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tigertales9 · 1 year

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More Than Anything

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Angst / Body image issues due to pregnancy / Smut (Pt. 2)

Description: This fic takes place during the off-season a few years in the future. You and Joe are married and expecting your first child.

A/N: Drama from a soon-to-be mama! Seriously, y'all, this got a little dramatic. Most of the drama and angst comes from pregnant reader struggling with body image issues and hormone swings in the last few weeks of pregnancy. There's a little smut and fluff in part 2. (Part 2 will be up by the end of the week).

Part 2 is now up : More Than Anything II

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Cincinnati, Ohio ~ a Friday in mid-May a few years in the future

You pull your car into the garage and kill the engine, working up the energy to heave your mega pregnant self out of the low-slung coupe for several seconds before doing the actual deed. Joe had bought you a family-friendly SUV when y'all found out you were pregnant, but you're stubbornly driving your cute sports car as long as possible.

"Damn," you mutter when you're finally on your feet, the rivulets of sweat cascading between your sore boobs giving you major ick as you pop the trunk of your car, reaching in to grab the shopping bag full of super cute baby paraphernalia. "Hot and sweaty and gross," you grumble, feeling a pang of regret that you hadn't felt like doing more shopping with the girls after they set up an amazing brunch for you with all of your fav foods. You'd only lasted about 45 minutes into the post-brunch shopping spree -- one measly store -- before calling it quits to head home. They understood, of course, since you're big-time pregnant, but it's still a little annoying.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you walk in the house, the air cool and crisp unlike the hot and humid reality of the great outdoors. You kick your shoes off and give a quick glance to the living room sofa looking for Joe. The sofa is empty so you figure he might be upstairs taking a nap. "Sounds like heaven," you sigh, needing nothing more than a cool shower and a nap to make you feel somewhat decent.

You make your way up the stairs and notice the door to Joe's office is partially open, faint sounds spilling out into the hallway. He's prob watching game film, you think to yourself, smiling as you head in that direction. You push the door open and stick your head in; it takes about 5 seconds before you realize your husband has his dick in his hand while ogling some super graphic porn.

"What the fuck!" you hiss.

Joe almost turns his desk chair over when he leaps out of it, snatching his shorts up and slamming his laptop closed all in one motion. You'd be impressed by his agility if you weren't so fucking mad.

You drop your shopping bag and spin around, hurrying toward the master bedroom, rolling your eyes when he calls your name. You slam the door and press the lock before walking into the master bathroom, slamming and locking that door as well. You sling your purse on the countertop and stare at your reflection in the mirror. "Sweaty, fat fucking mess!" you sneer, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You grab some tissues and wipe your face, going completely still when you hear Joe's voice just outside the bathroom door.

"Babe, let me in. We need to talk."

That pushy asshole picked the bedroom door lock, you think to yourself, narrowing your eyes when he speaks up again.

"Let me in please."

"Fuck off!" you holler. "I don't wanna talk to you right now!" The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you hear the faint 'click' of the lock being picked before the bathroom door swings open. "I had that door locked for a reason!" you snap, slowly turning to face him.

"We need to talk," he repeats, tucking the toothpick he used to pick the lock into his pocket.

You take a deep breath before speaking. "I said I don't wanna talk right now," you grit out, trying as hard as possible to keep your voice even. "I need space so kindly fuck off."

He takes a couple of long strides toward you, holding a hand out. "Let's just talk it out, please," he says, eyes going wide when you slap his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" you scream, your vision going slightly hazy for a second as you stumble backwards, catching yourself on the bathroom vanity.

"Easy, baby," he mutters, "you need to calm down."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Calm down?" you sneer. "Calm fucking down?"

"Yes, I think you should calm down."

"And I think you should fuck off!"

"It's not good for you or the baby for you to get this worked up."

Your mouth drops open at the audacity. "I'm worked up because of you, shithead! How many times do I have to ask you to leave me alone?" you shriek. "If I lose this baby it's gonna be your fault!"

He immediately backs out of the room, his eyes filled with apprehension as you take a few wobbly steps forward and plant a foot on the bathroom door, kicking it closed as hard as you can. The damn door rebounds back toward you and you rush forward and slam it shut with both hands, sliding down to the floor as your body is racked with deep, guttural sobs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize you're overreacting but you can't stop. You continue to sob, coughing and choking on your snot before you feel a wave of nausea stirring in your belly; you barely make it to the toilet before your brunch comes back up.

You eventually flush the partially-digested food and stumble to the sink to rinse your mouth out, your head spinning as you lean over to spit in the sink. "Fuck," you whisper, sliding to the floor, contemplating what to do next. Gotta call Mom, you think, pulling your purse down off the counter and grabbing your phone out. You hit her number and put it on speaker, laying flat on the floor with your phone next to your throbbing head.

"Hey sweetie," she answers.

"He … hey," you gasp, trying to sound somewhat normal.

"What is it?" she demands. "You don't sound good."

"I'm not good!" you sob, sniffling and coughing before finally falling silent.

"Oh God, what is it?" she croaks. "Are you in the hospital? Is it the baby?"

You immediately feel like shit for making her worry. "No, no, no … the baby and I are physically fine. I'm just mentally screwed," you sniff, trying hard to keep your composure but failing miserably. Your sobs start up again and you struggle to contain them as she tries to soothe you.

"Sweetie, focus on my voice, okay?"

"Okaaaay," you wail.

"Listen, I need you to take a really deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting it out, okay?"

"Okay," you answer, slightly less agitated as you do her bidding.

"Do it again," she urges.

You follow orders and finally calm down enough to breathe normally.

"Now tell me what's going on," she coaxes. "Did you have brunch with the girls? I know you were looking forward to it."

"Yeah," you snort. "Seems like Joe was looking forward to it, too. Apparently he couldn't wait to get me out of the house."

"What happened?"

You tell her the whole story, up to and including coming home early to find him jacking it to graphic porn.

There's several seconds of silence before she comments. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … I was afraid you caught him in bed with another woman or something. You sound absolutely heartbroken."

"I AM absolutely heartbroken! I'm fat and gross and he's jacking it to porn while lying through his teeth telling me he thinks I'm beautiful and sexy and blah, blah fucking blah!"

"What makes you think he's lying?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Ummm, yes?"

"Because he apparently needs to JACK IT the second I step out the house! And don't accuse me of holding out on him! My libido has always been sky high and that hasn't changed one bit! We've been going at it several times a week and he got a knee-buckling blow job just yesterday. Sucked him drier than the Sahara!" Your mom clears her throat and you remember who you're talking to. "Sorry," you mumble. "That was a little TMI."

"No, we're both adults. I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to confide in me." She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Honey … listen …"

"If you're gonna try and justify it you can save your breath," you snap.

She heaves another sigh before speaking. "I'm not trying to justify it, but the truth is men won't ever be able to understand how hard pregnancy is on women. They'll never get how vulnerable we feel, how our hormones go crazy and our moods swing back and forth between bliss and fear and uncertainty."

"So because they're unempathetic shitheads they get a free pass?"

"No … I guess I'm just trying to say he didn't mean to hurt you."

"You think I'm overreacting don't you? That I'm a hormonal shitshow who should just be happy he's not actually screwing around on me?"

"No, not at all, but let me ask you a question. How would you feel if this same thing happened before you got pregnant?"

You contemplate the question, sniffling a few times before answering. "I mean, I wouldn't love it, but it wouldn't be a big deal."

"So it's the timing, right?"

"Obvs." You immediately start crying again, trying to talk between sobs. "He's ruined everything! Lying to my face about how gorgeous he thinks I am when he really thinks I'm huge and fat! He's probably been giving me pity sex for the last few months. I actually can't stand the sight of him! Even worse, I don't want him looking at me! He's just gonna run to the internet and compare me with all the fit, skinny women he's jacking it to. Fuck that!"

"You need to calm down, okay? I'm worried about your blood pressure."

You take several deep breaths trying to get yourself under control. "I know you and Joe both think I'm overreacting, and hell maybe I am." You dig in your purse for a tissue and blow your nose before continuing. "I just have this mental image burned in my brain of him sitting there with his dick in his hand ogling some random woman fingering herself. Super gross close up too, couldn't even see her face."

Your mom clears her throat again like she always does when she's uncomfortable. "Well yeah, that's obviously not something most wives want to see their husbands doing, especially not when they're heavily pregnant."

