentally setting off the smoke detector while trying to make a late-night snack. But before he could let his imagination wander off too much, the beeping grew louder and he was snapped back to the present.

He swung the bathroom door open, fully prepared to get a whiff of burnt food at full force. But instead of a smell, the noise hit him with full force, and it was blaring through his entire apartment. “Shit,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes trailed up to the flashing red light coming from his ceiling, his heart dropping once he realized what was actually happening.

There was a fire in his building.

There was no burnt food in the kitchen.

There was a fire.

That was the fire alarm’s sound.

His eyes then fell to his bed where you were curled up against his pillows, completely unbothered by the piercing alarm above you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, almost as if you were caught in a dream that was so intense and lively that your body’s alert system was asleep too.

“Unreal,” he muttered, shaking his head out of amusement. It wasn’t as if the alarm sound was coming from down the hall, it was right above you–yet you still managed to stay asleep. “She’s actually sleeping through this?” he chuckled while walking over to your side of his bed. He placed a hand on your arm, gently shaking you while using his other hand to move your hair out of your face, “Y/N? Baby?” he whispered softly.

“…Mmm,” you hummed in your sleep as you dug your head into his pillow even further, still so caught in the dream you were having to realize Joe was crouched down beside you and his hand was on your arm.

“Lovey? Wake up?” he whispered again, his voice soft and tender, this time using the nickname that he knew made you melt into a pile of goo which usually resulted in a lazy smile or adorable eye bat–but this time didn’t. The only response Joe got was the calm rise and fall of your chest as you stayed in your deep slumber–and the realization of how deeply you were sleeping made his heart squeeze. He really didn’t want to wake you up; you were sound asleep, in his bed, in the comfort of his space, and he didn’t want to pull you from your dream-filled oasis like this.

Joe let out a sigh before shaking his head, “I don’t want to scare her by waking her up too roughly. But how do I get her up? We need to get out before the building burns down, that’s if there even is a legit fire,” he thought to himself, glancing from your precious face to the flashing alarm above you. It could be a false alarm, but it could also be the real deal. He wasn’t going to risk it, especially because of you, so you both really needed to get going. Shaking you wasn’t doing anything, and saying your name clearly wasn’t cutting through the haze that had you wrapped up in your dreams. So what could he do?

After spending a few seconds thinking of ways to wake you without startling you, a gentle voice entered his head—primarily because he remembered the movie you made him watch last night back at your place. It was one of your all-time favorites, a classic fairytale with an enchanted sleep and a true love’s kiss breaking the spell. He teased you over and over for your choice, but you urged him to watch it with you, claiming it was the perfect comfort movie to watch with your one true love.

“And from this slumber you shall wake, when true love's kiss, the spell shall break,” the voice in his head recited which happened to be your voice.

“I am her one true love,” he shrugged as he thought over the silly line from the fairytale you were so cutely obsessed with. “Alright, let’s see if this fairytale logic actually works,” he then smiled as he looked at you for a few more seconds, your captivating beauty making the sound of the alarm fade into the background; you really were a real-life Sleeping Beauty. You were his Sleeping Beauty. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself, realizing that life had its own unique way of imitating art in the strangest moments.

He leaned down and pressed his soft lips against yours, feeling the warmth of your breath against him as he felt himself getting lost in your touch.

Kissing you was something he could never get tired of. Joe wouldn’t hesitate to spend the entire day curled up in bed with you, cradling your face and dropping gentle, sometimes passionate, kisses on your lips if he was given the chance. He was like a needy baby whenever it came to kissing you–he always needed that bit of closeness and he just couldn’t get enough no matter how much you gave. Whenever this closeness was taken from him, he’d give you the same tempting pout and those puppy-dog eyes that made your heart melt. It was his way of saying that he needed you, that even the smallest distance between you two was too far for his liking. He was never like this with any of his previous girlfriends, there was just something so comforting and fulfilling about you, something that made him feel at home. And he wanted to feel at home all the damn time if he had the opportunity to.

After holding the kiss for a few seconds, he gently pulled away with a smile and was met with the sight of your lashes fluttering—meaning it worked. “A true love’s kiss,” he smirked, brushing his thumb against your soft cheek, “I guess it does work every time,”.

You moved around in his silk sheets for a few seconds, trying to chase the last bit of your dream before your eyes eventually fluttered open. The piercing sound of the alarm filled your ears and the sight of Joe crouched over you made your heart skip a beat. “Wha- What,” you whispered, your voice groggy and your brain still clouded from sleep. “Joey?” your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as you tried to understand what was happening.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered gently, trying not to startle you.

“What’s going on?” you whined, trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes as your head began pounding due to the alarm’s relentless beeping.

He spoke softly, trying to keep you calm, “Hey, it’s okay, just wake up for me, alright? There’s a fire alarm going off and we need to get outta here,” he explained.

Your once-sleepy eyes flashed with urgency at the mention of the word fire. “Fire? There’s a fire?” you shrieked in panic as you instantly sat up in the bed. The adrenaline hit you like a wave, washing away any lasting remnants of your sleep.

“I don’t know for sure, but we need to get outside in case there is,” he said while he stepped back to give you room to stand up.

“O- Okay,” you nodded as you quickly slipped out from the covers and scrambled to slip your shoes on and fix your hair.

After you got yourself together, he grabbed your hand and started leading you through his apartment, heading toward the door, but as he reached for the handle, you pulled him back. “Wait!” you shrieked, your grip tightening around his hand.

“What?” he responded after flipping his head back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”.

You gave him a quick look up and down, waiting to see if he would notice himself, but Joe always had a habit of being adorably clueless even in the most urgent moments. “You’re still in a towel, Joey,” you giggled, watching as his eyes widened and dropped down to his lower half, realizing he was indeed still in his towel.

“Oh,” he blinked before looking back up at you like a deer caught in headlights, the thought of stepping out in front of everyone basically naked was mortifying for him, and the mental image of that made him want to die. “I just…Let me just-...,” he nervously stammered.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft giggle before giving him a playful shove back to his room. “No girl needs to see my man naked–even if it’s partially–except for me,” you yelled, earning a playful smirk from him before he disappeared into his room.

A few seconds later, he returned wearing his familiar purple LSU football shorts and a plain black shirt. “I wonder if everyone thinks we’re dead? We’re taking our sweet time which is completely defeating the purpose of that annoying ass alarm,” you chuckled as you turned around and reached for the door handle. But before you could open the door, you felt Joe grab your other hand and yank you back from the door.

“Wait!” he shrieked, almost as loud as you did a few moments ago.

“What?” you said, looking back at him with a concerned expression.

Joe lowered his head, sending you a look as he raised his eyebrows, “You forgetting something?” he asked you, giving you a once over just like you did to him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “No? I don’t think so?”.

You watched as his eyes fell to your lower half, your eyes following his gaze and your confusion still evident. “I’m not letting you out there with no pants on,” he huffed, folding his arms over his chest with a determined look on his face.

Once you realized what he was talking about, you shook your head and rolled your eyes at his silliness, “Joe, your shirt is like a dress on me and I have panties on,”.

“Y/N…Nobody, and I mean nobody, needs to get a peek at what’s under your shirt other than me,” he shook his head, his tone and posture similar to one of a protective dad.

“It’s not even windy,” you shot back. “I’m not gonna have a Marylin moment, trust me,”.

He shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders, flipping you around and playfully pushing you back towards his room as you did to him, “Put some sweats on, or no more me helping you shave your legs in the shower,” he whispered in your ear, his voice playful and full of teasing.

Your eyes widened, “You wouldn’t dare,” you gasped.

“Oh, but I would,” he responded with a dangerous smirk, making the alarms go off in your head. Whenever Joe said he would do something, he always did it and this should be no different.

Joe was the absolute perfect boyfriend, and nobody could ever come close to the standard he set for you. No ordinary guy would offer to help his girlfriend shave her legs, but the first time you and Joe showered together, he did. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you, especially because you always wanted to look perfect for him even though you knew he could care less about a few hairs on your leg. He knew how annoying it was for a girl to shave her legs–getting every spot without accidentally nicking herself–so he took it upon himself to help you out when he could. He was so gentle with you, so undeniably caring and sweet, always handling you like you were something as valuable as the koh-i-noor diamond. It’s the way he reached out to you with little acts of love that spoke louder than words. His words were already so powerful but his actions sealed the deal every time. You often wondered what you did to deserve him, someone who cared enough to make the smallest struggles feel a little lighter.

“Okay, Okay,” you said while throwing your hands in the air and hurrying into his room to grab your sweatpants before he acted on his silly threat. “I am never going back to shaving my legs alone, mm mm,” you shook your head as you stumbled around to slip your sweats on, leaving Joe laughing in the hallway. Even though you were just talking about never going back to shaving your legs alone, that line had a deeper meaning in your heart.

You didn’t want to go back to shaving alone, but you really just didn’t want to go back to anything in your life that was ‘Pre-Joe’.

You thought your life before you met him was as good as it would get, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. You thought you were genuinely happy before you met him–comfortable with your post-breakup life, satisfied with your typical, redundant daily routine, pleased with how simple your life was. But when you met Joe, you saw that although simplicity and predictability were safe, the thrill was exciting. The thrill was worth living for.

Joe was the thrill you didn’t know you needed.

The way he loved you–both physically and emotionally–was unlike anything you’d experienced before. When you first felt the effects of his love for you, you were shocked. He did things that you didn’t think were typical in a relationship. He took the time to learn what made you feel cared for, what made you laugh, and what made you feel adored in ways you never thought to ask for. He was attentive to the smallest details–things you never thought anyone would notice. He knew exactly how you liked to have your coffee with that specific splash of oat milk–-early on in your relationship during the ‘talking stage’ he would show up at your doorstep with your coffee from your favorite breakfast cafe so he could save you the trip and walk you to class. He’d also notice the way your nose scrunched when you tried to hide a laugh, the way you’d fidget with your birthstone ring when you got anxious, and the way you always needed a few extra moments of quiet, cuddling time with him before he had to leave you to go to practice (but to be honest, that was mostly for Joe. If you were clingy, he was clingier).

He took all the time in the world to understand not just your habits and tendencies, but also your beautiful heart. He learned what made you feel cared for–like how you preferred to be held tightly during a storm because you secretly were scared of thunder, or how you always liked to have a hand to squeeze during scary parts of a slasher movie you begged him to watch with you. He even memorized your laugh, knowing exactly what to do to bring it out–whether it was through his silly dance moves or sarcastic and sometimes suggestive comments he’d make during your late-night conversations.

He treated this like it was something bigger than just a college relationship, he didn’t treat you like you were just his girlfriend, he treated you like you were his partner, his other half, his favorite person ever. He made you feel so secure, leaving absolutely no room for doubt in the relationship. You were the first person he wanted to tell about his day, the first one he thought of when something exciting happened for him, and the first person he’d go to when he just needed comfort after a rough game. He made you feel like you were worth every ounce of effort he put into your relationship, and that was a feeling you hadn’t known before.

He’d spend the night with you even after a gruesome and exhausting practice or game, just because he wanted to spend time with you and it didn’t matter if he was tired or feeling upset. He’d leave you little notes around your apartment, each one filled with words that made your heart flutter (some of them even a little silly and corny because well, that was just Joe). It was those quiet moments between you as well–when he’d run his fingers through your hair when you felt stressed, or the way he would absentmindedly pull you closer at night in his sleep because he needed to feel you. He made you feel like you were an essential part of his life, and not just a chapter in it. He made you believe that love wasn’t just about being content; it was about finding someone who made the ordinary feel extraordinary.

He showed you that love wasn’t about grand gestures, it was about consistency. It was about those little, everyday actions that showed he was always thinking of you. And this was a feeling you hadn’t felt before with any other guy. A love that didn’t waver with time, but deepend. After getting a taste of what he had to offer, you just couldn’t go back to what life was like before you met him. He brought out a side of you that you didn’t even know existed. A version of yourself that laughed a little louder and lived a little bolder. And even though you had only been together for a short period, the way you felt about him was so intense. It felt like the connection you had with him was deeper than the usual of a new relationship, almost as if your souls already met in another lifetime and you were just catching up on lost time in this life.

—

After finally getting yourself together, you ran back out to Joe, who gave you an energetic nod of approval. “Better?” you teased, rolling your eyes with a tiny smile.

“Much, Much better,” he grinned, making you chuckle before he reached for the door and finally swung it open.

He stayed close behind you, one hand resting on your back as he led you through the hallway and to the fire escape stairs. “Thank god you’re not super high up. My slow ass would be long gone if I had to go down more than 3 flights of stairs,” you joked as he opened the door to the stairs.

Joe laughed softly as the two of you moved down the stairs, the echoes of your footsteps mixing with the distant alarm. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I’d be your knight in shining armor, just casually scooping you up and getting you out of danger without breaking a sweat,”.

You shot him a playful glance, “Yeah, I’d probably sleep through half of it too if you carried me. Wake up when it’s all over and ask what happened,”.

He grinned, giving your back a gentle pat as you reached the final set of stairs, “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. You’re cuter than normal when you’re all sleepy like this,” he said, his voice warmer as he stole another glance at you, your drowsiness clear even in this chaotic moment.

You nudged him with your shoulder, “You just like having an excuse to show off those muscles,” you teased, but deep down, you knew how much you appreciated his instinct to protect you, even when things were shaky.

“Maaaybe,” he said while scratching the back of his neck, “But I think I love you point one percent more,” he teased, quickening his pace to reach the ground floor and swinging the door open just in time to avoid your playful swat at him.

“Joseph Lee!” you yelled, your voice a mix of playful annoyance and amusement as you swatted at his back, both of you stumbling out of the fire escape and into the lobby of his apartment building.

He let out a laugh before placing his arm around your shoulder and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment, “Kidding. I love you 100% more than anything in the world, including my muscles,” he smiled.

“Good. I don’t like sharing you or your love,” you nodded, pressing a warm kiss to his neck as you felt his grip around you tighten.

“You won’t have to, lovey. I’m all yours,” he said in a way that made your heart melt. It felt like you two were just in your own bubble, shielded from all the chaos around you as you relished the comfort and warmth that radiated off each of you.

But that bubble quickly popped when a loud, familiar voice called out from across the lobby. “There y'all are!” Ja’marr yelled from the entrance of the apartment building, a smirk on his face as he took note of how wrapped up you two were in each other’s arms. “I thought you guys died or some shit,” he folded his arms and shook his head like a concerned older brother, clearly relieved but ready to tease the two of you.

Joe waved him off, rolling his eyes with a grin, “Nah, man, just taking our time. We had to have a dramatic exit, you know? Keep everyone on edge,” he said on the way to where Ja’marr was standing.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned into Joe a little more, “Sorry for the scare. We just had a…uh, slight wardrobe malfunction,” you joked.

“Mmm,” Joe said while tilting his head, “It was a little more than a wardrobe malfunction, babe,” his playful tone made you roll your eyes again.

Ja’marr shook his head while mumbling something to himself before speaking up, “Wardrobe malfunction? Oh, you guys weren’t like…you know…,” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow to drive his point home.

You and Joe stared at him in mutual confusion as you tried to make sense of what he was insinuating. Even though you were still a little sleepy, it clicked in your head a few seconds later, “Oh, no. God, no,” you chuckled, your body shaking with the force of your laughter.

Joe looked between you and Ja’marr, clearly confused, “I’m lost,” he said, his eyebrows wrinkling as he watched the two of you giggle.

“He thought we were too busy, you know…busy doing a little something-something to notice the alarm,” you smirked, nudging his side with your elbow.

“...Oh,” Joe said while raising his eyebrows in realization. He leaned in closer to you as a grin rose on his face, “I mean. That probably would’ve happened after my shower. The alarm ruined our plans,” he sheepishly grinned.

“Okayyyyy,” Ja’marr groaned, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “You two need to stop spending the night at each other’s places every day. Y'all too young to have children,”.

“Hey, we do a lot more than just…uh…stay in bed all the time,” Joe laughed.

“Do we though?” you interrupted with a pat to his muscular chest.

“You’re not helping,” Joe whispered in your ear with a smile before going back to his conversation with Ja’marr. “Anyyyway, Ms. Sleeping Beauty over here is mostly the reason why we took so long. She was legit sleeping through the entire thing and my fire alarm is right above my bed if that puts this into perspective,”.

Ja’marr shook his head, his expression showing his disbelief and amusement all at once, “Man, I don’t know how y’all do it. Most people would be out the door in a heartbeat but you two over here in ya own little world,”

Joe just shrugged, giving you a quick and proud glance, “Guess we just roll that way, bro,”.

“Now y'all are lucky this was just a drill. Real fire and y'all was boutta be cooookeddd,” he ridiculed playfully before giving you two a wave as he walked backward to where the rest of the apartment tenets were gathered.

“This was a drill,” you choked as you and Joe followed Ja’marr out to the parking lot where everyone was, your eyes moving up to Joe who was just as surprised as you. “What the fuck. I should’ve just stayed asleep,” you complained, remembering how comfortable and cozy you were just a few minutes ago.

“I still don’t know how you were sleeping through that,” he smiled. “I’ve never seen someone so lost in their sleep that their alert system is completely off,”.

“Welcome to my world,” you grinned. “That’s how I roll. I can sleep through just about anything and that annoying ass fire alarm being one of them. Quite literally nothing can wake me up in the middle of the night,”.

“Remind me to set up an extra secure security system in the house we’ll eventually buy together in a couple years. If someone broke in, we’re goners,” he shook his head, the mention of living in a house…together…making your heart skip a beat.

You paused for a few seconds to take in what he said and once you did, a warm feeling spread throughout your chest, “I got you,” you smiled, looking up at him with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He never failed to bring up his future with you whenever he could, and it was getting increasingly common as you two spent more and more time with one another. It was the way he’d mention all the little trips he wanted to go on with you with that adorable glimmer in his baby-blue eyes–that camping weekend already being planned out in his head ever since you old him you’d never been, or how he’d talk about how excited he was to have you on the sidelines for every NFL game he’d (hopefully) play in. Those little glimpses into his thoughts meant everything to you because they were a reminder that he saw a lifetime when he looked at you.

“Do you ever think about what our house will look like?” he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I can just picture us decorating for Christmas and fighting over if the tree should be silver or green,”.

“Um, it’ll be green…classic is better. Duh,” you couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth that bubbled inside your body because of him spreading even more. Your voice became softer as a shy smile crept onto your face, “But to answer your question…all the time. I think about it all the time,” you said, glancing away as you felt your cheeks heat up. Although the way he was looking at you right now made it impossible for you to stay away. You met his eyes again, this time seeing how soft, how delicate they were after you said, “I think about you, about our future, every morning when I open my eyes. And I think about you, about what our life could be like, every night when I turn out the lights,”.

Joe paused for a second as his face became more serious with realization. Have you really thought about it? He thought about it all the time–what your life would be like together after all of this–but he never knew if you thought about it like he did. He oftentimes mentioned your future in your conversations and he usually was the one to bring it up, and you two hadn’t talked about it with full seriousness yet, even though in your hearts you both knew where you wanted this to go. He didn’t really know how you felt about it and that made him a little nervous, so you saying that was the best reassurance he could’ve gotten. “I love you. I love you like a lot a lot,” he smiled before leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, one that conveyed some of those special feelings he couldn’t put into words.

You stuffed one of your hands into his dirty blonde curls, lightly scratching his scalp as you melted into his lips. A content sigh left him at your gentle touch, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into you. “Mmm,” he hummed once he felt you suck on his top lip, but just before things could get too heated, the bubble around you two popped once again.

“Get a room!” Ja’marr yelled from a few away, “Y’all can’t even last 20 minutes without sucking face, damn!” he laughed.

You and Joe froze in the middle of your kiss for a few seconds, both your cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red than before. You pulled away, immediately hiding your face in Joe’s neck out of embarrassment. His hand instantly shifted to cradle the back of your head as his other snaked around your waist, his protective mannerisms like second nature.

“You’re just jealous,” Joe shot back with a smirk, sticking his tongue out in a way that made him look more like a mischievous kid than a star quarterback. He enjoyed teasing him, knowing how much it would get under Ja’marr’s skin. “Don’t worry buddy, maybe one day you’ll find someone who can actually put up with you,” he jabbed as he felt you laugh against his skin.

Ja’marr rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he spoke up, “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure there’s a long line of girls waiting to sweep me off my feet..so be careful there, Burrow,” he said sarcastically, but with a hint of confidence.

“Please, spare me with the bullshit Ja’marr. The only thing you’re sweeping off your feet is the dust on your fancy shoes since you never have an occasion to take them out. If there was a line, it would probably be full of girls trying to figure out how to escape after one dinner with you,” Joe teased.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ja’marr said while waving Joe off. “Just wait till I find my perfect match. Then you’ll see who’s really got game ‘round here,”.

Joe rolled his eyes, “I don’t need game, bud. I already found my perfect match and I know I’m set for life,” he said before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making you smile and nuzzle your nose against his fragrant, freshly washed neck. Their playful banter always warmed your heart. It was always so natural between them, the kind of banter only the closest of friends could have.

“Y'all make me sick. God damn he’s whipped for you, Y/N,” Ja’marr scoffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. Even though the sight of you two cuddled up and all over each other made him physically ill, he couldn’t help but be over the moon for his best friend. Seeing him so in love to the point where everything around him faded away was all he could have wanted for his best friend, and the fact that he fell in love with an amazing girl like you was even better. Joe deserved this, to be loved the way you love him, to be happy in the way you make him happy, to be seen in the way you see him. Ever since you came into Joe’s life, Ja'marr felt as if some of the heavy burdens that were weighing on Joe's shoulders had been lifted. It's like you came in, effortlessly took off some of his load, and lightened his spirits. He seems to be carrying less weight, moving more freely, and radiating more energy ever since you came into the picture.

“Anywayyy,” Joe said while turning his attention back to you, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what were you dreaming about earlier? I wanna know what made you so…like gone,” he chuckled after he pulled away, his hands still seated firmly on each side of your hip.

“Hm, I think I was dreaming about our first date,” you laughed, trying to recollect the specifics of your dream.

He raised an eyebrow, “Really? What about it?” he asked.

“Oh, just feeling that amazing night over again. Specifically, the way you were so adorably nervous around me,” you blushed. “The way you were fidgeting with the napkin like that was going to save you from impending doom or something, or how you nervously locked in on the menu as if you were reading some sports magazine article about yourself. But I saw you sneaking looks at me,” you said as you leaned into him a little more. “Not so sneaky as you think you are,”.

“I was trynna play it cool,” he shrugged as a smile spread across his face. “That was my first real date in a long time and I just wanted to impress you and not scare you off,”.

“Oh, you were sooooo cool,” you mocked, “The coolest man to ever be cool. Might have to start calling you Joe Cool now like they did Joe Montana,”.

“Okay, Okay,” Joe rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve done enough to deserve that nickname,”.

“Done enough…yet,” you mumbled under your breath, feeling a tug at your heart as if you already knew he was on his way there.

“Did you end up dreaming about what happened…after the date?” he asked, not hearing what you mumbled as he started to remember that night himself, the memory of it causing his heart rate to pick up. “Just ‘cause it was pretty hot and special in my opinion,”

You bit your bottom lip at the memory of what he was referring to; you could practically feel yourself going back to that amazing night just thinking about it. You were feeling the way he held you firmly below him, your leg nestled around his waist as his hand gripped your upper thigh with a firm yet gentle touch. You were feeling his hot breath against your cheek as he chanted your name over and over, almost as if he had forgotten every word in the English dictionary and your name was the only word he could remember. You were hearing him chant, “That’s it..that’s my girl..fuck, you’re taking me so well, Y/N”. You were smelling the thin layer of sweat that was coating both your bodies due to your frantic and needy movements. You were seeing his eyes darken with lust, with desire, for you and only you. You felt like you were touching and sliding your hands down his muscular arms and thick chest. You were feeling the way he was sending your body to heaven with each thrust, with each pump of his thick shaft. You were feeling how good he was making you feel all over again, especially in a way he had never before. His heated touch, his intense gaze, and the love-struck look on his face were burned into your memory, and you were feeling and seeing all three of these things from him right now.

That’s how intense the memory was. That’s how intense what happened after the date was. What might happen as a result of this conversation might be just as intense, likely even more since you two had perfected the act since then by repeating it over, and over, and over. Ja’marr was right, you two really spent quite a bit of your time together in bed, usually with no clothes on and coated in sweat, amongst other things.

“Sadly, you woke me up just before I could get to the good stuff,” you breathed out, your skin tingling from the heated memory.

“Damn-,” Joe shook his head before pausing as he glanced over at the group of people walking back into the building. “Oh, looks like we’re good to go back up,” he added before beginning to walk you both over.

Joe threw his arm around your shoulder as you spoke up, “Oh thank god. I need to go back to-,” you began to say before you felt Joe drop his head so his mouth was level with your ear, his hot breath pressing against the corner of your ear.

“Maybe after we go back up we can continue where your dream left off, ya know? Except this time you won’t have to fall asleep to feel that all over again. I can make it happen all over again. Bet this time I can make you scream twice as loud as you did the first time. Maybe even get you past your fear of hurting me and get you to leave some scratches on my back,” he whispered into your ear, his voice laced with fire and promise.

You stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him, as you two walked back into the building. Joe smirked above you because he knew your silence and lack of heated eye contact was because of his words. Your brain froze for a few seconds before you felt his hand move from your waist and down to your ass, giving it an ample squeeze.

Your breath hitched in your throat as visions of what Joe was promising filled your mind, and boy was it delicious. Your once sleepy body was quickly filled with desire and passion, and you were now running on pure fire. The way he could completely change your mood and vibe was so impressive. It was so effortless. All he had to do was whisper a few things into your ear and touch you like that for you to lose all decency, modesty, and etiquette.

You moved his arm off your shoulder, gripped his hand tightly, and started leading him urgently through the crowd of people in the lobby, your pace was fast and needy. You didn’t care that you were bumping into the other apartment tenets, all you could think about was Joe and his big…warm-.

“Woahh, slow down,” he laughed behind you, amused at how easily he could get you like this–all needy and heated, “You’re moving like your hair’s on fire or something,”.

You glanced back at him with your bottom lip between your teeth, “My hair isn’t, but my body is,” you admitted, the fire behind your eyes sparking something inside both of you. “I don’t think I’m going back to sleep anytime soon. That fire alarm might’ve just been the best thing to happen to me…maybe even you…all day,” you said with a look that made his heart skip a beat…maybe even two beats.

“Really?” he said with a cocky grin.

You gave his hand three gentle squeezes before glancing back at him again, both of you flashing those bedroom eyes at each other. The bedroom eyes were usually his thing, but after spending so much time with him, you picked up on a few things. He was rubbing off on you, and he fucking loved that. “I think we’re going to set it off for real this time,” he winked.

End of Flashback

So what made you wake up? You could sleep through a blaring siren but not through whatever made you wake up now. The breeze wasn’t the explanation, was it? It couldn’t have been something so simple…right?

And it didn’t help that the air around you felt strangely empty too. Something wasn’t right but you weren’t sure what it was and it felt like something was missing, the lack of that something being the reason why your body woke you up. This strange feeling was gnawing at you, refusing to let you slip back into slumber.

You rubbed your eyes again, this time feeling the puffiness around your eyelids, a sad reminder of the way you fell asleep, and a reminder of everything that unfolded a few miserable hours ago. The heaviness was still in your chest, the tight knot of emotion hadn’t loosened yet and flashes of earlier moments filled your mind; the high-intensity moments of the game, the comments from the fans, and everything Joe unloaded on you once he got home.

“Wait,” you whispered. That’s when you noticed the absence of warmth–his warmth. Just a few hours ago, you had your full-time human teddy bear and part-time football player wrapped around you, his arms holding you tightly as if he never wanted to and couldn’t let go. But now, all that was left was a blanket partially tangled around your cold, lonesome body.

“He must’ve moved over,” you whispered, your voice heavy with sleep as you turned your head to look over to his spot next to you. You were expecting to find him sprawled out beside you because he’d done that before–fall asleep on your chest and somehow end up next to you once he woke up–but to your surprise, his spot was empty.

Except for his…t-shirt?

You reached out, scrunching up the soft fabric of his worn-out Fiesta Bowl shirt in your hands, “Where did he go?” you thought to yourself as you felt a twinge of anxiety in your body. You blinked a few more times to adjust to the darkness before shooting up from the bed, “Joe?” you called out as you looked around the room–no response.

“Is he in the bathroom?” you whispered as you looked over, but there was no light coming from there and the door was wide open so he clearly wasn’t inside. It was uncharacteristic of him to get up like this in the middle of the night, especially because he valued his sleep so much during the season.

You slipped out of the bed, planting each foot firmly on the floor and pausing for a few seconds to ground yourself before walking into the closet to see if he was in there, which he wasn’t. You even walked into the bathroom to check again even though you knew it was empty.

“Where did he go?” you asked yourself again as you felt a pit in your stomach form, “Maybe his office?” you wondered as you peeked out into the hallway, but saw there was no light coming from any of the rooms, including his office.

“Joe?” you called out as you stepped out of your bedroom, his shirt in your hand as you waddled down the hallway, your eyes scanning every room and every corner to see if you could find him.

Your footsteps echoed through your quiet home as you searched for him, the shuffling of your feet mixed with the darkness around you almost enough to scare you back into bed. You weren’t really afraid of the dark, but you just hated being alone…hated being away from Joe.

You were letting your mind come up with any excuse for his absence even though you knew everything you came up with was so unlike him. Thinking he was in his office, grabbing a late-night snack downstairs, on the phone with someone important, or out in the backyard for some reason, was pointless because that wasn’t Joe. You wanted to think that he just got up for a simpler reason, but deep down, you felt like you knew exactly where he was.

And your suspicions were proven to be true once you made your way downstairs.

“It’s bad if he’s in there…especially right now,” you sighed to yourself after you made your way through the first floor of the house, now leaning against the kitchen island as you stared at the door next to the garage, a soft glow of light coming from inside the room. “I guess what I said didn’t help him as much as I thought it would,” you said out loud, your voice faltering as you felt a familiar wave of sadness come over you.

You took a deep breath before pushing back from the island and walking towards the room he was in. “I really thought I got through to him a little bit. But I didn’t. I should have, but I couldn’t.” you thought to yourself as you gently pushed the door open, feeling absolutely gutted that he was in there…in the gym.

When you walked into the home gym, you were met with total silence. Well, other than the shuffling sounds of the treadmill Joe was running on. Normally you’d walk into the pumping bass of his music playing over the speakers, but this time it was pure silence. Maybe it being 3 in the morning had something to do with that, but it still felt weird being in total silence.

You looked up and saw Joe running on the sleek black treadmill, his broad, tan, muscular back glistening under the warm light of the gym. He was shirtless, obviously, only clad in workout shorts and shoes. His strong legs were powering through each stride as he stared straight ahead with focus, his Bose earbuds in his ears blocking out any and all noise. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was lost in thought, pushing himself harder than usual.

“Fuck..,” you mumbled under your breath, a sense of realization washing over you as you gripped his shirt tighter in your hands. You really wanted to be wrong about finding him in here at this hour of the night, but you always had the worst luck.

Normally, you wouldn’t be fazed about finding Joe in the home gym, it was one of his favorite places in the house. He loved getting a quick workout whenever he could, especially in a place that was his own. But this was more than just him getting a quick workout in, not just because it was the middle of the night. He didn’t do this too often, but whenever he did, it triggered the alarms in your brain. Running on the treadmill in the middle of the night was only done when he needed to clear his head and nothing worked, not even talking to you (so this was rare). It was his last resort, which meant that whatever was weighing on him was so heavy that even you couldn’t lift it off his shoulders. He felt like running calmed his soul, cleared his head, and helped him get away from his problems. And it did. But only temporarily–like a bandaid instead of a stitch.

You let out a sigh as you stood there for a few seconds just watching him run, hoping and silently praying he’d turn around and notice you, but he didn’t.

Some nights when he did this, he noticed you instantly and unknowingly allowed you to coax him back to bed. He wasn’t trying to, but when he looked at you, he had this small pout on his face and this glint in his eyes like he did when he was a baby. Both then and now, that pout meant that he was silently begging for someone to help him and get him out of a zone that caused him discomfort. When he was little, it was to get him out of a zone filled with chaos and high energy that was sometimes too much for a baby to handle, sometimes he just needed nap time. Now, it was to get him out of a darker zone; a zone where he was surrounded by his most destructive thoughts, thoughts that he couldn’t push away. Sometimes, he just needed you.

Luckily for him, you’d always be there to pull him back from the maze of mirrors he found himself in. A maze of mirrors where each frame reflected the worst qualities about himself; his self-doubt, his anxiety, his insecurities. Each glass distorted his image until it became unrecognizable. But you were always there, ready to throw a curtain over the mirror before he got lost in the warped reflections.

But other nights, nights like these, he was so lost in his head–in that maze of wretched mirrors–to the point where everything around him faded away; only two things could make that happen.

One was you.

And the other was his deepest, most critical thoughts.

It should’ve only been you because you made things fade away for a good reason. But tonight, it seemed like he couldn’t block out those stubborn voices and those versions of himself he hated, no matter how much he wanted to. They filled his mind, dimming any and all peaceful thoughts he wanted to cling to.

You closed your eyes for a second, then took a few deep breaths before glancing back to the workout equipment behind you, “Guess I’ll just wait here,” you muttered, walking backward and plopping down on one of the workout benches. You really didn’t want to leave him alone right now, even though you knew he came in here to be by himself. “I can wait for him,” you said, trying to reassure yourself that you had it in you to wait here.

You also couldn’t help but blame yourself for his current state as your mind started to spiral again. Yeah, this was a bad loss and that was enough to make him upset. But everything that happened with you was what pushed him over the edge. He was hurting, still hurting, and you could tell. He was hurting because he felt like he hurt you, and you were hurting because you felt like you hurt him.

Funny, isn’t it? How two people, so deeply and madly in love, can feel so much pain even in their carefully built protective bubble? Each of you thought you were the reason for this mess, but the real culprits hid in the shadows just beyond your reach. They were like silent intruders, slipping through the tiny cracks when neither of you was looking. And here you were, blaming yourselves for a pain that neither of you brought onto yourselves.

—

You don’t know how long you had been sitting on that black workout bench, watching him run and run and run on that treadmill. But you knew it was long enough because of the little moments where you saw him slow himself down, almost because he was tired. But you also saw him shake his head and then continue to power through each stride on the workout machine. He was exhausted, but he wouldn’t let himself admit it.

Every few minutes, you’d say his name, hoping to get him to glance over at you so he could give you the chance to ease him back to bed. “Joe? Joey, please. Come back to bed,” you mumbled, your voice so tired and heavy as you watched him run, and run, and run.

But he wouldn’t even flinch, let alone glance back at you.

“Baby, it’s late. C’mon,”.

“Joey, I know it’s hard but you can’t expect this to make it better,”.

“Joe? Hey? Are you okay?”.

“J, please? We can talk about it upstairs. Just come back with me?”.

But nothing. Nothing each time you said something. Just. Total. Silence.

You were starting to get a little aggravated, not because he wouldn’t budge, but because he wouldn’t look back at you. “Is he ignoring me? Or does he genuinely not feel me behind him?” you asked yourself as you swayed your head to the side to get a good peek at him. His music could only be so loud, it’s not like his headphones were blocking his eyes.

You let out a deep sigh and groaned as your eyes scanned the room in search of something that could get his attention off of running. You saw that there was a yoga ball, a few tennis balls, and some weights in your reach. “I just want his attention. I’m not trying to hurt him,” you laughed in your head before playing with his shirt in your hands without realizing.

But when you did realize that you still had his shirt in your hands, you were scrunching it up into a ball and throwing the fabric at the back of his head in a matter of seconds. “Bullseye!” you smiled to yourself as the shirt directly hit the intended target, “If he saw that throw, he’d be proud,”.

You watched his body flinch after he felt the fabric being thrown at him, the jumpscare a little too much for him because he quickly hit the stop button and flipped around. “Finally,” you grinned as you crossed your arms and waited for him to meet your eyes.

Joe turned around with a semi-startled look on his face, almost enough to make you feel guilty for scaring him since you knew how much he hated being spooked like that. “What the hell?” he panted, his hand moving up to take out his earbud. His breathing seemed to steady out once he realized it was just you, “Y/N? What the hell...are you...are you...doing in here?” he huffed while licking his lips. His face was coated with a generous amount of sweat which made his skin sparkle even more. God, he looked so good.

“And good morning to you too,” you yawned, getting up from the bench and stretching your limbs.

Joe sighed, “Y/N…it’s late. Go to sleep,” while threading his fingers through his damp hair, then using his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“Joe, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep,” you smiled back as you mimicked his tone, tugging on the sleeves of your sweatshirt to feel a comfortable warmth that was similar to the warmth your bed offered.

He rolled his eyes, his frustration and sadness clearly speaking for him based on the look in his eyes and his stiff body language. “Stop being difficult and just go back to sleep. I’m fine,” he spat out, flipping back around and hitting the start button on the treadmill again. His words felt like a punch to the gut, and he knew that very well because of the immediate regret that filled his tired body. “Why the hell did I say that to her? What’s wrong with me?”.

You felt your heart sink, the weight of his words settling heavily on your chest. You watched him tense up, his fingers flexing and releasing at his sides out of internal frustration and confusion. “Lying to my face yet again? Come on, Joe. I thought we moved past the shutting me out phase. You promised,” you thought to yourself, anxiously playing with the blue topaz birthstone, his birthstone, necklace around your neck as you felt the tension in the room.

You know he’s pushing you away again, but you refuse to back down because you know in your head he needs you more than anything. He was building that hard shell again, fragile but stubborn, shielding him from you in a way you knew he thought was protective.

You walked over to him slowly, “Joe, it’s been a long day,” you breathed out. “You’re tired, rightfully so. And I’m tired too. Why don’t we just go back to bed and figure this out tomorrow? You’ve had a really shitty night and I think sleep is best for you right now,”.

He didn’t respond, didn’t even glance back at you. All you heard was just the quiet hum of the treadmill as you watched him continue to run. But you knew he heard you since his headphones weren’t in his ears, and his extra tense back muscles gave away more than he intended.

“It’s not good for you to put this much pressure on yourself, baby. You’ve had a long day, a long week. You need to relax,” you added, taking two more steps forward.

Still nothing.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your palms feeling clammy because you could feel his stress and tension radiating off him and melting into your body. “He’s not budging. This always works…why is it not working?” the thoughts in your brain were loud, banging from wall to wall and making your head spin.

“Alright,” you mumbled, shaking your head to push away those agonizing thoughts, “Guess he wants to do this the hard way,” moving closer to Joe and walking around the treadmill so you were standing in front of him. Your eyes slowly move up his chiseled chest as you took in his appearance, the way sweat clung to his muscular frame made his chest glisten in the glow of the room. You felt a rush of heat pool in your belly–seeing him like this always left you a little weak. “Oh, come on,” you thought while shaking your head to push away those types of thoughts.

You moved your eyes up, meeting his icy baby blues which somehow seemed cold yet burned with anger. There was no relief there, just a sharpness that made your heartache. The tension in his body matched the intensity in his eyes, his muscles were taut with the same pressure. He was seconds away from exploding if you made the wrong move, you knew you needed to handle him gently.

“Joe…,” you said softly, placing a hand on each side of the treadmill screen to catch his attention, which worked. You saw his eyes peek down at your hands, his pace slightly slowing as he met your eyes again. “Stop running, Joe,” you pleaded, your voice gentle but firm, urging him to hear you out and not push himself away.

His eyes were locked in on yours for a few seconds, his softening gaze nearly made it feel as if he was trying to hand himself over to you. It felt like he was ready to give in, but then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, his finger inched up the screen and tapped the button to increase the speed. The little chime echoed between you both, and in that moment, it felt like the wall fell back down.

“Is he messing with me?” you thought to yourself as your grip on the screen became tighter.

The fact that he had been disregarding your wishes for what felt like an hour was bothering you way more than it should have. You knew why he was behaving like this, understanding where this dismissive attitude was coming from, but you couldn’t help but feel angry at the way he was acting with you right now.

You let out a drained sigh, your shoulders slumping as you slowly release your grip on the screen. His eyes never left you as he watched you stare down at your feet, feeling utterly helpless and small. You tried everything, said everything, but nothing seemed to stick with him. There was nothing more you felt like you could say or do, and the ache in your heart grew once you realized that.

But as you stared down at your manicured toes, you remembered a somewhat similar moment from a few months ago where the roles were reversed. Joe wasn’t the only one who got like this when something went wrong in his work life. You did too.

A few months ago, you had been working on a crucial, tedious, and time-consuming project for work. You knew this was your shot–the one that would prove your worth, the one that could bag you that promotion you’d been eyeing for so long. Every detail had to be perfect; you were putting in long hours and pushing yourself way beyond your threshold. Just when things felt like they were finally coming together, when you were about to hand it all in, it all came crashing down. One small mistake, one missed deadline, or maybe a combination of both, and the project was a failure. Your heart sank and you could feel the weight of the loss pushing down on you, knowing you had worked so hard for nothing. It was a blow to your confidence, and for a moment, it felt like all that effort had been useless.

You came home that night with the most defeated look on your face, feeling like an absolute disappointment. All you wanted to do was cry, lock yourself in the bedroom for a week, and wallow in sadness. And you would have done that–if it weren’t for him. The man who promised to wipe away your tears for as long as he could, your Joey.

He spent the whole evening being there for you in the smallest yet most thoughtful ways. Each time your eyes pooled with ears, he was ready. He plucked a tissue from the box and held it to your nose, murmuring gentle reminders for you to blow. He refilled your glass with ice water each hour because he knew how chewing on the cubes somehow cooled your face down, a comforting ritual of yours after crying that he had memorized. Each time a tear formed in your eye, his thumb was right there before it had the chance to make it down your cheek. He sat with you, promising that mistakes like this happened more than you realized. He offered to talk to your boss and take on whatever came his way as long as he could lighten the burden on your shoulders. But most importantly, he held you close and the quiet reassurance, the gentleness of his touch, and the sweetness of his words reminded you how deeply he loved you and how he’d be right by your side no matter what.

But nothing he was saying really stuck with you, just like how nothing you said stuck with him right now. But Joe didn’t give up once he realized his words weren’t doing anything. Instead, he got an idea–a more Joe-like idea–to get you to relax which involved releasing some…pent-up tension in your body.

So then as you stared at your manicured toes while laying on the bed with him, your mind wandering to all the different scenarios that would play out when you went back to work, you suddenly felt his soft, pillowy lips press slow, wet kisses down your neck. His lips trailed down your arm while his warm hand lifted your shirt and pressed against your bare skin, then his lips moved to your hips and belly. Each kiss caused your stomach to flutter from excitement and your brain to become clouded with only thoughts of him. And the next thing you knew, his head was stuck between your legs, his large hands gripping your thighs and holding them open, his cold nose rubbing against your clit, and your back arching off the bed as his name repeatedly fell from your lips.

Work was the last thing on your mind after that.

So maybe it was time to use reverse psychology?

Screw gentle.

If he could get you to relax by grabbing your attention that way, maybe you could do the same? It was uncharacteristic of you to use sex as a way to distract him, but it was worth a shot. You just needed him to get off of the treadmill and somehow tire him out enough to pass out as soon as he hit the pillow. This…might just work? No, it definitely will work. Joe couldn’t resist the temptation when given the chance. No way would he be able to hold back from this.

“Joe’s hormones, don’t fail me now,” you thought to yourself as you looked back up, your hand reaching down to grasp the hem of your crewneck sweatshirt, lifting it just enough for him to catch a peek of what was underneath–or more accurately, what wasn’t. You pulled the fabric up slowly, revealing your bare thighs and the lacy purple panties that he could never resist, the ones that always drove him mad no matter the mood he was in. You saw his eyes flash, breaking away from the stare he’d been giving the treadmill screen.

This was perfect.

“Joe,” you said, a playful tone lacing your words. “Why don’t you come back to bed with me?” you finished, your sweatshirt now fully off as you threw it to the side, your bare chest now on display for him. The cool air drifting through the room felt like a kiss to your bare body, but the heat in his gaze burned hotter than anything the cold could offer; it was enough to make your knees tremble.

His eyes widened at the display in front of him, and for a split second, you saw a crack in the wall between you. He gripped the sidebar tightly, his knuckles turning white as he steadied himself, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You knew your little stunt had hit a nerve…the perfect nerve.

“Careful,” you teased, your voice dripping with need. “I’d hate for you to trip, baby,”.

His eyebrow shot up, a mix of surprise and desire on his face. His jaw clenched, the tension in his body palpable as his cheeks flushed to the same color as the mark on your collarbone he would love to leave in heated moments like these.

Ohhh yeah. You hit the nerve. Bullseye.

“What’re..you doing,” he said, his voice dipping down as he saw you reach up to untie your messy bun, your soft, silky hair falling down your bare back like a mystical waterfall.

You let out a low chuckle, “Getting you to stop running, duh,” as you gave his body another slow once-over, and this time, he noticed it.

The look you were giving him, mimicking the same bedroom eyes he’d often give you, made his body react instantly. The tension between you turned to electricity, and he could feel the growing heat in his shorts, the tent tightening with every passing second.

“Y- you’re unbelievable,” he scoffed, shaking his head as a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But instead of stepping down, he tapped the speed button again and went back to looking ahead, refocusing on his run as if he were trying to shake off the effect you were having on him.

“Nope, juuuuust relentless,” you winked.

The heat between you both was hard to deny and you could tell he was slowly cracking with the way his face would scrunch up when he ran a little too fast. The hardness growing in his boxers made it incredibly uncomfortable to run and you were enjoying every second of him pretending like he wasn’t bothered by it. The stiffness straining against his shorts was practically begging for the attention you were offering, despite how hard he was trying to keep it under control.

You stood there in front of him, letting your eyes wander up and down his body with purpose, occasionally turning around so he could get a view of your bare back and the curve of your hips, just doing whatever you could to break his front. The sounds of his small, frustrated groans and his breath hitching told you that you were hitting your mark. One specific thing you did really got to him though. You leaned forward, resting your arms on top of the treadmill screen so that your chest was fully visible, your breasts dangling right in front of him. You could feel his restraint slipping, piece by piece. His sharp intake of breath and the way his eyes darkened once he looked at you confirmed it. You had him right where you wanted.

“Y/N, stop,” he snapped, his gaze dropping to your pretty pink lips which he desperately needed to feel everywhere.

“Make me,” you challenged, batting your eyes at him in mockery.

“If you’re soooo horny, go upstairs and take care of it yourself. It’s not like you haven’t before when I’m not here,” he sneered, the twinkle in your eyes letting him know exactly what you were up to. “Just do whatever and leave me alone,”.

Those three words felt like a fastball to the face. No way was he on this again, not after the conversations you two had the past week. “Oh hell no.” you thought to yourself, feeling even more irritated by his behavior because he was acting the same way he did after the game last week. You weren’t going to let him push you away this time, not after everything you’ve helped him through.

But maybe, just maybe pushing his buttons was the answer? You knew how Joe operated all too well; when he got heated, the wall he built crumbled fast and he’d be too focused on that fire. If you could light that fire just enough, maybe he’d finally let go. “Oh, I’m going to hell for this,” you mumbled under your breath, bracing yourself for the words that were about to fall from your mouth. “Here we go again with the ‘leave me alone’ act,” you groaned, seeming more pissed than you actually were in order to make him mad. “Joe, I love you. But please stop with the bullshit because it’s giving me whiplash,”.

“What bullshit?” he questioned, his brows furrowing in offense. He was slightly taken aback by the tone of your voice–usually playful but now rough. It was laced with a kind of frustration even he couldn’t ignore.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you rolled your eyes, leaning back so that your entire body was in his view again. “It’s the middle of the night and I’ve been in here for the past hour trying to help you out of this funk but you just won’t quit it with this bullshit,”.

Joe’s gaze sharpened, “Again, what bullshit.” his lips pressed into a thin line.

You let out a snarky laugh, “This whole ‘leave me alone’ bullshit, the ‘i’m fine’ bullshit. You’re not fine Joe and it’s okay to admit that. Saying you’re not fine doesn’t make you any less of a man, trust me,”.

“You better watch what you say, Y/N,” he quickly retorted, raising an eyebrow at your arrogance. His voice dripped with warning and intrigue, he was warning you to watch your mouth but he was just as curious to hear what you had to say.

“Or what? Or what, Joe?” you snapped back. “I’m so sick of seeing you act like this; being dismissive doesn’t fucking solve anything. And you know what else? I am so sick of you acting like this with me. Just hours ago you were stuck to me like glue and now it’s like you’re avoiding me like the plague. I’m also so sick of getting hundreds of messages asking how you’re doing. What the hell am I supposed to say to them? ‘I don’t know how my own boyfriend is doing because he refuses to tell me and acts like I’m not here?’ Spare me the embarrassment, Joe. I can’t deal with these funks where you’re all over me, confiding in me and then hours later you’re acting like I’m a piece of gum stuck to your shoe that won’t go away,”.

“You know, I didn’t ask you to come in here,” he interjected, continuing to run on the treadmill at full force, his words shaky as he was trying to catch his breath. His eyes trailed up and down your body, and even in this tense moment, he was captivated by your raw beauty. You looked angelic in this light, even though you had just woken up and had a rough evening prior. Your hair was slightly messy, but messy in a way that he adored. The soft light of the room gave you an ethereal glow which made it hard for him to look away. And your face…oh, your face. The softness, and the gentle curve of your full lips both made him feel an ache deep within his heart. All he wanted to do was pull you to his lips and never stop kissing you, despite feeling aggravated by your words. “I didn’t ask you to care, Y/N,”.

You tipped your head back in frustration, but reminding yourself that you needed to keep your cool with him or this would turn into a screaming match too fast. You closed your eyes and took another deep breath, “Yikes. Okay, maybe I’m pushing his buttons a little too hard. Deep breaths, Y/N,”.

