#michelle rants🌸

[venic-bxtch]

This made my Dallas-born heart happyyyyyyyyyyyyy

ok hear me out........

dcc!reader watching Rafe get hurt during a game. Maybe they get into a small fight before the game and it gets into Rafe's head a little too much and throws off his game mindset

Feel free to totally ignore this if you're not vibing with the idea! Anyways I love all of you're writings, keep up the amazing work queen!!!!!!

Duties to whom? || Nfl Player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

A/n: thank u for the request i love it!!!

Warnings: angst,

Word counts: 1,795

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

The locker room felt stifling, the tension between you and Rafe thick enough to choke on. You stood in front of the mirror, carefully fixing your lipstick with steady hands despite the storm brewing inside you. “Just get out,” you said bitterly, dabbing at the corner of your mouth before tossing the tissue onto the counter.

Rafe, still in his uniform, stared at you in disbelief. His hands were on his hips, his chest rising and falling as though he’d just come off the field. “What?” he snapped, his tone laced with frustration. You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Have you forgotten that we have jobs to do, Rafe?”

“Jobs?” he repeated, his voice rising as he took a step closer. “We haven’t even finished—” “Well, I’m finished!” you cut him off, spinning around to face him fully. Your eyes burned with the remnants of the argument that had spiralled out of control. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so just go.”

Rafe’s scoff echoed in the small room, his head tilting back in exasperation. “Unbelievable.” You turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet his gaze. The silence stretched out, broken only by the faint hum of the stadium crowd filtering through the walls. “You always do this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, but the accusation hit its mark.

“Do what?” you shot back, spinning on your heel. “Stand up for myself? Refuse to sit here while you act like you’re the only one who’s stressed? God forbid, right?” Rafe ran a hand through his damp hair, his frustration palpable. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it.” “Then what is it about, Rafe?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Because I’m tired of having this same fight over and over again. It’s exhausting.” For a moment, he didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, and he looked at you as though searching for the right words, something to break the cycle you were both caught in. “You think this is easy for me?” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less intense.

“Balancing all of this? The games, the media, us? I’m trying, okay? But every time I slip up, you act like I’m the bad guy.” You blinked, his words catching you off guard. “Just please,” you said, voice cracking as you turned to face him. “Get out, Rafe. I can’t perform like this!”

Your words hung in the air, and for a second, his expression flickered with something softer—regret, maybe—but it was quickly replaced by a storm of his own. “And you think I can?” he roared, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “you think it’s any easier for me?” “Well, you’re going to have to, aren’t you?” you snapped, your voice sharp as a whip.

The anger in your tone startled even you, but you didn’t care. You were too far gone, too wound up from his relentless push and pull. You turned back to the counter, furiously zipping up your makeup bag with enough force that the sound echoed in the quiet room. The air between you was suffocating, charged with unspoken feelings and unresolved tension.

“I don’t even know what you want from me anymore,” Rafe muttered, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I want you to stop!” you said, turning around to face him, your boots clicking loudly on the concrete floor as you moved. “Stop acting like everything’s about you! Like your stress is the only thing that matters. I have a job too, Rafe, and you—” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you pushed through.

“You’re making it impossible for me to do it right now.” He stared at you, his jaw tight, hands resting on his hips as if he was holding himself back from saying something he’d regret. You didn’t wait for a response. You couldn’t. Grabbing your pom poms, you stormed past him, your boots echoing with each step. “Good luck out there,” you threw over your shoulder, the words biting and sarcastic.

“Yeah, thanks for the support,” he called after you, but there was no real venom in his voice. Just frustration, layered with something that sounded an awful lot like defeat. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to. Not with the performance waiting for you just outside the tunnel and the man who could unravel you with a single glance standing behind you.

~

From the moment Rafe walked out onto the field, you could tell his head wasn’t screwed on properly. Even as you called out formations and checked on the other cheerleaders, your eyes kept drifting toward Rafe. Something about his movements was off—less sharp, less calculated. The usual precision that made him one of the best in the league wasn’t there, and you knew exactly why.

The argument in the locker room had been raw, cutting deeper than either of you realised at the time. You thought you’d tucked your emotions away, but the nagging guilt wouldn’t let up. And now, watching Rafe stumble through a game he’d normally dominate, it was clear he was still carrying the weight of your words.

This wasn’t how you wanted him to play—frustrated and reckless. By the second quarter, it was painfully obvious to everyone that Rafe wasn’t himself. His passes were less precise, his footwork shaky, and his frustration was evident in every misstep. The crowd, normally electric in their cheers for him, began to murmur uneasily.

“C’mon, Cameron,” one of the announcers said over the loudspeakers. “What’s going on with him tonight?” You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you watched him try to shake it off, slapping his helmet and pacing on the sidelines. You could see it in his body language—he was spiraling.

