+1 day
background: with joes 29th birthday, y/n runs around town to throw a surprise for the best person of her life.
(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved)
word count: 2.5k
notes: day 4 of the advent calendar located here, my schedule drafts do not work, set in the cycles universe located here if you'd like to catch up, y/n is pregnant in this scenario.
warning: this is a alternative universe, keep this in mind! lots of fluff, a little shorter this time but next fics will be longer :)
It was Joe’s 29th birthday, and Cincinnati woke up frozen over, sky pale gray, river fog clinging to the bridges, and the kind of cold that made your breath swirl like smoke.
Joe had been annoying for a week straight about turning twenty nine.
Walking around the house sighing dramatically, telling Y/N he was “basically elderly.” Claiming his joints made new noises, he was limping for no reason. Asking if she’d still love him when he turned “thirty and dusty.”
And Y/N, pregnant, hormonal, patient only because she loved him, just kept patting his cheek and saying, “Baby, you literally heal like a Marvel character. Relax.”
Which was why, on the morning of his birthday, while he was at a light practice at the facility, she was sprinting around Cincinnati like she was training for the Olympics.
Because this man, this dramatic, clingy, impossibly soft giant?
He wasn’t getting just a cake, he wasn’t getting a plain dinner. He was getting a full surprise party, and she had six hours to pull it off.
First stop: the bakery across town that only opened at 8 AM, only took custom orders if your status was famously known, and only made cakes that could safely be described as the best of the best.
Y/N rushed inside wearing leggings, Joe’s oversized hoodie, puffer jacket, and Uggs, moving fast enough that a cashier jumped.
“Oh! Um..can we help you?”
Y/N: “I’m here for the Burrow order!”
The baker blinked. “Oh! The..oh. The… HUGE one.”
Y/N nodded, out of breath. “Yes. The huge one. The giant chocolate whatever thing I don’t even remember ordering.”
The baker grinned proudly. “It feeds about twenty.”
Y/N pinched her nose. “Good. He eats for twenty.”
While they boxed it up, she called Mariah.
“Where are you?” Mariah answered immediately. Y/N could hear traffic, loud music, and what sounded like a blinker frantically clicking.
“Trying to U turn!” Mariah yelled. “Ain’t nobody in this city know how to drive.”
“Valid,” Y/N huffed, balancing the massive cake box. “Okay, I got the cake. Did you get the balloons?”
“I got every balloon in Party City, babe.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means… if he hates it, we can fly away like the freaking house from Up.”
“Oh my god.”
Next stop, the surprise venue, a private room at one of Joe’s favorite restaurants. Not fancy. Not crazy. Just warm, dim, good food, soft lighting, and a staff that already adored the Burrows because Joe tipped like money grew on trees.
She rushed inside, cake wobbling dangerously.
The manager spotted her and ran over. “You made it!”
“Barely.”
“We set up the room exactly how you wanted.”
“Lights warm and low?”
“Yep.”
“Extra space for the players so they don’t knock things over?”
“Done.”
“Blanket on every chair because it’s cold as hell?”
He grinned. “Every chair.”
Y/N felt a wave of relief, brief, fleeting. Because immediately, her phone buzzed violently against her leg.
Joe ❤️: Where r u babe??
She froze like someone had pointed a camera at her mid-crime.
Mariah texted at the same time:
Mariah: DONT ANSWER HIM. HE’S AT THE FACILITY. HE CANT SEE U
Y/N whispered, “Oh my god,” and typed back to Joe:
Y/N: Pilates 😇
Joe replied instantly.
Joe: u hate pilates
Y/N: Not today!
Joe: u ok??
Y/N: YES BABE LOVE YOU BYE
She shoved the phone in her pocket before he could call.
Panic was a pregnancy symptom. She decided it was. She claimed it.
She moved around the room adjusting place settings, fixing candles, adjusting the slideshow projector that kept flashing a photo of Joe looking twelve years old and way too proud holding a frog at a lake.
Perfect.
She checked the clock.