“You don’t need to ask me, Joe,” you replied once you opened them, your words much softer now that you eased up. “We’re like magnets, Joey. I go where you go and you go where I go…we’ve always been that close. Since LSU? You know that. It’s always just been you and me no matter the circumstance or situation, we count on each other for everything and you promised me that when you told me you loved me. I know when you’re not okay even when you try your hardest to hide it from me. I just want you to let me be there for you like I always have…and I don’t care if you think pushing me away is protecting me. I love you more than anything in this world and you will always come first for me no matter what. I’ll always be there for you, even if I get caught in the line of fire,” you said, your voice heavy with despair. “You need me, and I’m there. I’m always there,”.

The words, “I’m always there” echoed in his brain as his gaze fell to the floor, then back to your wary eyes, almost as if he was trying to decide whether to give in or keep holding his front. He felt your words, he felt the weight of your words. He felt how badly you wanted to help him and get him out of his head. But he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had, that’s why he was pushing you out again. He couldn’t stand the sight of you wiping your tears after he walked away, or hearing you try to stifle your sniffles to spare his feelings or stare into your bloodshot eyes, knowing he was the cause of your pain. You were his delicate Y/N, the one person who was as fragile as a feather but strong as a block of concrete…for him. You promised to protect him at all costs no matter what happened, sometimes even putting herself in the line of fire just to shield him. And in his own twisted way, he thought pushing you away from him was protecting you.

But what he didn’t realize–what he never seemed to understand–was that pushing you away only hurt you both more. You weren’t afraid of his broken pieces or his rough edges because you knew how to hold the shattered pieces together. You knew how to soften the edges. He tried to push you away time and time again, but you always fought it. And now he understood why. To you, his rough edges and shattered pieces weren’t something to run from–it was something to love through. To you, they weren’t flaws to be fixed, but unique parts to be cherished. You saw beauty in his resilience, strength in his vulnerability, and passion in his devotion to protecting the ones he loved the most. He wasn’t anything like what those idiots said, he was far from it.

You saw him for him. You loved him for him. No matter what was said, what was done, what baggage he carried, you loved him. You never backed away from him when his entire world felt like it was imploding. He had never met anyone like that…anyone like you.

Why should he push away the best thing that ever happened to him? Why should he let his fears build walls to separate you when all you ever wanted to do was hold him closer, to remind him that he was enough just as he was? You were protective over the ones you loved and he knew that, but you were protective over Joe more than anyone or anything else.

He’d always allowed you to be there for him, but this time he was doing everything in his power to push back from you. That was not like him at all. He’d always been open with you, seeking solace in your arms, falling asleep to your reassuring, sweet words, getting lost under your protective touch, and breathing in your calming scent. He’d never been the one to ignore you, snap at you, and make you feel overlooked. But ever since the wrist injury, he had moments, phases, where he would get like this; those phases and moments hurt you more than anything any fan could ever say. It hurt you because he pulled away, something he’d never done. In the beginning, you couldn’t figure out why, which scared the hell out of you, and luckily he realized before it was too late. The guilt was almost unbearable at times when he saw you come down with puffy eyes or give him a shaky response. But as time passed and he slowly started to let you in, you understood why he acted the way he did–and it had nothing to do with you.

This time, however, it had everything to do with you. The game went pretty badly and he was being overly critical about himself as usual, but that’s not what did it for him. Those awful comments people spat at you, his girl? That was where he drew the line. That should’ve been enough for him to comfort you, to hold you for as long as he could, to be there for you. But instead, he was running further from you, shutting himself out, and making you come after him. He didn’t even think about how upset you must be feeling, how difficult it must be to hide it from him because you didn’t want to burden him with anything else.

“I’m not fine…I haven’t been fine in months and neither has she. She puts this strong front to protect me and I never even realize how much she must be dealing with right now, how much she must be juggling with me, work, and football. She’s not a robot, she’s hurting too,” he thought to himself as his eyes trailed back to yours, seeing the pain behind your pupils. “Let go, Joe. She’s right there for you. Stop being a hardass and let her be there for you. You’re killing her,”.

“Joe,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling as if you were on the verge of tears, “I’m not going anywhere. Let me in, p- please?”.

“Let her in, Joe. It’s just Y/N, the girl you’ve loved ever since she showed up at your door with a bag of caramel apple suckers to apologize for crashing football practice. She didn’t have to do that, but she showed up and did. This is the girl that is the first one to come find you after a brutal loss, knowing how much of a detached asshole you’d be in the heat of the moment. She doesn’t have to, but she shows up and does it anyway. This is the woman you want to marry as soon as possible. Why? Because she has always been there for you through thick and thin–she never once has gone back on her promise to be by your side until her wheels fall off. Lots of people in your life came and went and left you high and dry but she never did that to you. She could have, she had so many chances to run for the hills and never look back, but she didn’t. If you keep pushing her away, you’ll push her away for good. You can’t lose her. You can’t live without her. The thought of losing her makes your chest physically hurt,” he thought to himself, feeling that subtle sting in his chest he was thinking about.

“I love you, Joe. You don’t have to figure this out alone. I can handle it, whatever it is. Just tr- trust me,” you swallowed, your voice cracking again as you felt the emotional waters push against the mental dam you had built in your mind to keep Joe dry. “Keep it together, Y/N,” you told yourself.

“Trust her. Trust her. Trust her,” Joe’s subconscious whispered, a mantra meant to bring him to his senses. He let out a deep breath, his voice a barely audible mumble as the words left him, “I trust you.” It was so soft, you couldn’t hear him, but even saying it out loud seemed to open something within him. You never gave him a reason to not trust you which meant whatever you were saying, you meant every word.

You noticed the way his shoulders dropped, tension oozing out of him like air from a balloon. His vulnerability was almost palpable–but it wasn’t just that. There was something else now, something charged, bubbling just beneath the surface. “I need to do something to get her to relax. She won’t tell me how she’s feeling straight up, but I know she’s like a glass of water filled to the brim, each drop teetering on the edge before it spills over in an uncontrollable flood,” his inner voice said, the thought flipping a switch deep inside him. Joe wasn’t oblivious to your habit of putting everyone else before yourself–it was one of the things he admired about you, but it also frustrated him. He hated seeing you push your own emotions to the side. And now, with you standing in front of him, he could see through the cracks in your armor–the water dancing on the edge of the glass–the quiet exhaustion you tried to mask so well for him.

His stare darkened as the air shifted between you, thick with an implied intensity. His lips curved into a smirk, and the hesitation that had hypnotized him earlier seemed to melt away in an instant. “You know…,” he began, his voice low, laced with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine, “You’re playing a risky game, Y/N,”.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor.

Joe’s eyes roamed over your body, slow and unapologetic, lingering in a way that made your skin catch on fire. The smirk on his lips deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, the energy between you crackling like lightning.

“Out here with no clothes on and that look in your eyes…,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and commanding, leaving no doubt that he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

Oh.

Your breath hitched, the heat pooling in your belly as your heartbeat quickened, “Oh, I- I…,” you stammered, your words twisting in your throat.

He chuckled softly, “What’s the matter, lovey? Lost your words?”.

Oh?

You stared into his deep blue eyes, and something was different. Something had shifted. The wall you’d seen there before, was…gone?

Wait. Was it really gone? The tension, the guarded demeanor–just melted away? Your teasing, your soft words, the way you’d carefully nudged him…did it actually work? You weren’t exactly doubting your ability to break through to him, but this was Joe. Joe, who could be as immovable as a brick wall when he wanted to be. Joe, who sometimes made you work for every crack in his armor. Your heart skipped a beat at the realization. The icy look in his eyes, the stoic front just…gone. Now it was just the Joe you knew. The Joe who trusted you. The Joe that made you smile in moments like these–where you were far from happy. Your Joe.

You weren’t sure what exactly did it for him but whatever it was, it made him laugh. It made him genuinely laugh. And whatever it was, you sure as hell weren’t going to grill him about it right now.

Now, it was time for step two: release the tension in his mind and body in the best way possible.

“No,” you shook your head, “Just…distracted,” as you slowly walked around the treadmill. You lifted your hand to glide across his sweaty arm, lightly scratching his bare skin with your manicured nails, “You can’t be in here looking like this…with no shirt…covered in sweat…and expect me to act normal about it,”. Joe’s eyes darted to where your nails danced on his arm, his breath hitching for a brief moment before his gaze met yours again, a mixture of amusement and something stronger swirling within them.

“You’re trouble,” he said, a little breathless as you pushed yourself away from him and started twirling around the empty space in the gym.

“Ohhh noooo. I guess you’ll have to arrest me, officer,” you pouted, a mischievous glimmer behind your soft eyes which resulted in another chuckle from your boyfriend. Your lips curled into a playful grin as you circled him like a predator stalking her prey. “There’s that laugh,” you murmured, your tone light as you moved closer to him. “I knew it was in there somewhere. You’ve been holding out on me, Burrow,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he watched your every move. “What are you up to, Y/N?” he asked, a hint of pleasure mixing with curiosity in his voice.

“Oh, me?” you joked, acting innocent as you came around to stand in front of him. “I’m just here to help…you know, ease some of that tension you’ve been carrying around all night,”.

He tilted his head, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his eyes after he understood what you were implying. “You’re playing with fire, you know that? Gotta be careful,”.

“And yet,” you shot back, stepping just a little closer, “You’re still standing here, letting me,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

Your eyes stayed zoned in on his, observing how that little sparkle burnt brighter behind his as a heavy silence fell between you. You knew the effect you had on him, and it was only a matter of seconds before he gave into that need–that need to feel you everywhere. You watched the tension in his jaw increase, how his chest heaved a little harder, and his eyes dropping to your lips and chest. You also saw the twinge of discomfort on his face which stemmed from the growing tent in his workout shorts.

“Any second,” you smirked to yourself.

You continued to look at him with those heated eyes, waiting for the moment when he gave into his desire, his need to feel you. You knew him too well, which meant you also knew exactly how to set him off. “Well…guess I should just go take care of it myself then. Shouldn’t I?” you teased, slowly inching back from him. Joe absolutely hated not being the one to get you off when you needed to feel liquid bliss coursing through your veins. The idea of you sprawled across your shared bed, your fingers between your thighs, his name falling from your lips, and for him to not be there? That drove him wild.

And as if on cue, his hand slammed down on the power button, the treadmill abruptly stopping. Then you watched as he stepped down while his other hand reached out, gripping your wrist with a firm but gentle hold. Before you had the chance to say something, he pulled you closer. Your bare chest brushed against his slick, sweat-covered torso, “Hell no,” he mumbled.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Yeah, the effect you had on him was strong and powerful. But when it came down to this, you were a pile of goo in his hands. He knew that and you knew that even better.

He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over your ear as his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “You wanna play with fire, baby? Well congratulations. You just got burned,”.

And again, before you had a chance to say something, his mouth was on yours. His large hands slide down to your sides, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that makes your knees weak. The heat of his body radiated to yours as he walked you both backward; you were so lost in the lustful haze that surrounded you to realize where you were going. “Mmph,” you moaned into the kiss, feeling the hardness in his boxers brush against your upper thigh. “Please,” you whimpered, feeling his lips mash against yours in a slow, sultry movement. “Joe,”.

Suddenly, he pulled away from you and plopped down onto the padded bench behind him, then pulled you down with him before you could catch your breath. His strong arms held you firmly in his lap, each of your legs around him as you straddled him in place. “What am I going to do with you now, huh?” he murmured as his lips traveled from your lips, down your neck, and ghosted over your collarbone. “With all that shit you said to me…I shouldn’t be doing this. You were running that pretty little mouth of yours a little too much tonight,”.

“Joe…,” you whispered, your breath hitching as his other hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair and tugging at the soft, silky strands. Each kiss he pressed was slow, wet, and hot against your skin; he was savoring every inch of you.

“What, lovey?” he whispered as his lips went back up the path he traced.

You threw your head to the side, allowing his lips to explore parts of your skin he hadn’t adored yet, “Joey, please…I need it,”.

A low chuckle left his lips, “What’s got you so worked up, hm?”.

“You…,” you gasped, feeling him attach his lips to the sweet spot on your neck. “I told you…you look so-,”.

“Me?” he rasped as he moved up your neck. “Have you seen yourself? You look gorgeous, and this?,” his fingers toying with the waistband of your purple lace panties, “These are driving me fucking insane,” he chuckled.“You always look beautiful for me, so effortless and sexy,”.

A rush of heat flooded your body at his words, at his touch, leaving you breathless. His scruff grazed against your delicate skin, sending a rousing mix of roughness and warmth down your spine. Your hips had a mind of their own as they slowly rocked back and forth against Joe’s, his reaction telling you that you were slowly getting through to him in another way…a more pleasurable way. His lips found your ear, brushing against the corner as he whispered, his voice deep and low, “Mmm, yeah…That’s a good girl.”.

His words ignited a fire within you, your hips instinctively shifting against him in another strong movement, pressing into the hardness you could now feel straining against his shorts. His hands gripped your hips tighter, keeping you steady as he began to guide your movements, enticing soft gasps from your lips. “You’re making it really hard for me to hold back, baby,” he murmured, the heat of his breath tickling your ear as you rocked back and forth on his cock, your panties soaked from your arousal. His fingers trailed up your side, leaving goosebumps in their path before they dipped beneath the waistband and down to your dripping heat.

“Oh,” you whimpered, his knuckles brushing against your slick core, as he watched your reaction. "Joe…," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of desperation and desire. “P- please…need to feel you…,”.

His lips curved into a smirk against your neck as his fingers moved deeper, exploring your warmth. “So needy…is that why you did this…strip naked? Say all that shit to me? To get my attention?”. One thick finger slid in, your walls immediately clenching around it as he pushed it deeper.

“O- Ohhh,” you sputtered, then dropped your head onto his shoulder, your hips slowly moving back and forth against his–now damp–shorts.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his scruff pressed harder against the sensitive skin of your neck. You’d never get tired of feeling his scratchy scruff against your skin. Whenever you felt it on you, your body knew that you were in for a treat. He then added another finger, his movements rhythmic, precise, and torturously amazing. “You feel so damn perfect, baby,” he whispered, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping heat with a faint squelching sound. “So tight around my fingers,” he whispered before planting a kiss to your neck. Your hands found his shoulders, clutching onto him for stability as his mouth returned to your ear, his deep groan making your body tremble. “I should hate you for teasing me like that…but how can I when you’re being so good to me now?”.

“F- fuck,” you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his fingers graze over your sweet spot. “I- I didn’t mean to…tease you. I just w- wanted to help, oh,” you said, each word struggling to come out of your mouth because of your soft gasps and moans.

“You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss under your ear. “That’s why I love you so much,”.

The pressure built within you as his fingers moved expertly, curling in ways that made your body dance to the beat of his drum. His lips left a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and to your collarbone, each one sending shockwaves through you. “Agh, Joe, I’m so close,” you whimpered, barely able to form coherent thoughts as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter.

“That’s my girl…such a good girl,” he whispered against your ear, his lips brushing so close that you felt the pressure of every word. “Let go for me, baby. Show me how much you love me,”.

“Joe, fuck…I-,” you started to say until your breath caught in your throat from the tight feeling in your lower belly. A few more strong pumps later, “Fuck, oh fuck!” you screamed, your body trembling as your walls clenched around his thick fingers and you reached your high, your fingers pulling at his hair.

“That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice wrapping around you like a soft blanket of security. His strong arms held you tightly, grounding you through the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he pressed a few wet kisses along the curve of your neck. His fingers slowed their pace, a delicate, intimate touch now helping you back down from the high he had guided you to. His lips moved up to press soft, tender kisses to your temple, whispering unspoken promises with each one.

Joe knew you were holding back your own emotions as well, likely so that you didn’t burden him with more weight than he already was dealing with. He knew that you had tension built up inside of you, and he noticed that as soon as he got home and saw your eyes. You’d spent the entire night focusing on him, hiding your own thoughts and fears which he knew were eating away at you. He hated seeing you carry that silent load, hated knowing you were sacrificing your own peace for his. That wasn’t how this worked. You needed release, and Joe was determined to give it to you–to make sure you felt just as cared for as he did.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice taking on a softer tone as his hands gently smoothed over your back. “Everything I’ll ever need,”.

You felt the room spin when you opened your eyes, your body trembling and your mind clouded by the aftermath of your orgasm. Every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing from the way Joe had just untangled you. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, and the first thing your cloudy vision focused on was Joe’s face. His eyes, glossed over with a mix of desire and sincerity, locked onto yours. They had an intensity that sent another shiver down your spine. The heat between you was substantial, and when you shifted slightly, you felt the unmistakable hardness beneath you, pressing firmly against your core. “Joe,” you whispered again, your voice shaky from the tingling sensation in your body.

He didn’t say a word at first but his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand even the smallest distance between you. His lips opened slightly, his breathing ragged as his forehead came to rest against yours, his damp hair brushing against your skin. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through you. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think you’re not, okay?” he said, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you anchored to him, the tension between you far from disappearing.

You bit your lip, your body still trembling as you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his. “I love you, Joe,” you whispered, the words barely audible but filled with meaning. You then pressed your lips against his, feeling yourself ease up when you felt his tongue enter your mouth with no hesitation.

The groan that escaped his throat was enough to give away how much he needed you, how much he needed to consume you and be consumed by you. His grasp tightened as he shifted beneath you to try to ignore his hardening cock, but he moved a little too quickly and accidentally jerked his hips up toward you. “Mmm,” he hissed, feeling his sensitive erection grow at the contact with your soaked heat. Although he didn’t want to, he forced himself to abruptly pull away from your lips because of the aching need in his shorts that was getting harder to ignore, “I’m not done with you yet, baby,” he reminded both you and himself.

You gave a lazy nod, your body melting against his as he moved under you. With a firm grip on your waist, he planted his feet on the ground and stood effortlessly, holding you as if you weighed nothing. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of him–clean, warm, and unmistakably Joe. The gentle scrape of his scruff against your cheek sent a pang of arousal right down to your core again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and while he carried you, the soft light of the room caught the promise ring on your left hand. The delicate shimmer of the diamonds made your lips curl into a faint smile, a silent reminder of everything you’d promised to one another–the love, the loyalty, and the unspoken vow that neither of you would let go, no matter how difficult things might get.

He carried you over to the couch in the corner of the gym, his steps slow and relaxed. His lips brushed against your cheek to plant a quick kiss as he mumbled, “You okay, babe?”.

You nodded against him, your voice muffled as you whispered, “Perfect,”.

A chuckle left his lips, “Yeah, you are,” he replied, knowing that when you were with him, ‘perfect’ was always the answer.

He reached the plush couch and gently lowered you onto the cushions, before straightening up and flashing you with a look so intense it sent a wave of heat coursing through every inch of your body. That long, lingering stare had you squirming below him, desperate for him to touch you again.

Without breaking eye contact, he slipped out of the last bit of his clothes, his muscles flexing with every small movement. When he finally leaned down, his weight settling over you, the warmth of his bare skin against yours made you shiver. His hands were planted on either side of you, caging you in, but it never felt suffocating–it felt safe. He hovered there, close enough for his breath to mix with yours as his deep blue eyes searched your face, silently asking for reassurance. Any doubt or hesitation in his mind disappeared the second he saw the love reflected in your gaze. “You’re all I’ll ever need,” he whispered, brushing his lips tenderly over yours like a prayer. “You’re the only good thing in my life, and I’m so fucking lucky to have you,”.

His words should have triggered something–a little siren in your brain, an alarm to unpack the weight of what he’d just said. The only good thing in his life? The significance of that sentence should have hit you harder. But the way he said it–the raw vulnerability in his voice, the tenderness of his touch–made your thoughts blur. The intoxicating mix of love and lust overpowered everything else, and all you could focus on was him and this intimate moment.

“Joe,” you whispered softly, though it wasn’t a protest. If anything, it was a plea.

That was all it took for him to close the distance again, his mouth stuck on yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was soft. Each tug and push was more demanding than the last. His teeth grazed your lower lip before pulling it lightly, earning a soft whimper from you that urged him on. His hands roamed your sides, sliding down to grip your hips possessively. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. “Don’t know what I’d do without you,”.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your voice coming out in a whisper. “You don’t have to. I’m here, Joe. Always,”.

He smirked, but his eyes softened at your words. “Damn right you are,” he murmured before dipping his head to trail kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His scruff scraped against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips latched onto a sweet spot just below your ear. You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening as he sucked and nipped at the tender skin, leaving his mark for you to find later. “Joe,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his hands slid under your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Shh, baby,” he grunted, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me take care of you. Just let go,”.

His hands gripped your hips with a force that caused your vision to go hazy as he adjusted himself above you. When he finally pushed into you, slow and gently, your body arched against him. A breathy moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, every inch of him sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, shit,” you moaned, your mouth falling open as you dug your head back into the couch.

“God, baby,” he rasped, his forehead resting against yours as his hips began to move, his thrusts slow but deep. “You feel…so fucking good,” he moaned, his lips just inches from yours to the point where your breaths were mixing.

“Joe,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he set a steady, rhythmic pace. You could feel the remnants of his sweat on his back, the pheromonic smell of it sending you into another dimension. It mixed with his natural scent, and all of that was now pressing onto your body, the air around you smelling like a delicious cocktail of natural musk, sweat, and sex. Each thrust was precise, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. “Please…don’t stop. Don’t ever s- stop,”.

His lips brushed over your ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not stopping until you can’t think of anything but me,”. His pace quickened slightly, each roll of his hips deliberate and full of intent.

You moved your hands along the curves of his sculpted back, feeling his large muscles and the slowly loosening tension beneath his golden skin. “Joey,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please…I- do whatever you have to do…to relax…f- fuck,”.

You wanted him to let go, fully let go. You needed him to let go. It may have been difficult to break through the tension in his mind right now, but you knew that this would help him. There was so much tension pent up inside of his body from the field and from what happened off the field, he needed to let go, and you were right there to help him.

“Oh, I will,” he murmured, matter of factly. “I just need to hear you first. Can you do that for me? Be a little louder? Use that pretty little mouth of yours the way you were meant to,”.

“F- fuck, okay,” you whimpered, and with each snap of his hips, you got louder and louder. Your moans urged him on, his hips rutting into yours with more urgency now, his movements becoming almost primal as he chased the pleasure of feeling you wrapped around him. “God, Joe. You always do it so good, ohhh,”.

Joe’s forehead pressed against yours again, his breaths mixing with yours as he forced into you with a steady, hard pace. The pleasure rapidly builds in your body, only growing stronger with every pump of his large cock. The heat between you was overwhelming, every movement sending shivers coursing through your body. His lips hovered just inches from yours, teasing yet comforting, which reminds you he was right there with you. As his hands caressed your sides in a loving manner that made your heart flutter, he said. “I love you, you know that?”.

“Please, Joe. Don’t stop,” you whimpered, throwing your head to the side as your voice trembled with need; the couch began to creak under you due to the strength of his thrusts. “Joe, don’t stop ever,”.

His hips didn’t stutter even for a split second, his rhythm was perfect and unrelenting. “Listen to me,” he insisted, quickly using his hand to move your face back to his, his tone gentle and commanding. “You know I love you, right?” he asked again, his cock pounding into your heat with more force to punctuate his words.

You gasped when his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth grazing before he bit and sucked gently, leaving his mark on you. “O- Oh, Joey,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. “Yeah, y- yeah. I know you love me, baby,”.

“Good,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours again as he kept that hypnotic pace. “Because I fucking do. I love you more than anything,”.

“Oh my god, Joe,” you choked, your back arching as he adjusted his angle by cupping the back of your knee and lifting your leg a little, hitting a spot that made your vision blur.

“God damn, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure as he felt you open up more than before. “You’re so fucking beautiful, taking me like this. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, looking down at his shaft disappearing in and out of your heat, somehow even leaving a little imprint in your lower belly. The sounds filling the room added to the haze, the melodic sound of his cock slapping in and out of your soaked core almost as beautiful as the sounds coming from your lips.

“Joey. Joey. Joe, fuck,” you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.“Right there–oh my god, Joe, right there!” you screamed, feeling his cock hitting your g-spot over and over, his tip abusing your cervix in the best possible way.

“Yeah? Right there?” he panted, his breath hot against your skin. “That make you feel good? You like that?” he asked, his next thrust being ever rougher so he could hit the spot again. The sight of your breasts bouncing back and forth from the intensity of his thrusts made his eyes roll back, “Damn,” he grunted under his breath.

“Oh, fuck yeah. Shit,” you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him, your brain completely dark as you lost yourself in his heated touch.

His lips found yours again, silencing your moans as his pace quickened. “You’re my girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with confidence. “My special girl. Nobody can hurt you, not as long as I’m by your side,”.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intimacy and the way his words wrapped around your heart like a protective shield. And well, also because he usually had a knack for sending you to the verge of tears when he was a little intense with you like this. “I know…I- I know, Joe. I’m your girl,” you whispered, your voice cracking as another wave of pleasure overtook you. “Ah,” you hissed, closing your eyes from the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“That’s right,” he groaned, his hips pressing into you deeper, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “You’re mine, Y/N. Forever mine,”.