And then it happened. Midway through the third quarter, the Cowboys’ defensive line broke through, faster than Rafe had anticipated. He dropped back, eyes scanning the field for an open receiver, but his timing was off. His hesitation cost him. A linebacker barreled into him with full force, slamming him to the ground.

It happened to close to you, the impact was deafening, the sound of bodies colliding and helmets crashing together making your stomach lurch. The crowd gasped, the air heavy with tension as the trainers and medics rushed onto the field. You froze on the sidelines, your routine momentarily forgotten as Rafe crumpled to the ground.

You watched as he tried to sit up, his hand clutching his shoulder, pain etched into his features. The trainers helped him to his feet, and he waved off their attempts to cart him out, insisting he could walk. But the stiffness in his movements, the way he cradled his arm, told you it wasn’t minor. You didn’t even think about it.

The moment halftime hit, you were running toward the tunnel, ignoring the whispers of the staff your and the curious looks of the crowd. When you found him in the medical room, he was sitting on the edge of a table, his shoulder iced and his jersey pulled halfway off. He looked up when you entered, his expression darkening for a moment before softening as he took in your worried face.

“You’re supposed to be with your team,” he said flatly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “And you’re supposed to be on the field,” you shot back, stepping closer. “Are you okay?” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Took a hit. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” “Rafe…” Your voice broke slightly, and you stepped closer, your eyes scanning him for signs of serious injury.

Rafe looked away, jaw tightening. “I wasn’t focused,” he admitted, his tone low and bitter. “That hit? It’s on me. I let our fight get to me.” Your stomach churned. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t think—” “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he cut in, his eyes finally meeting yours. “You didn’t think. You just threw all that at me and expected me to shake it off like it didn’t matter.”

You flinched but held his gaze. Your guilt surged, and you bit your lip, unsure of what to say. Finally, you reached out, your hand brushing against his uninjured arm. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to throw you off. I was just… angry, and I took it out on you.” For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Rafe let out a heavy sigh, running his uninjured hand through his hair.

“Look, I know I wasn’t perfect out there tonight. But I can’t play when my head’s a mess. And you…” He trailed off, his voice softening. “You’re always in my head, and maybe that’s not always a good thing, but it’s the truth," A soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the tension, and despite yourself, a small smile cracked across your face. You stepped closer, hesitating before resting your hand on his good shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “For making it harder. For not realising how much you care.” Rafe glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours. “We’re both under a lot of pressure, but we can’t keep doing this." You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I’ll try harder. I promise.” He gave you a small, tired smile, the tension between you easing just slightly. “Me too.”

The sounds of the stadium filtered in from the hallway, a steady hum of cheers and announcements. It was a stark reminder that both of you had jobs waiting, responsibilities to uphold no matter what had just unfolded between you. “I gotta head back before Kelli and Judy ask for my head,” you sighed, the weight of your position tugging at you. But before you turned away, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

It was brief, but it held everything you couldn’t yet put into words—an apology, a reassurance, a promise. Rafe’s lips quirked into a lazy grin as you pulled back, his usual cockiness tempered by the warmth in his eyes. “I’ll survive,” he teased, his voice rough but lighter than before. “You know me—tough as nails.” “You’ll be okay,” you murmured, your hand lingering on his uninjured shoulder for a moment longer.

It was a gentle touch, meant to steady him, to remind him that no matter what had happened earlier, you were still here. He nodded, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “I always am.” With a reluctant sigh, you turned and made your way back toward the tunnel, the click of your boots echoing in the corridor. You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you straightened your shoulders and stepped back into the bright lights of the stadium.

[venic-bxtch]

Joe x wife reader = romantic getaway

⋆·˚ ༘ *Husband!Joe x Wife!Reader ⋆·˚ ༘ *

The gentle hum of the plane’s engine was the only sound as you leaned your head on Joe’s shoulder, watching the horizon melt into shades of pink and gold. His fingers lazily traced patterns on the back of your hand, his touch warm and familiar. It was rare to get moments like this—just the two of you, away from the noise, away from his demanding schedule, and away from the endless pull of responsibilities. This trip was something you both needed, and the excitement of what lay ahead was already bubbling in your chest.

As the plane touched down on the private island, Joe turned to you with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Ready for paradise?” he asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, a matching smile tugging at your lips. “Lead the way, Burrow.”

The resort was straight out of a dream: white sand beaches, crystal-clear water, and your own private villa tucked away from the world. As you stepped into the villa, you couldn’t help but gasp. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the ocean, the soft sound of waves lapping at the shore creating an instant sense of calm. A king-sized bed draped in sheer white fabric sat in the center of the room, and outside on the deck, a private infinity pool sparkled under the sun.

Joe dropped your bags by the door and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Worth it?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You leaned back into him, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the peace of the moment wash over you. “More than worth it,” you whispered. “This is perfect.”