"I just wish I would've felt like doing more shopping with the girls. Why did I have to come home early? Everything's ruined now," you sniff.

"Oh honey, I understand you're hurt but that feeling will pass with time."

"I don't think so. I don't feel the same way about him now."

"You're scaring me a little."

"I'm scaring myself."

There's a tense pause before your mom breaks the silence. "Where is Joe right now?"

"I don't know. I screamed in his face when he wouldn't leave me alone. Told him if I lose the baby it's his fault."

"Ouch."

"Well, he had it coming. He refused to give me space when I asked calmly so I had to escalate."

"Listen, I'm looking at flights right now; there's a 3:45 nonstop out of Dallas that will get me to CVG at 7:00. I'm about to buy a ticket and throw some stuff in a bag."

"Thank you so much," you whisper, trying hard not to start crying again. "Do you want me to pick you up at the airport?"

"No, I want you to relax. I'll rent a car. I'll be at your house by 8:15 or so depending on traffic."

"Love you."

"Love you too, sweetie. See you soon."

You end the call and stare at the ceiling for a minute before heaving yourself up off the floor, swaying a bit as you waddle over and turn the shower on. You strip naked, avoiding your reflection in the mirror as you step into the shower, sighing in relief when the cool water cascades over your hot, sweaty skin. You wash and condition your hair then lather up with body wash, the occasional tear sliding off your chin to drop onto your pregnant belly before being washed away.

"I hate him," you whisper to yourself as you step out of the shower and grab a towel, drying off before walking into your closet. "Hate myself too for believing his bullshit," you seethe, thinking back on several conversations y'all had over the past couple months, the gist of which was always :

"I feel fat and gross," you'd grumble.

"You're exquisitely beautiful," he'd sigh, pressing gentle kisses on your sore breasts and growing belly. "You look like a goddess."

You shake your head as you pull yourself back to the present. "Lying motherfucker," you sneer, grabbing a pair of stretchy black boyshorts before reaching for one of Joe's t-shirts; you immediately pull your hand back like you touched a hot stove, a knot of despair forming in the pit of your stomach. I don't even want his shirts touching me, you realize, dropping to your knees as your body is taken over by sobs. "I hate him!" you scream between gasps and coughs and dry heaves. "He ruined everything!" You literally see a haze of red and squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your face against the closet floor. "I fucking HATE HIMMMMM!" you bellow, whipping your head around when you feel someone touch your leg.

"Babe, you have to calm down," Joe pleads, "you're scaring the shit out of me!"

You knock his hand off of your leg. "Don't fucking touch me!" you snarl, scooting as far away from him as possible while scrambling to cover yourself with your bath towel. "Why are you still here?" you snap, wiping your face on the shorts still gripped in your hand while shooting absolute daggers at Joe.

"I was really worried about you. I thought I might have to rush you to the hospital if shit went sideways."

"Shit has most def gone sideways," you cackle mirthlessly, waving a hand to shoo him out of the closet. "Do you mind fucking off so I can get dressed? You've seen me naked for the last time."

He gives a quick nod and walks out of the closet, pulling the door closed behind him.

You blow your nose on the shorts and throw them in the hamper, pulling a fresh pair out and stepping into them before rummaging around for a maternity t-shirt. You'd been exclusively wearing Joe's shirts around the house for the last couple months, so it took some digging to find something else; you finally yank on a graphic tee that your grandma bought you that says 'Baby on Board'.

You walk out of the closet and head to the sink, splashing cold water on your face a few times before patting dry. Your damp hair looks like a fright wig from all the rolling around on the floor but you couldn't care less. Numbness is steadily seeping into every cell in your body, and you embrace the feeling of just not giving a shit.

You open the bathroom door and immediately freeze; Joe is across the room sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He looks up when you walk into the bedroom. "So I guess you heard my entire conversation with my mom," you state, taking in his bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks with absolute indifference.

"Yeah," he admits. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was just worried about you."

"Humph," you snort, giving him a 'yeah right' look.

He opens his mouth to speak then quickly closes it, eyeing you warily before finally speaking up. "I'm so fucking sorry," he mutters, giving a pitiful sniff.

"Cut the shit, sweet cheeks. We both know you're only sorry you got caught."

He shakes his head. "Not true! I'm sorry I made you feel this way. I'd give anything to take it back."

"Too bad! I certainly can't unsee what you were drooling over." You give him a contemptuous sneer. "I don't think my Ob/Gyn has seen my snatch that fucking close up."

"I wasn't drooling," he argues. "I actually wasn't even, ummm, pleasuring myself at that point."

"Boy please!" you snap. "You're not gonna make this better by lying to my face."

"Just hear me out for a minute," he pleads. "I was thinking about you when I searched for that porn."

"You have got to be shitting me?"

"Nope. I was thinking about what happened yesterday after I painted your toenails. Got me heated."

You raise an eyebrow as he continues.

"I just thought if I did a quick search for a solo vid with your hair color, petite build, no face, I'd be able to pretend it was you."

You stare at him for a bit before busting out laughing. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joseph Lee. We both know that's a damn lie."

"It's true!" he argues. "I thought I could maybe squint if it didn't look exactly like you, but that didn't work." He shrugs. "I was already losing my hard-on when you walked in."

You give him an incredulous look. "Why did you lose your hard-on?"

"Because the woman in the vid wasn't as, uhhh, well groomed as you. Among other things."

"Poor baby lost his boner because of an unruly bush." You roll your eyes. "Sorry I came home before you found something more to your liking."

"I was already done at that point. I was never going to find what I was looking for so why bother?"

You give a derisive snort. "With the vast amount of vag on the internet, there's no way you couldn't find what you were looking for."

"I've tried a couple times. Not recently!" he quickly adds when you narrow your eyes at him. "Its just that nothing compares to you."

You stare at him for several seconds before responding. "I guess I should feel grateful that I'm coming in first with all the massive amount of cunt comparison shopping you're apparently doing. That's good to know."

"I'm not doing it that much," he protests. "I've done it like two other times over the last year but gave up because you can't replace the irreplaceable; what i really want is you."

Smooth talking motherfucker, you think to yourself. He probably thinks I'm buying this bullshit.

He clears his throat and continues. "I mean, if I had nude pics or vids of you I would never look for anything else."

You narrow your eyes at him. "So now it's my fault since you don't have nude pics or vids of me?"

"No! That was my idea, remember? I'd have to kill somebody if that stuff got leaked!"

You take a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly before speaking. "Look, I'm tired of this conversation," you grumble. "The truth is I wouldn't really care about this shit if I wasn't fat as fuck right now, but you've made me feel absolutely horrible and I'm not just gonna sweep it under the rug."

"You're not fat. You're pregnant."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," you snark. A thought hits you and you take a step closer to Joe, locking eyes with him. "Let me ask you a question -- when you did your little porn search trying to find someone who looks like me, did you include big, fat pregnant belly?" He breaks eye contact and looks at his feet without answering. "That's what I thought, asshole," you sneer, "you were trying to find someone who looked like me before I got huge and fat!"

"You're not …"

"Shut up!" you snap, rolling your shoulders several times to ease some tension. Your eyes eventually land on the cutesy shopping bag filled with items for your baby boy, your stomach turning as you look at it. "What's that shit doing in here?" you ask, pointing at the bag.

"I brought it in. You dropped it earlier when …"

"When I walked in on you stroking your dick to some spread-eagle porn."

"I wasn't …"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, grabbing the shopping bag before walking out into the hallway. "I'll donate this stuff," you mutter, casually tossing the bag of baby goodies down the stairs before walking back into the bedroom. "I'm not keeping anything that reminds me of this absolute clusterfuck of a day."

"Including me?" he croaks, biting his lip while you look at him with thinly-veiled contempt.

You give a shrug. "Haven't decided yet." You tilt your head to the side. "The good news is -- if I do leave -- you'll have plenty of cleat chasers and hard-core porn to keep you warm. You don't need me."

"Yes I do need you!" he protests, "I need you more than anything!"

You watch tears spill down his cheeks and feel absolutely zero compassion; it's actually a little scary. "Like I said, I'm tired of this conversation," you sigh. "I need to book a hotel for a few days for me and my mom."

"No!" he gulps, sniffing loudly while wiping his face. "I caused all of this so I'll leave. I'll go stay at my parent's house for … however long you want me to."