Your eyes met his baby blues, and you felt a warmth behind them that had been missing for weeks. There was a familiar spark between you as if everything else had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment. You had finally broken through the barriers he put up. The way he held you now, the way he talked to you now, was different. He was confident, relaxed, and full of raw need.

As his lips met yours in another kiss, the words he spoke were soft, yet they carried the weight of everything he had been holding back. “I need you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice raw with emotion. “P- please don’t ever leave me, I-. I need you, baby,” he said again, his earlier emotions threatening to take over during this heated affair.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out, your brain jumping over what he just said, again. “I’m here for y- you…always, fuck-,”. Your legs moved around him, pulling him closer as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Your head fell back against the couch, a loud moan escaping your lips as you trembled beneath him. “God, Joe! F- fuck, I can’t…oh my god,” you moaned, breathy gasps falling from your lips with no end in sight.

Joe didn’t stop, his hips slowing just enough to ride you through your nearing high while he continued murmuring sweet, filthy praises against your skin. “Fuck, baby. You were made for me, made for me to fuck you like this,” he groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as your walls convulsed around him.

You clung to him, your body still shaking as he slowed his movements, his own release edging closer. His lips pressed against your ears, his breath hot and jagged as he whimpered your name over and over. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, feeling the need to let him know that this wasn’t only about you–hell it wasn’t supposed to be about you. “Let go, Joey. Do what you need to do,”.

Joe’s eyes locked with yours, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath all over again. With a groan, he pushed forward, capturing your lips in another kiss so deep it left no doubt–he was yours, and you were his. Always.

“Oh, I’m so close,” you whimpered, feeling the band in your belly tighten and your walls start to close in on his thick shaft.

“Fuck…me too, baby,” he whined, picking up the speed of his thrusts while moving a hand down to your bundle of nerves. His fingers fondled your clit expertly, knowing exactly what you liked and how you needed it. And a few seconds later, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over your body. “God, Joe!” you screamed, throwing your head back into the pillows as you arched into him, “Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he growled, pushing into your snug walls with more force. “You gonna let go for me? You gonna stop thinking about what those fucking idiots said earlier? Ah. You gonna relax for me?” he groaned, his voice strained as he felt himself tip over the edge from the way you were reacting underneath him.

“Y- yeah, I will,” you moaned as your body trembled beneath his sweaty frame, caving at the power of his words. Your adorably scrunched-up nose, your fluttering eyes, your rosy cheeks, and your grip on his shoulders were all enough for him to reach his high. He was the only one to have you like this–so vulnerable and raw. And that thought drove him feral.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Oh, fuck…Y/N,”. With one final, powerful thrust, you felt him come undone, his entire body trembling as he shattered against you. His cock twitched deep inside, flooding your core with his release as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder to silence his moans. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer and his arms wrapped tightly around you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. “God, Y/N…,” he panted, his breath hot against your skin as he pushed himself deeper, making sure every last bit of him filled you.

“Joe,” you whimpered softly, the faint sting below making your voice shake. “Oh m- my god…,” you breathed out, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you while your eyes adjusted to the room; his arms tightened instinctively around you almost like he could protect you from even the smallest discomfort.

You felt so achingly full–the feeling of his load and softening cock deep inside of you, and his hand sprawled across your stomach making you a little dizzy. His fingertips began tracing slow, soothing patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch bringing you back down to earth.

He lifted his head enough to look at you, his messy hair and lazy eyes looking all too familiar. The corners of his mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile as his baby blue eyes softened. “You wore me out, princess,” he murmured, his voice carrying that delicious, raspy edge you loved so much. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,”.

The warmth in his voice was matched by the way he looked at you, his expression a blend of admiration, affection, and a touch of exhaustion.

“Thank you, god,” you thought to yourself.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, concern clear in his voice as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Was I too rough?”.

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “Better than okay,”.

His smile grew, and he leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, softer, as if he was pouring all the emotions he couldn’t put into words into that single moment. When he pulled back, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re my everything. I’m so sorry about everything that happened today,”.

The sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at you made your chest swell with love. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about that right now. Just relax. I’m here,” you whispered back, your words filled with quiet certainty as you ran your other hand up along his chest and stopped at his heart. “You might be a stubborn ass sometimes,” you began, earning a lazy chuckle from him. “But you’re all mine…you’re my everything. I love you,”.

“I’m still sorry for–,” he began, but you didn’t let him finish. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that cut off his unnecessary apology. It was soft but firm, a clear message that he didn’t need to say anything more. When you pulled back, your eyes met his. Those gentle, puppy dog eyes of yours told him everything you wanted him to know–your forgiveness, your love, and your reassurance–all without a single word. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing as he gave you a small, grateful smile.

He took the hint—that you didn’t want to talk about this right now—and kept the conversation going. The last thing he wanted to do was press you about this after he had just gotten you to loosen up. “That was a way better workout than running,” he mumbled, dropping his head down to your chest and breathing in your calming scent as his fingers brushed against your belly; tracing little shapes into your plush skin.

You chuckled weakly, the sound barely a breath as your exhaustion caught up to you. “Mm, good…that was the plan,” your eyelids grew heavier, and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your body pulled you closer to the edge of sleep.

“You were extra loud tonight too,” he shamelessly teased, pressing a kiss to your belly. “I liked that,”.

“…You ask and I deliver..,” you replied lazily, fighting back a yawn.

Joe noticed the way your responses slowed, your breathing evening out as you succumbed to the warmth and safety of his embrace. “Hey,” he whispered, “You’re fading on me, aren’t you?”.

“Hmm,” you hummed, feeling yourself fall further into slumber. “Mm, tiredd,” you dragged out, yawing again as you closed your eyes for a few seconds.

“Alright, sleeping beauty,” he murmured, his voice the softest it’d been all night. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he said and moved with such caution as he knew by the look in your eyes that you were exhausted in more ways than one. You stirred a little, nuzzling into his chest as he picked you up in his arms, your body instinctively latching onto the comfort he offered.

Joe carried you through the quiet house, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. He looked down at you, his lips curving into a fond smile as you whispered something in your sleep. “I love you, Joey,” you mumbled, rubbing your cheek against his chest out of comfort.

“I love you too,” Joe mumbled as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and as he pulled away to look at you, he felt a tug at his heart. You looked so delicate, so precious in his arms and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for making you act this worried about him. You never showed it, but he knew that you were struggling–that you had been since November. “I’m going to be there for you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not again, not ever,”.

When he reached the bedroom, he gently lowered you onto the bed, tucking the covers around you with practiced ease. For a second, he just stood there, watching the way your peaceful face softened in the comfort of your bed. Leaning down, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Sliding into bed next to you, Joe wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he settled in. Even in your sleep, you turned into him, your body naturally finding his warmth. As the quiet night enveloped you both, Joe let out a content sigh, feeling relaxed for the first time all day. Despite the storm raging inside his head, he managed to find shelter in it for you. Now he hoped you could do the same for him, he hoped you could let yourself be open with him. He hoped you’d allow yourself to let him carry some of your weight for once, especially because it was his fault.

You did what you needed to do–distracting him to get his mind off of things and bring him back to his safe space. But getting you to relax was the true thing that made him take a deep breath and loosen up. Seeing you curled up against him, a faint smile on your lips, your arms clinging to him; that’s what made him genuinely let go. You weren’t just his distraction; you were his peace. And for the first time in hours, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

The Next Morning

You stirred gently in your sleep, the light of the morning filtering through the curtains and casting a glow over your bare skin. Your eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing against your cheeks as you adjusted to the faint sunshine which was limited by the clouds. A soft, sleepy whine escaped your lips, the remnants of slumber clinging to you as the day began to break through the haze of your dreams.

You turned your head to the space next to you, your nose brushing against his pillow, filling your nostrils with a clean, subtle musk mixed with the faded remains of his body wash–a warm, woodsy fragrance with hints of cedar and sandalwood. Mixed with that was the specific, earthy scent of his skin with the light saltiness of sweat from last night. It was uniquely him–raw, grounding, and intoxicatingly familiar.

But he wasn’t there.

“Morning meetings,” you sighed, remembering that he had a typical routine to follow and couldn’t just relax in bed all day with you like you wanted him to.

You turned your head back to the ceiling, giving yourself a moment to breathe before slowly sitting up. As you moved, a deep, dull ache spread between your thighs–a lingering memento from the night before. “Ooooh,” you hissed softly, biting your lip and carefully lifting your hips to ease the pressure as you shifted forward. The memory of his intensity made a blush rise to your cheeks, and despite the sting, a playful giggle escaped your lips. “Damn, he really went hard last night,” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head at the thought of Joe's unmatched determination–both on and off the field.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and planted your feet on the cool wooden floor. The difference sent a little shiver up your spine, bringing you back to the present as you stretched your arms, feeling your body wake up from its lingering exhaustion. “I’ll see him in a few hours…might as well pull myself together in the meantime,” you nodded, then stood up and slowly walked over to the closet. You grabbed your baby blue robe and carefully slipped it onto your nude body, your eyes glancing at every mark he left on your body last night. From the scattered marks on your neck to the print of his fingers on your hips, they were all beautiful remnants of him.

You smiled at your reflection, the hazy glow of pleasure from the night before still on your face. With a light hum and smile, you grabbed your towel and headed for the bathroom, eager to rinse off and start the day.

As you stepped into the bathroom, your eyes landed on the mirror, and you froze. A cluster of sticky notes was taped to the glass, their colorful squares bright against the surface. Your chest swelled with warmth as you leaned closer to read them, “What’d you do this time,” you mumbled.

Gone for some meetings. Shouldn’t take too long, be back around lunch.

Thanks for last night ;) I love you sooooo much!!

(Sorry if you’re in pain…got a little carried away lol. I left out a bottle of Tylenol and your heating pad for you)

– j.b

Your fingertips brushed over the notes, and a flood of memories came rushing back. The sticky notes reminded you of your first date–the way Joe had taped one to your apartment door. It had simply said: Open the bag below for tonight.

Flashback to LSU – You and Joe’s first date

“I think I’m going to puke,” you said to Emma while you stared at yourself in your vanity mirror as she finished curling your hair.

“Not over that gorgeous dress. Aim for the side,” she laughed, setting the final curl and then using her fingers to separate them.

You felt a blush rise on your cheeks as you looked down at what you were wearing–a special gift from Joe. When you came back to your apartment earlier, there was a neon pink sticky note taped to the door with a silver gift bag at the doorstep. You weren’t expecting anything, so this came to your surprise and when you got closer, the sticky read “Open the bag below for tonight.”. You skeptically opened the bag, only to be met with the best surprise–a beautiful midnight-blue dress with delicate spaghetti straps and a flowy skirt that danced every time you moved. You gasped when you pulled it out of the bag, the soft fabric slipping through your fingers like silk. Another sticky note had been tucked inside the bag, reading, “A beautiful dress for my beautiful girl. Can’t wait to see you tonight :) - j.b”.

“He’s…something else,” you grinned to yourself, holding the dress up against your body and admiring the way it sparkled in the light.

Now, hours later, with Emma skillfully finishing your hair and your makeup just right, you were feeling…well, terrified.

“I’m serious, Em,” you said, twisting in your chair to look at her. “What if I trip in these heels? What if he regrets asking me out? What if I say something stupid, or worse, what if I–,”.

“Stop it.” Emma held her hands up in mock surrender, rolling her eyes. “First of all, you’re not tripping anywhere. Second, Joe Burrow is down-bad obsessed with you, so let’s not even entertain that nonsense. Third, you won’t say anything stupid because you’re charming as hell. Just relax,”.

You bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corners despite your nerves. “...You think he’s…Obsessed? Really?”.

“Uh, yeah. The man went and picked out a gorgeous, sparkly, expensive–did I mention gorgeous–dress for you. And we all know how men do when it comes to picking things out for girls,” she rolled her eyes. “Joe nailed it and you’re only a girl he met only a few weeks ago but he’s out here like he’s shopping for his fiancee or something. Most guys would just go for flowers or chocolate…but a whole dress–which may or may not retail for $150–,”.

“Wait, what?” you gasped, your eyes widening as you looked down at the outfit. The price tag made your heart race because you’d never worn anything this expensive before–never even imagined it.

You’d always wanted to feel this beautiful, to have someone make you feel special, like a rare gem. And Joe, of all people, being the one to do that? It completely caught you off guard. Warmth spread through your chest as you realized just how much he was making you feel worth it. The lengths he was going to make tonight the best night ever was something that stuck out to you. Tonight was your first official date, but you two have had plenty of hangouts, flirty exchanges, facetimes, and hour-long text conversations that it didn’t really feel like something as noteworthy as a first date. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little nervous about it. It was a date with…Joe Burrow of course.

“That’s next-level dedication,” Emma finished, smoothing the skirt of the dress as you stood to admire the full sparkle effect in the mirror. If it was nearly $200, those sparkles better be doing their damn job. “Besides, have you seen the way he looks at you? Either he’s looking at you with severe bedroom eyes or with the most love physically possible…like when we hit up that frat party at Sigma Phi Epsilon last weekend? All of the girls that usually chase after him were there, begging for some form of his attention, but Joe just looked at you. Claire even bumped into him on purpose and spilled her drink on herself to get him to say something to her, but when he saw you with that look in your eyes–the one you get when you feel anxious–he dropped everything to walk straight across the room from his guys and her…to you. Joe was glued to your hip the entire night, constantly checking on you even when you didn’t notice. He was the center of attention at the party—just like any other party—but he didn’t care about anyone except for the girl next to him. Everybody’s watchin’ him, but he’s lookin’ at you. That tiger’s tail is wrapped right around your finger, babe,”.

Your stomach did a backflip as her words registered in your mind, the gentle ache in your heart intensifying at the mention of that party. The party solidified Joe’s uniqueness amongst the guys at LSU. You remembered standing in the middle of the crowded room, clutching a red solo cup filled with cheap, overly sweet alcohol. The music blared, the bass vibrating in your chest like a second heartbeat, while the room spun with too many bodies pressed too close. You became hyper-aware of everything—the way some guys looked at you, their eyes lingering a little too long, making your skin crawl. The overwhelming smell of sweat and spilled drinks. The chaotic energy of laughter and voices meshing together.

It all became too much, too fast. Your breaths quickened, your chest tightening as panic began to creep in. The walls seemed to close in on you, and the laughter around you sounded sharp, almost mocking. You were frozen, not sure of how to calm yourself without drawing even more attention. Your friends were nowhere in sight, likely caught up in their own conversations or flirting with someone in another corner of the house. You felt alone, trapped in a wave of anxiety that threatened to drown you.

And then, like a lifeline thrown into stormy waters, you felt it–a large, warm hand on your shoulder. The touch was firm but gentle, instantly grounding you. It was familiar and comforting, like it carried a silent assurance that everything would be okay.

Turning your head, you saw him. Joe. His kind eyes searched yours with a quiet intensity, his presence breaking through the chaos around you. In that moment, the weight on your chest lifted, the tight knot in your stomach loosening as the panic started to fade away. It was as if, somehow, he had known exactly when you needed him most, and he’d been there to catch you before you fell.

You’d struggled with anxiety for as long as you could remember, and all the guys you’d been with had realized that one way or another. But none of them cared. None of them knew how to help you and it was because they didn’t want to. They didn’t want to deal with the emotional baggage, with the nerves that you brought with you everywhere you went. But Joe? Joe did. He wanted to help you, be there for you, take care of you. He didn’t even ask you how he could help, he just…knew.

He spent the rest of the party by your side, trading your alcohol for a soda, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, his thumb sliding up and down your bare arm, and his attention all on you.

You felt comfortable for the first time all night by his side. Your mind and body were at ease for once, and you didn’t know how to describe the new feeling you felt. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced before–something warm and magnetic, yet light and giddy all at once.

But did everyone see it–the way that Joe looked at you like you were the only thought on his mind? Did they see how much he cared about you? Was he so obvious about it?

The connection between you felt so electric, almost as rare and whimsical as lightning in a bottle. You didn’t know if you should be terrified of that because the lighting could shatter through the glass and burn you at any given moment. But it could also be something beautiful, something extraordinary. The kind of spark people spend their whole lives searching for.

Even though you’d only known each other for a short amount of time, the time you had spent together made it feel like you’d know each other for a lifetime. He quickly picked up on your little habits, moods, likes, and dislikes—literally everything there was to know about you. You quickly learned who Joe was behind that helmet and jersey he put on every week, who he was behind his hard-shelled demeanor. He let you in without thinking twice, showing you parts of him he had guarded off for a reason. And you did the same. You didn’t know why since normally you’d be hesitant on showing a guy your weaknesses, your most vulnerable aspects, because you thought they would take advantage of them. But Joe never made you feel like he’d do that to you.

“I just hope he feels the same about me. I really really like him and it’s kind of scary because I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before and I don’t want to mess it up or screw it up or I don’t know, not give the right vibe? I-,” you blabbed before Emma spoke up.

“Y/N. You’re rambling again,” she said, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “Stop getting in your head over this, babe. You are so hot, so smart, sooooo nerdy, so genuine, and you bring out a side of him that everyone says they’ve never seen. You are the entire package. It doesn’t get any better than you for him,”.

Her words made you pause, your mouth opening as if to argue, but the look in her eyes stopped you. It was determined, full of confidence in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. You let out a nervous laugh, running your hands down the fabric of your dress as you tried to absorb her pep talk. “You really think so?” you asked softly, looking up at her with a hint of doubt.

“I know so,” she said firmly, leaning closer and placing her hands on your shoulders again. “You’re amazing, Y/N. And if he doesn’t already know that–which, spoiler alert, he does–he’s about to find out tonight,”.

“...You’re right,” you nodded, taking a deep breath and giving your reflection one last look. If this was meant to be, how tonight’s date would go will show that. There was no reason to stress over it anymore–you just had to leave it to the universe now. “How do I look?” you asked, quickly changing the subject so that you didn’t get lost in your head even more, your eyes roaming from your delicate bracelets to your dainty necklaces, and finally to the star of the show–your dress.

“Like you’re about to knock him on his ass,” Emma said with a wink.

“I sure hope so,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a butterfly in your stomach at the thought of him seeing you in the dress he had picked out for you. The deep blue of it shimmered under the soft lights, almost like the dress was alive. And if you looked closely, you could swear the color matched the exact shade of his eyes–especially when he was focused, locked in on something that required all his attention, like the shade of his eyes during a football game. The kind of intensity you could never pull your eyes away from.

You couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he chose this dress, if the color reminded him of that fire in his eyes when he was doing or looking at something that mattered to him. The thought made your heart race just a little faster because he always had a way of making you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him when you were together. His eyes were always the same shade as this dress when he looked at you.

You realized he wasn’t just buying a dress for you. He was buying something that made you feel like you were seen, truly seen by him.

“I know so,” she repeated, her eyes shining with a knowing smile. “Remember, Y/N. He chose you. He decided to ask you out. He chooses you every day, whether it’s spending every free afternoon with you or calling you for hours before he goes to bed. He’s not doing it because he has to; he’s doing it because he wants to. He wants this with you. He wants you,”.

She was right, and you knew that deep down in your heart—the same heart that was slowly having his name carved into it. Joe always had this gentle smile when he looked at you, this way about him that instantly made you feel comfortable. Everything about him screamed comfortable. But he also had this way about him that made you want to forget the rules, to let your hair down in the breeze, to forget about life for just a second, and to savor each moment for what it was. He made you feel alive. Ever since you met him, the world seemed to take on a new energy, like someone had turned up the saturation in your life. Colors looked richer, sounds felt clearer, and every little thing had a kind of magic it hadn’t before. Joe had this effortless way of bringing joy into your life that nobody else had ever done. He made you laugh harder than you ever thought possible, those deep belly laughs that left you breathless and grinning ear to ear. He made you smile longer too, the kind of smile that lingered even when he wasn’t around, sparked by a memory or the very thought of him.

And those butterflies–oh, those butterflies. They were stubborn, fluttering in your chest every time his name crossed your mind. Whether it was the memory of his laugh, the way his hand brushed yours, or the way his voice dipped when he said your name, they never failed to make their presence known. He wasn’t just someone who made you happy; he made you feel everything more deeply. With Joe, the world was brighter, lighter, alive.

Just like this dress.

—

While you were inside your apartment getting ready and feeling those stubborn butterflies all over again, Joe was standing in front of the mirror in Ja’marr’s apartment, adjusting his button-up for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Man, relax,” Ja’marr said, lounging on his bed while tossing a football in the air. “It’s just a date. You acting like you about to propose or something,”.

“Easy for you to say,” Joe muttered, tugging at the sleeves. “She’s...she’s different. This isn’t just any date,”.

Justin, sitting at the desk scrolling through his phone, looked up and grinned. “He’s whipped already and they haven’t even gone out yet. Looks like Joey done got struck by cupid’s arrow,” he teased.

“‘Bout damn time too!” Ja’marr nodded. “I’m tired of this man complaining ‘bout how he don’t got a girl when he sees the couples out and about or someone to build legos with ever since I started hangin’ with Shyla,”.

Joe shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. He couldn’t deny it–he was whipped. Ever since he’d worked up the courage to ask you out, you’d been all he could think about. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight, down to the smallest detail. “You think she’ll like the dress and flowers?” Joe asked, ignoring Ja’marr’s comments and glancing nervously at the bouquet of carnations and roses sitting on the desk next to the container filled with smarties.

“Boy,” Ja’marr said, catching the football and sitting up. “You nailed it. She’s gonna look amazing in it, and she’s gonna love that you went out of ya way to pick that out from the most expensive store in the mall and the flowers out. Hell, I think she’ll lose it for real once she sees the smarties box,”.

Justin chuckled. “You stressing too much, bro. Just be yourself. You know she already likes you, right?”.

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, but...she’s special. I don’t want to screw this up,”.

“Special, huh?” Ja’marr teased, smirking at Justin as they both thought the same thing. With the way Joe had talked about you to them plus how he was acting right now only made it clear that he was serious serious about you. They couldn’t really place their finger on why since you’d only known each other for a short amount of time, but they weren’t going to question it as long as Joe had that boyish smile and glow on his face, the smile and glow you put on his face.

“Yeah, special,” Joe said firmly, his jaw setting as he turned to face his friends. “She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s so smart, adorably funny, so natural, and so damn beautiful, and I don’t want her thinking she made a mistake agreeing to this…'cause well…dating the star quarterback sounds scary as hell. I don’t want her to feel nervous around me because of who I am and what I do,”.

Justin and Ja’marr exchanged a look, their smirks softening into understanding smiles. “Boy quit worrying,” Justin said, standing up and lightly punching Joe on the shoulder. “She seems like a great girl…a lot better than the girls that throw themselves at you. You got this,”.

“Claire,” Ja’marr coughed.

“Just keep your cool? Like how you do during a game. Think of it like that,” Justin added.

Ja’marr nodded, leaning back on his bed. “And if you don’t, well, just let your awkward charm work for you. Girls eat that up,”.

Joe rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, guys. Really great advice,”.

“Anytime,” Justin smiled. “Now go pick her up before she thinks you bailed,” he said, turning Joe around to face the door.

But Joe wasn’t done with his nervous ranting just yet. “What if I say something stupid though? I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. Or wait, what if I don’t say the things I should be saying? I really like her and I don’t want to make her feel like I don’t, y’know? Like I want her to know I’m taking this seriously,” Joe rambled, overthinking every detail about tonight. “What if she hates the dress? What if she hates the dinner set up? I-”.

“Joe.” Ja’marr shouted, shooting up from his bed and walking over to his best friend. “Wake the fuck up man? What’s wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why you actin’ like you don’t know how to do this?”.

“I…I don’t know,” he admitted, not sure why he was worrying about tonight. You never gave him a reason to worry, so why was he so scared about messing things up with you? Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair as he paced the length of the room. “It’s just...she’s different, y’know? She’s not like anyone else. I’ve never felt this way about someone before,”.

Ja’marr crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he watched Joe unravel. “Bro, she already likes you. Hell, she said yes to the date, didn’t she? You’re Joe freakin’ Burrow. Stop psyching yourself out,”.

“But that’s the thing,” Joe argued, stopping mid-step and looking at his friend with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “I don’t want her to like me just because I’m Joe freakin’ Burrow. I want her to like me, the real me,”.

Justin finally chimed in, a smirk evident on his face. “So show her the real you, man. Don’t overthink it. You’re a good guy, Joe. She already knows that, or she wouldn’t be wasting her time on you,”.

Joe dropped into a chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he hung his head, his stomach doing nervous backflips as if he was getting ready for the biggest game of his entire career. “I just...I really don’t want to screw this up,”.

“Joe, don’t be doing that,” Ja’marr said firmly, patting a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “She’s gonna love the dress, the dinner, all of it. And if she doesn’t, she’s not the one. Just relax, man,”.

Joe let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. Relax. Sure,”.

Justin chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. “For real, though, don’t overthink it. She’s probably over there freaking out just as much as you are,”.

Joe tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagined you running around, freaking out about the date with a tube of mascara in hand and a mirror in the other. “You think so?”.