The first day was spent doing nothing but relaxing. Joe insisted on carrying you into the pool, your laughter echoing through the air as he spun you around before gently lowering you into the water. You spent hours just floating there together, the weight of the world forgotten as you talked about everything and nothing. Later, he ordered room service—a luxurious spread of fresh seafood and tropical cocktails—and the two of you ate on the deck as the sun dipped below the horizon.

That evening, Joe surprised you with a candlelit bath on the deck, the tub filled with rose petals and the soft glow of lanterns casting a romantic light over the space. He poured you a glass of wine and slid into the water beside you, pulling you close until your back was resting against his chest.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” he admitted, his voice soft as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your arm. “Just you and me. No distractions.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes. “Me too,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

His expression softened further as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and sweet, as if he had all the time in the world. And in that moment, it felt like he did.

The next day, Joe insisted on taking you on an adventure. He rented a boat, and the two of you spent the morning exploring hidden coves and snorkeling in the vibrant coral reefs. You laughed as he tried—and failed—to catch a fish with his bare hands, his competitive streak getting the better of him as he splashed around in the water. By the time you returned to the villa, your cheeks were sore from smiling, and your heart felt lighter than it had in months.

That evening, the resort had arranged a private dinner on the beach. A table for two was set up under a canopy of twinkling lights, the sound of the waves providing the perfect background music. Joe pulled out your chair for you, ever the gentleman, and the two of you shared a meal that felt like something out of a movie.

As the night went on, Joe reached across the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring. “I know things have been hectic lately,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I want you to know how much you mean to me. How grateful I am for you—for us.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you squeezed his hand. “I know, Joe. And I feel the same way. I wouldn’t trade this life with you for anything.”

He smiled then, that soft, boyish grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The night ended with the two of you dancing barefoot in the sand, the stars overhead and the world fading away until it was just you and him. As he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you realized that moments like this were what it was all about. No matter how busy life got, no matter the challenges that came your way, as long as you had each other, you had everything.

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

[venic-bxtch]

For Jack Harlow wife threatens divorce after he said he would stop traveling so much when they got married but now he is barely in their child’s life because of work

ꕥHusband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader ꕥ

Tw: angst

The argument started small—just another one of those quiet, tense moments that had become all too familiar lately. Jack had come home late, barely in time to kiss your son goodnight, and you’d watched from the doorway as your little boy clung to him, his sleepy voice murmuring, “Don’t go again, Daddy.”

That had been the breaking point. After tucking your son into bed, you found Jack in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. The sight of him so oblivious made something inside you snap.

“Jack,” you said, your voice sharp enough to make him look up. “We need to talk.”

He set his phone down, already sensing the storm brewing. “What’s wrong?”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady even though the lump in your throat threatened to choke you. “What’s wrong is that our son barely knows his father anymore. What’s wrong is that you promised me things would change after we got married, but they haven’t.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, his eyes flickering with confusion—and maybe a little guilt. “What are you talking about? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You’re here now,” you repeated bitterly. “But for how long? A day? Two? Before you’re off to another show or interview or god knows what else? Jack, you said you’d cut back. You said you’d prioritize us.”

“I am prioritizing us,” he said defensively, running a hand through his curls. “I’m doing this for us—for you and for him. To make sure we have everything we need.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jack, we don’t need more money or a bigger house or whatever else you think this is about. We need you. I need you, and our son needs you. But you’re barely here long enough to notice what’s going on in his life. Do you even know that he started saying full sentences last month? Or that he’s been scared of the dark lately?”

His face fell at that, and for a moment, you thought you’d gotten through to him. But then he sighed, his frustration clear as he ran both hands over his face. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to balance everything. It’s not as simple as just staying home.”

“No, you’re not trying,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You’re making a choice, Jack. And right now, you’re choosing work over your family.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone sharp now. “You knew who I was when you married me. You knew this was part of my life.”

“I married you because I loved you,” you said, your voice breaking. “Because I believed you when you said you wanted to build a life together. But this? This isn’t a life. It’s me raising our child alone while you chase your dreams, and I’m done pretending that’s okay.”

Jack stared at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes clouded with emotion. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if something doesn’t change, I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your heart breaking even as you said the words. “I won’t stay in a marriage where I feel like I’m the only one fighting for us. And I won’t let our son grow up feeling like he’s not enough to make you stay.”

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. Jack looked like you’d just punched him in the gut, his shoulders slumping as he processed what you’d said. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re threatening to leave me?”

“I don’t want to,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now. “But I can’t keep living like this, Jack. I can’t keep watching our son miss you and pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Jack swallowed hard, his eyes glistening as he stepped closer to you. “I don’t want to lose you. Either of you.”

“Then prove it,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “Show me that we’re more than just an afterthought. Be the man and the father you promised you’d be.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the floor as he wrestled with his thoughts. When he finally looked up, there was a determination in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I’ve been neglecting what matters most. I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to miss out on our son’s life. I’ll make changes. I swear I will.”

