A/N: not Gabriela, but I needed a kickstart, one sitting blurb! Not proofread becuzzz laziness :)
“There’s something wrong with you.”
Words every girl wants to hear from their husbands. But each story needs context, because the words only make you smile, not a frown.
It started when he came back from his first rehab session. You knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, hence why he decided to go alone. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Wanting to be by himself, not talking much, ignoring you.
You let it go on for a week. He needed the space and you weren't entirely dependent on his company. You were just glad he wasn't dwelling and sulking too badly.
But after a week, you eased yourself back into his space.
You always made breakfast for two, but ate alone because he’d take his plate to the couch.
You brought him protein shakes and green smoothies but left without a thank you.
You put his favorite books where he wouldn’t have to struggle to find them, but he’d hobble over to the shelf for the one he complained about the most.
You were a patient person, you had siblings and cousins galore growing up and having to deal with. One grumpy husband was nothing.
But when he deliberately ordered the worse pizza in existence after you made an entire lasagna to cheer him up, you were done.
But you didn’t yell. You just started invading his space.
He was sat on the couch, stuffing his face with that greasy mess when she joined him and grabbed the crust he put down.
“This could use garlic chili sauce, I could make some, but that’s too much work. Don’t you think?”
Joe side-eyes you and grunts, grabbing a new slice. “Whatever.”
He turns up the Mars Rover documentary on the TV and tries to block you out. But when does that ever work?
“Why don’t they just bring water to Mars? I mean, if they want to live there by 2030, they should just make a manmade lake. It’s not like they haven’t tried before. I mean Dubai was just desert and now it’s billionaire haven.”
Joe just rolls his eyes and turns it up louder.
“We should go to Dubai, apparently everyone has to shop at night because of how hot it gets during the day. Makes sense considering it’s a desert.” You chuckle and steal another stale crust.
“Could you stop? Jeez, can’t a guy just eat in peace?” He huffs. You put your hands up apologetically and leave the living room.
But are you done? Hell no!
You return with a giant piping hot serving of lasagna, leaving a millimeter of space between his thigh and your knee.
“So Kroger was out of Ricotta cheese, which I thought wasn’t even possible. But apparently it was recalled, so I bought Oaxaca cheese instead. They should’ve run out of ricotta earlier because Oaxaca is definitely where it’s at.” You groan dramatically as the dish melts in your mouth.
“I mean this is a work of art, and I’m gonna be disrespectful as possible and enjoy it-
“Oh my god, Y/n. Shut the fuck up! It’s a fucking lasagna! Just eat it and be qui-
You shove your fork in his mouth, very unimpressed by his outburst.
It’s comical, watching his brows relax and his jaw unclench as he’s forced to chew the cheesy goodness.
“You were saying?” You feed yourself another bite.
Joe swallows and blinks, slowly.
“I- Why aren’t- I’m confused.” He runs his long fingers through his floppy hair, watching it go right back into place makes you giggle.
“You’re not mad.” He doesn’t know if it’s a question or observation.
“Should I be?” You hand him the rest of the plate of lasagna.
He furrows his brows in confusion, the plate- the masterpiece now on his lap. “You just- I just- lasagna?”
“Enjoy, I’ll go get another piece.” You peck his cheek and watch him cut a piece with his fork and slowly move it to his mouth, as if the entire plate would explode.
But when the flavors ignite on his taste buds, all caution melts away.
“There’s something wrong with you. Something deeply, extremely wrong. But I fucking love it.” He says with his mouth full and eyes closed.
You just chuckle to yourself. “As long as I have you back, I don’t give a damn.” You rejoin him, this time your legs over his and his free arm tugging you closer.
“I’m really fucking lucky to have you, especially with how much of a dick I’ve been.” He candors.
You smile and kiss his saucy lips. “I know.”
He snorts and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. “Fucking love this smart mouth.”
TW: 18+ | lighthearted jokes, ONE curse word 😁 (all of a sudden I’m a goody two shoes jk), pregnancy trope (unavoidable), no use of Y/N.
Word Count: about 1k
More Joe Content
Imagine this, you finally arrive home and released yourself from the absurd amount of layers that protected you from lurking eyes and rambunctious wind chill.
Today’s outing felt like it took the life out of you, especially after having to test twice for gestational diabetes. Being a black woman really sucks when it comes to healthcare, but luckily all tests were negative. But they did leave you with zero to no appetite.
You drop your purse on the counter and venture to the kitchen to replenish your water bottle before sitting down on the couch and putting your feet up.
It’s past four now, meaning your husband should be heading home soon. The thought of strong arms wrapped around you and the scent of his aftershave exudes a welcomed warmth. You could really use a JoeyBear hug, he hates when you use the nickname but he also secretly loves it, hopefully. It’s been his name in your phone for years- well it changes, in the last year for example:
JoeyBear🤗❤️🔥 -> My Husband😍 -> Baby Fatha🤭 -> Hot Farquad🤯 -> JoeyBear🤗❤️🔥
You loved every name, but Joe… not so much. Though he was more upset with you changing ‘Baby Fatha🤭’ than the others. Maybe changing it back wouldn’t be a terrible idea.