“Guaranteed,” Ja’marr said with a grin. “She’s probably stressing about the exact same things you are. Don’t underestimate the depths of girl talk. Shyla told me it’s more than just gossip and talking about sex. They always freakin’ out ‘bout something like their nail color or that their period is late or some shit,”.

“What?” Joe twisted his head and questioned, not understanding what Ja’marr was getting at and if the thought of you gossiping about him and sex–the sex you haven’t had yet–was supposed to make him feel better.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Now, come on, Romeo. That clock is tickin’, and you got a girl to get. Pull your head up, straighten them shoulders out, take a deep breath, and go get the future Mrs. Burrow,” Ja’marr nodded, his tone half-serious but laced with the usual teasing that always seemed to calm Joe’s nerves.

Joe couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend’s words, the humor breaking through his anxiety just enough to loosen the tightness in his chest. Leave it to Ja’marr to keep him grounded, even when he felt like he was about to jump out of his own skin. “Alright, alright,” Joe said, standing up and rolling his shoulders back like he was about to step onto the field for a game-winning drive. He took a deep breath, letting the tension in his body melt away as he focused on one thing–you. The thought of your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed, and the softness of your voice filled his mind like a relaxer. Those memories were his anchor, steadying him when the nerves threatened to take over. He looked down at the bouquet in one hand and the container of smarties in the other, his lips shifting into a small, almost boyish smile. He couldn’t believe just a few months ago he was thinking he’d never find the right girl, that he’d be alone for the rest of his life and not have someone to share his happiness with. And now here he was, absolutely obsessed with the greatest woman he had ever come across. The one woman who completely rocked his world the moment she walked in.

“Alright,” Joe murmured to himself. With one last deep breath and a few goodbyes, he turned to head out, the flutter of anxious energy in his stomach transforming into a feeling of excitement.

As he walked to his car, Ja’marr’s last words echoed in his mind, making him shake his head with a grin. “Future Mrs. Burrow,” he muttered, the thought simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

The time you spent in those few weeks had made it beautifully clear that you were different from the other girls he’d been with. You gave him a feeling that he’d never felt before, a feeling that only comes around once in a person’s lifetime. That feeling you get when you feel like you’ve met the one.

You made him feel that feeling.

Maybe you were the future Mrs. Burrow.

“Only one way to find out,” Joe smiled, staring at the bouquet of flowers he had for you.

—

A little later, after receiving a text from Joe that he was on his way, you were standing by your door and giving yourself a mental pep talk as your heart hammered against your chest. “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It’s just Joe. Everything will be fine. You’ve been alone with him plenty of times before. You can do this,” you told yourself, then heard a soft knock on the door which made your heart skip a beat. “Oh god, he’s here. Just don’t throw up or say the wrong words and it’ll be fine…right?”.

You took one final, deep, long breath before you opened the door to find Joe standing there with his arms behind his back, looking effortlessly handsome in a crisp white, long-sleeved button-up and black pants.

“Oh, fuck he looks good,” was your first of many shameful thoughts of the night.

For a moment, neither of you said anything out loud. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before his lips parted. “Wow,” he said, his tone laced with awe, his eyes widening and his stomach fluttering as if he had just come across the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid his eyes on–which you honestly were. “You l- look...absolutely stunning,”.

“God, she looks even sexier than usual. The blue really brings out her smile and eyes…,” he thought to himself, his eyes landing on your hips, then your chest, lingering for a second too long which made your breath hitch.

Your cheeks flushed so hard you could feel the warmth spread to your ears. “The d- dress really s- suits you,” he said, moving back to your eyes, awkwardly letting the words fall from his lips as he felt his heart palpitate in his chest.

He was stuttering. He was standing here in front of you, stuttering because he couldn’t comprehend how beautiful you looked; his baby blue eyes wider than ever before as he was bouncing back and forth on his feet.

He was nervous.

Joe Burrow was nervous, because of you.

Adorable.

“Thanks to you,” you replied softly, glancing down at the dress he picked out, and brushing the fabric nervously with your fingers. “This dress…it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You have great taste, it’s exactly what I like and I love it. Thank you for this, Joey,”.

Joe’s lips curved into a more peaceful smile now that he knew you liked it, one that reached his eyes, and then, as if remembering something, he brought forward one of his hands. Your eyes widened as he brought out a bouquet–your favorite mix of carnations and roses, arranged in a delicate bundle and wrapped in crisp pink paper. “These are for you,” he said, his voice shy.

For a moment, you just stared, your heart swelling in your chest as a wave of emotion threatened to smoosh you. The flowers were perfect, like he’d thought of you with each petal–which he did because he remembered you telling him all about your favorite flowers. From the specific flower shop to the specific flowers, to the colors and combinations, you rambled about it for minutes when you grabbed a post-practice meal with him last week. Even though he was sore, tired, and sleepy, he still listened to you as if you were giving the State of the Union address at the White House; like what you were saying was life-altering important.

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his as you took them. “They’re beautiful,” you whispered, feeling your throat tighten. “You’re so sweet, J. I love them,”.

The vulnerability in your voice must have touched his heart directly because his smile deepened, his gaze softening. “They reminded me of you,” he said simply. “Delicate and gorgeous, their beauty shines through each soft petal-like how you effortlessly light up every room you walk into, leaving everyone around you–especially me–in awe,”.

“I-,”.

“Oh, and I have something else for you,” he added, bringing forth his other hand, which held a medium-sized, clear container in it.

Your eyes widened as you peeked inside, “There is no way he-,” you thought, realizing it was filled with unwrapped smarties. “Oh my god,” you gasped out loud. “Joe, did you- did you actually unwrap all of these?”.

He shrugged, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. “You told me how much you hated unwrapping them, so…I figured I’d save you the trouble,”.

Holy shit.

A few nights ago, during a late-night FaceTime call–the kind that only happened when both of you couldn’t sleep–you found yourself rambling about the little things to each other. The conversation had started with a casual “What are you doing?” that spiraled into a deep dive into your love for smarties.

You had told Joe the story with a soft smile on your face, remembering how your brother built the logo of your favorite football team out of the colorful candies for your birthday one year. It was one of your favorite memories, and ever since then, smarties have become your go-to comfort snack. “I love them,” you confessed. “But I hate unwrapping them. It’s so tedious. Like, why do they need to make it that hard to enjoy them?”.

Joe had laughed at the time, shaking his head at how passionate you sounded about something so simple. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he had said with a grin, his face brightened by the glow of his phone screen.

Now, standing in front of you with a container of what looked like more than a hundred pieces of unwrapped smarties, Joe Burrow was proving once again that he paid attention to everything you said.

Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across your face. “Joe Burrow, you are ridiculous,” you said, but your tone was soft, full of affection.

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected with a nod, his smile turning playful. “And besides, you deserve to have your smarties stress-free, even if it might have taken me a few hours to make sure of it,”.

You laughed, reaching out to touch his arm. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. You really know how to make a girl feel special,”.

His grin softened as he looked down at you, his blue eyes glowing in the evening light. “You’re worth it,” he said simply, the seriousness in his tone making your chest tighten with a giddy feeling.

You clutched the flowers and smarties to your chest, feeling the weight of his thoughtfulness settle over you. What he did was such a simple thing, yet the way it made you feel was as if he pronounced his love for you in front of the entire state of Louisiana. But that’s just it, Joe had a way of making the smallest, sincerest, gestures feel like some of the biggest deals ever. He listened to the little things, that’s what made him so special.

“Okay,” you said with a soft smile. “Now you’re just showing off,” you said, referring to how easily he got you to this point–giggly, shy, and oh so soft.

He smirked, his confidence returning. “Is it working?”.

“Oh my god, he’s perfect,” you thought to yourself, feeling the urge to skip to the end of the movie that was your life, jump into his arms, and run off into the sunset with him. He was so good at sweet-talking, he made it seem so…easy? He never made it feel forced or like he had to say those things–which again, separated him from every other guy you’d been with. All the other guys made saying these little compliments, sweet nothings, feel like a monotonous chore. But with Joe, it wasn’t like that at all. It couldn’t be with the way those things easily and constantly slipped from his mouth.

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the flirty moment. “Oh, for god’s sake, Lover boy,” Emma laughed from behind you, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed and an exaggerated smirk. “How much longer are you going to stare at her like that? You’ll make her blush right out of that dress,”.

“Emma!” you hissed, spinning around with a glare.

She shrugged innocently. “What? I’m just saying,” while popping a bite of a brownie in her mouth. “Just…don’t get her pregnant, okay? I don’t want to babysit like ever,”.

Your mouth dropped open in sheer mortification, and your face burned so hot you thought you might combust on the spot. Behind you, Joe let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin as he tried not to laugh too hard. “Emma!” you snapped, your voice strangled as you clutched the flowers tighter.

“I’m serious,” she laughed. “You were going on and onnn earlier about how you think he’s the hottest man you’d ever seen, how you just want to pull on his soft hair and want him to throw you aroun–,”.

“Emma Lynn!” you screamed in mortification, shutting her down before she could finish what she was saying, Joe’s cheeks turning red as you whined in embarrassment. He did not need to know what went on during girl talk earlier, especially because the things that you said were so…fueled by hormones.

But you couldn’t really help it? He was seriously the hottest man you’d ever come across. His soft, adorable, gentle nature went so well with his stoic, hard-headed, sometimes cocky, always sexy, character. When you got a mixture of both his sides, you were right on your knees in front of him. The things you wanted him to do to you would quite literally set feminism back by a few hundred years.

“I’m just teasing,” she lied, giving you a wink as she pushed off the counter. “But seriously, nice flowers, Joe. Maybe you can teach other guys how to not be so clueless,”.

“Emma, go away!” you glared, feeling incredibly embarrassed by your friend’s teasing.

She raised her hands in mock surrender, walking towards your bathroom with a smug grin. “Alrighttttttt. You two have fun…but not too much fun,” she said over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You turned back to Joe, groaning as you covered your face with one hand. “I’m so sorry about her,” you mumbled, peeking at him through your fingers. But Joe didn’t seem flustered. If anything, his smile grew more relaxed, his boyish charm shining through. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “She’s...protective, I guess?”.

“More like annoying,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Hey, I don’t mind,” he said with a soft laugh. “It’s nice to know you’ve got people looking out for you. Even if they’re a little...direct about it,”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, lowering your head. “Yeah, direct is one way to put it,”.

Joe laughed as he held out his hand, the hand that was always so steady and sure; whether it was gripping a football or your hand, his grip was firm, like he knew exactly what he was going to do at all times. “You ready?” he asked, his deep blue eyes meeting yours, searching for the answer he already seemed to know.

For a moment, everything around you felt different. The air seemed lighter, almost like a soft breeze had wrapped around you both and put you in your own safe cocoon. The sky shifted from baby blue to lilac and orange; you couldn’t tell if it was real or just your imagination.

Looking at him, clutching the flowers and candy he gave you, a strong feeling rushed through you, one so deep it almost knocked you over. You’d only known Joe for a few weeks, but it felt like longer, like he’d been part of your life forever. There was something about him–a pull, magnetic and impossible to resist–that made you want to stay close, to let him hold you and never let go.

He gave your hand three gentle squeezes, a small gesture that felt like so much more. You could tell it meant something more, but you didn’t overthink it. It was too soon for that, or at least that’s what your brain said. Right now, all that mattered was him and this special moment.

“Ready,” you smiled, feeling that pull between you tighten once the word left your lips.

If it was too soon for that then why did it feel like you were saying “ready” for something so much more? This wasn’t a lifelong vow, just a first date. But the significance of the moment hung in the air and it was hard to ignore. Maybe it was the way Joe looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe it was the way the dress hugged your body in all the right places, making you feel effortlessly beautiful, or how the soft floral scent of the bouquet in your hands seemed to cast a spell around you, clouding your thoughts and focusing them only on him. Or maybe it was because Joe felt different. A kind of different that wasn’t just exciting–it was safe and grounding but also made you feel exposed in the best way; like he already understood parts of you you hadn’t shared yet. This didn’t feel like just a first date. It felt like the beginning of something bigger, something important.

Joe must have sensed it too. As he led you out the door, his hand never leaving yours, his pace was slow, unhurried. He looked at you often, his eyes full of stars, like he was etching this moment into memory. It was as if this wasn’t just a step into the night, but a step toward fulfilling something inevitable. Something written in the stars.

Neither of you said much on the short walk to his car, but his actions spoke volumes. There was a naturality in the way Joe moved around you, a quiet attentiveness that felt so...gentlemanly. When he opened the car door for you, his hand found the small of your back, keeping you steady as you slid into the seat. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. As he walked to the driver’s side, you adjusted in your seat, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension seemed to grow between you both, turning electric by the second. He didn’t start the car right away, though. Instead, his eyes moved toward you as he waited for you to settle in, like even the small act of buckling your seatbelt deserved his undivided attention.

Then, with the same quiet thoughtfulness that had your heart doing little flips, he reached out and turned the air conditioner down without a word. It was such a small thing, but it made you pause.

He remembered.

He remembered how you’d shivered after one of his games a few weeks ago, and how you’d mentioned, half-jokingly, that you were always cold. That night, he placed his sweatshirt over your shoulders without hesitation–a gesture so casual but so thoughtful it left you floored. He still hadn’t asked for it back, which was great because you wore it to bed almost every night now–which he didn’t need to know.

You bit your lip to hide the smile creeping onto your face. The fact that he remembered such a tiny detail about you–a throwaway comment from weeks ago–made your heart soar. It wasn’t just the grand gestures, like tonight’s date, but these quiet, understated moments that made you feel seen in a way you never had before.

A few minutes later, the soft tune of Eventually by Tame Impala played through the car, filling the quiet space. Joe tapped his fingers lightly on the top of the steering wheel, humming along with the song. The streetlights outside cast a soft glow on his face, showing the sharpness of his jawline and the calm look in his eyes.

But the lights didn’t just light up the road—they brought your emotions into focus, the ones you’d been trying to push down. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering, were you ready for this? For him?

You looked over at him. He looked so sure, so steady, and it pulled at something deep inside your chest. Joe wasn’t just another guy. He was someone who could change everything, someone you could fall for completely. It was scary, but at the same time, it felt like there was no turning back. Not now, not with him. He knew what he wanted, now the ball was in your court.

Being with Joe meant a lot of things: stepping into the spotlight, taking on the role of a quarterback’s girlfriend, and accepting all the emotional ups and downs that came with being with someone chasing a dream as big as the NFL. It meant being recognized by strangers, whispered about in stands and dining halls, and analyzed by people who didn’t even know your last name. It meant late nights comforting him after tough games, early morning pep talks before practices, and balancing your life with the whirlwind of his.

Were you ready for all that?

And as if on cue, you felt Joe’s soft hand slowly reach over and rest gently on your knee. His touch was soft, but the weight of it felt like an anchor, grounding you in this quiet moment almost as if he knew you were hesitating about this. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles over your knee, a simple gesture that sent a comforting warmth spreading through your body. Each soft stroke felt like a promise, an implicit connection that went beyond words.

And then, you realized being with Joe also meant so much more. It meant laughter that made your cheeks hurt, quiet moments where it felt like the world disappeared, and a kind of love that left you breathless. It meant being someone he could count on when the pressure felt too heavy, and knowing he’d do the same for you without hesitation. It meant being part of his journey–not just as a supportive figure, but as someone he genuinely wanted by his side through it all; someone who he wanted to share his world with.

Your breath hitched slightly when you felt him give you a squeeze. It was the subtle way he made you feel seen and cared for. It was more than just his hand on your thigh. It was his entire presence, so calm and collected, wrapping around you like a safe hug.

Joe felt safe. You hadn’t felt that kind of feeling in any of your previous relationships, until him. But while he felt safe, he and his world also felt risky. He could leave you heartbroken, shattered beyond repair in the blink of an eye, but he could also make you experience life in a way you would’ve never imagined, show you a love that you thought only existed in the fairytales. Yes, he was a risk, but he was the risk you were willing to take. He was a safe risk.

And that’s when you realized, without a doubt, that you were ready for this. Ready for him. For all the uncertainties, for the unknowns of what might come next. You were ready for Joe, for whatever this was, wherever it was going.

You were ready for it because it felt right.

Like all the stars aligned perfectly for the first time in your life.

And that was something so hard to ignore.

You looked back up at his face, and this time, his eyes caught yours. “You okay?” he asked, flashing you that gentle, loving smile you had become obsessed with.

You nodded, “Better than okay, Joey,” while placing your hand over his, picking it up, and pressing your lips to his knuckles–an action that sent butterflies through his body.

—

The soft glow of the candles reflected off the white tablecloth as you walked into the private dining room at Sogno d’Innamorati. The room was intimate and warm, with delicate floral arrangements decorating the small table set perfectly for two. He had rented out the room just for your date, wanting to spend time with you alone and away from any interruptions or distractions. You couldn't remember the last time a guy went this big for the first date, so either Joe was trying to impress you or this was just how he was–intimate and private.

“He really went all out,” you thought to yourself as Joe guided you inside with his warm touch on the small of your back. A glimpse at the restaurant name on the menu made you tilt your head in curiosity, you wondered what it could have meant.

“This is so beautiful,” you murmured, turning to him with a soft smile. “Sogno d’Innamorati…What does that mean?”.

Joe hesitated for the shortest second, his eyes flickering to you as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, with a small, slightly bashful grin, he said, “Lover’s dream,”.

You felt your cheeks heat up because of the way he said it, so raspy and almost…shy, sending a shiver through your body. “Lover’s dream?” you repeated softly, a timid smile forming on your face.

He nodded, his eyes locked in on yours for a second longer than intended, “Yeah,” he said, then looking down briefly. “Thought it might be a fitting place for our first date. I heard the food is phenomenal and I thought you might like the vibe, ya know? It’s romantic and warm,”.

You once again tried to fight back the urge to jump in his arms, but it was getting more and more difficult because he was quite literally sweeping you off your feet with every little thing tonight. “Joe, that’s…that’s so sweet,” you said, nervously glancing from the table to him. “You really went all out for this date…thank you. I love all of it,” you smiled, your facial muscles straining from the amount of times you’d smiled at him in the past hour.

“God, she’s a lover’s dream,” he thought to himself as he got lost in your eyes–the eyes that had a look in them that seemed like they’d love him for a lifetime. He snapped out of the daze and then led you to your chair, replaying the way your face lit up when you walked into the room over and over again because of how happy you looked.

—

The atmosphere felt light and dreamy, yet tinted with unspoken nervous energy. Joe was being his usual polite and attentive self, pulling out your chair and making sure you were comfortable. But you could tell he was fidgety in the smallest ways–the little adjustments to his cuffs, the quick flick of his fingers over the edge of his wine glass, the fidgeting with his napkin, and his nervous glancing from the menu to your face that he thought you didn’t notice.

It was absolutely adorable how someone like him could be so nervous around someone like you.

At first, you both sat across from each other, the classy arrangement of the table separating you. The flowers he’d brought earlier sat between you now, their soft scent mingling with the smell of freshly baked bread and wine. The conversation between you flowed easily, despite the jittery undertone that made you both laugh at yourselves every now and then.

Joe leaned back in his chair, still fidgeting with the edge of his napkin, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. “So, uh...what’s your favorite part of this whole...dinner thing so far?” he asked, clearly overthinking his question the second it left his mouth.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “The whole dinner thing? You mean this?” you gestured to the dimly lit room, the elegant table, and the soft music playing in the background. “I don’t know, I guess...the company?”.

Joe’s face brightened as he realized you were teasing him. “Right, right. The company is, uh, definitely...the best part,”.

You leaned in a little, lowering your voice in mock seriousness. “I’m glad you agree. But I do have to say, the wine is pretty close behind,”.

Joe laughed, his nerves melting a little. “Yeah, wine’s great. I just–,” he paused, glancing down at his hands for a moment, before looking back up at you. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to...I want to make sure you’re having a good time, y’know?”.

Your heart melted a little at his softness and shyness, “He’s still nervous. Aw, Joey,” you thought before you spoke up. “Joe, I’m having a great time. Seriously. You don’t need to worry about me,”.

“I mean,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve never exactly... done the fancy dinner thing. It’s not... uh...not really my style but I wanted something like this for you,”.

“Oh, I can tell,” you grinned, teasing him again. “The way you looked at the different forks next to your plate earlier told me everything, but you’re pulling it off pretty well. I’ll give you an A for effort,”.

Joe snorted, clearly relieved that you picked up on his vibe. “Okay, well, A for effort, but not, like, a solid A+?”.

You giggled, giving him a playful side eye. “I mean...maybe if you added a little more charm,”.

He leaned forward in shock. “Charm?,” he dramatically gasped, “You mean I’m not charming enough already?”.

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin dramatically. “Well, I think you're getting there. But, I might need a few more minutes to decide,”.

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, putting his hand over his heart. “Well, now I’m just heartbroken. I thought I was acing it,”.

“Like I said, keep up with the charm and maybe my answer will change,” you winked, raising your wine glass to take a sip.

—

After a while, Joe started shifting in his seat, leaning forward as if the space between you was unbearable. You watched him stand up, and your eyebrows rose in confusion. “What are you doing?” you asked, laughing nervously because you weren’t sure if you said something or did something to make him abruptly get up.

“I don’t like this,” he said simply, shaking his head in disapproval.

You felt your heart stop, your stomach churn, and the room catch on fire all within the span of a few seconds. “Oh, it’s over. I fucked up. I ruined the date and he doesn’t want this anymore,” you thought, feeling a wave of nausea come over you as you stared at Joe. You had a knack for jumping to conclusions in moments like these, which is why when you saw him pick up his chair, walk around the table, and place it next to yours, you froze.

Oh.

When he sat back down, he smiled, looking much more at peace and genuinely comfortable. “Better,” he murmured, casually draping his arm over the back of your chair, his body warmth immediately enveloping you.

You felt his fingers softly grazing your shoulder, each touch giving your heart the much-needed shocks to start back up again. You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, teasing but secretly loving how close he was and how he physically couldn’t be that far away from you.

“I wanted to,” he said matter-of-factly, his blue eyes sparkling. “Wanted to be close to you,”.

You felt his lips press against your temple in a tender kiss, his hand continuing to rub gentle circles on your bare shoulder. The softness of the gesture and the way he let out a quiet laugh–like he was still a little nervous–made you smile.

“Can’t stay away from me, Burrow?” you teased, leaning into his body a little more.

“Nope,” he admitted, smiling against your forehead. “You’ve got me wrapped around your pretty little finger, lovey,”.

Lovey?

The nickname dangled in the air like a soft melody, and you froze for a moment. It wasn’t the nickname itself but the way he said it–so natural, so affectionate, like it had always been yours.

Your head tilted up to look at him, your eyes wide. “Lovey?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe’s cheeks flushed, his confident smile stuttering for just a second before he shrugged, playing it cool. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “It just…fits, doesn’t it?”.

You blinked at him, the surprise thawing into something warmer, something deeper. “You really just came up with that, didn’t you?”.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. But it feels right,”.

The way his eyes met yours, so sincere and steady, made your heart skip a beat. “Lovey,” you repeated again, this time with a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I kind of…love it,”.

Joe grinned, that boyish, lopsided grin that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Good,” he said, pulling you a little closer. “Because I’m not taking it back,”.

You laughed, your cheeks warm as you leaned into him again. “You’re such a softie, Burrow. Who would’ve guessed that the stone-cold LSU quarterback was such a sappy, lover boy deep down?”. But…I like it. I like you like this,”.

“Guess I just needed the right person to bring out that side to me, lovey,” he winked.

Your heart fluttered at the way he said it again, and you knew right then and there that you’d never get tired of hearing that nickname–or the way he made you feel like you were his entire world.

—

The mood shifted as the main courses arrived and the yummy smell of Italian cuisine filled the air. Everything was flowing so easily between you two, and at one point, you caught him staring at you a little longer than usual. “What?” you asked, feeling a little nervous but excited by the way he was looking at you.

“Sei così bella in questa luce,” he said with a smirk, his voice soft and warm.

You blinked at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “Wait. What?”.

He cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “It means…you look so beautiful in this light,”.

“Oh my god,” you thought to yourself, “He fucking knows Italian? Is he real?”.

Your heart skipped a beat as your hand instinctively rose to your cheek. “Joe Burrow,” you whispered, your voice laced with surprise and a touch of shyness. “You know Italian?” you asked while shaking your head in disbelief. What did this man not know?

“A little bit,” he shrugged, though the twinkle in his eyes told you he was lying. He’d actually memorized a few one-liners for you tonight, hoping to add to the vibe and impress you.

“Hmmm..Really?” you teased.

He smirked again, leaning back as he tried to keep his cool, “Mi piace sentire il suono della tua risata,” he said, his voice smoother than silk.

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued as you raised your eyebrow at him. “And what does that mean?”.

“I love hearing the sound of your laugh,” he translated, his excited eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound making his lips curve into a bigger smile. “Anything else you’ve got up your sleeve?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

His smirk deepened as he leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. “Sei incredibilmente bella con questo vestito e mi fai sudare,”.