You nodded, wiping at your tears but not quite ready to believe him yet. “I hope so, Jack. Because I can’t keep holding this together on my own.”

He reached out then, hesitating for a moment before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself lean into him, your head resting against his chest as his hand gently rubbed your back.

“I’ll fix this,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But for now, all you could do was wait and see if Jack would keep his promise.

Taglist: @tylerjeauxburreaux9 @iknowdatsrightbih @ikeepitlight @harlowcomehome @harlowsbby @blackynsupremacy @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses

[venic-bxtch]

-‘๑’- Happy Birthday Joey!!! -‘๑’- •·.·'Joe Burrow x sweetheart!reader'·.·•

It was a crisp December morning, and Joe Burrow’s birthday had arrived—though he wasn’t one to make a big deal about it. You, however, had other plans. Knowing how busy his life was, especially during football season, you wanted to give him a day that felt personal and special, no matter how simple.

Joe woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. The faint sound of music played in the background as you moved around the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized Bengals hoodies, carefully icing the rolls.

“Good morning, Birthday Boy,” you said with a warm smile as Joe wandered into the kitchen, his hair a mess and his expression soft with curiosity.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. But the way his lips quirked into a smile made it clear how much he appreciated the effort.

“I wanted to,” you replied, setting a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs in front of him. “It’s your day. Let me spoil you a little.”

The morning passed lazily, filled with laughter, lighthearted teasing, and the occasional stolen kiss. After breakfast, you handed him a small, neatly wrapped box. His eyebrows raised slightly as he unwrapped it, revealing a custom leather-bound notebook with “JB9” embossed on the front.

“I know you’re always jotting down notes or ideas,” you said softly. “I thought you could use something special.”

Joe flipped through the pages, running his fingers over the cover, and smiled. “This is perfect,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “Thank you.”

Later that evening, after Joe returned from a light team workout, you whisked him away to a private dinner you’d arranged with his closest friends and family. The evening was filled with good food, laughter, and even a custom cake shaped like a football, complete with “Happy Birthday, QB1” written in orange and black icing.

As the night wound down, you and Joe ended up back at his place, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. He pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both sank into the couch.

“You really outdid yourself today,” he said, his voice warm as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “This is probably the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “You do so much for everyone else, Joe. I just wanted to make sure you felt how loved you are.”

Joe tightened his hold on you, his voice soft. “You do that every day.”

In that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Joe couldn’t imagine a better way to celebrate his birthday and his win than with you by his side.

A/n: Happy Birthday joeyyyyy!!!

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @joeyfranchise @joeybsboo @funnyjb @nami-swannn @blackynsupremacy @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @burreauxpop @platinumsim @tylerjeauxburreaux9

[venic-bxtch]

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

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

ೃ࿐Paris Fasion Week ೃ࿐

ೃJoe Burrow x Reader ೃ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[venic-bxtch]

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ Meet-Cute ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼Joe Burrow x Ambitious!reader✼

Based on this ask: Hi! Can I request a JB fic where the girl isn’t much interested in the NFL and really focused on work or maybe finding work and then meets Joe. Like their meet cute and him pining for her if that’s okay? Thank you

⭒❃.✮:▹ A/N: LOVEEEEE, this idea🫶🏾

Warnings: none…just fluff as fluffy as a marshmallow!!!

She wasn’t like the other people at the gym. Joe could tell that the second he spotted her on the treadmill, jogging like she was on a mission, earbuds firmly in, completely ignoring everything and everyone.

He wasn’t used to being ignored. People usually gave him a double-take or tried to sneak a photo. But she didn’t even glance his way, and for some reason, that made her more interesting.

Joe wiped his hands on his towel, telling himself to let it go. She probably didn’t want to be bothered. But when he saw her frowning at the screen on her treadmill like it had personally wronged her, he couldn’t help it. He wandered over, hopping onto the treadmill next to hers.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out one of his earbuds.

She startled, glancing at him briefly. “Uh, hi?”

“You’ve got a good pace going,” he said, throwing out the first thing that came to mind.

She snorted—an actual snort—and he liked her even more. “Sure, if the goal is ‘don’t collapse in public.’”

Joe chuckled, slowing his treadmill to match her pace. “That’s a solid goal.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, and for a second, Joe forgot where he was. There was something about the way her face lit up that made him want to keep her smiling.

“I’m just trying to not freak out before this interview,” she admitted, pulling out her own earbuds.

“Big interview?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

“Sort of,” she said. “It’s my third one this week, and I’m trying to stay optimistic, but it’s been… rough.”

Joe nodded, genuinely interested. “What’s the job?”

“Marketing,” she said, grabbing her water bottle. “But everyone wants experience I don’t have.”

“That’s tough,” he said. “You’ll get there, though. Sounds like you’re hustling.”

Her lips twitched, like she wasn’t used to hearing that kind of encouragement. “Thanks. What about you? You here to blow off steam too?”

