issy

➜ ┊: Stranger Things ᵎ

ᰋ ˓ ♡ Steve Harrington

Scoop Me Up (smut) ౨ৎ Pinky Promise ౨ৎ Farrah Fawcett Hairspray ౨ৎ Freaky Saturday (freaky friday au) ౨ৎ WE were Young in Hawkins ౨ৎ The Bells Were Never Yours ౨ৎ Seven Days with Steve ౨ৎ Beyond Seven Days ౨ৎ Embers of Love ౨ৎ Take my Whole Life ౨ৎ forget me not... ౨ৎ For Business Purposes

Steve Harrington and his 6 Little Nuggets

Part 1: Steve Harrington did not sign up for this (but he will do it again)

Part 2: Steve Harrington vs His 6 Little Nuggets

Part 3: Steve Harrington vs Love Letter

ᰋ ˓ ♡ Dustin Henderson

Out of His League (or so he thought) ✧ Grease-Stained Secrets

➜ ┊: Series ᵎ ✰

Frames and Strings (smau)

Horrors at Hawkins University (mini-series) - mystery/college au fanfic

ᰋ ˓ ♡ Joe Keery / DJO

The Girl Next Door (is not a grandma)

The Girl Next Door (is not a grandma) pt 2

I think about you...

⤷۶ৎ ⋮i mostly write xreader but asks and requests and suggestions are open 🕯️ .ᐟ ˎˊ˗🦢

˚₊‧꒰ა i write when inspiration visits, not when summoned—but feel free to leave offerings.thank you to everyone who reads my fics. your words, reblogs, and quiet support mean more than you know.໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⤷۶ৎ ⋮ suggestions are now open.ᐟ ˎˊ˗

stay as long as you like

By seven in the evening, your arms were aching from carrying groceries up six flights of stairs, the elevator was “out of maintenance”. You were halfway to your apartment when you spotted your neighbor sitting on the stairwell landing.

Joe sat on the top step with his elbows resting on his knees, one leg bouncing impatiently. His leather jacket was zipped all the way up, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he looked so miserable that you immediately stopped walking.

"Why do you look like someone just told you music is cancelled forever?"

Joe looked up. For a second, relief flashed across his face, then embarrassment. "I locked myself out."

You blinked. "What?"

"I locked myself out."

"You?"

"Unfortunately."

A laugh escaped before you could stop it.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm trying not to."

"You're failing."

You absolutely were. Apparently, he'd gotten home from the studio, reached for his keys, and discovered they were sitting comfortably inside his apartment.

The landlord was on vacation visiting a family. The old man from 6D wasn't answering his door, and Joe didn't know any locksmiths. Which meant he was stranded, on the stairs. like a Dickens character.

"Well," you said finally, shifting the grocery bags higher on your arms. "Do you want to come over?"

Joe immediately shook his head. "No, it's okay."

You looked around the freezing hallway. "Joe."

"I'm fine."

"You're sitting on a staircase."

"I'm surviving."

"You look cold."

"I'm not cold."

His teeth chose that exact moment to chatter. You raised an eyebrow, Joe sighed. "That was unrelated."

You laughed. "Come inside."

"Really, I'm okay."

"Joe."

"No, seriously."

"I insist."

Another dramatic sigh. Five minutes later, he was carrying two of your grocery bags while following you into your apartment.

The second the door opened, warmth wrapped around him and whatever candle you were currently obsessed with.

Your apartment somehow always smelled like a bakery and a flower shop had decided to become roommates.

Joe stepped inside and looked around. He'd already been here once and he still found himself staring.

The walls were covered in floral wallpaper. Books sat stacked beside plants. Soft yellow lighting glowed from every corner. Little decorative bows seemed to exist for absolutely no practical reason.

"You know," Joe said as he kicked off his shoes, "I think your apartment gets pinker and whimsy every time I see it."

You gasped dramatically. "It does not."

"It absolutely does."

"It has always looked like this."

Joe pointed toward a pink blanket. "That blanket wasn't there last time."

"Because I just bought it."

"Exactly."

You narrowed your eyes. While you unpacked groceries, he wandered toward the couch. Three My Melody plushies sat neatly against the cushions.