But all those thoughts vanish with the pop up notification spreading across your screen.
‘Sports & Pop Culture News: Joe Burrow Hilariously & Unintentionally Reveals Wife’s Pregnancy!’
Your jaw drops. 6 months of carefully planned and controlled outings, using the winter months to your advantage. Switching doctors’ offices to a more secure location and swearing family members to secrecy. The words from his mouth months ago echoing through your head, “I want you to feel safe and comfortable, babe. No one unimportant has to know until after our little star is here.”
Yet, here he goes leaking the news three months early.
Maybe it’s not as bad as you’re making it. You haven’t even watched the clip from his interview. How “hilarious” could it be?
It’s a post-ProBowl segment, Joe’s standing impatiently at a locker, bright orange shirt crumpled on the bench in front of him while he waits in his street clothes.
It reminds you of when you’re in the bathroom together in the mornings, usually while you’re doing your skincare and he’s just oh-so patiently waiting while his pjs never quite make it into the hamper until you mention it. Which makes him smirk since he’s gained your attention then shoots the clothes free throw style into the hamper without looking. You mumble something about him being annoying and rolling your eyes before returning to your task.
Back to the video, the TikTok journalist finally gets to Joe and they go through the interview seemingly easy. Joe's answers are straightforward and the questions are mostly about football. Then your absence from the event is brought up.
You’d think he has a coverup ready, but his face says otherwise. It’s like all sense leaves his body, he’s a deer in headlights, literally.
The calm question becomes intriguing to the interviewer so they start guessing.
“We were just wondering if she’s missing out on all the fun for a reason. Like medically, is she sick?”
Your precious husband stutters his life away. “No! Y-yes actually, uhhh you know… she wanted to come, mhmm.”
Now the interviewer is perplexed, while Joe is visibly mortified. His lips pressed together forming a line of terror, his hands switching between being in and out of his pockets, all while trying to not run away.
“So it’s not medical or it is? Wait is she not allowed to travel because of something medical?” It clicks. “Is she pregnant?”
Then you hear a very familiar phrase.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nail. Coffin.
Joe arrives home 30 minutes later with a bouquet of flowers. “Babe? Sweetheart? Sexiest woman on earth?”
You snort from the couch as he finds you, a big guilty smile on his handsome face. “Here you are, love of my life.”
You can’t help but smirk, arms crossed over your belly, softly glaring at the man you love. “When did you get so bad at lying?”
His smile falters, adding more guilt that you thought was possible. “Lying breaks your character.” He nods to seem more confident, the flowers are presented seconds later.
“Babe… I was caught off guard, didn’t see it coming at all.” He sits down and kisses your shoulder, then your head, then your hands and finally on the top of your bump before looking up with a soft smile. “Gorgeous?”
“I’m glad you went as The Joker for Halloween, because Batman can lie his ass off.”
Babe!” You both chuckle.
For a moment you sit there taking in his cologne and aftershave combo, it’s faded but still sexy. His hand rubs the skin where your child grows underneath and your head against his heart. You could never be mad at him for slipping up, but it’s funny to see him so flustered.
“Thank you for the flowers.” You whisper.
“It’s my pleasure, beautiful.” His head drops as he realizes what he said. Your mind is already corrupted.
“So you work at Chick-fil-A now? And you didn’t even bring me food?”
“Babe…”
“No no, the Joker working at Chick-fil-A… that’s a headline.”
“This is going to be all day, huh?”
“I’m just saying… if you want me to eat more chicken, you should bring me more chicken.”
“I should if it’s the only way to shut you up.”
“Those are some fighting words, Burrow.”
“Bring it on then, Mrs. Burrow.”
“Tease.”
“All for you.”
Yeah he is, even when he accidentally spills his guts to the media.
A/N: Ramadan Mubarak, everyone🩷 I wasn’t going to post much but I got procrastination inspiration (aka I didn’t want to do my homework). This was written after breaking my fast, so guilt free. And I did finish the homework.
Main Masterlist
Context: Your homegirls have a hot take and dare you to ask a certain quarterback for confirmation.
Warning: 18+ | minors DNI, smutty themes, language, some unhinged girl talk, implied alcohol use. It's long, but worth it for a smutty and fun ending. Proofread once, it ain't that deep, and I haven't gone to bed.
A/N: idk why that took me so long. honestly. i still love it tho
to your hormonal outbursts (aka it’s that time of the month, maybe.)
Including: Andrei “Yoshi” Iosivas, CeeDee Lamb, Ja’Marr Chase, Joe Burrow, Justin Jefferson, & Tee Higgins. (Not in the order of appearance.)
Disclaimer: these are individual x reader chats. Some angsty, some fluffy, some smutty, all ridiculous 😁 Not beta read, it's kinda hard to be, just enjoy it.
Main Masterlist
Andrei "Yoshi" Iosivas x GF!Reader (Fluff)
Tee Higgins x Fianceé!Reader (Crack)
Ja’Marr Chase x Reader ~ Smutty
Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader (Crack)
CeeDee Lamb x GF!Reader (Smutty)
Justin Jefferson x Wife!Reader (Fluffy)
A/N: I love ending fics on a happy note. That took me three hours, granted i was texting frl at the same time. BUT i locked in for the first time and finished that shit. I'm proud of me.