"And what are you gonna tell them? That your grossly fat hormonal wife overreacted like crazy over something silly and kicked your ass out?"

"No, I'm gonna tell them the truth."

"Yeah right," you mutter, rolling your eyes as you grab your phone out of the bathroom before heading downstairs to the kitchen. You pull a pitcher from the fridge and pour a glass of water, gulping most of it down before refilling it. "So dehydrated," you grumble, gingerly maneuvering yourself onto a barstool at the kitchen counter while considering your next move.

Your eyes land on your phone and a thought hits you. "Perfect," you whisper, quickly searching for what you need. A minute later you hit 'play' on a video, your eyes going wide at the action on the screen. "Holy shit," you mutter, mouth dropping open a little before you hear Joe's voice directly behind you.

"Am I interrupting?" he snaps, dropping his duffle bag with a loud thump.

"No," you mumble, slowly shaking your head.

"I, ummm, need to ask you a question."

"Okay." You tilt your head a bit, continuing to stare at the screen.

You hear Joe heave an aggravated sigh. "Can you pause that or something? I can't talk to you while you're ogling some dude stroking his huge dick."

You spin your barstool around and lock eyes with him. "I did the same kind of search you did -- solo, no face, tall, athletic, blonde, well-hung." You stick the phone in his face. "See? If I squint he kinda resembles you. Glad you gave me the idea."

He takes in your petty smirk for a few seconds before his gaze is drawn to the very porny action staring him in the face; his nostrils flare with anger and he bites his lip in a way that looks hella painful. After a bit he locks eyes with you again. "You enjoying that?" he grits out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while you let the silence stretch out.

You eventually hit 'pause' and set the phone on the counter, never breaking eye contact. I fucking dare you to say something, you think to yourself.

After staring at each other for several more tense seconds he huffs a sigh and breaks eye contact, knowing full well you have the word 'hypocrite' in the chamber -- locked and loaded -- ready to pull the trigger if he's dumb enough to say jack shit about you doing exactly what he did.

He rolls his shoulders and stares at the ceiling for several seconds before meeting your eyes. You can tell he's mad but trying to hide it. He clears his throat before speaking. "I checked the calendar and your next doctor appointment is Monday at 10:00 a.m. I need to be home before then so I can take you."

Your eyebrows fly up. "Excuse me? You're not going to the doctor with me."

"Why not? I've been to every single appointment I could make, and I really want to go to this one since they're doing an ultrasound."

You're shaking your head no before he finishes his sentence. "Not happening. I don't want you there. I don't feel comfortable with you anymore."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"That's not fair!" he argues, softening his tone when you narrow your eyes at him. "He's my baby too."

"And it's my fucking body that's carrying him. And my fucking body that's probably gonna have to get cut wide open to deliver him."

He winces when you deliver that last line. "Maybe we'll get good news."

You shrug. "You heard my doctor's opinion after my last ultrasound -- baby boy is big and he's breech, pretty small chance that corrects before 39 weeks."

Joe takes in your apathetic expression as he picks his thumbnail like he always does when he's anxious. "You have the best care team possible," he states. "Everything is gonna be …"

"Look, I don't need you to give me a pep talk," you interrupt. "I've already made peace with it because I don't have a fucking choice. It is what it is."

"I really want to be there when you find out."

You shake your head.

"I hope you change your mind," he mumbles, searching your face which is completely devoid of expression. "I guess I'll leave now," he continues, his body language giving defeated vibes as he grabs his duffle bag and heads to the garage.

You hear the door open and close; several seconds later you finally let out the breath you'd been holding.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

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betterthanburrow · 10 months

Text

The Newest Bengals Fan - Instagram AU

(Bengals Quarterback! Joe Burrow x Digital Creator! OC)

liked by yourinstagram and 25,980 more users

Bengals: Almost time.

view all 10,005 comments

yourolderbrother: LET’S GO WHO DEY NATION!

username1: me and my homies HATE the packers!

username2: i’m ready to see the rookies play!

yourinstagram: i can’t wait for the football game!

↳ yourolderbrother: since when are you a football fan?

liked by yourolderbrother and 13,420 more users

yourinstagram: Cincinnati Bound 🤎

view all 101 comments

yourolderbrother: why are you in Cincinnati?

↳ yourinstagram: no particular reason 😊

yourinstagram story update

viewed by joeyb_9 and 10,013 more users

liked by yourolderbrother and 45,190 more users

Bengals: Hungry for some football 😤

Canvus Game Poster | @.drinkcanvus

view all 18,700 comments

username1: the game graphics are back 😢🔥

username2: WHO DEY! WHO DEY! WHO DEY!

username3: why is the cat fighting cheese?

username4: game days are finally here!

yourolderbrother: SHE CINCIN ON MY NATI TILL I BENGAL 😫💦

↳ yourinstagram: ???

↳ yourolderbrother: you weren’t supposed to see this.

liked by joeyb_9 and 20,999 more users

yourinstagram: Golden Hour on Game Day 🌅

view all 513 comments

yourolderbrother: GAME DAY?! … what sports game are you going too and why didn’t i get a ticket?

↳ yourinstagram: Bengals vs Packers 😚 and 🤷🏽‍♀️

↳ yourolderbrother: since when were you a football fan and liked going to football games?

↳ yourinstagram: that’s a story i won’t tell online.

liked by yourinstagram and 105,865 more users

Bengals: Not now… but soon.

view all 500 comments

yourolderbrother: Super Bowl MVP season is COMING

username1: GIRL DINNER!

username2: remember when everyone thought that he was going to be out until week 5 of the season 😵‍💫

yourinstagram: my quarterback 🤎

↳ yourolderbrother: there’s something strange going on between you and the Bengals?

↳ yourinstagram: nothing strange is going on… i’m just a the newest Bengals fan 😊

yourinstagram story updates

viewed by yourolderbrother and 15,009 more users

liked by joeyb_9 and 50,513 more users

yourinstagram: drinks for two 🤎

view all 13,009 comments

joeyb_9: 🤍

↳ yourolderbrother: JOE BURROW… WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

↳ joeyb_9: 🤷🏼‍♂️

Author’s Note:

in honor of the NFL pre-season coming to an end, here’s an Instagram AU inspired by the Bengals’ first pre-season game of the 2023 NFL season!

it’s feels like it’s been a while since i’ve published an Instagram AU, but really it’s been like a week and 2 days since the last Instagram AU was published.

if you have a Instagram AU request, please send the IG AU request to my Inbox and i’ll try to get the requested Instagram AU published as fast as i can!

thank you all for the love and support! 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #CFB #LSU Tigers #Cincinnati Bengals #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow x Reader #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow x Y/N #Joe Burrow Instagram #Joe Burrow Instagram AU #NFL Instagram #NFL Instagram AU #Instagram #Instagram AU

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luvu2themoonand2saturn · 1 year

Text

the very first night

joe burrow x fem!reader | bridgerton!au

summary: at a bridgerton family ball, you meet mr. joseph burreaux for the first time

warnings: pure fluff, idiots in love (at first sight), my attempt at writing with the eloquence and beauty the regency era deserves

word count: 6.5k

notes about the au: reader's last name is sedgewick, i'm spelling joe's last name burreaux to be fancier, and this is set in 1812 (the year before the first bridgerton book)!

the long promised start of my bridgerton!au is finally here!! i hope you enjoy reading this one as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 this is the first part of a brief series (thinking maybe 4 parts? no promises about when the next one will be out lol) that will establish the basis of the reader/burreaux relationship. i would love to also write oneshots/blurbs in this au, so if you have any requests for that please send them in <3 happy reading!!

dividers by @firefly-graphics <3

The start of the season in London brings much excitement with it, as always. A close acquaintance of the much sought after Lord Bridgerton, Mr. Joseph Burreaux, has made a return from his travels on the Continent and is expected to appear at the Bridgerton ball later this week. The prospective diamond of the season, Charlotte Beaumont, is also expected to be in attendance. Gossips are already pinning these two as a promising, and very attractive, match, but whether or not Burreaux intends to marry this season is unconfirmed at present. Even if he has no intentions of marriage this year, if the diamond sets her sights on him, he will surely find himself locked down by the close of the season!