The words sounded impossibly romantic in his deep, husky voice, but the way his cheeks turned pink after saying it made you suspicious. “Okay, now I need to know what that means,” you said, your grin widening.

“It means…you look insanely gorgeous in this dress, and it’s making me sweat,” he admitted, his bashful tone contrasting with the boldness of the words.

You burst out laughing, your head tipping back as you giggle, “You are unbelievable,”.

“Is it working, though?” he asked, his grin turning boyish as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, absolutely. You’re smooth as hell, Burrow,” you grinned.

“I mean, I’m being serious, Y/N,” Joe said, the tone of his voice and look in his eyes shifting to something more intense. "You look...really good,".

There was something about the way he looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time again, but in a way that made you feel seen in all the right ways. “Is that so?” you smirked, leaning back in your chair, pretending to be casual, but the heat flooding your cheeks gave you away. “What exactly about this...look is doing it for you?”.

Joe let out a low laugh, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of his wine glass as his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. “Honestly? Everything. The way that dress fits you? It’s like you were made to wear it. It’s...dangerous how good you look,” he said, his eyes roaming your body so incredibly slowly.

You could feel the tension rising between you, like a spark that kept threatening to catch fire. “Dangerous, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, the playful tone in your voice just barely hiding the way your body was reacting to his words. “Careful, Joe. You keep talking like that, and I might just make you regret it,”.

Joe's eyes darkened in an instant, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours. “I don’t think I’d regret a single thing about tonight, Y/N,” he said, his voice a low growl, the flirtation clear in his tone.

A rush of heat spread through you, pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension spark between you like static. You couldn't help but bite your lip, the pull between you two undeniable. “Mmm, well,” you said, voice just barely above a whisper, “Maybe I should keep you guessing. Who knows? You might find out if there’s something worth regretting,”.

Joe chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your heart flutter. “Trust me,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “You’ve got me exactly where you want me. No regrets tonight from me,".

For a second, the world around you faded away. There was nothing but the soft music in the background and the quiet hum of the restaurant, yet it felt like the two of you were in your own little bubble, the air thick with something you were both thinking, but not daring to say. The way his eyes were latched onto yours made it impossible to ignore the heat radiating between you, his confidence and attraction to you only adding to the feeling.

“So,” you said, breaking the tension with a flirtatious tilt of your head, “You think you can handle me?"

“I’m not sure I can handle you,” he murmured, his lips twitching as he felt his heart rate increase. “But god, I want to try,”.

The words hit you like a spark, igniting something inside you that had been building ever since you first locked eyes tonight. “Well," you said, voice thick with lust, “If you’re up for the challenge…,” you trailed off, letting the words linger in the air between you. The teasing smile never left your lips, but you could tell by the way Joe’s breath caught that he was feeling the same thing.

He leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing against your knuckles before looking at you, “Oh, I’m definitely up for it,” he said, now leaning in closer to your lips, his hot breath hitting them like a rush of hot air on a cold, icy day.

But before either of you could close the gap between your lips, the sound of the door creaking open shattered the moment. A few servers entered, carrying more dishes and breaking the intense silence with the clatter of dishes. You both blinked, suddenly extracted from the magnetic pull between you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the timing, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you reached out, giving his thigh a playful tap. “Saved by the food,” you said, grinning at the adorable pout forming on his lips. His brows furrowed in mock frustration, but there was a twinkle in his eye that told you he wasn’t truly disappointed.

“Guess I’ll have to wait a little longer,” Joe teased, leaning back in his chair, his lips curling into a sly smile. But you could still see the heat in his eyes, the way his body was still subtly leaning toward you as if he were counting down the seconds until he could pick up where you left off.

“I adore your patience, Quarterback," you teased, unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

“All for you, babe,” Joe murmured, another spark of electricity being sent to your heart when you felt his hand squeeze your bare thigh. But as the servers set down the dishes in front of you, the tension between you both simmered just beneath the surface. You both knew it wasn’t over–not by a long shot.

—

The heated tension between you settled for a little as the two of you continued eating and chatting from everything to football to embarrassing stories from your childhood. As you got to know more about him, it was clear that Joe was just like any other guy. He may have been the star of LSU, but right now, he was just Joe. He didn’t make you feel like you were talking to the most sought out man in Louisiana, he made you feel like you were talking to him. No extra status, no other titles, just simply Joe.

You leaned into Joe’s side, feeling his steady arm around your shoulders as you giggled at your own antics. “I can’t believe you did that,” Joe chuckled, shaking his head after you’d told him about a poor attempt to be a magician that ended in spilled juice, a ruined rug, and one very upset parent.

“I was seven, Joe! And in my defense, the rabbit just wouldn’t cooperate,” you said, pouting slightly.

“Sure,” he teased, his lips turning into that charming half-smile you adored. “And what about the juice? Did it jump out of your hand, too?”.

“Whatever,” you said, trying to sound annoyed, but the laughter in your voice gave you away.

“Your turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing little Joey B did?”.

Joe groaned, his head falling back dramatically as he laughed. “Oh, man. There’s one that my parents never let me live down,”.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, your eyes lighting up with excitement.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the corner of his eyes crinkling from happiness. “Okay, so I was maybe two or three, and we went to this pumpkin patch for Halloween. I guess I got a little too excited about one of the pumpkins,”.

“Too excited?” you asked.

He nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing at his own story. “Yeah. I saw this big, hollowed-out pumpkin they were using as decoration, and for some reason, my brilliant little brain thought it was a great idea to crawl inside,”.

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst out laughing. “Wait, inside? Like all the way?”

“All the way,” Joe admitted, grinning sheepishly. “And then I got stuck. Like, really stuck. They had to tip the pumpkin over and basically pull me out by my feet,”.

You gasped, doubling over with laughter, your hand clutching your stomach. “Joe! Oh my god! That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Little pumpkin Joe,”.

“I know, I know,” he said, his laughter mixing with yours. “My parents even took a picture. I had pumpkin guts in my hair and everything. They still show it off every Thanksgiving…specifically when I try to take a bite of Pumpkin Pie,”.

“That is adorable,” you said, leaning into him and looking up at him with a fond smile. “You were a tiny little pumpkin burglar. I bet you were the cutest kid,”.

Joe laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. “I don’t know about that...but I was definitely a little menace,”.

“Well, now I need to see that picture,” you teased, poking his side gently.

“Not a chance,” he said, shaking his head, though his smile was soft.

“C’mon,” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Maybe,” he conceded, laughing when you lit up triumphantly. “But only if you promise not to bring it up every time we see a pumpkin,”.

“No promises,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. “Pumpkin Burglar. It has a nice ring to it,”.

He groaned, but the grin on his face told you he secretly loved how much joy the story had brought you. “Well, Ms. Houdini, I’ll have you know that Pumpkin, especially Pumpkin Pie, is my favorite thing ever. So yeah, I guess I am a Pumpkin Burglar,”.

“And I guess that makes me Ms. Houdini,” you said with a playful shrug.

Joe chuckled, leaning back slightly with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you mean with your failed magic trick attempt? At least I made it into the pumpkin,”.

“Hey,” you opposed, narrowing your eyes at him. “I might have bombed that one, but I think the trick I’m pulling off right now is going pretty well,”.

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smile widening. “And what magic trick is that, Ms. Houdini?”.

You leaned in just a little, your confidence strengthened by the way he was looking at you, his attention completely yours. “Making you fall for me,” you said, your voice light but teasing, a wink punctuating your words.

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard by your boldness, before a slow grin spread across his face. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone dropping just a little, a hint of something deeper laced through his words.

You tilted your head, matching his energy. “Is it working?”

He didn’t answer instantly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Yes,” he admitted boldly.

A laugh left your lips before you looked at him again, “Good,” you whispered.

“What happens when the trick’s over?” he asked, his voice low, teasing but with an edge of seriousness. He was enjoying his night with you, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when it ended, what would happen if the trick ended.

“Who says it ever ends?” you shot back, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, assuring him with your touch that you were not going anywhere.

—

A little later, as you continued sharing stories and talking until your mouths went numb, the soft tune of “Look After You” by The Fray started to fill the cozy private dining room, adding to the intimate atmosphere Joe had so carefully curated. His leg bounced nervously under the table, his fingers tapping against his thigh as the song played in the back.

He had spent way too long thinking over the song choices when the restaurant manager asked for recommendations. Most of his picks were safe, but something had compelled him to throw this one into the mix. Now that he was actually hearing it play, he wasn’t sure if it was too much. Would you think it was too forward? Was it too soon?

It’s not like the song was exactly…casual.

Joe was lost in his own thoughts, nearly missing the way your eyes lit up as the lyrics caught your attention.

“Oh, oh, Be my baby, Oh, oh. It's always have and never hold, You've begun to feel like home yeah, What's mine is yours to leave or take, What's mine is yours to make your own,”.

“Oh my god,” you said softly, a nostalgic smile forming on your face, “I love this song,”.

Joe froze for a second, his eyes darting to yours, “You do?” he asked, clearly nervous by the way his voice was slightly trembling.

You nodded as you leaned closer, “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. It’s so…romantic,”.

The tension dissolved from his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair, a shy grin pulling at his lips. “I thought it might be a little, uh…on the nose,” he admitted.

You laughed softly, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm. “It’s perfect, Joey,” you assured him, your touch grounding him in a way that words couldn’t. “All the songs that you played were so perfect,”.

“Even Mine by Taylor Swift?” he asked, raising a brow as a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The song had played earlier, and now that he thought about it, it might’ve been a little too on the nose. He looked at you, genuinely curious.

Without hesitation, you boldly replied, “Mhm. You know why? Because you are the best thing that’s ever been mine,”. Your words were confident, but your heart raced as the weight of what you’d just said settled over you. A small part of you worried–was it too soon? Too much?

But Joe didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, his eyes softened, his expression contemplative. “Mine,” he murmured under his breath, as if he was testing the word, letting it roll off his tongue with a certain ease. The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t just like the sound of it. He wanted it. He wanted you to be his–completely, fully, undeniably his. He didn’t want to share your smiles, your laughs, your love with anyone else. That word, simple as it was, held so much meaning to him.

It was only a matter of time before the two of you had that conversation. The feelings you shared were too strong to ignore, and the connection between you was so obvious that anyone nearby could feel the pull. All that was left now was for you both to be brave enough to face it, to acknowledge the love that had quietly woven itself into your hearts.

—

As the night went on, the feeling didn’t waver, it only got stronger, maybe even louder. It was the gestures, the little things he did that made you fall even harder for him, like he was all yours and was doing this just for you.

He poured your water before you even noticed your glass was half-empty. Whenever you were talking, he gave you all his attention, his eyes glued to yours, his face tilted to you, and his arm resting around your shoulder. And the entire time you were at dinner, he never looked at his phone. He asked if you were cold, if you needed some fresh air, if you needed to use the bathroom. When you moved in your seat, he asked if you were comfortable, adjusting the chair slightly for you. “Good?” he asked, his voice so sweet it made your cheeks hotter than the sun.

“Perfect,” you replied softly, resting your head against his shoulder for just a moment, this movement making his heart skip a beat. “You’re such a gentleman, Joe Burrow,” you mumbled, smiling like a madman into his chest.

“And you deserve nothing less,” he said under his breath before he glanced down at you, his lips curling into a small smile at the sight of how peaceful, how natural you fit next to his body. “You okay?”.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Just…very comfortable,”.

It wasn’t long before you placed a soft, warm kiss against his neck, the warmth of your lips making him stiffen for a moment before relaxing into your touch. His hand, which had been resting on your shoulder, slid down to hold your hand, his thumb grazing the back of it. When you ran your hand lightly along his thigh, you felt his muscles tense, and a low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Careful,” he murmured, though the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him.

You weren’t usually this touchy feely–not on a first date. Neither was he. But something about tonight felt different. There was an enchanting, magical pull between you, a sense of comfort that got rid of any awkwardness. Neither of you could deny that the spark between you was just seconds away from fully catching on fire.

Joe pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering this time. “You feel different,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?” you asked, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Just…better. Like this is supposed to be happening,” he said, his blue eyes soft as they searched yours. “Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Here, with you. Doing this with you,”.

Your chest tightened at his words, a warmth blossoming in your heart. You felt it too–that same inexplicable connection. You leaned into him again, your head on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly. “Me too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard it. “You feel different…good different,”.

“You know,” he started, “I didn’t think tonight would feel like this,”.

You tilted your head to look at him, your brows lifting slightly. “Like what?”.

“Like home,” he admitted, his lips curving into a small smile. “I thought it’d be fun, you know, easygoing. But being here with you? It’s more than that. It feels…right,”.

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I get that,” you said quietly, your fingers instinctively tightening around his. “It’s like…like I’ve known you forever, but also like I’m just starting to figure you out,”.

Joe nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Exactly. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How someone can just...fit into your life like they were always supposed to be there,”.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze, the intensity of his words making your pulse quicken. “I don’t know how you do it,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “How you make me feel so safe and…seen,”.

His expression turned serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper. “You deserve to feel that way,” he said firmly. “Every single day. And I–” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I want to be the one to make sure you do,”.

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You could see it in his eyes–he wasn’t just saying this. He meant every word.

“Joe…,” you started, but the emotion in your voice made it impossible to continue.

He leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just…needed you to know,”.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with emotion as you rested your head against his shoulder again. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “For tonight. For…everything,”.

Joe smiled, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “I’d do it all over again, a hundred times, just to see you smile like that,”.

And in that moment, you realized you didn’t just feel different. You felt loved. Truly, deeply loved.

—

The drive back to Joe’s apartment was a mix of anticipation and tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The earlier first date anxiety you both had at dinner had melted as fast as your heart did when Joe wrapped his arm around your waist, his touch firm, sure, and almost heated, to lead you out to his car. It was fully dark by the time you went outside, so all the stars were on full display in the night sky above you. You think you might have rambled on about the stars and constellations for about 10 minutes, not caring that Joe was silent the entire time and you were just talking on and on about the things you learned in your astrology class. He just watched in awe, letting you nerd out in the most adorable way possible. After a certain point, you got a little insecure at his silence so you quickly stopped in the middle of your mini-lesson about the meaning behind the Cassiopeia constellation, to which he replied by dropping a lingering kiss on your cheek, then on your ear and whispered, “Keep going. Hearing you talk nerd makes you even hotter than you already are,”.

That little comment sealed the deal. Now, there was a different kind of energy between you; it was magnetic, hot, and alluring; you could feel it in every shared glance, every quick touch. You had a taste of this energy earlier before you were interrupted by the restaurant staff who were a reminder that you two were still in public, but now that you were actually alone again, the energy was back and somehow stronger.

Joe’s hand rested on your bare thigh, his thumb absentmindedly drawing small circles against your skin. The touch was light, yet it sent ripples of electricity through your body. He looked at you a few times, his lips curling into a soft, cheeky grin that felt both charming and inviting. The dim light of the dashboard brightened his features, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on the sharpness of his jawline and the way his adam's apple bobbed every time he swallowed.

“He’s…so so so hot,” you thought, feeling another rush of heat to your lower belly as your eyes roamed his thick, muscular body. “The angels themselves literally crafted him from gold. I mean, look at his arms? And oh…his hand on my thigh? I wonder what it feels like to have those hands all over your body? I just want those two hands on me at all fucking times, gripping my waist, sliding up and down my arm, squeezing my ass…Or that tongue painting pictures across my skin. Damn, I need him-,”. You swore you heard the sound of a bomb exploding because of the way you froze in fear, “What.” you mumbled, startled by your own thoughts, your quiet voice being drowned out by the hum of the tires against the road which prevented him from hearing you. “Woah, Y/N. Chill out? You’re getting way too ahead of yourself, relax. He told you how he felt, but what if he wants to take it slow? Stop letting your hormones control your logic,”.

But you couldn’t help it because Joe was just…something else. He wasn’t just sexy–though that was obvious–tonight, you saw a side of him that went beyond his looks. He was genuine, thoughtful, and comforting in ways you had never seen before. Every word he spoke, every action he took, showed just how deeply he cared, how much attention he gave to the little details that mattered to you. He was making you feel things you didn’t think you were capable of ever feeling, feelings you thought only existed in fantasies. He was a true gentleman, and all the nerves you had felt earlier seemed silly now. You couldn’t remember why you’d ever questioned this, why you’d hesitated.

The truth was that beneath all your hesitation laid a repressed thought–something you didn’t want to admit but were now ready to accept. You were falling for him; falling for Joe Burrow in a way that terrified you, yet also filled you with a sense of peace. It wasn’t supposed to feel this safe, this right. But for the first time in your life, you felt like you didn’t need a safety net. Because you knew, no matter what, he would catch you. And that was enough to make you take the leap, headfirst, into everything he had to offer. He told you how he felt about you, he showed you how he felt about you, and now it was your turn to reciprocate the energy. But you just didn’t know exactly how to do it.

You caught yourself staring at him for a little longer than you should have, deeply lost in your thoughts about him. He caught your gaze, the small tilt of his head prompting you to snap your head to the other side to face the window. He couldn’t help but stare at you when you weren’t looking at him. Joe’s looks at you lingered a little longer than usual, longer than he would let you see. He felt the exact same way about you, your beauty was as captivating as the night sky itself. The way your eyes twinkled in the light of the moon, the way your smile beamed brighter than the stars, the way your body fit so perfectly next to his. From your legs to your gentle thighs, to your soft belly, to your ample breasts, you were the hottest girl he had seen in all his years. He had no idea how he ended up with someone like you, who is not only beautiful physically but also beautiful as a human being.

“I need to feel her…like everywhere. Her nails dragging across my back, her legs around my waist, fuck even her pretty mouth whispering my name in my ear. She’s so pretty and I just–,” he thought before he froze, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw you move your hair to the side, exposing the crook of your neck. “Holy shit I-. Woah, Joe. Calm down, buddy. She’s not even your girlfriend yet and you’re having those thoughts? Don’t be weird. Easy tiger,” Joe shamefully thought as he imagined your neck displaying pretty purple marks from him. Almost imagined those imaginary purple marks to be a reminder to everyone that you were his.

Each passing thought strengthened the tension in the car. The date went great and when you left, you two were so giddy and smiley. But once you got into the car, it was silent. A silence that created a unique sense of nervousness that neither of you could understand. This unease stemmed from a shared feeling, but neither of you realized it. He told you how he felt, and despite telling you he didn’t need an answer from you immediately, he actually really wanted one now. You wanted to give it to him, but just didn’t know how.

When he pulled into the parking lot of his building, you felt your heartbeat quicken for maybe the thousandth time tonight. As you made your way inside, hand in hand, you realized that you’d never been inside his place before, so this was kind of a big deal? And the bubbling sexual tension wasn’t making it any better, either. You’d be in there, all alone, with nobody around, in the vicinity of his private bedroom, and his bed. This could either be as innocent as a movie and some cuddling, or as dangerous as a kiss lasting too long which would turn into being trapped under his sheets (and under him) for the rest of the night.

“Snap out of it!” you muttered out loud, prompting Joe to snap his head to you as he guided you through the lobby.

“Hm?” he questioned, a little jittery because of the silence being broken by something as jumpy as that.

“Fuck,” you whispered, before looking up at Joe as he led you into the elevator. “Sorry, just thinking out loud about something…uh..something dumb,” you stuttered, your brain failing to find an excuse.

Joe looked at you skeptically, his brows furrowing out of confusion. “Are you-,” he started to say before you were joined by a few other people in the elevator which infiltrated your privacy.

You let out a sigh of relief as the elevator was now filled with the chatter of the other apartment tenants, causing Joe to lose his chance to say something because you knew if he pressed you on it too hard, you wouldn’t have an actual explanation.

“Weird,” he thought to himself, glancing down at you and seeing you play with the birthstone ring on your finger—the ring he noticed you’d fidget with whenever you got anxious. He first noticed it when you first met at the football practice you accidentally stumbled into, and ever since then, he knew that this was an anxiety-related mechanism. But…why were you anxious right now? Did he do something?

“You alright?” Joe whispered, his hand giving yours a soft squeeze as he looked down at you with concern.

The quick rise and fall of your chest betrayed your nerves, and when you looked up at him, your face didn’t exactly match your nervous reply. “Y- yeah,” you said, the tone in your voice and the way you avoided his eyes told a different story.

Joe tilted his head, “Are you sure? Because you look–,”.

The ding of the elevator interrupted him, the doors sliding open to reveal his floor.

“C’mon,” you cut him off, pulling him out of the elevator and into the dimly lit hallway before he could finish.

Joe followed, his confusion only growing. You weren’t being subtle about dodging his concern, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had you so wound up all of a sudden.

When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you were met by a space that felt unexpectedly personal, almost cozy. The first thing that caught your eye was how much of him was infused into the apartment.

It was clean but lived-in, with just enough mess to make it feel normal. A framed Athens high school jersey hung proudly on one wall, with a shelf of football memorabilia that added a subtle touch of his career so far. Near his small dining table, a Kid Cudi poster stood out against the neutral walls, its vibrant colors hinting at his taste in music.

Photos of him from his childhood, some with his parents, and some with his friends adorned the walls and little corner of the room. He seemed to enjoy displaying his most cherished memories and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever find a photo of the two of you in here one day. You knew how much he valued these relationships, but seeing his value for them made that thought hit even harder.

Your eyes moved to the kitchen island, where a stack of science books sat next to a neatly folded dish towel. “Science books?” you thought to yourself, the detail catching you off guard in the best way. And then there was the Squidward sweatshirt draped over the back of the couch–a hilariously unexpected contrast to the more polished parts of the room.

You smiled, taking it all in. “Equally as nerdy as sporty. I love it,” you said, letting your eyes roam the space.

Joe set his keys down and turned toward you, his lips twitching into a grin. “You love it?”.

“Yeah,” you said, turning to face him fully. “Nothing about this screams football player bachelor pad. It’s…you. And I love that,”.

His smile softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “I guess I wanted it to feel like home,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am pretty far from Ohio so I thought to make this home just like what I had there. I’m glad you think it does,”.

You nodded, letting the sweetness of his words settle over you as you stepped further into the apartment. The nervous energy that had taken over you in the elevator was starting to fade away, replaced by something quieter and more intimate as you realized just how much of himself Joe had let you see.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Joe said, the intimacy of the space wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You couldn’t tell if it was the apartment that felt homey, or Joe himself. He grabbed a couple of waters from the kitchen before gesturing toward his bedroom.

You hesitated, glancing at the door to his room and then back to him, the look on your face as if he had just told you to strip naked and lay out on his bed for him.

“Don’t worry,” he teased, catching your expression. “Just a movie. I promise,”.

You laughed nervously as he walked over to you and led you to his room, thinking, “Can we not watch it on the couch? Why his room. Am I being punished by the universe for something?”. You didn’t know how this would go–your hormones were all over the place and being so close to him on his bed was just a recipe for disaster.

When you made it inside his bedroom, you were instantly attracted to his bed–large, inviting, and neatly made with a navy blue comforter that seemed to mirror the color of his eyes. Even his room was clean? Either he did all this for you or he really was the complete opposite of the football player stereotype. There was only a little mess: some piles of clothes, textbooks scattered on his table along with what looked like his football notebook, and some empty water bottles.

He motioned for you to sit, and you settled on the edge, feeling a mix of nervous excitement and comfort as your eyes scanned the new surroundings.

He busied himself by setting up the movie–Spiderman: Homecoming–but as it started, neither of you paid any attention. Instead, the conversation from dinner picked back up effortlessly. You eventually lay side by side on his bed after he playfully dragged you up to him by your wrist, the faint glow of the TV illuminating the soft curve of his cute smile. But despite your giggling and silly joking, the electricity in the air from earlier returned. Every accidental brush of his arm against yours sent a jolt through you, and every time your knees bumped, your breath stopped. For the most part, you were doing great at keeping your cool, but you couldn’t help but feel the urge to finish what you started at dinner; to address the electricity humming between your bodies.

“So, do you ever get tired of being the golden boy?” you asked, changing the subject of the conversation from which Marvel superhero you’d want in your corner during the apocalypse. His answer was Wolverine because of his healing abilities and no half-dead human had shit on his claws. Your answer was Spiderman because of his webs, duh, but Joe disagreed and said his heroicness and need to save everyone would get him killed faster than he could swing out of danger. You went back and forth about it for almost 10 minutes before Joe took out the pillow from under his head and smothered you with it to get you to stop yapping about your Marvel crush, your giggles and shrieking filling the room.

Amidst the chaos, you noticed the calendar on his desk, filled with colorful notes that showed his busy schedule. Each day had clear markings for practice days, upcoming games, and other football events. Tonight’s date stood out with a small red heart, suggesting something special. You couldn't help but wonder if he ever wanted a break from his packed schedule–a moment to relax and breathe in the middle of the constant demands of the sport he loved.

“Golden boy? Is that what you think I am?” he questioned.

You nudged his shoulder gently as you played with the wristbands on his wrist, your heart melting as you saw the football ones. “Well, you’re extremely talented, ridiculously good-looking, and everyone loves you. If the shoe fits…,”.