Joe hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Kinda. I’m here for football. Gotta stay in shape.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You play football?”

“Yeah,” he said. “For the Bengals.”

She blinked at him, expression unreadable. “Like… professionally?”

“Yeah.”

There it was. The moment people usually lit up or started asking questions. But she just nodded like he’d told her he worked at the post office.

“Cool,” she said. “Not really my thing, but that’s cool.”

He couldn’t believe it. “You’re not a football fan?”

“Not really,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I mean, I know the basics, but I couldn’t name more than, like, two players. Sorry.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “That’s actually kinda nice.”

“What is?”

“Talking to someone who doesn’t care about all that,” he said honestly.

Her smile widened a little, and he felt his chest tighten. She had no idea who he was, but she was still talking to him like he mattered. He wanted to keep her here, to keep the conversation going, to learn more about the determined, slightly frazzled woman in front of him.

But she checked her watch and groaned. “I gotta go. Thanks for the pep talk, though. Uh… sorry, what was your name again?”

“Joe,” he said, grinning.

“Right. Well, thanks, Joe. Good luck with… football.”

As she walked away, Joe watched her go, his heart sinking a little. He didn’t even get her name.

Still, he couldn’t help the stupid smile that stayed on his face the rest of the day. And when he showed up at the gym the next morning at the same time, it wasn’t just for the workout.

Taglist: @joeybsboo @heavyhitterheaux @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih

[venic-bxtch]

Reader and Joe at LSU- football player x cheerleader trope

✧*̥˚Wishful Thinking˚

-ˋˏ[LSU!Joe Burrow x LSU cheerleader!reader]ˎˊ

The Louisiana heat clings to the air as the football team practices under the bright stadium lights. The cheer squad lines the sideline, running through routines, but your eyes keep drifting to Joe Burrow, the star quarterback. You swear he catches you staring every time he glances over, but you chalk it up to wishful thinking.

You’re mid-pyramid when a whistle blows, signaling the end of practice. The cheer squad collapses into laughter and chatter, packing up pom-poms and water bottles, but you can feel someone watching you.

“Hey! Y/N!”a deep voice calls from behind.

Turning, you see Joe, his helmet tucked under his arm, a playful grin on his face. His practice jersey clings to him in all the right ways, and his messy hair is damp with sweat.

“Hi, Joe,” you say, trying to sound casual, though your heart is pounding.

He gestures toward your cheer bag. “You guys work just as hard as we do out here. Maybe harder. You ever get tired of watching us?”

You laugh. “Not when the team’s this good.”

He steps closer, his grin widening. “Or is it just me you’re watching?”

Your cheeks heat up, but you don’t back down. “You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you, Burrow?”

“Only because you give me a reason to,” he counters smoothly. “What do you say we grab some food after the game Friday? Win or lose, I owe you for all those cheers.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “Only if you promise to throw at least three touchdowns. No pressure or anything.”

Joe chuckles, his confidence never wavering. “Deal. But just so you know, I’d have asked you even if we were playing dodgeball.” He pokes fun at your mistake.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Alright, Burrow. Don’t mess up on my account.”

He winks, backing away toward his teammates. “Never.”

As he jogs off, you hear one of your cheer friends teasing, “Looks like you’ve got the QB’s attention.”

You can’t help but smile, watching him go. “Maybe.”

But inside, you’re already counting down the days to Friday night.

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @iknowdatsrightbih @ikeepitlight @blackynsupremacy @joeybsboo @funnyjb @tylerjeauxburreaux9

[venic-bxtch]

Me Fr tho.

[venic-bxtch]

Can you do the career day thing for jack as well? 🫣

I’m bout to read the one you did for joe

🍓

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Career Day! ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The kindergarten classroom was buzzing with excitement, tiny voices chattering about the different parents coming to talk about their jobs. Your daughter, Ava, was practically bouncing in her seat, clutching Jack’s hand as they waited for their turn.

“Are you nervous, Daddy?” Ava whispered, her curls bouncing as she tilted her head up at him.

Jack grinned, adjusting his curly hair and the microphone he brought for his little “demo.” “Nervous? Me? Nah, I’ve played for crowds bigger than this.” He winked at her, earning a giggle.

When it was Ava’s turn, she marched up to the front of the room, pulling Jack along. “This is my dad! He’s Jack Harlow, and he’s a rapper!” she announced proudly, her voice ringing with confidence.

The kids gasped, a few whispering to each other. One boy blurted out, “What’s a rapper?”

Jack crouched down to their level, smiling warmly. “A rapper is someone who tells stories with music. I write songs and perform them for people all over the world.”

“Can you rap for us?” another kid asked, eyes wide.

Jack chuckled, glancing at Ava. “What do you think, Ava? Should I?”

Ava nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands. “Yes, do the one about me!”

