chasing pavements ch 12. joe burrow x oc
A/N: Joe’s POV, switches at the cut. iTS FINALLY HERE <3
warnings: fluff, language, seggsy times (MDNI) (minors will be blocked. no hard feelings, this just isn’t the space/fic for you)
Ella hung up the phone with me, and my heart soared. Mom came down the stairs with my breakfast tray. Upon seeing my face, she narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s going on?” she asked.
I smiled at her. “She’s coming.”
My mom smiled, setting the tray of eggs and turkey sausage on the bare side of my bed. “I knew you’d find your way back to each other,” her expression turned serious. “But before she gets here, get your ass in the scooter and clean this place up!” she gestured to just my bedroom, which had dirty clothes laying on the floor, the empty bourbon bottle on my nightstand and the trash bin was overflowing. “Not to mention out there!” she motioned towards the living room area of my space. I knew that was a mess.
She wheeled my scooter over to me. It was a funny contraption. I could sit in it, my injured leg in front, knee in a brace, and pedal myself around with my good leg. And there was a basket in the front. I felt like a geriatric patient in it, but it was helpful for getting around on flat surfaces independently.
She made sure I got into it safely before walking back upstairs, leaving me to clean up my mess.
My mind buzzed with everything that I should say to her. That I forgave her. That I truly did love her. That all I’d thought of was her.
But also that I didn’t want this to be some college days love game anymore. That I was serious, and would demand an answer from her on if she was serious, too.
She texted me when she was off the exit to the highway, and my heart jumped to my throat.
I got myself out of the scooter and sat on the couch, crutches within reach. My knee hummed in a slight amount of pain. In the excitement of the morning, I’d forgotten to take my pain killer.
I nervously chewed the inside of my cheek, waiting for the familiar creak of floorboard above me, signaling someone was in the front entry.
I heard the front door swing open, and my mom’s cheery voice. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I heard someone’s hurried steps towards the basement stairs.
The couch sits with the back of it to the steps, so I turned my torso so I could see her.
She bounded down the steps, hair curled, dark eyes wide. “Joe!”
I smiled softly at her, wishing so badly I could get up and walk like a normal human being and take her into my arms. I held my hand out to her over the back of the couch, and she apprehensively approached.
“I’m not exactly fully recovered yet, so don’t mind the geriatric equipment everywhere,” I said, damn near salivating at the sight of her. “Come here.”
She walked to the front of the couch. She was wearing a pink and black polka dotted, flowy cotton dress, and she smelled divine.
Carefully, she straddled me, a leg placed on either side of my hips, trying not to bump my knee. My hands went to her waist, and she held my face in her hands. Her hair fell in a curtain around us as she kissed me.
I was home. I was with her. And nothing else mattered.
Our lips slid together, a familiar and warm feeling overtaking me as my arms tightened around her frame, continually pulling her closer to me. The kiss grew more heated, tongue and teeth becoming involved, her nails raking through my hair, making me moan into the kiss.
She pulled away, pressing our foreheads together, her hands on my chest. “I love you, Joe Burrow.”
“I love you, Ella.” I told her breathlessly, chest damn near heaving from the intensity of our kisses and my senses being overwhelmed from having her this close, right here with me.
We kissed and touched each other for a long time, marveling in having the other in our arms again. When we finally finished, we were lying down on the couch, stomachs pressed together, just being.
“I do need to talk to you.” I said gently, brushing a strand of hair our of her eyes.
“Okay, go.” she said, her nails gently scraping over my arm.
“I am serious about you. About us. I just need to know that you aren’t gonna run off on me or anything. And that you’re okay with everything that the NFL brings, because I plan on being in it for a while.”
She pressed our foreheads together. “I am not going anywhere.”
“But I also need you to know,” I continued, “That you trust me.”
She pulled away from me. A puzzled and pained look crossed her face. “Of course I trust you.”
“With your heart? With your pain? That you’ve never broken your silence on and told me about?” I asked calmly, seeing tears form in her eyes. “Ella,” I pulled her into my chest. “I don’t know everything that’s happened, and that’s okay. But I do need to know that you wholly trust me.”
She pulled back from me, tears in her eyes and nodded her head. “I trust you, Joe. With everything.”
My heart soared.
We holed up in my room, binge watched a few shows, ate awful Chinese food and curled up in each other.
“Okay, I gotta shower, I feel disgusting.” she said, peeling herself away from me.
“Don’t take too long.” I teased, swatting at her bum as she got out of bed. She yelped in surprise, smiling at me over her shoulder at me as she made her way to the bathroom, snagging a shirt I had folded on the back of a chair.
My thoughts were intoxicated with her. Every moment we were together, my desire for her grew. I wanted her. Needed her. Craved her.
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