Joe leaned into you slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ridiculously good-looking, huh? I think I like where this is going,”.

“Oh, stop it,” you giggled and rolled your eyes. “I just mean that ever since you got here, the spotlight’s been on you nonstop. That didn’t happen to you back at Ohio State. It must be different, right? Even difficult? You can’t go anywhere or do anything without random people coming up to you, and you have all this football stress on your shoulders too. I just wonder if it ever gets tiring. You never get a break, like it’s all football all the time. I don’t think I’d be able to survive what you do if I never got any peace and quiet,”.

He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers soft and gentle. The gesture was simple, but the affection in his touch made your heart flutter. “It does get tiring,” he said, his voice fainter now, almost as if he removed a layer from his words and was completely bare in front of you, “But I do get peace and quiet time. A lot more than you’d think, actually,”.

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? I don’t think watching an episode of The Office at your locker before practice is classified as peace and quiet time, Joey,”.

Joe chuckled, “That’s not the peace and quiet time I’m talking about. I’m talking about…you, Y/N”.

Oh.

Ohhh.

There it was. Those butterflies. They were blossoming in your stomach again, this time the feeling of them was stronger than they’d ever been before. Your eyes softened, your fingers pausing their fidgety movements as you inched them further down to clutch his. “Joe, I-,”.

“The time I spend with you…it's like everything else fades away,” Joe said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’re my peace and quiet, you know that? When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t matter–football, school, the whole Golden Boy thing. It all just…disappears,”.

His words made your chest tighten, a warmth blooming in your heart as you searched his face. There was something so raw in the way he looked at you, so open and vulnerable. You could see it in his eyes, the way they softened whenever they met yours. “You have this way of grounding me,” he continued, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Just by being you. I don’t even think you realize it, but you calm me in a way no one else ever has. It’s like…I can finally breathe when I’m with you. I can stop hiding behind the helmet,”.

You felt your eyes well up, the sincerity in his voice hitting you right in the heart. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you placed your other hand over his. “You don’t know what that means to me,”.

Being his calm, his peace? That meant the world to you and he had no idea. This was exactly why, every time someone asked about your relationship and you mentioned how short a time you’d known each other, it felt almost laughable. Because time didn’t explain any of this. Time didn’t explain the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. It didn’t explain the way he instinctively knew when you needed reassurance, a touch, or just the sound of his voice saying your name. His actions told a different story–like you’d known each other for a lifetime.

He smiled, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek before it could fall. “I don’t think you know what you mean to me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get so heavy but I mean it. You’re my safe space, my escape from everything. You’re not just someone I like spending time with–you’re the reason I look forward to everything now. You’ve become my favorite person, Y/N,”.

His words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it in the best way. You couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down your cheek, but this time you didn’t care. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. The shift in the energy from electric, to giddy, to soft was giving you whiplash–but you loved it. It almost mirrored your relationship with Joe; a plethora of emotions and feelings that had you swooning for him.

Joe shook his head, leaning in closer so his forehead rested against yours. He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, “Just…stay. Be here with me. That’s all I’ll ever need,”.

You nodded, your hand slipping to the back of his neck as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke everything you couldn’t put into words–a kiss that said I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, and I feel the same way.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles. “I don’t care about anything else when I’m with you,” he said, his voice so full of love it made your heartache. “As long as I’ve got you, everything else is just…noise,”.

You smiled through your watery eyes, leaning into his touch. “You’ve got me, Joe. Always,” you promised, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you.

“I love what I do, trust me. But none of this is worth it, none of this is important if I don’t have someone to share it with,” he said, his hand settling on your hip and almost dragging you closer to him. His touch felt needy rather than soft.

Despite being one of the most talented players in college football, Joe never let the accolades, titles, or prestige define him. That wasn’t who he was. Instead, he displayed himself in the values that truly mattered–his actions, his words, his thoughts. And tonight, with what he had just told you, he had proven that all over again. It wasn’t the grandeur of his achievements that made your heart race; it was him. The way he saw the world, the way he saw his world, the way he saw you.

“And I want to share it with you. Only you. All of this right now and whatever the future brings, whether I go to the NFL or am stuck with some boring 9 to 5. I just want you with me. I don’t know what the future holds, all of this could fade away in the blink of an eye. But the one thing I’m sure about is you. Hell, you might be the only thing I’m sure about,” he confessed, his shoulders releasing the last bit of tension he had inside his body now that he’d told you everything he wanted to. Well…mostly everything.

You stared at him, unable to pull your gaze away because of what he just said to you. His eyes–lazy yet strikingly alert–held yours like they were trying to say something else his lips hadn’t quite figured out yet. You saw his eyes drop down to your lips here and there, you also felt his fingers slowly moving up and down your waist in a way that was far from innocent. There was a depth there, a feeling he wasn’t used to sharing so quickly but couldn’t seem to help when it came to you.

It hit you then, like a slow, steady wave.

He wanted you. No, he needed you. So much so that he couldn’t quite understand how he’d managed all these years without you by his side…without you in his arms.

And the truth was, you felt the exact same way.

“Fuck it,” you thought as he saw your eyes darken, and before he could process what you were doing, your lips were on his. The kiss was hesitant at first, a gentle exploration to see if he’d reciprocate the feeling, but the hunger beneath it grew quickly. His hand found its way to your cheek, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with increasing passion.

He didn’t want to take it slow, and neither did you.

Your fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as your heart pounded in your chest. His weight shifted, and he pressed you back against the bed, his body shifting to align with yours. The feel of him, solid and warm, made your head spin. The heat pooling in your panties was hard to ignore, so when he acknowledged it, you felt him smirk into your lips.

But just as the heat between you threatened to consume you both, Joe pulled back suddenly. His breathing was uneven, his face just inches from yours. His hands trembled slightly as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. “I don’t do this on the first date,” he said, his voice hoarse and raspy in a way that made your knees weak. “I just…I don’t want you to think this is all I want. Because it’s not. You’re not just a way for me to get laid. I really, really like you,”.

His words wrapped around you, melting away any lingering doubt. You reached up, your fingers brushing softly along his jawline, the vibe of the moment reflected in your gentle smile. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned up to press your lips against his, “It’s okay. I don’t do this on the first date either. But with you…everything feels easy. Like I don’t have a care in the world. Like I don’t want to have a care in the world,”,

You gave into the electricity sparking between you, knowing that if you didn’t, you’d regret it for the rest of your life. The words that had been dancing on your tongue all night, scrambling to find their footing, had finally found their rhythm.

Your eyes searched his, the intensity of your emotions pouring out with every word. “Everything you just said to me…I feel it too. You see me in a way no one else ever has, and in a way no one else ever will. You make me feel safe–so safe–and loved in a way I didn’t even know I was searching for. I love your world and being a small part of it, getting a glimpse of what it’s like, has been the most exciting experience of my life,”. A soft pause settled between you, but it was full of meaning, your heart swelling as you continued. “You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for, Joe. And now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go. I want you. All of you. And I’m more than okay with this…with us. I want us.”.

“You mean it?” he asked you, his eyes softening at your confession.

You gave him a smirk and trailed your hand from his soft hair down his back, slipping your fingers under his shirt and lightly scraping your nails along the chiseled expanse of his skin. Your touch sent shivers down his spine, and then you pressed your lips against his to share the warmth he needed. You pulled at his bottom lip, tugging and nipping in a way that revealed your internal desires, “That answer your question?” you asked him after you pulled away.

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned in to kiss you again, hungrier this time, even slower so he could taste every single inch of you. “Hell yeah,” he smirked as he kissed you. His hands roamed your body with need, each touch more rougher than the last as if he physically couldn’t let go of you let alone want to. “I’ve wanted to do this the second I saw you in this dress,” he whispered, his big hands sliding all along your body over the silky fabric. His touch set each part of your skin ablaze, a fiery path being traced on your body as he grabbed and squeezed anything he could.

“Please, if you knew the thoughts…mmph, going through my..mm..head on the drive over…ah…here,” you mumbled, his kisses forcibly making you pause in between your words.

He pulled away from you, his face hovering above yours as he eyes had this raw, unfiltered need in them. A look you hadn’t ever seen in his eyes before, but a look that had you wanting him to consume every part of you. “You shoulda told me then and there,” he smirked. “I could’ve pulled over and fucked you in the back seat of my car if you were that horny,”.

Your breath hitched at his words, your cheeks turning red as his smirk deepened. “Joe,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both embarrassment and arousal.

“What?” he teased, his lips brushing against yours but never quite closing the distance. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have liked it, baby. The thought of you in my backseat, those pretty legs spread just for me…,”. He groaned softly, his hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed you firmly against him. “I’d have taken my time with you, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. “Spreading you out across the seats, my hands gripping these perfect thighs…,” he paused, his grip tightening as if imagining it. “You’d be begging for me to go faster, harder. But I’d make you wait–make you feel every single second of it,”.

You whimpered, your head falling back as his lips traveled to the sensitive spot on your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Joe,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his biceps, needing something to anchor yourself.

“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, his teeth nipping your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “I can just picture you, your back arched, those gorgeous lips of yours moaning my name while I ruin you in the back of my car,”.

Your heart raced, the mental image combined with his low, raspy voice making your knees weak. “Why didn’t we do that?” you managed to say, your voice shaky.

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you against him. “Because I wanted to have you like this,” he said, his hips pressing against yours, emphasizing his words. “In my bed, where I could take my time and really show you just how crazy you drive me,”. His eyes locked onto yours, blazing with intensity. “But don’t think for a second I won’t make good on that backseat fantasy someday,” he promised, his voice rough with need. “Because, baby, I’ve got plans for you. So many fucking plans,”.

A shiver ran down your spine at the images his words painted. God, you would’ve loved for him to have his way with you in the back seat of his car. The thrill, the secrecy, the alertness…oh that would have driven you wild. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but your voice betrayed you, dripping with need. The way his entire mood seamlessly switched from soft to drop-dead sexy? Oh yeah, you were in for a damn treat.

“Am I?” he challenged, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his lips hot and determined against your skin. “Or am I just saying what you’ve been thinking all night?” his teeth grazed your earlobe, and you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Joe,” you moaned, arching into him, your body responding to every word, every touch. “God, you’re driving me insane,”.

“That’s the idea, baby,” he murmured against your neck, his voice husky. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly as he settled deeper between your legs. “So, tell me,” he whispered, his lips trailing lower. “What exactly were you thinking about? Hm? Tell me what you wanted me to do to you,”.

Your breathing was erratic as you tried to find the words. “I…I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands,” you confessed, your voice shaking but honest. “The way you touch me, like you can’t get enough of me…I wanted them everywhere,”.

His groan was throaty, his hands gripping you even tighter. “Fuck, baby,” he rasped. “You don’t know what you do to me,” his lips found yours again, this time with a desperation that matched the fire building between you. His hips pressed against yours, his hardness evident through the thin layers of clothing separating you. “You want my hands everywhere?” he breathed against your lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly. “Then you’ll get them everywhere,”.

Joe’s hands roamed higher, sliding up the smooth skin of your thighs, his touch igniting a fire that made your entire body ache with need. The anticipation was unbearable as his fingers teased the edge of your panties, his lips curving into a devilish smirk against your neck. “You’re already so wet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. “All for me, huh?”

“All for you,” you breathed, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt, desperate for more.

He pressed his hips against yours, grinding slowly, the friction making your head tilt back against the pillows. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, lovey,” he said, his breath hot against your ear. “The way you moan my name, the way you look at me like you need me as much as I need you…fuck,”.

“I do need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Joe, please. I need you now,”.

His eyes darkened, his restraint clearly slipping as he pulled back just enough to strip off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and the light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. “Say it again,” he said, his voice commanding but soft, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties.

“I need you, Joe,” you repeated, your gaze locked on his, your voice laced with a mix of desperation and desire.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, tugging your panties down and tossing them aside. His hands returned to your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin as if he couldn’t get enough. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, leaving you breathless.

As the remaining layers of clothing were peeled away, there was a rush, an urgency–the two of you needed to feel each other in a way that felt as natural as breathing. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their path, while his hands explored every curve, every inch of skin, as if he was trying to memorize you by touch alone. He was so gentle with you yet so in control, talking you through every little thing, letting you know he was here with you, how beautiful you were, and how much he wanted this with you. The way he looked at you, seeing you completely bare for the first time, was burned into your memory. You thought he couldn’t get any more perfect, but he just continues to prove you wrong every time.

When he pushed into you, the world seemed to blur, leaving only him–his eyes locked on yours, his whispered words of reassurance and adoration keeping you stable. He moved with a rhythm that was equally as passionate as it was controlled–but you didn’t want him to be controlled. His forehead brushed against yours as he murmured your name like a prayer. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered, his voice shaky but steady. “You feel so good, fuck,”.

You threw your head back into the pillow as you felt his cock push into your core, exploring you in the most delicious way possible. “Joe. Harder, fuck me harder,” you whimpered, needing to feel him moving against you with no restraints.

“Y- you sure, beautiful?” he asked, your hands sliding down his sweaty back and into his hair. He was a little hesitant, not wanting to hurt you or push you too far since this was the first time you two were having sex.

“Y- yes, please,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need as your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, blown wide with lust, it was like a spark igniting a fire. The sight of his messy hair sticking to his forehead, the blush painting his cheeks, and the heat of his breath mingling with yours–it was intoxicating, a perfect cocktail of everything that was Joe.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? I need to know you’re okay,” he asked you before pressing a few featherlight kisses along your jaw.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, giving it a soft tug that made him groan. “I want this. I want you,”.

And then, as if that’s all he needed to hear, Joe’s restraint snapped like a tight spring, letting the hunger he had been holding back take over. His hips drove into yours with a need that made your entire body burn, your back arching as the intensity of his movements overwhelmed your senses. Each thrust sent shockwaves through you, his grip on your hips firm and commanding like he was staking his claim on every inch of you.

“You drive me crazy,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire as his lips left a scorching path of wet kisses down your neck. “So fucking crazy, you know that?”, his teeth grazed your collarbone, drawing a sharp gasp from you that only seemed to urge him on. His hands explored your body with a possessive hunger like he was memorizing every curve, every dip, every place that made you tremble.

“Joe,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair again and pulling, a low, guttural sound escaping him as your nails raked across his scalp. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop,”.

“Never,” he rasped, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so desperate and raw it left you breathless. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinning yours above your head so that he had you completely under his control, his body pressing into yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of you. “I need you, baby. I’ve needed you for so long,” he confessed, his voice breaking, his movements growing rougher, more frenzied.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sound he made in response sent a delicious shiver through you. “Harder,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. No matter how much he gave you, you wanted more. “Fuck, Joe. Harder,”.

His eyes locked on yours, wild and glassy, as he delivered exactly what you asked for. His hips snapped against yours with relentless precision, every thrust sending you spiraling higher. His headboard banged against his wall, the bed beneath you creaking nonstop at the force of his thrusts. “God, you feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned, his forehead falling against yours. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Damn, where have you b- been all my life,”.

“Right here,” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as your body arched again to meet his. “Right here, Joe. Always yours,”.

His breath hitched at your words, a groan spilling from his lips as his hips drove into you harder, deeper. The force of his movements made the headboard slam louder, but neither of you cared–the world outside that room didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in this moment, raw and unrestrained. You quite literally have never felt like this. None of the other guys you’d been with prior to Joe were this good, this attentive to what you liked. The way his cock was hitting every sweet spot inside you, pushing you beyond the limits you’d set yourself felt otherworldly. He was the best you’d ever had.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His lips found your pulse, pressing kisses that sent shivers coursing through your body. “You’re everything, everything I’ve ever needed,”. Joe couldn’t get enough of you, enough of the way you were letting him care for you, enough of the way you were reacting to him. He just couldn’t–.

“Joe,” you whimpered, gripping the back of his neck, pulling him closer and snapping him out of his daze. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,”.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice shaking with the feel of the moment. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you firmly as he angled himself deeper, his pace unrelenting yet filled with so much love it made your heartache. “I’m not stopping, baby. Not until you have everything,”.

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room like a melody. “Joe. Joe. Joee,” you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the force of your high.

“Oh, fuck–,” he moaned at the sound of you whimpering his name, the feel of your walls clenching around him even more enticing than he imagined. “I’m gonna cum,” he said, his grip tightening around your hips as he pounded into you even harder.

“Oh,” you hissed, feeling his cock hit your sweet spot over and over which made the aftershocks of your high feel like pure bliss in your veins. “D- don’t pull out, Joey,” you panted, meeting his eyes once again.

He looked up at you, his face a mixture of amusement and confusion. “W- what?” he panted, his thrusts becoming uneven which signaled that he was so close.

“I’m on the pill. I don’t care,” you smiled at him, using your hand to brush back a few of his slick curls before planting a kiss on his chin. “Do whatever you want to me,”.

Joe's eyes darkened at your words, a low groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself even deeper inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,”.

You smiled lazily at him, your body trembling under his as you reached up to cup his cheek. “It’s a great way to die then,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desire.

That was all it took to send him over the edge. His hips slammed into yours with desperate urgency, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he chased his release. “Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as his body tensed. “That’s my g- girl,”. As he stilled, his body shaking against yours, you could feel the warmth of him filling you, the new sensation sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body. His lips found yours in a messy, heated kiss, his breath mixing with yours as he tried to come down from the high. Sounds of skin-hitting skin were soon replaced by heavy breathing and the remnants of your climaxes.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting and completely lost in the haze. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, moving to gently trace circles on your sides. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with concern.

You smiled up at him, your fingers threading through his damp curls. “Better than okay,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his. “You?”.

A grin spread across his face, that boyish charm shining through despite the flush in his cheeks. “Never better,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips before trailing down to your jawline and collarbone. “You’re incredible, you know that?”.

You giggled softly, your hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. “So are you, Joey. So are you,”.

He collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms with ease. Even after going at it like rabid bunnies, he still had all his strength in him? Damn. The weight of his body against yours, the sound of his heartbeat under your ear–it was perfect. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be the death of me,” he said, his tone teasing but his expression completely serious.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with affection. “Good,” you replied with a smirk, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon,”.

“Promise?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“Promise,” you said, sealing it with another kiss, one that felt like you were kissing each other's hearts. “Where have you been all my life?” you whispered, your voice shaky but laced with affection as you nuzzled into his chest.

He smiled against your hair, his arms tightening around you. “Right here,” he murmured, echoing your words from earlier, “Waiting for you,”.

Your breath hitched, and before you could say something, he continued, “You’re one of a kind, Y/N…one of a kind. Which is why…,” he paused, taking a deep breath as his face turned serious. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, searching your eyes for an immediate reaction. “You’re rare…so fucking rare. It’s rare to meet a person like you in this life. And now that I have you, I don’t want to let you go. I know it hasn’t been that long since we’ve known each other, but I seriously have never been so sure about something in my entire life. I meant what I said about you being my peace and quiet. I need that peace and quiet every morning…every night…every week…every year…every time before a game…every time after a game…every time I need someone who can make everything around me disappear. I need someone like you, baby. Someone so perfect, someone who lights up my world the way you do. You’re the one who hangs the stars in my galaxy, the one who completes it,” he added, completely sure of what he was saying but suddenly feeling doubtful because of your blank, emotionless expression.

“Oh shit. I just scared her, didn’t I?” he instantly thought to himself, realizing how heavy his words were.

You continued to stare at him in silence, a flurry of butterflies swirling through your stomach and tickling your heart. You couldn’t believe this was real, that he was real.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck, I just ruined this, didn’t I? You probably want to take it slow and steady, which is fair because again, we just met not too long ago. And you’re probably stressed about the whole dating a football player thing, which is also fair but I swear I’m not like the other guys. Oh my god. Please don’t think I’m pushing you too fast or…trying to be smooth about this because we had sex…which might I say, it was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. Wait, what the fuck am I saying? I swear I–,” he rambled in a panic before you leaned up and mashed your lips against his to shut him up.

His words were cut off by your lips, and he could feel you smiling into him as your chest rumbled from laughter. His nervousness from the dinner date was back, and you couldn’t help but admire how cute he got when he was unsure about something and got in his head. You pulled away, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as his lips parted to say something, but before he could, you said, “You’re my boyfriend.”.

“Wait, what?” Joe asked even though he heard you loud and clear.

“I said…” you began before dropping another kiss to his lips. You pulled away and continued, “You.” then placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Are.” and then a kiss to his chin., “My.” then a kiss to his cheek, “Boyfriend.” you finished, ending the sentence with one more kiss to his plump lips.

“You mean it?” he asked, genuinely needing you to reassure him because right now, it felt like he was dreaming.

You giggled, and the sound made Joe smile even harder than he already was. “I mean it one thousand percent, Boyfriend. You are all mine, and I am all yours. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably yours. You feel that electricity between us? That’s enough to prove to me that this is different. That you’re different,” you grinned. “You pulled out all the stops for tonight from the dress to the flowers and smarties–which had me on the floor by the way–and then everything at dinner, and now this? God, you’re like the perfect boyfriend, like the heart throbs in the movies. I know that you genuinely care about me and like me, you’ve shown me that since the day we met. And I really like you too, Joe. And I won’t lie when I say that this feels a little risky, but you’re a risk I’m willing to take. You know why? Because you make me feel alive, safe, and so damn loved. With you I'd dance in a storm, in my best dress, at any given time,”.

“God, I’m so obsessed with you,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek, and before you knew it, he was leaning down to kiss you again, the heat between you reigniting like a flame. “I promise I won’t make you regret this. I promise I’ll make you feel loved until I physically can’t anymore. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you,”.

“And I’m going to hold you to it,” you mumbled between the kiss, letting your body reciprocate those words to him. The way it was responding to his touch was everything he needed to know; the subtle hooking of your leg around his waist, the graze of your nails along his bicep, and the way you were pushing up into him. “I promise I’m…going to be right there with you,” you whispered as he moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, slowly kissing his way down your glistening body.

This time, the passion was unrestrained, the desire to feel each other again consuming you both completely. You could feel the growing urge to have each other like that again, and lucky for both of you, you two were so down bad to say no.

“Round two?” you teased, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling his face back to yours.

Joe looked at you and laughed, then slithered his hands around your hips and easily flipped you onto your back, prompting a shriek from your lips. “Anything for my girlfriend,”.

“Fantastic,” you shot back with a grin, pulling him down for another kiss. “I think your girlfriend deserves to be reminded of how much you care about her,” you teased before he locked lips with you once again, then used his hand to pull the sheets over you both.

End of flashback

“He hasn’t changed a single bit since LSU,” you giggled, your heart fluttering at how thoughtful and romantic his little gestures were.

Your eyes moved down to the other sticky note, this one reading,

P.S. made you breakfast before i left. your strawberry mango protein smoothie is waiting in the fridge

to be loved is to be seen, and i see you. always have, and always will.

j.b

“Joe,” you whispered, your eyes softening at his last sentence.

He saw you. He always saw you. He saw your anxieties, he saw your worries, but he also saw your smile, your happiness, your love for him. When he woke up this morning, he knew how awful the past day, past weeks have been for you. And it was all because of his current situation. When he looked at you, all he could see was the worry in your eyes and the hesitation in every word that left your mouth. He needed to do something to bring back that smile, that unwavering happiness that he fell in love with.

And you felt the same way about him. When you looked at him, all you saw was his self doubt, his fear of failing. You couldn’t see his confidence, his resilience anymore. Nobody could understand his internal struggles, not even you. But you sure as hell weren’t going to let them push you out.

And then as you stared at the sticky notes—a reminder of Joe and his adorable little gestures, you got an idea. One that could make him feel better, open up, and allow him to relax with you.

“He’s gone for a few hours, right? What if I do a little lunch date at home for him?” you asked yourself, already pulling out your phone to get started on the idea. This was a great way for him to unwind, for him to feel at ease after how awful the past few days had been for him. And it was also a great way for the two of you to spend time together, the time you’d been craving since football started back up. You both always thrived when it was just the two of you, in those little quiet moments that had you both feeling like you were back in college and didn’t have a care in the world. He was always so relaxed then, even though he was balling out and had the entire state of Louisiana breathing down his neck. He still managed to let loose, give himself some breathing room, a chance to be open despite the weight he had on his shoulders. Ever since he came into the NFL, it’s like there was no room for error for him, no room for him to show his emotions and be vulnerable. And when he did, he felt guilty about it because he felt like he was burdening everyone–especially you–with his feelings.

—

After finishing up your morning routine and enjoying the delicious smoothie he made for you, you got started on planning your surprise for him. You remembered him mentioning just last week, how he was craving Mexican food. That was all the inspiration you needed. You placed an order for his favorites from your usual go-to Mexican spot downtown, imagining the way his face would light up at the sight of the spread.

But you didn’t stop there. Knowing Joe, you wanted to add a little something extra–a surprise he’d never expect. You remembered the way he’d lit up talking about The Office Lego set he’d been eyeing for months but never seemed to have a reason for buying it for himself. He always listened to your mindless ramblings about things that caught your eye that you’d never buy for yourself–jewelry, clothes, shoes, bags–and always made sure to buy them for you as soon as he had the chance to. He didn’t ever need a reason to spoil his girl. That was one of the things you loved about him, he was always listening to you even when you thought he wasn’t. You did the same for him, so a few clicks later, the Legos were on their way to come just in time for your lunch date.