Four hours left.
She still had to pick up the custom Bengals themed cookies, grab the framed gift she ordered, stop by the florist, get dressed, and hide her bump enough that Joe didn’t ask if she was okay fifteen times, lastly then get him into the damn restaurant without suspicion
She exhaled heavily and waddled to the car.
At the florist, the bouquet was ready, the florist beamed. “Happy birthday to your husband!”
“Oh, boyfriend,” Y/N corrected quickly. “We’re almost there.”
“Practically there,” the florist said, winking. “You go put him in a tux yet?”
“Oh, no, he refuses. Says it restricts his creativity.”
The florist blinked. “He said what?”
Y/N just nodded. “Exactly.”
By the time she got home, her legs were tired, her back hurt, and her head felt like a balloon someone accidentally kicked across a gym floor.
She pushed the door open quietly.
Joe was sitting on the couch, socked feet up, hair fluffy from taking off his beanie, scrolling on his phone with narrowed eyes like a dad trying to understand TikTok.
He looked up instantly.
“There you are,” he breathed, soft and relieved in a way that made her heart melt.
Y/N smiled, trying not to look suspicious. “Hi, birthday boy.”
He held out an arm. “Come here.”
She set the florist bag down and waddled over. He pulled her right onto his lap, hands warm around her waist, forehead resting against her cheek.
“Why you been gone all morning?” he asked, voice low. “Missed you.”
She kissed his jaw. “I told you. Pilates.”
He snorted. “You did not do Pilates. You can’t lie to me. I know you.”
Y/N pressed her lips together. “Maybe I… just needed to get stuff done.”
“Baby,” he murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You’re tired. You didn’t have to run errands today.”
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I kind of did.”
He raised a brow. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because,” she whispered, smiling as she cupped his cheeks, “someone I love is turning twenty nine… and he deserves the best.”
Joe went still, eyes melting in that way he only ever looked at her.
He leaned in, kissed her slow, thumb stroking her chin.
“C’mere,” he whispered. “Lemme lay with you for a minute.”
“But-”
“No,” he said gently. “You’ve been running around all day. I can tell. Just… stay here with me, princess.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.
Five minutes.
Just five.
And then she’d get up.
Except…
She didn’t.
She slept for forty-five.
Because pregnancy or not, Joe was warm and comfy and smelled like cedar and aftershave and home.
She woke up to his phone buzzing.
A text from Ja’marr lighting up the screen:
Ja'marr: so we still on for 6?? what time we yell surprise?
Y/N panicked and slapped a hand over the screen so fast Joe jerked.
“What was that?” he asked groggily.
“NOTHING!” she blurted. “Happy birthday! Get dressed!”
“For what?” he asked, confused and adorable and sleepy.
Y/N smiled sweet and innocent.
“You’ll see.”
And her phone buzzed in her pocket, Mariah texting:
Mariah: HE BETTER BE READY
Y/N took a deep breath, tonight… Joe was getting the surprise of his life.
The moment Joe stepped fully into the rooftop and everyone screamed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOE!” the room actually shook.
Like the amps rattled, balloons quivered on their strings, and the chef in the corner jumped so hard he dropped a tray of pretzel bites.
Joe stood there frozen, eyes wide like a golden retriever who’d just seen a squirrel wearing sunglasses.
His gaze snapped immediately to Y/N, who looked way too innocent standing in front of a massive balloon arch with her little bump pressed under her soft cream sweater, cheeks flushed pink, curls spilling out of a clip she’d shoved in hours earlier while rushing across the city.
Joe blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then walked toward her like he was underwater.
Everyone cheered louder, whistling, clapping, videoing him from every angle like he was being drafted again. Tee yelled, “Look at him! Man’s about to cry!” Ja’marr chimed in with, “He confused as hell.”
Joe finally reached Y/N and whispered, breathless, “Baby… what...what is all this?”
She smiled up at him, lifting her hands to cup his cold cheeks. “Your birthday, silly.”