A groupchat of chaos containing four Bengals players and one dramatic reader. Possible Joe Burrow x Reader towards the end.
Des: A crack fic kinda related to "I Hope," but can be read entirely on it's own. Sibling like relationship between Tee and Reader.
TW: 18+ | Again CRACK, smutty themes, language, bickering, heavy on the memes. MDNI.
Main Masterlist
A/N: Who knew lack of sleep, maintenance issues, a runny nose, and seeing my fam would help me finish an entire fic? The part two won't include all of the guys, unless yall want it to. Interact if you liked it 🩷
The house is quiet, which is extremely rare for 2 PM, but by some divine intervention, all the kids are napping at the same time. So you're using this time to catch up on your new hobby, crocheting. You’re not that good yet, but that’s from a lack of practice.
Your husband walks into the room as you're undoing your last stitch.
“I see those lessons from my mom didn’t really work.” He smirks, lying down on the couch with his head on your lap.
You roll your eyes and attempt the stitch again. “For someone in choking distance, I’d keep your mouth shut.”
“Like you’d ever choke me, but I might return the favor if you’re lucky.” He winks, earning a smile from you.
You lean down and place a small kiss on his nose.
“What, that’s all I get?”
“Yup, and speaking of your mom… I saw her on the news making your favorite. I’m not gonna say it because-
“Because it’s on the long list of foods I have to stay away from during the season? Yeah thanks for the reminder.” He groans dramatically, turning his body and smushing his face in your thighs.
“Aww my poor baby…” Putting your failed project aside to rake your fingers through his soft hair and lightly scratch his scalp.
“Mmmhmm..” He relaxes under your touch and hums against your leggings. “Yup, poor me. Poor poor me..”
You snort, continuing the scalp massage. Letting your blunt nails glide along the tender skin and pads of your fingers rub with just the right amount of pressure to induce his light moans and groans of pleasure.
After a few minutes, his body is completely relaxed as you’ve lured him into a light slumber. Reflexively, your fingers part and scoop strands of his hair into small braids throughout his head.
Snapping out of the trance you were in, you have to hold back your giggles as you take in your work. Biting your bottom lip, you reach over for your phone to snap a picture. But the second your hands leave his head, he looks up at you. His face relaxed, eyes half open and pink lips curled into a soft closed mouth smile.
“You know, I was just thinking…” He starts, seemingly unaware of his current hair situation. “You should go on the news and talk about your job.”
Your shoulders untense, and a smile finds your features as well. He understands how much you enjoy working with youth and counseling them on navigating the pressures of adolescence while maintaining a healthy state of mind.
“You’re a great youth counselor, the kids love you… All kids love you, even mine.” He smiles lazily, putting his head back down in your lap.
“Your kids are my kids, baby.”
“Exactly. They love you like I love you.” You have a soft spot for when he gets like this. His tone was loving, relaxed, and almost slurred as if he were under the influence.
“Well, Mr. Burrow, that would mean I have to make something original on the show.” You ponder the idea for less than a minute, then mutter. “The only things I know how to make from scratch are babies.”
His usually boisterous, carefree laughter is muffled by the fabric of your leggings, but you can feel his wide smile warming your skin. “I love doing that with you.”
“I know you do. There’s a reason why we have 3 under 4.” You chuckle.
“What can I say, we make great babies.” He turns to face you once more then leans up to kiss your lips, his lips move slow and almost cautious against yours. He smiles softly against yours when you begin to kiss back, before taking your chin driving his lips more passionately against yours.
Your love for each other speaks for itself as your lips move rhythmically against his. Nothing could possibly interfere with the peace and serenity of this moment except maybe the yells and cries coming from upstairs, from two distinct examples of that love.
You pull away with a sigh, but it’s not of disappointment; your smile mirrors his. “I think our presence is needed.” You chuckle softly.
“Yeah, I’ll go investigate the damage our offspring have caused.” Joe pecks your lips once more, then lifts himself off the couch and jogs upstairs.
He reacts only after you hear the door to your son’s room open. “Oh shit.”
Usually he’s able to handle your munchkins all by himself, but the four letter word he mutters worries you.
“Babe!?” You call out, promptly standing from the couch.
“Uhhhh... Thing Two had a blowout on Thing One’s bed.” He relays as the cries only get louder.
“I just cleaned-” You shake your head, neglecting to finish the thought because this is just one of the joys of motherhood. “You handle bath time, I’ll strip the sheets!”
“Got it!” He replies as you grab an old laundry basket, then join them upstairs in your oldest son’s room.
“At least Princess is okay.” You mutter, pulling off the soiled sheets.
“Mama!”
Nevermind.
“Dada’s hair funny!”
a/n: inspired by the interview @joecoolburrow posted. i wrote this in one sitting, first time in forever for that. so... how my people doing? I'm currently in the finals trenches with 4 different injuries, but I'm doing grrrreat..