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

27 April 1812

The largest ball of the season in London thus far was to be held tonight, hosted by the well known Bridgerton family at their residence in town. Presumably, many eligible young women across London were feeling particularly stressed as they prepared for the occasion, all hoping to catch the eye of one of the charming Bridgerton men. You, however, were as comfortable around the Bridgertons as around your own family, sometimes even more so.

The Sedgewicks were a well respected, affluent family in London high society, and thanks to the time your father had shared with the former and deceased Lord Bridgerton at Oxford, a close bond existed between the clans. Even after the passing of Lord Bridgerton, the bond remained strong. Lord and Lady Sedgewick, your parents, supported the Bridgertons while they grieved.

You had known the family since you were born, but were especially close with Daphne. Being the same age, you two had entered London society in the same season.

This year marked your second season. Reflecting on the young woman you had been a year ago, you felt slightly grieved. The girl of last season had been so hopeful and had had such faith in finding a true love match. However, only one month into the season, most girls’ hopes of finding such love had been crushed. The men, although often dashing and outwardly respectable, often had questionable reputations or impure intentions, or were just plain old blithering idiots whose company could not possibly be tolerated for longer than a single waltz. That wasn’t to say you hadn’t had any suitors last year; as the only Sedgewick daughter, you were highly sought after. The trouble was that you, even after having given up on the idea of finding a true love match, couldn’t even find a suitor agreeable enough that you felt you could spend a lifetime with them without compromising your own sanity.

Entering this season, you were trying to lower your expectations. Another season without a match would not look good, and you had no desire to be labelled a spinster or to be spurned by men in favour of younger, more naive brides. You had to take advantage of what youthful charms you still possessed.

You secured the low bun in your hair with one final pin, craning your neck to examine your handiwork. You had often mourned not having sisters to help you do your hair, although your mother had taught you how to manage it yourself well. You blended some rouge across your cheeks to give yourself a subtle flush, using a light touch; you knew by the end of the night you would be thoroughly red faced from dancing and laughing. A touch of golden eyeshadow on your lids, and you stepped back from the mirror to examine your full form.

Your dress was a soft shade of green, made of satin that draped beautifully down to the floor, giving you an elegant, feminine silhouette. The lacy sleeves ended just past your elbows, and your matching gloves left a few inches of forearm exposed. The rounded neckline was edged with lace, exposing your collarbones, giving you a certain allure while still maintaining a modest, ladylike appearance.

Your moment of self-appreciation was cut short by your mother knocking at the door. “Come in!” you called.

She entered. “Carriage leaves in five minutes, my darling. Oh! Look at you! Turn around for me! Oh, you look lovely,” your mother gushed. “That colour does wonders for your complexion.”

“Thank you, Mama,” you replied, smiling at the ground.

“Come, let us head downstairs.” You took your mother’s arm, descending the grand staircase of your London home to the foyer, out the front door, to be helped up into the carriage by a footman. Once safely settled inside, your mother began speaking about the latest edition of Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

“Have you read it yet, darling?”

“I have, Mother.”

“Well, it seems Mr. Burreaux has returned from his travels on the Continent! He is meant to be a perfect gentleman and he comes from a highly reputable family. You would do well to make his acquaintance this evening, which shouldn’t be hard as he is close with the elder Bridgerton boys. Oh, what am I still calling them boys for! They’re grown now!” she exclaimed.

“Mother,” you sighed, “If he’s such good friends with Anthony, shouldn’t we be concerned that he is a rake? I know so many people say reformed rakes make the best husbands, but I shouldn’t ever be able to fully trust the fidelity of a man who at one time possessed such a roguish reputation.” Although you argued this point with your mother, you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t intrigued by him. He was meant to be incredibly handsome and he did come from a well respected family. Still, handsome men were more often than not in possession of numerous mistresses, indicating they most likely wouldn’t be seeking a true love match like you still secretly longed for.

“My dear, I haven’t heard a word about him being a rake! Ever! Just because he is friends with a particularly notorious one,” she whispered in a rather conspiratorial tone,” doesn’t make him one himself! After all, your brothers are good friends with Anthony, and they were never rakes before they married!” (You had to stifle a laugh at that comment - your mother turned a willing blind eye to anything questionable her sons did.) “Anyways, if there is any suspicion that he is a rake, I’m sure Lady Whistledown will be writing about it right away, and then we shall know. Regardless of your concerns, do make sure you speak to him tonight.” With a rather unladylike and quite girlish giggle, she added in a whisper, “I hear he is quite dashing too!”

“Oh, Mother!” you said, trying to lace your tone with fabricated disinterest at the fact. She didn’t need to know that the prospect of making his acquaintance excited you so. Besides, you shouldn’t get your hopes up, only to be let down by yet another insufferable man.

Carriages had begun arriving at Bridgerton House, gentlemen and young ladies filing in through the front door, all unknowingly overlooked by the two men in Lord Bridgerton’s study: the Lord himself and his close personal friend, Mr. Joseph Burreaux, Joe to those who knew him best. They were sharing a drink before descending into the fray of the party, Joe’s first proper social engagement since his return to London.

“I must warn you,” Anthony began, “of the mamas and daughters you will face in the ballroom tonight. They will be throwing themselves at you trying to gain your favour. From what I’ve heard, half of the ladies out this season are already positively besotted with you.”

Joe sighed, clearly not anticipating the evening with much joy.

“Oh, it’ll be fun tonight, though,” Anthony reassured him. “Even if you don’t find any suitable marriage prospects, you’ll find someone to have a little fun with. I know I will.”

Looking down into the brown liquor in his glass, Joe shook his head. “I don’t think I will. Find either, I mean. I’ve never had much interest in brief dalliances with ladies, unlike yourself, and I have little hope remaining of finding a wife I could truly love after so many years. Although, I do need to marry soon.” As the firstborn son of the Burreaux family, Joe took the responsibility of bearing a male heir to carry on the name very seriously.

“Oh, you don’t want to find a wife you could love!” Anthony laughed. “Makes it all the more complicated.”

“No, I don’t think it does. I think it would make it all much easier and that I should be much happier with someone I truly loved, although my hopes of finding that in this lifetime are waning,” Joe mused, melancholy heavy in his tone.

“You’ve always been a dreamer, Burreaux, a real romantic.”

“Is it such a crime for a man to wish for a wife he truly loves? Who loves him back?”

“No, I suppose not, but, if you ever change your mind, I can surely point you towards some women who could give you a little entertainment in the interim,” Anthony smirked.

“You are dreadful, Bridgerton, you know that?” Joe laughed. “You can keep those women for yourself. I’m sure they’re plenty satisfied with you.”

“Ahh, that they are,” Anthony replied, ever cocky. “Now, I presume we should be heading downstairs before my mother comes knocking down the door demanding our presence.” “I suppose so.”

Draining the last of their glasses and placing them on the windowsill, the two men exited the study and headed towards the grand hall.

Upon your arrival at the Bridgerton residence, you received your dance card and were greeted by the viscountess, Violet Bridgerton. “Oh, Mrs. Sedgewick, Miss Sedgewick, what a delight it is to see you! I’m so pleased you could join us tonight!”

“Oh, Violet, you know we would never miss it!”

“Never,” you murmured, repeating your mother’s words mindlessly, eyes roving the crowd, searching for Daphne. You needed to hear more about this Burreaux fellow.

“Oh, my dear, don’t let us hold you up!” Violet joked fondly. “I’m sure Daphne anxiously awaits your presence.”

With a brief curtsey, you departed, weaving through the packed ballroom in search of Daphne, locating her by the lemonade table. “Daphne!” you called out as you approached.

“(y/n)!” she replied, her head and body immediately turning in the direction of your voice. She grasped your gloved hands in hers, her mind evidently in the same place as yours as she exclaimed in a hushed voice, “You absolutely must meet Mr. Burreaux tonight!”

“Did my mother somehow put you up to this?” you asked warily.

“Of course not! How could she have, I haven’t even seen her yet.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. Your mother would find a way if she wanted to.

“Oh, I promise it’s not because of her! He is utterly dashing and a perfect gentleman! He is also meant to be quite well educated and cultured, especially after spending so many years on the Continent!” Daphne gushed.

“If you find him such a suitable prospect,” you asked, “why haven’t you set your sights on him?”

