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joeys-babe · 1 day

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THIS CHAPTER IS SO THIS SONG CODED. SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP.

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → we are so back.

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, mentions of sex

word count → 3.3k

reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 5

After you and Joe had come close to being caught in his locker room, both of you decided it was best to make a swift exit plan that let you both make it to the parking lot unscathed and unsuspecting. You departed first, quickly turning the corner and leaving the hallway with your bag slung over your shoulder. Joe had in fact kept your panties, taunting you for a minute and motioning for you to attempt to grab them from him. Spooked by the disturbance, you only told him that he now owes you two pairs.

Joe left a few minutes after you, taking a completely different hallway out of the facility and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He asked to see you before you’d split, so the fact that he knew he was going to follow you back to your apartment had seemingly put a bit of pep in his step. You watched him cross the large parking lot, waving at you and smiling in a way that left you shaking your head and laughing. He must have changed clothes before he walked out, adorning a pair of shorts and a black jacket overtop his white hoodie.

The drive was quiet, save for the few times Joe would purposefully begin to ride the ass of your car or honk like you had done something wrong. Funny, you bit back some amusement as you let the horn blare right back at him. He was unlike any guy you had been with in that aspect, his humor was genuine and never had anything to do with making you feel bad about yourself or to poke fun. His jokes never cut deep, which was rare in your few relationships thus far.

Joe parked beside you in your unit’s garage. His Porsche most definitely stood out amongst the line of cars, sleek and spotless as if he had just taken it through the car wash. Everything about him was so clean and prim and proper, it intimidated you now more than ever. A sudden feeling of insecurity washed over you, wondering if he was silently judging you and your life. You couldn’t help gazing down at the steering wheel, thinking endlessly about how much Joe really possessed in athleticism, riches, and looks compared to your ex-boyfriends.

Suddenly his knuckle wrapped against your window, “You got mac ‘n’ cheese up there? Tell me that doesn’t sound so good right now.”

You couldn’t help laughing at him, his so-casual words through the window that you rolled down. He leaned into your car, arms folded so his chin rested on them as he perched and tilted his head to the side. He looked inside of your car now, having never seen it. His legs were so long, you noted once again as you breathed another chuckle at his stature. He merely shook his head, waiting for a response about the food.

“I think I have the little Kraft cups. I might have some of the normal boxes, it might be Velvetta, though,” you watched as he gave you an eyeroll.

“You think one of those cups is gonna sustain me? I’m insulted,” he placed a hand on his heart and finally pulled his head out of the car. He opened the car door for you, motioning for you to step out with an outstretched hand for your bag. “I was practically inhaling those things at eight. You can’t seriously be full off one.”

“Excuse me, Joe. Not all of us are..” you spoke with booming amusement and sarcasm, prepared to give a dramatic reenactment as you approached the elevator. “The one, the only Joe Burrow! Heartthrob NFL quarterback, generous philanthropist, sexiest–”

“Ah okay, I see. Someone’s got jokes,” he interrupted, smiling ear to ear. “Please, don’t stop on my accord. What about me is so sexy?”

As you crossed the threshold and began upward in the elevator, you gave him a teasing smirk and noticed just how pink his cheeks had gotten at your comments. He was still holding your bag, bouncing up and down on his heels and occasionally glancing sidelong at you while you went up. The ride was a comfortable silence, simply peering at each other when the other was not looking in a sort of high school fashion.

Joe discarded his coat as he entered your freshly unlocked apartment, murmuring something about how he was sweating. You watched him curiously, tidying up and discarding some of the random things you and the girls had strewn around the apartment. He hadn’t ever been inside, he’d only picked you up when you went out for drinks. He definitely had no intention of masking his curiosity, he walked along the walls of your living room and noted each photo and piece of decor. He picked up a frame on the TV stand, it was a moment captured on film from your study abroad trip in Australia. His eyes scanned the photograph where you and Sydney were perched on pink beach towels, smiling drunkenly and wearing floppy hats for shade.

“What’s your life like?” He asked you, not a hint of hesitation in his question. “I know you’re a cheerleader, I know you’re going to school to become a teacher. What about all the other stuff, though?”

You paused and hummed, “I feel like my life might bore in comparison to yours.”

“I highly doubt that, but tell me anyway.”

“I grew up in a pretty rural area in Massachusetts. I have an older brother, his name is Jack. My parents have been divorced for a few years, but they stuck it out until I moved out. For better or for worse,” you told him without maintaining much eye contact. “I’m really not trying to dump all of my childhood trauma on you, I promise.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about? I asked,” Joe said, reassuring you and noting how you fiddled with the strings of the knit throw blanket. “I want to know, I really do.”

His expression was genuine, his eyes serious and fixated solely on you. He had discarded his car keys and phone on a nearby countertop, giving you his full attention as you inhaled deeper and thought seriously about what you wished to tell him. He felt unreal, like something you had dreamed up and manifested into your living room. A part of you thought you should pinch yourself and look again, sure that he would have disappeared into thin air. No, you forced yourself out of the thought and made yourself see that he was just as real and tangible as you are.

