NFL Imagines

/// Joe Burrow \\\

Requested by LiveLoveTimmyT

Title: Don't Be Late
Warnings: Feelings of anxiety. Oh and it gets pretty heated at the end ngl—

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The ticking of the clock on the wall is driving you mad. Every time it clicks and the big hand moves another second goes by.

It's another second that Joe isn't home.

You don't look close enough to read exactly what time it is, but your eyes had lingered long enough after several quick glances to see that it was now past midnight. Over two hours past the time your boyfriend promised he'd be home.

His phone had to have a dozen missed calls from you, with the addition of several texts. None were ever answered and the worry in your chest ate away at you until you couldn't calm your anxiety anymore. If Ja'Marr wouldn't have answered your call on the last ring, you would have broken every traffic law to get to his house at a record speed.

But he answered and he told you Joe was safe. You never went into detail that your boyfriend was supposed to be home at a certain time, just that he hadn't answered any of your texts or calls so you wanted to check in and make sure he was fine. You wanted to see if Joe remembered his promise to you and you couldn't do that if you mentioned it to Ja'Marr, since the man has a big mouth.

The clock shows 12:17 when you hear a key slide into the lock of the front door. The handle turns and the tall blond steps inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it back.

Listening closely to his footsteps, you keep your gaze locked on the book clutched tightly in your hands. You stopped reading a few minutes ago, your mind becoming unable to process the words your eyes blankly stare at.

The living room, where you sit curled up on the couch, is the only room lit up. The lamp on the table beside you cast a dim light across the room and Joe pauses when he looks up to see light coming from the room. He didn't expect you to stay up and wait on him. He was ready to come home to see asleep in bed, his side of the bed open and inviting next to you.

He takes his shoes off and quietly enters the room in case you're asleep. A soft smile dances across his lips when he sees you reading. Walking up behind you, he brushes a gentle hand down your cheek and leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Hey, baby," he whispers, crouching down to hook his chin on the back of the couch. "You didn't have to stay up and wait for me."

You don't answer, but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, an action that he catches.

"What's wrong?" He ask, eyes darting down to the book which he notices you have a death grip on. He chuckles, this not being the first time he's seen you react to a book like this. "The book upsetting?"

When you still don't reply, his smile fades and worry settles in his chest. He turns his head to look at you, brows pinching together in concern. "(Y/n), talk to me."

You slowly lift your head with dark eyes that could cut right through someone. Your throat bobs as you thickly swallow, but your lips stay sealed. They're shut tight. Something is definitely upsetting you if you've turned to the silent treatment.

"Will you at least look at me?" His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. It pains you to hear him like that but you don't have much sympathy for him after the short hell he put you through. Maybe you were overreacting a little, so you finally meet his eye.