“Oh, I could never marry him. I’ve known him for far too long, he’s like a brother. And I know he wouldn’t ever have such feelings for me. You, on the other hand, don’t have that inhibition, and any man who isn’t utterly taken with you is nothing but a fool,” she said. “I also think your personalities might be quite compatible.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind meeting him,” you said, smiling back at Daphne, feeling a blush rise in your cheeks.

“Oh, good! I don’t believe he and Anthony have come down yet, but when they do we shall go find them.”

“Are there any men you have your eye on?” you asked, linking your arm through Daphne’s.

Her spirits seemed to sink slightly at the question. “No, although that Nigel Berbrooke is courting me as incessantly as ever. The poor man seems incapable of taking a hint. He is nice, but I just couldn’t marry him.”

“Nor could I,” you said, shuddering at the thought. He was a perfectly nice and respectful gentleman, but you were convinced he possessed not even half a brain.

“It is of no matter, someone will catch my eye eventually!” Daphne said lightly.

“They absolutely will,” you reassured her with a gentle squeeze of your hand on her forearm.

While awaiting the arrival of Anthony and Mr. Burreaux, you were approached by another gentleman asking for a dance with you. You wrote his name down in your dance card for a waltz slated to begin in approximately twenty minutes. He bid you a temporary farewell with a gentle brush of his lips on your gloved knuckles.

Almost immediately after he had disappeared back into the crowd of bodies, Daphne exclaimed, “There they are!” pointing in a most unladylike fashion.

“Daphne!” you hissed, snatching her wrist to bring it back down to her side.

Ignoring your admonishment, Daphne promptly led you to the two men. The first thing you noticed about Mr. Burreaux was his height. His sturdy frame towered even over Anthony, a well built man.

“You’ll be the first woman he meets tonight!” she whispered in your ear gleefully. You almost didn’t hear, caught up as you were taking in his blue eyes, his soft blonde hair. “Anthony!” Daphne called out once within a few feet of the two men. You snapped your gaze away from Mr. Burreaux. Now was certainly not the time to be caught staring.

“Ah, Daphne!” Anthony greeted his sister. Upon seeing you, he gave a brief bow. “Miss Sedgewick.”

You curtsied in return. “Your Grace.”

“Let me introduce you to my good friend, recently returned from travels on the Continent. This is Mr. Joseph Burreaux and this is a close family friend, Miss (y/n) Sedgewick.”

You dipped another elegant curtsey. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Burreaux.”

“The pleasure is surely all mine,” he murmured back, taking your gloved hand to brush a kiss over your knuckles. His ocean blue eyes held yours the entire time, forcing you to break eye contact before your heart cracked one of your ribs with the force of its beats. His gentle kiss, although much the same as any other suitor would bestow on you, had an entirely different and much more potent effect on you.

“How have things been with you, (y/n)?” Anthony asked politely.

“Oh, I’ve been very well, thank you. I must admit,” you said, laughing, “I’ve spent much of the past few days on the couch in the library reading that Jane Austen novel, Sense and Sensibility.”

“You like to read?” Mr. Burreaux interjected.

“Oh, I love to read! I have a particular affinity for novels.”

He dipped his head, his lips quirking in a smile that felt as if it was intended just for you, as if a secret something had just been shared between you. “A respectable pastime, and one you and I share.”

“Oh! Have you read the new Austen, then?” you asked, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be capturing this man's interest as a potential marriage prospect rather than chatting with him so casually. Most men didn’t care about how a woman spent her spare time, but something in his eyes, focused so intently on your face, gave you the sense that he was actually listening, actually interested.

“I started it just this afternoon, and I am finding it quite enjoyable thus far. Perhaps once I have finished it we could exchange our thoughts on the story and characters,” he suggested.

Trying your best to subdue the force of your smile at the prospect of spending more time in this man’s company, you replied demurely, “That would be lovely.”

“It is settled then. Might I impose myself on you and ask to share a dance this evening?”

“Of course.” You pulled out your dance card, disappointed you had already found a partner for the upcoming waltz. You pencilled his name in for the following dance, curtseying as you departed to locate your other partner.

When Joe had seen you approaching with Daphne, his breath had caught in his throat. You were a vision in sage green satin, falling perfectly from your waist down to the floor. The vibrant joy in your eyes and the sweet smile on your face when you had spoken of your love of reading had given him a warm feeling deep in his chest, and he found he didn’t want to rip his gaze from you. Your open demeanour was refreshing, a change from the women he had met who followed careful scripts in their interactions with him, trying to present themselves as perfect ladies who would make suitable wives for a man of his status.

He had felt as if he could have listened to you talk until he died, which was why he had suggested a meeting to discuss the book. It was rather forward of him, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He knew immediately he wanted to secure a dance with you. When he saw another name, that of some Jack Pembroke he had never heard of, pencilled in for the upcoming waltz, an unexpected bolt of jealousy shot through him. Why should he be jealous? You were one of a hundred eligible young women here, surrounded by just as many eligible gentlemen. Of course you would have numerous dance partners this evening, as would he. Despite his rationalization, he still wanted to scratch that name off of your list and pencil himself in for every single dance that evening. He resisted the urge, saying goodbye to you with a promise he would find you for your dance.

As the waltz music started up and the couples on the floor began to dance, he trailed Anthony through the crowds to meet up with his brothers, Colin and Benedict. Without meaning to, his eyes searched for you amongst the whirling couples in the centre of the room. He spotted you quickly, that radiant smile gracing your features as you talked with your dance partner, capturing his attention instantly. Unexpectedly, you looked up, your gaze catching his. He looked away, but he had held your eyes for a beat longer than was generally deemed appropriate. To tear his eyes from such warmth, such comfort, seemed, and felt, like an unnatural thing to do.

Jack Pembroke was a perfectly adequate dance partner. He was respectful and actually quite entertaining to chat with. Nonetheless, your attention was divided, your eyes flicking around the room to try and catch another glimpse of Mr. Burreaux. Something about him had fascinated you and you wanted to be back in his somehow magnetic presence. To be observed by those sweet, attentive blue eyes. To be held by those strong arms. To be kissed - your rapidly wandering thoughts were interrupted when you realized you were staring directly into his eyes.

You were frozen, immobile, for a moment, until he looked away and you did the same. A furious blush rose in your cheeks and fear flooded your body, as if he could have read what you were thinking through your eyes. Of course he couldn't have, but you still felt as if you had been caught in an indecent act.

Jack, noticing the sudden change in your demeanour and the colouring of your face, looked at you with concern. “Are you alright? Do you need to sit down for a moment or have a drink?”

You brushed it off. “Oh, no, I’m quite alright! Dancing always tires me.” That wasn’t entirely true - you could dance for hours on end with the right partner, but poor Mr. Pembroke didn’t need to know that.

Joe greeted Colin and Benedict amiably. He was good friends with them, too, and hadn’t had much time to catch up with them since his return from the Continent. Anthony, the devil, took the opportunity to poke fun at Joe now that he had his brothers for backup.

With a smirk, he said, “Seems our Joe here has taken a liking to sweet Miss Sedgewick. You should’ve seen him with her! He’s already gone and set up another meeting to discuss the book they both happen to be reading.”

Colin gave Joe a look of undisguised admiration. “Joe, you move fast, don’t ya? Nice work.” Joe tried to will away the red creeping up his neck.

Benedict, less fond of engaging in the well-meaning bullying of his brothers, gave Joe a brotherly pat on the back. “She’s a great girl, Joe, but good luck trying to lock her down. It’s her second season and she had God knows how many men knocking at her door last year, but she didn’t take a single one.”

“I never said I had any plans to court her. It’s not as serious as Anthony makes it sound,” Joe insisted. “It’s important for me to become acquainted with the locals, that’s all. I’d treat anyone the same as her.” As he said it, he knew it was a blatant lie, as did Anthony by the mirthful look on his face. Unbeknownst to his friend, Anthony had observed the moment you two had locked eyes during your dance with Pembroke, had noticed the subtle flush of Joe’s cheeks.

At that moment, another young lady and her mother approached to introduce themselves to Joe. The young lady was Charlotte Beaumont. He’d read of her in that bizarre Whistledown column - for some reason, people thought their marriage to each other was a distinct possibility. He hadn’t even met the woman until this very moment. She was pretty, that was undeniable, and spoke eloquently during their brief exchange, but he felt nothing in her presence. After spending mere minutes in yours, after feeling that profound pull towards another person, his heart could be inspired by nothing less. He sensed that the warmth in his chest he felt around you could quickly become addictive, rendering him utterly dependent on you. Would that be such a bad thing? The two Beaumont women took their leave after a few minutes of bland conversation - Joe wasn’t sorry to see them go.