“We grew up pretty poor, for a while we were a one income household living off food stamps and just getting by. It was rough, those years especially, but we managed and eventually my mom and dad were able to save. They got into real estate later on and then opened a store, I’m grateful for all of it. I worked hard in school to help with scholarships and stuff so they wouldn’t be totally responsible for putting me through college,” the words flowed without much thought and he nodded, listening intently. “They weren’t happy. I knew it long before anyone mentioned divorce, but I was still pretty wrecked. I’m grateful, though. They gave me a great work ethic, you know just watching them build a better life for our family. I wouldn’t even live here without their help.”

“I can tell you’re a hard worker,” he was assessing you in your entirety. “Are you close with them? Your family, I mean.”

You stilled for a moment, thinking intently about the question. Joe was sitting across from you, elbows braced on his knees as he leaned into the conversation. His gaze was soft, gentle even. He wasn’t looking at you with pity, however. His expression was more of a mixture of understanding and concentration, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

“Not so much, no,” you answered. “But the love is still there. I just have a hard time expressing it to my family, I guess. If that makes any sense at all. With my friends, it always just comes so much easier. I’ve just always felt outside myself around my family, like they know nothing about me.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“It’s just kind of how it's always been, I guess.”

Joe listened to you for ten more minutes, not protesting when you rose from the loveseat and seemed to want to change the subject to something more positive. Following you into the kitchen, he began to look through the cupboards for something to make. It didn’t take him long before finding the Kraft cups, turning around and showing you with an eye roll. He began rattling off the nutrition label, making you raise your phone to him with a hand over your mouth as you captured a short clip of his fully serious assessment.

He continued to sift through the materials of your kitchen, finding an actual box of mac ‘n’ cheese and beginning to look for your pots and pans. You silently extended a hand, letting him take the pot from you and start cooking. You walked over to the fridge, glancing around your options for drinks.

“So I have Celsius, milk, Titos, Capri suns, and water,” you told him, cringing internally at the selection.

“What flavor Capri Sun?” He asked, stirring the food in front of him.

“Looks like… strawberry kiwi.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of those,” he looked over his shoulder at you.

You both ate in front of the living room television, watching The Hunger Games underneath the throw blanket you had extended to him as soon as you sat down. He took it graciously, eating much faster and going back for a second helping before you’d finished even half of your bowl. You snickered softly, wondering the daily caloric intake of an NFL player and how much Joe had to eat to maintain his figure.

Once you both finished eating, he followed you into your bathroom with his bag. He took his toothpaste and toothbrush out, the set you assumed was only for practice and games. You both stood in front of the mirror, brushing silently until Joe would make a face in the mirror or you would go to rinse your brush and he would slap your ass. He took the lid of the mouthwash you had filled up, knocking it back just as you had. He stifled a laugh while you swished, pulling his phone out and taking a picture of you with your hands on your hips, eyes narrowed at him and mouth full of mouthwash.

Joe’s cold hand slid onto your upper thigh as you settled back into the couch. He pinched softly and you whacked his arm slightly harder, causing both of you to laugh as he threw his hands up in playful defense. You let him lean in as he mouthed the word ‘truce’, only to attack your middle and put you with your back on the couch. He hovered above you, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck and lips.

“Should I go?” Joe asked, looking down at his phone and realizing how late it is.

“Do you want to go?” You asked him in one breath.

The only light illuminating his face was from the movie playing in the background. Joe’s pupils were blown, his hair falling forward as he was still above you. His body pressed a fraction of his weight on you, both of your pulses pounding. He let himself think about the question, humming lowly and taking in the visual before him once again.

“I never want to go,” he said, half-joking with a smirk. “You tell me. I have to be at the facility to watch film at eight, I’ll be gone before you wake up. It’ll be like I was never here. ”

Is that what he wants? The question wracked your brain as you sat contemplating how casual this was for him. His flattery sometimes felt so real, like more than foreplay or meaningless flirting. There was always the undertone of what was wrong with you two being tangled up in the same blanket, though. Joe couldn’t bring you on a real date, you would never be able to show anyone the video from the kitchen–why shouldn’t this be casual to him? He likes you, perhaps. But how can you expect him to want to tiptoe around each other’s jobs?

“Okay, yeah,” the words came out more breathy than you intended. “Sounds good to me.”

Joe studied your dimly lit face, “Everything alright?”

You told yourself not to be that same girl you were at the bar, the one you could only assume he viewed as a psychotic bitch. A part of you was willing yourself to shove down some of those strong feelings for him, giving him a soft smile and nodding. He relaxed a bit, letting you turn in his arms and watch the movie with your back to his chest.

It was only about ten minutes before you heard the sounds of his soft snores, one arm tucked underneath his head and the other firm around your chest. His breathing was deep and steady, occasionally pulling you into him further. After a few minutes, you grabbed your phone off of the coffee table and turned your camera front-facing, making sure the flash was off and snapping a picture to send to your group chat with the girls.

