thestrugglewithin

[thestrugglewithin]

Lines We Cross - Joe Burrow

Summary: A small lie in the heat of the moment leads to unforeseen consequences. Sometimes, pretending feels a little too real.

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, mentions of injury

Author’s note: This fic was inspired by the events of Bengals vs Steelers game. This is only a work of fiction. Also not proofread.

The stadium buzzed with electric energy as you settled into your seat at the paycor stadium. The air was crisp, the perfect night for football, and the roar of Bengals fans clad in orange and black, on their feet, waving banners, faces painted with tiger stripes, echoed through the stands. The smell of beer, popcorn, and adrenaline hung heavy in the air. It was chaos, but it was also magic—the kind of energy that could make you believe anything was possible.

You couldn’t help but feel the excitement coursing through your veins as you watched Joe step onto the field, his usual confident swagger on full display. The crowd erupted, chanting his name, and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him. It was a big game, and the stakes were high.

It had been a wild ride for him since his LSU days, and you’d been there every step of the way. Watching him thrive in the NFL felt surreal.

To the rest of the world, Joe Burrow was the golden boy quarterback, the face of the Bengals. To you, though, he was just Joe—your best friend since elementary school, the guy who put glue in your hair as a prank, then spent the whole afternoon trying to fix it with water and paper towels.

You sat in the stands with your Bengals jersey pulled tight and your heart beating harder than it probably should. This wasn’t your first time at one of Joe’s games, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was because every time he threw a pass or took a hit, you felt it like it was happening to you.

Being Joe’s best friend was hard enough—being secretly in love with him was a whole other level of torture.

Not that you’d ever admit it to him.

The game was intense. Joe was in the zone, moving the ball downfield with precision, but the opposing team wasn’t letting up. You cheered with the rest of the crowd, your voice hoarse from shouting. The Bengals were up by three points in the third quarter when it happened.

The pocket collapsed in a split second, and before Joe could release the ball, he was hit. Hard. One defender wrapped him up around the waist while another came barreling in from the side, slamming him to the turf.

The stadium fell silent as he stayed on the ground longer than he should have.

Your stomach dropped.

The medical staff rushed onto the field, and your world narrowed. Without a second thought, you stood, your legs moving before your brain could catch up.

You wove through the stands, brushing past strangers who barely seemed to notice you, all their attention fixed on the field. You didn’t care about the looks you got, didn’t care about the rules. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a frantic rhythm driving you forward.

By the time you reached the tunnel, your breath was coming in short gasps, your pulse roaring in your ears. But just as you tried to push forward, two security guards stepped in front of you, hands raised to stop you.

“Sorry, miss, you can’t go through,” one of them said.

“I need to see him,” you said, voice trembling. “I need to know he’s okay.”

“I'm sorry but only medical personnel and team staff are allowed- ”

“I have to see him. I’m his girlfriend!” you blurted, the lie tumbling out faster than your brain could stop it.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your palms grew clammy as you felt the weight of what you’d just said. The words felt foreign, wrong even, but they were out there now, hanging in the air like a challenge.

The staff exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of skepticism and uncertainty.

“Wait here,” one of them said curtly, before disappearing down the dimly lit tunnel.

You let out a shaky breath as he walked away, but the relief was short-lived. What were you going to say to Joe? That you’d panicked and lied to get back here? That you couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him? The lie had spilled out before you could stop it, but there was no taking it back now.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, wringing your hands, every nerve in your body wound tight. And then, at last, you heard footsteps echoing down the tunnel.

Joe emerged, limping slightly, his gait uneven but otherwise he looked fine. Relief crashed over you like a wave, and a shaky breath escaped your lips before you even realized you’d been holding it.

His gaze found yours instantly, locking onto you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken all over again. Even from a distance, you could see it—the faintest curve of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, equal parts mischief and reassurance.

“They told me my girlfriend was demanding to see me,” he said, his grin widening as he approached.

Your arms folded across your chest, more out of reflex than defiance. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck and settling on your cheeks, but you ignored it.

“I had to say something,” you replied quickly, your tone defensive. “They weren’t going to let me through otherwise.”

He stopped a few feet in front of you, his head tilted to the side in mock curiosity, those blue eyes of his sparkling with mischief.

“So, you’re my girlfriend now?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the upper hand despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Don’t get used to it, Burrow,” you shot back, your voice sharp, though the edge was dulled by the waver you couldn’t quite hide.

His laugh—soft, low, and undeniably boyish—filled the space between you, and your resolve nearly cracked. That grin, the one that had been the undoing of countless defenses, was aimed squarely at you. It made your heart ache in a way you’d never admit, not even to yourself.

“Well, girlfriend,” he teased, leaning slightly closer, “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

You frowned, refusing to let him charm his way out of this.

“You didn’t look fine when those guys landed on you,” you muttered, your eyes darting to the trainers hovering just a few feet away. “You should’ve been more careful.”

His amusement softened into something gentler, and he took a step closer, closing the already small distance between you. His voice was quieter now, meant just for you.

“You were worried about me.”

“Of course I was worried.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cursed yourself for how raw they sounded. Desperate to cover the slip, you stumbled over your next sentence.

“You’re my—” You hesitated, your heart thudding in your chest. “You’re my best friend.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. He didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Your frustration flared, partly at him but mostly at yourself. “Don’t read into it, Joe. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said smoothly, though his tone told you he already had. “But for the record, you’re a pretty convincing girlfriend. Might have to keep you around for emergencies.”

You scoffed, but the way his eyes softened when he looked at you made it hard to stay mad.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning slightly to hide your face and the heat you knew was there.

“And you care more than you want to admit,” he countered, his voice following you.

Before you could muster a response, one of the trainers called Joe’s name from the sidelines, motioning for him to return. His head turned in their direction, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he lingered, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant for you and you alone. “Since you’re my girlfriend now, I think it’s only fair you give me a good luck kiss before I go back out there.”

Your heart lurched, a sudden fluttering that stole your breath and left you momentarily stunned. You narrowed your eyes, hoping to mask the way his words sent a thrill through you.

“Don’t push your luck, Burrow,” you shot back, your voice steadier than you expected.

“Come on,” he teased, his tone as smooth as silk. “Just a little one. For good luck. You don’t want me going out there unlucky, do you?”

For a second, you hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment hung between you and then, without thinking any further, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The second your lips made contact, Joe froze, his body stiffening slightly as if your touch had short-circuited his usual easy confidence. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he didn’t move, the surprise in his expression almost comical.

You pulled back quickly, your pulse racing in the quiet that followed.

“There. Happy now?” you said, your voice slightly breathless, hoping to deflect the sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you.

Joe blinked a few times, as if trying to recalibrate, before his lips curved into a slow, dazed smile.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m more than happy.”

Before you could let yourself process the way his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you—the trainer called his name again, more insistent this time.

Joe sighed dramatically, throwing one last glance your way. “Duty calls,” he said.

“Try not to get sacked again, Joe.”

“I’ll do my best, girlfriend,” laughter in his voice.

As he jogged back leaving you standing there, you caught the way he glanced over his shoulder, that grin still firmly in place.

As you made your way back to your seat, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just Joe being Joe. But deep down, you knew better.

And from the way he’d looked at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew it too.

[thestrugglewithin]

decent quality photo for a high quality man yes