“Now, that,” Colin said, with a slight incline of his head towards the retreating back of Miss Beaumont, “would be a real catch, Joe.”

“She was certainly pleasant,” Joe conceded, but his mind was elsewhere as his gaze drifted back over the crowd, seeking you out.

Anthony looked at his brothers pointedly, eyebrows raised, giving them a look that said See what I mean? They most definitely saw. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from adding, “Didn’t see you asking Miss Beaumont about meeting again to discuss your literary pursuits.” Resting a hand on Joe’s shoulder.

Anthony settled for asking, “Still so convinced finding a wife in London will be such a chore? Ah, look at the time! The next dance is starting soon. Better go find your girl.”

He only smirked when Joe shot him a look over his shoulder as he began weaving through the crowd in search of you. He liked hearing Anthony say “your girl.” His girl. My girl.

Your dance with Mr. Pembroke had ended, and after giving him a farewell curtsey, you drifted through the crowd in search of Daphne. You had a couple of minutes to spare before your dance with Mr. Burreaux, and you needed her reassurance. “Daphne!” you exclaimed once you found her.

“(y/n), hi!”

“My dance with Mr. Burreaux is next,” you said hurriedly. “Is my hair okay? My face?”

“Oh, you look absolutely lovely,” Daphne said, her tone just like your mother’s. “Falling for a man suits you beautifully, gives you a certain glow.”

“I am not falling for him. I barely know him, it’s far too early to make claims like that,” you insisted.

“Whatever you say,” Daphne replied in a singsong voice, indicating that she didn’t believe you in the slightest. “Speaking of said man,” she murmured, nodding at his approaching form before slipping back into the throng of people, wanting to leave you two as much privacy as could be afforded given the setting.

You shot her a look that you hoped expressed your sense of betrayal, but she just winked before whirling back around, leaving you with a view of her bouncing red curls tumbling down her back.

“M’lady,” Mr. Burreaux greeted you, dipping a small bow.

With a reciprocal curtsey, you said, “Sir.”

“Please,” he began, “call me Joe.”

“Well then, Joe, you had best call me (y/n),” you replied.

“As you wish, (y/n).” To hear your name roll off his tongue was oddly pleasing.

You assumed the appropriate position for your dance alongside the other couples on the floor as the first notes of the music started up. His hand slid around your waist to rest on your lower back, as yours landed lightly on his shoulder. His free hand grasped yours, your gloved palms fitting together perfectly. His touch, albeit blocked by several layers of fine fabric, felt sweeter than any man’s ever had before. You had only just begun your dance, but you already knew you would sense the absence of his hands on you once it was over.

You didn’t know where to look, your gaze flicking uncertainly between his soft blue eyes, his chest, the dancers beside you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you had to resist the urge to sink into it, to sink into him. To fall until his strong arms inevitably caught you.

“So,” he began, as you drifted between the other couples on the dance floor. “I already know of your love of reading, but I must confess, I’m curious how else you enjoy spending your time.”

His blue eyes were so intense you almost couldn’t voice your response, drowning in those endless oceans in front of you. Recovering yourself, you replied, “I love walking, rain or shine, especially out in the countryside. That’s my greatest qualm with the season in London - it keeps me in town and I go months without a walk in true solitude.”

“I agree with you there. One is never truly alone in London, something that has been a bit of an adjustment for me. I have a lovely country estate that I plan on escaping to frequently.”

How you longed to join him on one of those frequent escapes to that countryside estate. You had just complained about the lack of solitude in London, but his presence didn’t feel like an encroachment on your existence. Many other London residents were insufferably overbearing, and their presence was something worth escaping from. However, you suspected being alone with Joe would be much the same as being alone with yourself.

“Oh! That sounds lovely,” you said wistfully. “I should do the same, except my mother wants me to remain in town, for all the balls and such things. She is set on me spending as much time in society as possible, with the intention of corralling a great mass of potential suitors,” you sighed, forgetting yourself once again as you spoke so casually of these somewhat delicate personal matters with a man you barely knew. None of your usual walls, so carefully guarded most of the time, seemed to be up when you were with him. These were generally conversations saved for your closest lady friends, as they weren’t issues a man could ever really empathize with.

“I can only imagine how restrictive that must feel,” he murmured thoughtfully, before learning slightly closer to you and whispering conspiratorially, “I would stow you in my carriage and take you to my country estate, but I fear your mother would notice your absence and never permit me to be in your presence again, which I simply could not bear.”

You giggled at his comment. As he pulled away, a single lock of blonde hair fell across his forehead, amplifying his sweet, boyish charm. You were glad he couldn’t yet brush it back into place, occupied as his hands were. Occupied with holding you.

“Yes, I suspect my mother would have your head if you pulled such a daring stunt, although,” you mused, “the intervening period before she discovered our plot would surely be most enjoyable.”

You had meant the comment innocently, your mind (mostly) taken up only by thoughts of forests and meadows, sunshine and long, quiet walks, but you saw in his momentarily darkened eyes that his thoughts had turned elsewhere. “I have no doubt of that,” he murmured.

You flushed, looking away, unable to hold his gaze in that moment, the heat of his body so close to yours suddenly magnified, his touch on your waist searing. No dance partner had ever had such an effect on you, and while part of you wanted to run from the inexplicable power this man exerted over you, the other part wanted to lean into the heat, start the fire, burn in bliss with him by your side.

His voice brought you back to the crowded ballroom, disrupting your fantasies. “You are a most elegant dancer,” he said.

“Thank you,” you replied demurely. “As are you.”

In response, he murmured quietly, almost inaudibly, “Nothing compared to you.”

You had to bite down on your lip to quell the overwhelming force of your smile.

When you sank your teeth into your lower lip, it did indescribable things to his head and heart. The banter you had shared throughout the dance, which was regretfully drawing to a close, was oddly comfortable, despite the fact it was your first meeting, despite the satin and starched white shirts. Your presence felt almost akin to slipping into his bed after a hard day - comfortable, warm, safe. A reprieve from the world, presumably similar to what you had described feeling during your countryside strolls. Oh, how he wished to take you on one.

When the music faded, he mourned the loss of contact as he was forced to wrench his hands from you. You dipped a perfect curtsey, smiling up at him. “Thank you for a lovely dance, Joe.”

“Thank you, (y/n).” To hear his name, shortened, the version generally reserved for his closest acquaintances, fall from your pretty lips warmed him. “Might I interest you in a lemonade?” he asked.

“You very well might,” you replied with the sweetest smile.

He offered you his arm, so pleased when you took it, guiding you towards the lemonade table. To walk through the crowds with you attached to him, to move through the world as a pair, felt so damn right. He handed you a glass once you reached the table, moving to the side to avoid the crowd that always gathered there following a dance. Ladies reunited with their friends to recount tales of dreadful partners while men tried to secure a few extra minutes with a particularly lovely lady over a glass of the sugary drink. Joe was certainly in the latter category.

The Bridgerton crew found the two of you, and Anthony eyed you standing so close to Joe’s side before sending him a brief wink. Joe only hoped you hadn’t seen. You immediately gravitated towards Daphne and away from the men, sharing hushed words and tittering about something or other. One thing in particular that Daphne whispered to you made you burst out laughing. When you laughed, the rest of his world turned to nothing of consequence, his whole being absorbing the sound as if it was the prettiest piece of music he had ever had the privilege of hearing. He wanted to hear that precious sound again, and God, he wanted so, so desperately to be the reason it had bubbled up from your throat.

You drifted away with Daphne, enthralled by the hilarious story of her horrible dance with a partner, who, to preserve his dignity, shall not be named. Once you were confidently out of Joe and the Bridgertons’ earshot, she asked you about your own dance, demanding you divulge every single detail. You told her everything, her little gasps and excited grabs at your forearm spurring you on.

“Oh, (y/n)! That is so sweet! No man has ever made me feel like that,” she gushed.

“He was perfect,” you replied. “No other partner this evening shall be able to compare to him.”

“I don’t know that any man will be able to compare to him, ever again!”