He stood up, grabbing the microphone he’d brought, and beatboxed a simple rhythm. Then he rapped a playful, kid-friendly verse he wrote just for the day:

“My name’s Jack Harlow, and I’m here to say,

My daughter Ava makes my every day.

She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s cooler than me,

The best little boss you’ll ever see!”

The kids erupted into cheers and applause. Ava beamed, looking at her classmates. “Told you my dad is the coolest!”

Jack spent the rest of his time answering questions like, “Do you know Taylor Swift?” and “Can you sing about my dog?” He even helped the kids come up with their own simple rhymes, which they performed together.

As they left the classroom, Ava squeezed Jack’s hand. “You’re the best dad ever.”

Jack smiled down at her, his heart full. “And you’re my favorite audience, baby girl.”

Taglist: @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @blackynsupremacy @ikeepitlight @harlowsbby @harlowcomehome

[venic-bxtch]

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ Meet-Cute ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼Joe Burrow x Ambitious!reader✼

✼pt.2✼

Joe showed up at the gym the next morning, earlier than usual. It wasn’t like he was desperate or anything—he just happened to feel like switching up his routine.

Right. Sure.

He scanned the room as he walked in, towel slung over his shoulder, trying to be casual. And there she was, back on the treadmill, jogging at that same determined pace. You were focused, earbuds in, and entirely in your own world.

Joe wandered over to the free weights, pretending to stretch while sneaking glances at her. You had no idea he was there—again. It was kind of infuriating but also weirdly endearing.

He waited until you slowed to a walk, then grabbed a bottle of water and made his way over, trying to act like he wasn’t counting every step.

“Hey,” he said casually, hopping onto the treadmill next to hers.

You glanced over, eyebrows raising in recognition. “Oh. Football guy.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s one way to remember me.”

“Joe, right?” You said, wiping your forehead with her sleeve.

He grinned, absurdly pleased you remembered. “Yeah. And you are…?”

Your face lit up with a sheepish smile. “Oh. I never told you, did I? It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, testing it out. “Nice to officially meet you.”

You slowed her treadmill to a stop and hopped off, grabbing your water bottle. “So, Joe, you always this friendly, or do you just make it a habit to harass strangers on treadmills?”

“Only the ones who look like they’re having a terrible time,” he shot back, smiling.

You laughed, “Fair enough. And what about you? Back for round two of your usual routine?”

“Something like that,” he said. “Thought I’d see if you got the job.”

Your smile faltered, and you shook your head. “Not this time. But there’s always next week.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, genuinely meaning it. “What are they, blind? They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You gave him a look, like you couldn’t tell if he was serious or just being nice. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. What about you? Big game coming up?”

He hesitated, realizing she had no idea who he really was. She didn’t know about the upcoming season, the pressure, or the fact that half the city expected him to carry the Bengals back to the playoffs.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, keeping it vague. “But, uh, I wouldn’t want to bore you with football stuff.”

“Good call,” you said with a grin.

He laughed again, unable to help himself. God, she was something else.

As you grabbed her stuff to leave, he blurted out, “Hey, can I get your number?”

You froze, glancing back at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. “You want my number?”

He nodded, trying to keep his cool. “You know, so I can check in on how the job hunt’s going. Strictly motivational purposes.”

“Right,” you said, biting back a smile. “Motivational.”

Joe shrugged, his grin widening. “You seem like you could use a good cheerleader.”

You paused, then reached into your bag and pulled out a scrap of paper. Scribbling something down, you handed it to him.

“Don’t make me regret this, Football Guy.”

He took the paper, feeling a rush of victory. “I won’t. Promise.”

As you walked away, he glanced down at the number, your name written neatly underneath.

This time, he knew exactly who you were. And there was no way he was letting yiu slip away again.

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @joeybsboo @funnyjb @crispppykreme @nami-swannn @tylerjeauxburreaux9 @platinumsim

@joeyfranchise @blackynsupremacy

[venic-bxtch]

Telling Joe he’s going to be a father for the first time

A/N: eeek!!! So cuteee🫶🏾love this idea

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫Mini Burrow ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

·˚ ༘Joe Burrow x Reader ·˚ ༘

Synopsis: You tell Joe that he’s gonna be a dad soon!!

Joe comes home from practice, his bag slung over his shoulder and exhaustion etched into his features. You’ve spent the entire day deciding how to break the news, oscillating between nerves and excitement. A small box rests on the coffee table, wrapped simply but meaningfully.

As he kicks off his shoes, he notices the box.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice laced with curiosity, though his tired smile softens the question.

“Just a little surprise,” you reply, sitting across from him with your hands clasped to hide your trembling fingers.

Joe quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t hesitate. He picks up the box, pulls off the ribbon, and opens it to reveal a tiny pair of baby shoes with “Burrow Jr.” stitched on one side. Nestled beside it is a note that reads, Coming Soon, Quarterback #2.

His eyes widen, and he looks at you, his expression shifting from confusion to realization.