His chest expanded like he’d physically taken a punch of emotion. “You did this? All of this?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Who else? Tee? Please.”
Joe didn’t even laugh. He pulled her in carefully, always so carefully one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other brushing her bump as if it were instinct. He kissed her forehead, eyes closed for a beat too long.
But the moment lasted all of five seconds because Mariah stepped between them like a wedding planner possessed.
“OKAY! EMOTION LATER! PICTURES NOW!”
Y/N groaned as Joe blinked at her, Tee yelled, “POSE, WHITE BOY!” as cameras flashed everywhere.
Music blasted. Food started disappearing like it owed people money. The heater near the cake short circuited and Tee screamed because he thought it was a ghost.
Someone uncorked a bottle of champagne too close to the balloon arch and an entire column of balloons detached and floated directly into Ja’marr's hair.
He swatted at them like they were bees.
Joe kept hovering at Y/N’s side, eyes darting around the room like he was overwhelmed and trying not to show it.
She watched him with a little smirk.
He elbowed her gently. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That smile. The I-planned-a-massive-thing-and-now-I’m-watching-you-like-a-science-experiment smile.”
“…it is a cute experiment.”
He leaned down. “I’m gonna kiss you right now.”
“No, you’re gonna take birthday pictures with your friends.”
He groaned loudly, dragging his feet toward the guys like a toddler being forced to take Christmas card photos.
20 minutes later, Ja’marr walked over, drink in hand, squinting, “Uhhhhh… Y/N… Joe’s at the bar.”
“What bar?”
Ja’marr pointed.
Joe was staring at a shot, just staring at it like it was a nuclear weapon he was deciding whether to detonate.
Y/N stormed across the room, robe like coat trailing behind her, pregnant waddle in full effect.
“Joseph Lee Burrow.”
He didn’t even look up. “…baby.”
“What is THAT?”
“A beverage.”
“A beverage what, Joe? A hydrating one or a disastrous one?”
“It’s… tequila.”
“PUT. IT. DOWN.”
Everyone within ten feet froze.
Joe blinked. “It’s my birthday?”
“And you’re a horrible person when you’re hungover. I’m not waking up tomorrow to you groaning like Frankenstein, begging for electrolytes and forgiveness when you're mid season.”
The entire bar section fell silent.
Joe opened his mouth, then smirked, slow, teasing, dangerous.
“Yes ma’am.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Don’t ma’am me.”
“Yes… mom.”
The entire room gasped, hollered, screamed, sprinted in circles like it was a reality TV finale.
Y/N reared back and smacked his arm so hard his whole torso moved.
“JOSEPH!”
He started laughing, laughing with his head thrown back, dimples deep, eyes shining, “OW! Baby! Abuse!”
“You called me MOM!”
“YOU SAID NO SHOTS!”
“Because you’re DRAMATIC and HELPLESS!”
“Because you LOVE me!”
“BECAUSE YOUR HANGOVERS ARE A NATIONAL TRAGEDY!”
He leaned in and kissed her very quick, soft, smug on the cheek.
Everyone yelled like they’d just witnessed a monumental sports moment. At one point awhile later, he wrapped his arms around her from behind while she talked to Mariah, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“You mad at me still?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You love me?”
“Unfortunately.”
He grinned, lips brushing her jaw.
“Thanks for tonight.”
She softened against him immediately, melting like her bones dissolved.
“You deserve the world,” she whispered. “This is the least I could do.”
He squeezed her belly gently, murmuring, “My two perfect birthday presents.”
Mariah gagged from behind them. “OH MY GOD PLEASE, get a room before I get emotional.”
The night rolled on warm and loud and messy, the exact kind of chaos that made Joe look at Y/N every five minutes like he couldn’t believe she existed.
And for once?
She wasn’t running around, wasn’t stressed and wasn’t doing ten tasks at once.
She was just leaning back into Joe’s chest, taking deep breaths, watching him glow under the lights with his people around him. His birthday, his girl, his home, his baby, his entire future in one room and everything he loves.