You were forced to agree with her there. His wit, his charm, his soft smiles had captivated you so. You would have loved to share another dance that evening, but to do so would be seen as highly improper, so you settled for longing stares when he wasn’t looking. Half the time you sought him out he was already gazing in your direction, which sent your heart into overdrive and stirred up the swarm of butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach when you had first laid eyes on him. Even as you were held in the arms of another man, while he held another girl in his, he shared with you those subtle smiles that you now knew were intended just for you, as you whirled past each other in your separate pairs. Your focus seemed to magnetize to each other, to Daphne’s sheer delight, as she often caught you in the act.

Many hours into the evening, long after the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkened the towering windows, your mother sought you out to inform you it was time to return home. You hugged Daphne goodbye, promising you’d see her again soon.

As you embraced, she whispered in your ear, “I bet Mr. Burreaux will be on your doorstep tomorrow with a massive bouquet of flowers.”

“That would be incredible, but don’t go getting my hopes up! I don’t want to have any expectations, or else I’ll surely be disappointed,” you replied.

“Oh, I know most men will always disappoint, but I have a feeling we’re dealing with something special here,” she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

You took your mother’s arm, beginning to weave through the people, stopping every few feet to say farewell to an acquaintance, when you saw Joe headed towards you. He apologized to those people who didn’t part like water before him as he was forced to squeeze past them.

“Oh!” your mother said breathlessly when she caught sight of him, the only exclamation she had time to make before he was in front of you.

You both curtsied while he bowed. “Joe, this is my mother, Mrs. Sedgwick,” you said. “Mama, this is Mr. Joseph Burreaux.”

“Mrs. Sedgewick, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Burreaux. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

“I just wished to catch your daughter before you left to wish her a good night and safe travels home,” he said, addressing your mother politely.

Your mother, seeing an opportunity, quickly found a reason to excuse herself, something about one friend or another, leaving you in his presence. You could sense her hawkish eyes watching your entire exchange, trying to gauge whether or not you two were a potential match.

“I hope you have a good night, (y/n), and are swiftly home safe. It was a pleasure to meet you this evening and to share a dance with such a naturally talented partner.”

“Thank you, Joe. I’m sure our ten minute carriage ride will pose us little to no mortal risk, though your concern on our behalf is very thoughtful,” you joked.

“I’m sure that is the case, but nonetheless, I would hate for something to happen to you,” he said intently.

“Likewise. I hope your trek upstairs tonight befalls you no harm.”

“I will be sure to hold onto the banister very carefully and to think of your cautions while I climb those stairs to ensure my safe passage.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I hope you also think of me when you next open up Sense and Sensibility,” you added coyly.

“Oh, I assure you, I will,” he replied.

“It was most thoughtful of you to see me off, but I’m afraid I must be going,” you said regretfully, not wanting to leave him just yet, or ever.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to hold you up.” He took your gloved hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Did his lips linger there, or was it just your tired and hopeful mind playing tricks on you?

After reuniting with your mother, you descended the steps of Bridgerton House and were helped into the carriage that had carried you here only hours earlier. It had brought you here with a curiosity about Mr. Burreaux, but also a firm belief that he would be a roguish man not suited for you. Now, it brought you home while you replayed every memory of him from that evening, images of his blue eyes and broad shoulders nurturing the sweet warmth in your stomach, the lightness in your heart. Contrary to your expectations, he had been the perfect gentleman to you, not making any moves or displaying any behaviour that suggested he had rakish motives. His advances would best be described as respectfully improper, perhaps violating the strictly formal rules of London high society but never coming close to crossing your personal boundaries.

Once home and stripped from your green satin, into your bedclothes and tucked underneath the covers, he still filled your thoughts. Just for tonight, you thought. Tonight, you would indulge in dreams of him - tomorrow, you could come to your senses, if you still possessed any.

#joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow au #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x fem!reader

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joeys-babe · 7 months

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Someday We’ll Be Together

Chapter 14: October 1st

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(y/n's pov)

Joe stayed at the house long enough to eat breakfast with my parents and me before he had to leave to set up for our date.

there were so many kisses shared that morning, it seemed neither of us could get enough of the other. my parents didn't seem to mind at all either, in fact, they thought the opposite. they could tell Joe made me so happy and that's all they wanted, to see me happy.

my parents, plus pretty much everyone around us could tell that Joe and I's connection went deeper than "best friends", that being said.. when they found out that Joe confessed and that we were more than friends they were so happy that it finally happened. it felt like a game to them, waiting to see who'd confess first since it seemed inevitable.

even though we had confessed to being "in love" with each other, "I love you" hadn't been said yet. That was going to be a separate occasion.

Joe and I had decided to not reveal our non-official relationship to his parents yet. We'd be doing that tomorrow night in a funny, quirky, very Joe Burrow-style way.

I had just told Joe bye when I walked away from the front door and towards the stairs, my mom was in the kitchen with a smirk on her face as she looked at me.

"He makes you happy, huh?" - your mom

"Extremely happy. My cheeks hurt since I've been smiling for the past 10 hours straight." - you

"That's the best type of pain, honey." - your mom

"I'm starting to understand that." - you

"Do you have any clue what the date entails? Or even where it is?" - your mom

"Uhm.. nope! I'm sure Joe has something nice planned though." - you

"Okay.. you better start getting ready, did Joe tell you what to wear?" - your mom

"You're starting to make me realize that I know nothing about this date." - you

"Then text him!" - your mom laughed

I felt like a teenage girl as I ran up the stairs giggling, and simultaneously pulling my phone out of my pocket.

Instead of texting Joe, I thought it would be easier if I called him so I quickly found his contact. Since last night it has been changed to "Joey💕". Crazy how the day before yesterday I had him blocked, and now there's a heart by his name.

Joe answered in less than two rings, his deep beautiful voice ringing through the phone causing a blush on my cheeks.

"Miss me already, baby?" - Joe

His cheerful tone of voice made it easy to picture the expression that was probably on his face right now. A war-ending grin on those perfect lips that I loved.

"That too. But, I was calling because I need to know some details about our date." - you

"Ask away." - Joe

"What do I need to wear? Where is it? What time-" - you

"y/n, sweetheart chill out. You can wear whatever, I'm wearing sweats. I'm picking you up so don't worry about a place and I'll prob be over at your house at 6." - Joe

"Okay sounds good. I can't wait." - you

"Me neither. I've been thinking about this night for probably a decade." - Joe

"Me too, I'll see you in a couple of hours?" - you

"Yup, I'll see you then. Bye, beautiful." - Joe

"See ya later, Joey." - you giggled

When the tone sounded through my phone speaker letting me know that Joe had hung up, I fell back onto my bed. Butterflies swarmed through my stomach as my cheeks heated up; feeling more loved than ever before.

*time skip*

"do I look okay??" - you

It was currently 5:55, just five minutes before Joe would be picking me up for our date and I was standing by the front door as my mom helped with any finishing touches.

For my outfit, I opted for a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized graphic sweatshirt. It was comfy but cute and chic at the same time.

"You look great sweetie. You need to stop worrying though, it's just Joe." - your mom

"Sure it might just be Joe. But I still want to impress him! I've waited so long for this night, Mom. I want everything to be perfect." - you

"Everything will be perfect if you stop stressing!" - your mom

I went to open my mouth to utter a rebuttal but the ringing of the doorbell beat me to it.

My mom gave me an encouraging smile as I reached for the doorbell but hesitated to open it.

"You got this." - your mom

I nodded and quickly opened the door, Joe's gaze lifted from his shoes to my face. As he did so, the large smile that I adored made its way onto his face.

Joe was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt; a simple combo that made him look so complexly handsome.

We just stood staring at each other for a few seconds, we didn't know what to do.

"Oh! Yeah these are for you!" - Joe

Joe moved his hand from behind his back revealing a bouquet of white roses. He handed them off to me as a blush of crimson flushed his cheeks.

"Aww. Joe, I love them. They're so pretty!" - you

"I'm glad you like them. Wanna get going?" - Joe

I nodded and my mom took the flowers from my hand.

"I'll put these in a vase then put them in your room. You two have fun!" - your mom

My mom practically shoved me out of the house before shutting the door behind me, Joe took my hand and led me to his car.

Before I could even reach for the handle, Joe opened my door and once he knew I was comfortably sitting he shut it back.

When Joe started driving a comfortable silence fell over us, our hands intertwined on the center console while music played through the speakers.