“Are you serious?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to believe it.

You nod, tears pooling in your eyes. “Yeah, Joe. You’re going to be a dad.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, dropping the box on the table as he scoops you into his arms. You can feel his heart pounding against yours as he holds you tightly, his voice trembling.

“I can’t believe this,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re amazing. This is amazing. I’m going to be a dad.”

He kisses you softly, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. For a moment, the weight of the world he carries as an NFL quarterback is gone, replaced by pure joy and wonder.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach someone to throw a spiral better than I can?” he jokes, but his watery eyes give away just how deeply the moment is affecting him.

You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “We’ll see about that, Coach Burrow.”

Taglist: @joeybsboo @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih @heavyhitterheaux @funnyjb @blackynsupremacy @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @tylerjeauxburreaux9

[venic-bxtch]

JB request Please.

Reader and Joe get into an argument that has them questioning their future with each other.

˗ˏˋWhat’s left for us?´ˎ˗

ꕥJoe Burrow x Reader ꕥ

SYNOPSIS:

The relationship between Joe and You has been strained due to your clashing schedules. You’ve been deeply immersed in finding stable work, while Joe’s demanding NFL career keeps him constantly on the go. The tension reaches its boiling point after Joe unexpectedly cancels your dinner plans for a last-minute team meeting.

You pace the living room, the untouched takeout containers growing colder by the minute. You’ve been waiting for over an hour, your frustration building. Joe finally walks in, his hair damp from the rain and his phone still in hand.

“Hey,” he says, his tone light as if nothing’s wrong. “Sorry, the meeting ran longer than I thought—”

“Are you kidding me, Joe?” You cut him off, your voice sharp. “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here? Waiting?”

Joe frowns, clearly caught off guard. “I said I’m sorry. It wasn’t something I could just skip.”

“That’s the problem!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. “Everything else in your life feels like a priority except me! How am I supposed to fit into this, Joe? Or do you even want me to?”

His face hardens, defensive. “That’s not fair. You knew what you were signing up for when we started this. My career isn’t something I can just put on hold.”

“I’m not asking you to put it on hold,” you snap. “I’m asking you to make an effort. To show me that I matter as much as football does.”

Joe’s jaw tightens. “You think I don’t care? I’ve been trying to balance everything, but it’s not enough for you, is it? You want me to choose—”

“I want you to stop making me feel like an afterthought!” You yell, your voice breaking.

The room falls silent.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. “But I don’t know how to do this better. Help me figure it out, please.”

You blink back tears, torn between anger and the love you still feel for him. “I can’t be the only one trying, Joe. If we’re going to make this work, we both have to want it. Do you?”

Joe steps closer, reaching for her hand. “I do. More than anything. Just… don’t give up on me.”

Your gaze softens, though the hurt remains. “I won’t. But we have to start being honest with each other. No more pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Joe nods, his grip on your hand firm. “Deal.”

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @joeybsboo @blackynsupremacy @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @funnyjb

[venic-bxtch]

Telling your daughter you’re expanding you’re family featuring Joe

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Big News! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It was a cozy evening at home. You and Joe sat on the couch, your daughter, Ariadne, perched between you with her favorite stuffed tiger in her lap. She was carefully arranging stickers in her scrapbook, her little brows furrowed in focus.

Joe nudged her gently, a warm smile on his face. “Hey, Ari? Daddy has something really exciting to tell you.”

She looked up, tilting her head. “What is it? Did you win another game?”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Not football-related this time. It’s about our family.”

Ariadne’s eyes widened as she leaned closer. “Are we getting a puppy?”

You laughed, stroking her curly hair. “Not a puppy, sweetie. It’s even better. We’re going to have a baby.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she blinked at both of you. “A baby? Like… a real baby? Where’s it going to sleep? In my room?”

Joe grinned, pulling her onto his lap. “Not in your room, don’t worry. But they’re going to need a big sister to show them the ropes. Think you’re up for it?”

Ariadne’s face lit up as the news sank in. “I’m gonna be a big sister?” She beamed, bouncing slightly. “I get to teach them stuff, right? Like how to color and sing songs and play catch?”

“Exactly,” Joe said, kissing the top of her head. “They’re going to look up to you so much, Ariadne.”

She hugged her tiger close, her excitement bubbling over. “This is so cool! I’ll teach them everything! But…” She paused, looking thoughtful. “What if they cry a lot?”

You and Joe exchanged amused glances. “That’s part of being a baby,” you said gently. “But we’ll all take care of them together. You’ll help, won’t you?”

Ariadne nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ll be the best big sister ever! Can we start practicing now? I can show the baby how to hold a football!”

Joe laughed, pulling her into a hug. “You’re already a pro at this big sister thing.”

As the evening went on, Ariadne’s excitement filled the house. Watching her plan all the ways she’d love and teach her new sibling, Joe turned to you with a soft smile. “She’s going to be amazing, isn’t she?”