By the time everything was ready, the scene was nearly perfect: the food bags on the living room table, the Lego set placed beside them, and you impatiently waiting for him to come home. But as you sat there on the couch, looking at the setup, something felt off–like it was missing a little magic.

You tilted your head, thinking, and then it hit you like a spark of nostalgia.

A blanket fort.

A grin rose on your face as the memory of those cozy, rainy days you’d spent with Joe came rushing back–days when the two of you would build blanket forts and lose track of time, laughing, snacking, and just being kids at heart. “Oh, hell yeah,” you said to yourself, already gathering pillows and blankets, determined to recreate that same magic.

If there was one thing Joe loved more than food and Legos, it was the kind of thoughtfulness that made the simplest moments memorable. And you were about to do just that.

You grabbed a few dining room chairs, every plush blanket you could find, and a variety of cloud-like pillows, determined to create the ultimate cozy cave. Piece by piece, you began making your little fort, carefully lining up the chairs and draping the blankets across them with skill. You built a sturdy wall of pillows to keep it snug and inviting, even moving the lamp inside to give it a warm, comfy glow. After a few adjustments to make sure everything was stable, you stepped back to admire your work. The soft light lit up the cozy space, the blankets creating a cocoon of comfort that practically begged to be crawled into. It was perfect–inviting, intimate, and filled with the kind of charm you knew Joe would love.

“I really hope he likes this,” you mumbled to yourself, wanting nothing more than for him to be able to come home and just relax for the first time all week. Your thoughtfulness knew no limits, and Joe always appreciated the hell out of that so you knew he’d like everything you did for him no matter what.

A few minutes later, as you were carefully placing the food and Lego set inside of the fort, you heard the garage door open, a sign that Joe was finally home. You heard the clank of the keys hitting the kitchen island, and the muffled sounds of him slipping his shoes off, and then his soft voice breaking through the silence, “Baby? I’m home. You in here?” he called out, not seeing the blanket fort in yet.

“Over here!” you yelled, peeking your head out from the little cave and waving him over.

He furrowed his brows, a little confused at what you were doing, as he walked over to the couch. You noticed that he had something in his hand, a few bags that made your eyes widen: Taco Bell, Bath & Body Works, and Sephora? “What’s all this?” Joe laughed, seeing the architectural masterpiece that was your little blanket fort.

“What’s all that?” you shot back, pointing at all the bags in his hand.

Joe chuckled, setting the bags down on the table and glancing between you and the fort. “This? Just a little pick-me-up for my favorite person,” he said casually, but the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed how much thought he’d put into it. “I felt bad about last night, and everything that happened at the game, and just…, you know, not being around as much lately. Figured I’d spoil you a little tonight,”.

You felt your heart squeeze, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like one of the soft blankets in your fort. “Joe,” you said softly, your voice filled with affection. You quickly came out of the fort and stood up, his opening arms making room for you as usual. “That’s exactly why I did all this,” you gestured toward the fort with a small smile as his arms held you tightly against his warm chest.

He looked at you for a moment, his expression softening as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “You did all this for me?” he asked, his lips forming a little pout.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Last night…was rough…,” you began.

“In more ways than one,” Joe teased, his hand sliding down to your ass and giving it a little squeeze, reminding you just how rough things got last night.

“Right, in more ways than one,” you giggled. “It was rough and well, everything that happened during the game and you know, the game itself? I just thought you could use some time to relax and just be…Joe. Time for us to just be…us. I’ve missed you,” you sighed, the heaviness of the entire situation still bugging you. “I got you the Mexican food you’ve been craving all week, that Lego set you had your eye on, and topped it all off with the blanket fort. Just like old times,” you said, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Joe leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I’ve missed you too,” he mumbled, his heart aching at the confession.

He missed you–missed how easy and comfortable things felt in moments like this. The off-season had been full of moments like these, where it was just the two of you with no rush or stress. But ever since football started, those moments had just…disappeared. He missed the times when it wasn’t about games or busy schedules–just Joe and Y/N, together, feeling at home.

“Thank you for doing this. You always know how to get through to me even when I try to push you away,” he said, his hand moving up your body to cradle the back of your head. He pulled your head back and looked into your eyes briefly, trying to see if you had the same look as you did last night–the tension, the worry, and the fear. It was there, but only bits and pieces; meaning last night worked and everything he had planned for tonight was going to fully push those feelings out the door.

“I promised you that I’d always be there for you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop me, okay?” you smiled, your hands moving up and resting on each side of his neck.

“I know,” he nodded. “That’s why I love you. You never back down from a fight,”.

“Exactly,” you smiled up at him, feeling the familiar rush of love that seemed to grow every time you were with him. “Looks like you had your own cozy day-in planned too, didn’t you?” you said, pulling away slightly to glance at the bags. “Taco Bell and Sephora? That’s quite the combo,”.

He grinned, “I know you love those little face masks andddd I also found that pedicure kit you’ve been wanting, so I thought maybe you would enjoy making me look like an alien later tonight and we can do those together. And, well, Taco Bell is my apology for taking so long to make time for this. Guilty pleasure foods are the way to your heart, that I know for a fact,”,

You laughed, shaking your head, “You are perfect, Joe Burrow. You know that? So damn perfect at being the world’s best boyfriend,”.

He glanced at the fort again, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Not as perfect as this. A blanket fort? I’m starting to think I’m the luckiest guy alive. I mean, not only do I have the world's greatest blanket fort in front of me right now, but I also have a smokin’ hot wif–...girlfriend, waiting for me every time I come home,”.

“Shit, almost slipped up there. Not yet, Joe. Just a little longer. The wait will be worth it,” he thought to himself.

You skipped right over his little slip-up and burst into laughter. “Easy there, Burrow. Your girlfriend is still recovering from last night. Give her some time to bounce back, would ya?” you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

Joe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as he dropped his head onto your shoulder, his embarrassment absolutely adorable. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt. “Guess I got a little carried away,”.

You gently pulled him back so you could meet his eyes, the corners of your lips tugging into a smirk. “Don’t you dare apologize for being ridiculously good at making your girlfriend feel like she’s on cloud nine,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his warm cheek as your fingers found their way into his hair.

His laugh bubbled out and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that made your heart skip. There he was–your Joey. The tension and heaviness from yesterday seemed to have vanished, replaced by this light, playful energy you adored so much. “Better mood today, huh?” you asked, rubbing the skin underneath his eye.

“Better everything,” he replied, his voice softer now, his blue eyes full of warmth as they locked on yours. “All because of you,”.

You exhaled, letting out a breath you’d been holding in for a long while, “I’m so glad. Last night was…I was worried about you–,” you started to say, but before you could finish, Joe pushed a finger to your lips.

“No,” he shook his head. “We don’t have to talk about that right now, okay? Don’t stress about it,”. And before you could say something else, he grabbed his hand, pulling you toward the fort. “Now c’mon, let’s see if the fort passes inspection,” he teased, crawling inside first and motioning for you to follow.

“It better pass the Joey B inspection. I put a lot of effort into this one,” you chuckled, a small shriek following after Joe grabbed your arm and pulled you into him as his back hit the pillows.

“It’s already a ten out of ten,” he grinned, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you snug against him. His scent–fresh, a little woodsy, with a hint of something sweet–washed over you, making your heart flutter.

“You’re biased,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful pout. “You’d give anything I make a ten out of ten,”.

“Not true,” he said in mock offense. “Remember that time you tried to make brownies but forgot the sugar? I gave those a solid three,”.

You gasped, swatting his chest lightly. “That was one time! And you still ate half the tray,”.

“Because I love you, and I wasn’t about to let you feel bad about it,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His teasing tone turned into something warmer, more serious. “Besides, everything you do has your touch on it. That’s what makes it perfect to me,”.

Your playful grin softened as you took in his words. The way he looked at you, his eyes warm and sincere, made the world outside the blanket fort fade away. “You’re such a sap, Joey,” you whispered, your hand tracing slow circles on his chest.

“Only for you,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now, tell me–what’s the plan for this top-tier blanket fort? Because I see food, I see Legos, and I see the most beautiful girl in the world. Looks like a perfect date to me? We can do my side of the date–taco bell, face masks, pedicures, with your favorite candles–later tonight,”.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest as you snuggled closer. “Well, we eat first–because I know someone skipped lunch today–and then we tackle that Lego set. And maybe,” you added, peeking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “If you’re really good, I’ll let you have the last churro,”.

Joe’s face lit up with mock excitement. “The last churro? You’d really let me have that honor?”.

“Maybe,” you said sheepishly, booping his nose. “As long as you actually help build the Lego set this time and not get distracted and stare at me the whole time,”.

He laughed, the deep, thundering sound vibrating through you in the best way. “Deal. But I’m keeping the churro safe–no take-backs. And you can’t get mad if I stare at you here and there, you’re like crazy hot and I need to appreciate that you’re mine allll the time,” he smiled, the down-badness in his voice the same type of down-badness that used to be in his voice back in college. Under all that hard-shelled exterior, Joe was still the same as he was back at LSU. He may not let that side come out easily in front of others…or at all…but it always came out around you.

“You’re really trying to butter me up for the churro, aren’t you?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you sat up, the playful suspicion in your voice clear.

Joe followed, sitting up behind you with that mischievous glimmer in his eye that always meant trouble. “Mmm,” he hummed nonchalantly, shifting ever so slightly. His arms moved as if he were about to pull you into a hug, but you quickly noticed something was off.

When his hand didn’t quite make it around your waist, you glanced over your shoulder to catch him red-handed–or rather, churro-handed. His fingers were sneaking their way into the bag of Mexican food, inching closer to the special dessert.

“Oh, you sneaky little–,” you started, turning around to confront him. But before you could finish, Joe tilted his head, catching your lips with his in a kiss that was equal parts distraction and charm. The unexpected move left you momentarily speechless, and in that tiny window of opportunity, he managed to carefully extract a churro from the bag. When he finally pulled back, his grin was nothing short of triumphant.

“Oops,” he giggled against your lips, holding up the churro like a prize. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his laughter contagious as you tried–and failed–to keep a straight face.

“Joey!” you groaned, swatting at his shoulder as he leaned back, already taking a bite of the churro with a smug look on his face.

“What?” he said, shrugging dramatically as if he were completely innocent. “I thought sharing is caring, babe,”.

“Oh, you are so lucky I love you,” you muttered, shaking your head as you reached for the other churro in the bag.

—

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon tangled in each other and the cozy chaos of your little fort. Between bites of tacos and teasing arguments over Lego instructions, Joe’s laughter echoed through the space, filling it with a kind of warmth that you knew only he could bring. He was laughing, genuinely smiling, and having fun for the first time in a long time. It felt like whatever was weighing oh him last night was...gone. And when the sun began to set, casting a golden glow through the makeshift walls, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Thank you for this,”.

“For what?” you asked, your voice soft.

“For reminding me that no matter how crazy the world gets, I’ll always have a place where everything feels right,” he said, fiddling absently with the promise ring he’d given you a few years ago. “And that place is wherever you are,”.

“...Joe,” you mumbled, your eyes softening as you looked up at him.

“You know,” he started softly, “Yesterday was tough, but…it wasn’t on me. And I’ve learned I can’t hold onto that. Can’t let it eat me up like I used to. I did my best out on that field, I gave it my all like I always do. I made mistakes, the team made mistakes, but we all make mistakes. I can’t keep beating myself up over things I can’t control,” he exhaled, his thumb running over the diamond ring. “But that’s not what I want to talk about,”.

You tilted your head at him, puzzled because you thought he was going to talk to you about what was going on in his head. “What do you mean?”.

Joe’s eyes met yours, his blue eyes staring deeply into your soul almost. “I mean you. You never talk about how you’re feeling. You’re always so worried about me, about making sure I’m okay. But what about you? Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours? I know you’re hurting, Y/N. I know you cried before I got home last night. I know how much those comments hurt you. I know how much you’ve been trying to balance since I got hurt. I know how hard this is for you. And I know you’re not letting me see it because you think you’re protecting me,”.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just blinked at him, your lips parting slightly. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you.

He saw.

He always saw right through you. He always saw how you’d try to keep yourself from hurting him. He always saw how much you’d put him first over yourself. He always saw how much you wanted to protect him.

To be loved is to be seen, and Joe always saw you.

“Talk to me, Y/N. You are always there when I need you…let me be there for you?” he nodded, his hand rubbing circles along your back to calm you down. He was going to get you to open up to him, even if it took a little push or a shove.

“I…,” you swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat and tears starting to form in your eyes as the emotional dam felt like it was about to burst. All the feelings you were trying to suppress were coming to the surface, and all it took was for Joe to tell you that he could see it; your restraint, your need to protect him, your real feelings. “I don’t know. It’s…hard sometimes. Watching e- everything you go through. Seeing people tear you down or attack me…because of who you are. It’s like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I can’t protect you from any of it,” you confessed, your voice trembling as you remembered everything those Chiefs fans said to you yesterday. “I get scared, you know? Seeing you shut down like that because of things that aren’t even your fault. I get scared when you start to d- doubt yourself. And I get scared when people say those awful things about you…about m- me…about us. You’ve worked so hard to come back from that wrist injury, that whole process was so hard on you physically and mentally. I just hate seeing people downplay what you went through. They all just want so much more from you, and I hate seeing you think that what you’re doing isn’t enough as is,”.

Joe’s expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his other hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek as it slipped free.“You’re not supposed to protect me,” he murmured. “That’s not your job. Just being here, being you…that’s everything I need. You’re the only good thing in my life that feels real, and I’d be lost without you. All the voices that implore ‘You should be doing more, Joe’, but to you I can admit, that I’m just too soft for all of it. I can always tell you how tiring it gets, I can always vent to you about how hard things get. That’s more than enough. You’re the only person who knows me…the real me, which is why you’re the only one I can confide in. You’re always there when I need you, to catch me when I fall. You make me feel safe, lovey. By just being you, being here with me, listening to whatever I have to say, letting me cry on your shoulder. You don’t need to do anything extra to protect me, ever. There’s a reason why I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Outside, they're always pushing and shoving, but you're in the kitchen humming. All you’ve ever wanted from me is sweet nothing,” he said.

“That’s why I love you and I love the peace and quiet you bring me. You never want anything extra from me…never need me to do more than I already do. But when you start bottling up your feelings, bottling up your emotions…that peace and quiet starts to fade. You know why? Because you aren’t happy. Because you’re hurting, and that kills me more than anything else,”.

You felt your heartache from his words, a bittersweet mixture of comfort and longing setting over you. The way he opened up made it impossible not to let your own feelings spill out. You glanced down at your hands as you spoke, “This entire world,” you began softly, your voice trembling slightly, “It’s so chaotic. It’s...it’s scary. Those good moments, they’re brief. They last for a heartbeat, and then before you know it, something bad happens, and it feels like everything’s falling apart,” you said, referring to the wrist injury that came out of nowhere last season.

You took a shaky breath, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that urged you to keep going. “But you? Us? Our relationship? That’s the one constant. The one thing that feels solid, unshakable. It’s like.. no matter how bad things get, no matter how lost I feel, I always have this place to hide. This place to seek shelter in the middle of the storm. And that place–it’s always with you. But ever since last November…I’ve had this nagging thought in the back of my head that maybe…the shelter is too good to be true. I’m scared that I’ll lose you…lose you to this world of football and unpredictable moments. I’m scared you’ll get too caught up in proving yourself…in being the best…too caught up in your head, and you’ll just–,”.

“No,” he quickly stopped you before those words fell from your mouth. “Don’t…don’t say that,” he said, his voice shaky as you saw his eyes water.

Another tear slipped from your eye as you kept going, “Even when I’m dreaming, I can feel you leaving. And I know I shouldn’t feel that way, especially because you’ve never given me a reason to doubt us…but I’m scared, Joe. I’m scared that I’m too much for you, that I’m pushing you too much and you’ll just…leave. I’m scared that what everyone said about me was right? I haven’t done enough to protect you, and I said I always would…but I didn’t,”. A sob escaped your lips and before you knew it, the tears were free-flowing down your cheeks, “I can’t,” you cried.

Joe felt his heart shatter at your confession.

You felt like he was going to leave?

Never in a million years would he ever think about leaving you…leaving his love…leaving his peace. Never in a million years would he ever even think about living his life without you in it.

“Baby,” he said with urgency, his hands moving up to your face, wiping the tears away. “Baby, look at me,”.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t know why I feel like this…I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking that you’d be better off without me. I don’t know why I’m letting all of it get to me. I’m supposed to be better than that,”,

“Y/N.” he said, his voice loud enough to silence you. “Stop.”.

His words cracked something open inside you, and the tears came slowly now, silent but steady. Joe didn’t flinch, didn’t rush you. Instead, he slipped the promise ring from your right hand and slid it onto your ring finger, the gesture deliberate and filled with unspoken meaning.

“See this?” he said, holding up your hand so the ring caught the light. “This…it’s my promise to you. That no matter how loud the world gets, no matter how much they push and shove, this…us...it’s our quiet. It’s our peace. You are my peace and I am never leaving you. No matter how hard it gets…no matter how much I keep losing in the NFL. I am never leaving you. No matter how many injuries I have or how many fucking fans want to talk shit on me, I am never leaving you.

You sniffled, your hand trembling slightly in his. “Joe, I–”,

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb now tracing the veins on the back of your left hand. The sensation was soothing, grounding you in a way only he could. “You need to know that I am sorry. I am so sorry that I haven’t seen how much you’ve been struggling since my injury. I am so sorry that I always get in a fucking shitty ass mood whenever shit doesn’t go my way. I am so sorry I’m always crying to you about my problems. That’s not how a relationship works. That’s not how we work. We always talk to each other and lean on each other for comfort and security. I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel like you couldn’t do that. I’ve been trying to protect you by pushing you away, not knowing that it only hurt you more every time. I never wanted you to feel like I was pushing you away for good. I thought protecting you from me, from my doubts, and from all of the bullshit that’s been surrounding me lately would keep you safe. But I was so wrong. I need to keep you here with me, no matter how tough it gets because you’re the only one that can make it better. Winning won’t make anything better. My wrist being 100% won’t make anything better. The fans shutting up won’t make anything better. You? You will.”.

“I’m not going to leave you, Y/N. I made that clear on our first date back at LSU. Remember? I promised you to love you till I physically couldn’t. And I don’t ever plan on going back on that promise. Don’t ever feel like you’re a burden to me, that you’re pushing me too much, okay? Because without you I wouldn’t be able to do any of this. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you telling me how proud you are of me, without you being there for me after every loss with your arms open, ready to listen to whatever I have to say. I wouldn’t be able to do this without your constant motivation, reassurance, and unwavering support. It’s okay to crumble, to feel upset, and be sad. You are human, baby. It’s okay to worry and feel scared. But I’m here. I’m always here for you and I want you to know you can always tell me these things. I want you to know that I need you with me. I needed you then, I need you now, and I need you forever,”.

Your breath hitched as Joe’s words washed over you, their weight settling deep in your chest. It was like the dam had burst, finally releasing all the emotions you had been bottling up for so long. You stared at him through tear-filled eyes, his face so close to yours, so calm and full of love. The way he looked at you–like you were the only thing in the world that mattered–made your heartache in the best way.

“I…I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, Joe,”.

“Stop that,” he said gently, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that continued to fall, his touch soft and deliberate. “You deserve the world, Y/N. And if I could, I’d give it to you. But right now, all I can give you is me. All of me,”.

A sob escaped your lips as you leaned into his touch, your hands gripping his wrists as if letting go would shatter the moment. “You already give me everything,” you said, your voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Joe. I’m scared of even thinking about it,”.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You are so much more than what those people think. You’re everything to me, I can’t lose you to any of this. If I don’t have someone to share this all with, then what even is the point? If I don’t have you, why am I even trying? I promise you that you’re doing just enough for me. I promise I’m not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere, and I promise that you and I will always get through this together,”.

The promise in his voice broke through the last of your defenses. You collapsed against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, holding you tightly, as if shielding you from the weight of the world. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you,”.

And you did. You let it all out–the fear, the insecurity, the pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders for far too long. You cried into his chest, and he held you through it all, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. His other hand stayed on your left hand, his thumb tracing the veins there in that familiar, grounding gesture that had always calmed you.

When your sobs finally quieted, and your breathing began to steady, Joe pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, his expression full of concern and love. “Better?” he asked softly.

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped at your cheeks. “A little. Thanks to you.”

He smiled, that boyish grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not done yet,”.

“What do you mean?” you asked, a small laugh escaping despite the heaviness of the moment.

Joe tilted his head playfully, his fingers still holding your left hand. He glanced down at your promise ring, now on your ring finger, and gave it a small twist. “This right here,” he said, his voice low but firm, “Is just the beginning. You’re not just my girlfriend, Y/N. You’re my partner. My future. And one day, I’m going to replace this ring with a different one. One that means forever,”.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “Joe…,”.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tender it brought fresh tears to your eyes. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. And I’m never letting you go. I am going to be right by your side through everything. We were made to do this together, and I realized that the first night you let me make you mine. It’s you and me forevermore,”.

The weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and safety. You smiled through your tears, your hands moving to cradle his face. “I love you too, Joey. Always,”.

Letting your feelings out to Joe, finally saying everything you had been holding onto for the past year, was more liberating and comforting than you ever could have imagined. It was better than any cozy day spent under a blanket or any attempt to distract yourself from the chaos inside. Joe had been right all along–your relationship was built on leaning on each other, on sharing everything, the good and the bad. He had been doing that with you from the start, and now it was your turn to do the same.

And now that you had, you felt...lighter.

You felt better because Joe had a way of making all those nagging doubts vanish. With his words, his touch, and his unwavering love, he silenced every awful thought that had taken root in your mind. He reminded you of who you were, of what you meant to him, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so overwhelming. Instead of being weighed down, you felt grounded, tethered to the one person who could always make everything okay. Joe felt all of his worries wash away too. He only needed to see you happy, see you at peace, for his own peace and quiet to come back.

“I love you, Y/N. Never forget that,” he whispered to you before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him, letting his heartbeat soothe any remaining doubts in your mind.

For a while, the two of you sat there, cocooned in the stillness, calmness of the moment. The world outside might as well not have existed. Joe’s fingers never stopped their gentle motions, tracing patterns over your hand, his forehead occasionally brushing against yours.

Finally, you broke the silence with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”.

Joe blinked, caught off guard, before his lips curved into a playful smirk. “A worm?” he echoed, his eyebrow rising. “Like…an actual worm? Wiggles and all?”.

You nodded enthusiastically, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “Yes! Like if I just…poof, turned into a worm right now,”.

He pretended to consider this very serious question, his lips pursed and his gaze narrowing as though deep in thought. “Hmm…worms don’t have arms, so you couldn’t hug me like this,” he said, tightening his hold on you in an exaggerated squeeze. “But yeah, I’d love you. Because then I could finally keep you safe from everything and take care of you without you fighting me on it,”.

You burst out laughing, your head falling back against his chest as his words sank in. “Joe, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,”.

“And you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever loved,” he teased, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. “It’s a perfect match,”.

Your laughter softened into a warm, lingering smile as you gazed at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper there–tenderness, devotion, and a reminder of the unshakable love that made your chest ache in the best way.

As the playfulness settled, he reached up to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Everything might feel wrong in our life, but with each other? It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. "We just need us. That's all,".

Your heart swelled, a warmth spreading through you that no blanket could replicate. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and he hummed contentedly, pulling you closer. “See?” he murmured against your lips. “You’re stuck with me–worm or not,”.

And he meant that. He meant all of it. The two of you were meant to do this together, the connection between you was strong enough to outlast any storm that came your way. Joe knew you were his forever the night of his first date, and ever since then, he'd only made that clearer to you. It was just you and him, for the rest of your lives.

The bond you shared was unshakable, rooted in something far deeper than words could ever express. You both knew that no matter what life threw your way, as long as you were tethered to one another, the flame between you would never waver. It wasn’t just love—it was a connection so profound that it felt eternal, like the universe had stitched your hearts together with threads of stardust.

You didn’t need a ceremony to tell you what was already so obvious in the way he held you, spoke to you, and loved you. But the thought of that moment—when he would ask, when you would say yes—was enough to send a soft thrill through you.

Little did you know, that directly above you, inside the confines of his safe, sat the ring you had been dreaming of, waiting patiently for the right moment to appear on your finger. He had it since January, but he knew this was something so extraordinary that it could never be rushed.

And little did you know, that the moment you were dreaming of was coming sooner rather than later.

Until then, you found peace in the quiet certainty that your flame, your love, would burn brightly forever as long as you were together.

–The End–

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fic #joe burrow bengals #joey b #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #nfl imagine #joeburrow #joe burrow fan fic #cincinnati bengals #lsu joe #cigarettes after sex

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darkmatilda · 4 days ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her. He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief.

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location.

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

"Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

“Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

“Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

"Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control.

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it.

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth.

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else.

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength.

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you. That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

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