"So... where are you taking me??" - you

"It's a surprise. We've been here together before though." - Joe

"Oh really?" - you

"Yup, as kids. Don't look in the backseat by the way it'll give away everything that I have planned." - Joe

I nodded but when we were at a red light I couldn't help but peak. Joe immediately noticed and let go of my hand, he grabbed my chin gently and moved my gaze to him.

"No peaking!" - Joe

I laughed at Joe's pouty expression and before I knew it he was pulling me by my chin to connect our lips.

It was such a sweet kiss, Joe's lips were soft on mine with a hint of possessiveness. A silent promise that I was his.

The only thing that made us pull away from each other was the light turning green.

"I don't think I could ever get tired of kissing you." - Joe

"Good, because I could never get tired of kissing you either." - you

Ten minutes later Joe was pulling onto a dirt road that felt familiar but not significant.

"Backroads? Are gonna kill me?" - you laughed

"No ma'am. Not after I just got you all to myself. Maybe in a couple of months." - Joe joked

"Oh shut up!" - you

"I'm just playing, baby." - Joe

"I know you are Joey." - you

When Joe parked up in the grass and helped me out of the car, the sight my eyes landed on took my breath away.

"I hope you like it..." - Joe

There was a red checkered blanket laid out on this grassy hill that had a beautiful field view. A white sheet was hung between two trees and a mini projector was on this upside-down wicker basket. On the blanket was another folded blanket, two pillows, with candles scattered around the perimeter.

"It isn't the most romantic first date ever but I did try to make it something you wouldn't forget." - Joe

I felt tears well up in my eyes, happy tears of course. This was the sweetest thing a guy, or anyone really, had ever done for me.

When I turned to face Joe I watched panic fall over his face when he saw my teary eyes.

"Joe. It's perfect. I love it." - you

"Really?" - Joe smiled

"Yes, it's so sweet and so romantic." - you

Joe laced his fingers with mine and led me over to the blanket, my heart filled with so much love as we got closer to it.

"You can go ahead and get comfortable, I'm gonna grab the food from my car." - Joe

"Okay!" - you plopped down on the blanket

Joe had to chuckle, you looked so cute and he was oh so in love with you and everything about you. Being in your presence alone had him melting.

He returned shortly with the picnic basket of snacks, the pizza, and the cooler of drinks.

Joe spread everything out before sitting down beside me.

"Okay, so I tried to think about all your favorite things. Everything I thought of, I bought. We can eat the picnic snacks first then eat pizza." - Joe

"Sounds perfect!" - you

Joe grabbed the picnic and started getting things out. When he pulled out red grapes I decided to play a little prank on him.

"Uh Joe, I like green grapes." - you

His neck snapped so fast in my direction as a worried look appeared on his face.

"What? Since when? I was sure it was the red ones you liked-" - Joe

"I'm kidding Joey!" - you placed a hand on his shoulder as you laughed

"Oh. I was worried I messed something up already." - Joe

"I assure you that you won't mess anything up, we've been here five minutes and I've already cried." - you laughed

"Those were happy tears right?" - Joe

"Major happy tears." - you

Joe smiled as I leaned forward and pecked his perfect lips. When we pulled away he kissed my cheek and continued sitting everything out on the blanket.

"Hey, what's the projector for?" - you

"I planned to watch the sunset, but I was worried that the sunset might be underwhelming. So if it is, we've got a movie to watch instead." - Joe

"Woah, Joe you've thought about everything haven't you?" - you

"I've run every possible situation through my head and adapted. There is no way this is getting messed up." - Joe

"That's sweet of you." - you grinned

"I try." - joe smiled

"C'mere, lay with me. You should start the movie and we can eat our snacks." - you

Joe scooted over on the blanket carefully to not bunch it up and laid down next to me.

"What movie you wanna watch?" - Joe

"It's October so how about a Halloween movie? Not a horror movie of course since you are scared of them." - you

"I'm not scared of them, y/n! I just don't like them!" - Joe

"Sure, Joe." - you laughed

"I didn't come here to get made fun of." - Joe

I laughed as I laid my head on his shoulder and threw an arm over him.

"Sorry, babe." - you

"You know, I love when you call me that and baby." - Joe

"Well, I love calling you them." - you

Joe leaned down and pressed a kiss onto my lips before sitting up to open a box.

"Chocolate-covered strawberry?" - Joe

"Ooh! Yes, please!" - you

He leaned down on his elbow to where he was hovering over me and led the strawberry to my mouth. My hand found its way onto his chest, just wanting to remain in contact with him.

"Good?" - Joe

"Mhm, they're really good. Hand me one, it's your turn." - you

Joe handed me a chocolate-covered strawberry and I leaned up a little bit to guide it towards his perfect lips.

"Mmm, those are good!" - Joe

"What else do you have? I'm feeling something savory." - you

"We can have the pizza." - Joe suggested

"Oh yeah!" - you

Joe grabbed the two plates he brought and handed me one, along with a few napkins.

He was hesitantly reaching for the pizza box and for a second I wondered why he was seemingly nervous all of a sudden, he seemed fine up till now.

I watched Joe place the box between us before he slowly opened it. When he did his eyes immediately traced off to mine, and that's when I realized why he was nervous.

Written in pepperoni said, "Be My GF?"

Joe was silently freaking out, scared he asked too soon, worried about what you're answer would be, or if it was a lame way to ask such a big thing.

You on the other hand felt like you were on cloud nine. This was such a Joe way of asking you to be his girlfriend and you found it sweet and so endearing. It was perfect and quirky, just like Joe.

While you were swooning over the proposal, answering the question seemed to have slipped your mind. When you're eyes finally met Joe’s and he seemed frantic you realized you hadn't answered his question yet.

"Of course, I'll be your girlfriend!" - you

Joe’s once-nervous expression turned lit up with excitement as he leaned forward to crash his lips onto mine.

My hand cupped Joe’s cheek as I held him as close as I could get him, his lips rough on mine.

When Joe and I pulled away from each other huge smiles were plastered on our faces.

“So, I'm your boyfriend…” - Joe

“I’m your girlfriend…” - you

We looked at each other for a second before erupting into nervous giggles. It was almost as if our teenage selves came back for a second.

A few minutes later we had calmed down and got comfortable on the blanket. Joe got Hocus Pocus playing and we were cuddled up eating our pizza, stealing kisses after bites, and feeding each other snacks now and then.

The sunset didn't disappoint and neither did the view of it.

It seemed as if life couldn't get any better than it was at that moment. I was watching one of my favorite Halloween movies, and eating my favorite snacks, all while cuddling up to my boyfriend.

“Joey?” - you

Still lying on his shoulder, I rubbed his chest to get his attention.

“Yup?” - Joe

“Thank you for all of this. This was the best first date ever and I've loved every second of it. I'm so happy to finally call myself yours.” - you

“You’re so welcome, baby. I'm glad you've enjoyed it because I have as well.” - Joe

Sadly once the sun had set and the movie ended shortly after, it was time for us to leave.

Joe told me to head back to the car while he gathered everything up saying he didn't want me to get cold without the blankets.

Even while I was alone and Joe was putting stuff in the backseat, I couldn't stop smiling.

Today had been so perfect; waking up next to Joe, having breakfast with him, and then having the best date possible to end the night.

I wasn't without Joe for very long and when he got in the car he slipped his hand onto my leg as he turned onto the main road.

“My girl.” - Joe squeezed your leg

You had smiled at the gesture just thinking he was reminding you of his presence but in all honesty he just wanted to say it out loud to see if it would feel any more real to him. He couldn't believe it, the girl he'd had a crush on since high school was his girlfriend. She felt the same way about him that he felt about her and it was so surreal to him.

It was silent in the car, not an awkward silence but a little too quiet for Joe’s liking so he went to shuffle his usual playlist.

“Aye! We listened to your music the last time we were in the car. It's my turn.” - you

“Whatever you want, babe.” - Joe laughed

I connected my phone and shuffled my everyday playlist, a content smile on my face when “we fell in love in october” was the first song that played.

It hit me that it was October 1st. This song felt a little personal now that Joe and I started dating in October.

“This is kinda our song now…” - you

“Well. We started dating in October, I don't remember what month it was when I fell in love with you a few years ago.” - Joe smiled

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Authors note: this chapter has me feeling REALLLLLLLL single.

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow series

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