Sydney: Oh. My. GOD.

Sydney: I’m actually throwing up rn what the fuck

Sydney: LOOK HOW BIG HIS HAND IS

Lena: I’m freaking the fuck out omg

Lena: I’m so jealous

Lena: He’s so

Sydney: He’s fine as fuck

Y/N: IKR

Y/N: I think I’m obsessed

Sydney: Girl wbk that

Sydney: Be fucking for real

Y/N: I simply do not think I will be making it to class on Monday

Lena: That’s three days away

Y/N: Ugh Ik

Y/N: Last first day of classes!

Y/N: I’ll call you guys tomorrow and debrief

Both of them hearted the message, sending their goodnight texts and equally dirty messages about you and Joe sleeping together. You flipped the TV off and let yourself lean into his arms a bit further, inhaling his scent of high end cologne and mint. He held onto you protectively, caging you into his embrace and brushing his nose against your hair. You slowly let

yourself drift to the sound of his breaths.

⋆------------⋆

Joe woke up around six, he felt you pressing into him and against him first. His neck was stiff, wishing he’d have made it to your bed last night. He couldn’t recall falling asleep, assuming he had knocked out while you both watched the movie. He inhaled the scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes for a few moments and allowing himself to linger between that sweet spot of sleep and consciousness.

He savored the few moments of domesticity, wondering what it would be like to wake up in bed next to the other. Everything about you was so intoxicating, he had never been much of a risk taker before. He would have never risked bringing you into the locker room if he was in a completely sane state of mind. He thought of you with such desperation and yearning that he simply couldn’t have cared less about what anyone had to say about it.

Joe knew this made him selfish, made him irresponsible, and that was the worst part. He knew and he didn’t give a shit, he couldn’t stay away from you. Not that he had really tried, but he also lacked the desire to. Being around you was bad for him, Joe thought as he watched you sleep soundlessly beside him. You cause him to completely lose control of who he is and yet he cannot seem to stay away.

Slipping out from behind you without waking you was difficult, but he managed to get out over the back of the couch and readjust the blanket to cover you. Joe walked around, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on whilst also cleaning up a bit and helping with the dishes he helped dirty. He came up with the idea to leave a note once he was left looking around your kitchen, shaking off his damp hands and pulling his sleeves back down. He found a notepad and pen easily, but stared blankly at the sheet. Is leaving a note too much? He had a hard time reading your attitude towards certain things, he had tried to get you to stay for breakfast and you flat out refused him. Perhaps it was better to adhere to what was agreed on, it would be like he was never there.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Joe sighed and set the pen down. He left quietly after brushing a hand over your head once more, shutting the door softly behind him so as not to wake you up.

⋆------------⋆

When you rolled over to grab your phone, Joe was already long gone and his spot beside you had now gone cold. Yawning, you sat up and padded to the bathroom to pee and contemplate everything that had gone on during the previous night. At first glance, you assumed Joe had tidied up the strewn pillows on the living room floor and moved your phone to the coffee table.

Once you made it into the kitchen, you realized he had washed the dishes that had been used and pulled out a sheet of paper. There was nothing written on it, pen sitting idly by as if he planned to write something for you to wake up to. Casual, you reminded yourself. Both of you had agreed on casual.

The run you went on this morning was particularly long, headphones blaring as you pushed yourself further and further away from your complex. Thoughts of cheerleading and Joe weighed on your mind heavily, his head between your thighs the night before most certainly did not make it any easier for you to focus on controlling your breathing. Casual felt like a punishment, especially in this case. He couldn’t have felt a fraction of how you did, your thoughts occupied constantly with the sight of his unruly hair and large hands on your body. He was making you crazy, the way he touched you was genuinely driving you into insanity. Much less the fact that you risked your spot on the team each time you answered at his beck and call.

Your phone began to ring, Lena’s caller ID popping up. You answered, sweat coating you like a layer of oil.

“Don’t freak out.”

“Freak out?” I heaved, taking a long sip of water. “Why would I freak out?”

“There’s a picture of you and Joe on X. You can’t see your face at all and you’re at a red light, all you can see is him and some of your hair,” she informed you, cautiously attempting to keep your anxiety at bay. “It’s days old, but it popped up on my timeline just now and it has a few thousand likes.”

She sent you a screenshot, fingers shaking as you opened up your texts and tapped on the picture. It was a photo from the first night you’d gone to get food, a sneaky snapshot at a redlight when your window was half down. Thankfully, only your shoulders and the back of your head was visible under the light that made the color of your hair hard to detect. Joe was looking over at you, smiling with one hand occupied by the half-gone milkshake.

Feeling like the wind was knocked out of you, you silently copied the image and sent it to Joe.

“I feel like I should end things with him officially,” was all you said to Lena. “He wants casual and I’m not sure this is worth casual.”

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