“She learned from the best,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, your heart full.

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @joeybsboo @joeyfranchise @nami-swannn @blackynsupremacy @inmyfeelingsgnocchi

[venic-bxtch]

Joe being with your daughter at career day

A/N: Ofccc!!

⋆·˚ ༘ *Career-Day!⋆·˚ ༘ *

The classroom was buzzing with excitement. Tiny chairs lined the colorful rug as parents prepared to share their jobs. Your five-year-old daughter, Lily, held tightly to Joe’s hand, her eyes sparkling with pride.

“Are you ready, Daddy?” she whispered, looking up at him.

Joe smiled down at her, adjusting the football he’d brought for his mini demonstration. “I’m ready if you are, Lil.”

When it was her turn, Lily boldly introduced him: “This is my dad, Joe. He’s a football player, and he’s the BEST quarterback ever!”

The room erupted into excited whispers as Joe knelt down to Lily’s height. “Thanks, sweetie. Hi, everyone! I play football for a job, which means I get to work with a team and throw a lot of these,” he said, holding up the ball.

One boy raised his hand immediately. “Do you play for the Bengals?”

Joe chuckled. “I sure do.”

Another kid asked, “Do you win a lot?”

Lily interjected before Joe could answer, puffing out her chest. “Of course! My dad’s the best at winning!”

Joe ruffled her hair, amused. “We work hard as a team, and that’s what matters.” He then showed the kids how to hold the football properly and even let them take turns practicing throws.

When career day wrapped up, the teacher pulled Joe aside. “Lily talks about you all the time. It’s wonderful for the kids to see such a positive role model.”

Joe glanced at Lily, now chatting animatedly with her classmates. His heart swelled with pride. “She’s the real MVP here.”

On the car ride home, Lily beamed. “You’re the coolest dad ever!”

Joe laughed softly, thinking that being her dad was the best job of all.

[venic-bxtch]

Boop!

rb to give your mutuals a little boop on the nose :3

[ghostedeabha]

‪₊˚ 𓂃˖ 𝜗𝜚 ｡˚₊. about me ໒꒰ྀི˶ᵔᆺᵔ˶ ꒱ྀིა‬♡;

🫀 name; éabha-áine (ey-va awn-ye) / sanaa (sahn-nah)

💌 nicknames/petnames; eve/evie, awnie, san, bunny, doll/dolly, princess, hun/honey, sweetheart, darling, حبيبتي (habibti), really any fem petnames are okay!

☦️ eastern orthodox christian, radfem (not a terf), pro-palestine, canadian

🧸 audhd, bpd, cptsd/ptsd, chronically ill/disabled

🩹 age + bday; 21 | 24/10 '02

🎀 likes; bunnies, sharks, cats, morute aesthetic, agere, plushies, sanrio, shawarma, hummus, weed, lemonade, raspberries, strawberries, cheesecake, hot chocolate, tea, lemon iced tea, gloomy coquette, gloomy dollette, dolls/doll collecting/haunted dolls, living dolls, reading, writing, dark romance, pink/purple/grey/black, moths, fashion

🐇 fav movies/shows; bob's burgers, criminal minds, gravity falls, girl intereupted, pearl, gone girl, svtfoe, bridgerton, pride and prejudice, suburban gothic

🌸 music; baby bugs, solya, nemhasis, mitski, lana, evenessance, jesse welles, bambi baker, marina, fairuz, skz, twice, g-idle, ethel cain, ayesha erotica, chappel roan, elyanna

💉 games; call of duty: mw, genshin, animal crossing: nh, sally face, little missfortune, call of duty: ghosts, minecraft, yandere simulator

🩰 youtubers; stephanie soo/rotten mango, lenalifts, michelle mcdaniel, mirubunnie, darling desi, safiya nygaard, bahja abdi, janet ndomahina, jasmyne theodora, yodeline light

🍼 no; masc petnames, agere fetishizing, trans/homophobic rants/slurs, racism, ableism

🍰 pls interact; cod girlies, fanfic lovers, girlbloggers, doll collectors, fanfic writers, masked men lovers, anyone who wants to really, biker lovers,

🦷 dni; zionists, bigots, misogynists, anti-religion, homophobes, transphobes, racists, ddlg blogs/fetishists, people who sexualize agere, minors, incels, creeps, porn/OF blogs

🐰 hiya! i'm éabha-áine, or sanaa, and welcome to my blog :3 i write fanfics, post/reblog some random stuff i like. i'm really into the morute and gloomy coquette/dollette aesthetics and plan to turn myself into a living doll one day! i'm an Orthodox Christian and radfem, but i'm very loving of my brothers and sisters of all religions (or lack-there-of). anything bolded above (other than my dni) are my special interests/hyperfixations, so if you're also into them feel free to send an ask to chat about it! feel free to send asks for requests or just to chat about your day! God Bless, and all my love! – éabha♡