Joe picked one up. "You must really like this rabbit."

"My Melody."

"Right."

"You sounded disrespectful."

Joe laughed. "How many do you have?"

You didn't even look up from the vegetables you were washing. "Fifteen."

Silence, then, "Sorry, what?"

You smiled. "The rest are in my bedroom."

Joe stared at you, then at the plushie and back at you "Oh." A pause. "Oh, wow."

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped a bell pepper. Dinner turned out surprisingly nice. Joe attempted to help, you immediately banned him from helping.

"I'm serious," you told him, pointing your wooden spoon threateningly. "You're a guest."

Twenty minutes later he found himself sitting at your kitchen table while you moved around the apartment effortlessly.

The turntable hummed quietly.

The windows fogged slightly from the cold outside.

And every so often, you'd glance over your shoulder to continue whatever story you were telling.

Joe realized halfway through dinner that he hadn't thought about being locked out for almost an hour. Which was strange because he'd been annoyed about it all afternoon.

Now he was sitting in a warm apartment eating pasta while listening to you argue passionately about the superiority of strawberry-flavored desserts.

At last, bedtime arrived. You led Joe down the short hallway toward your bedroom, holding a pair of Hello Kitty printed sweatpants for him. He followed behind without much thought.

Then you opened the door made Joe completely stopped walking. For a moment he genuinely wondered if he'd accidentally stepped through a portal.

The room was pink. Not normal pink. Not a few pink decorations here and there pink. It looked like pink itself had become an imbodiment.

Three different rugs covered the floor. One shaped like a strawberry. One shaped like Hello Kitty. The largest one was My Melody's face smiling up at him from beneath his shoes.

Fairy lights glowed warmly around the room despite the two flower-shaped lamps already casting soft light across the walls.And the walls—Jesus Christ.

My Melody tapestries.

Sanrio posters.

Heart-shaped banners.

Tiny framed illustrations.

Italian quotes written in elegant script.

A shelf entirely dedicated to little figurines. Another shelf entirely dedicated to books. A third shelf entirely dedicated to what appeared to be decorative strawberries.

Joe blinked more the he can count. "...wow."

You immediately winced. "I know."

"No." Joe looked around slowly. "No, I don't think you understand."

His eyes landed on your vanity. Pink, of course it was pink. Tiny fruit-shaped trinkets sat neatly arranged beside perfume bottles. A small ceramic rabbit held your rings. Lip glosses, ribbons, recipe cards, and little figures crowded every available surface.

The whole room smelled faintly like strawberry, just like you

His gaze drifted toward your desk. Poetry books stacked neatly beside notebooks filled with baking recipes. A vase of pink tulips sat nearby. Everything felt soft, warm, loved. every object had been carefully chosen because it made you happy.

Then Joe looked at the bed and immediately laughed.

You groaned. "Don't."

"I'm not saying anything."

"You are."

"I'm literally not."

"You have the face."

Joe did, in fact, have the face. Because the bed looked like it belonged to a princess who spent her afternoons baking cupcakes for woodland creatures.

Hello Kitty sheets. Strawberry pillowcases. Pink blankets. Ribbons. Bows.

And approximately enough plushies to survive an apocalypse.

My Melody plushies. Hello Kitty plushies. Strawberry plushies. Bunny plushies. Bear plushies. Some large. Some tiny.

Some staring directly into Joe's soul.

He pointed toward the mountain of stuffed animals. "You said fifteen."

You crossed your arms. "There are fifteen My Melody plushies."

Joe looked back at the pile. "There are at least thirty creatures in this room."

"They're not creatures."

"They have eyes."

"They're friends."

Joe laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. Your face immediately burned. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"You think I'm weird."

"I absolutely do." he said smiling like an idiot "but in a good way." You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Joe grinned. "A very good way."

Something about the sincerity behind it made your embarrassment soften slightly. Still, you pointed dramatically toward the bed.

"Sit."

Joe looked at the bed. "I don't think I'm allowed."

"Very dramatic"

"This feels illegal."

You stared. Joe gestured around the room. "Look at this place." He pointed toward the plushies. "The council is judging me already."

Your eyebrows crossed. "The council?"

"The council."

Joe lowered his voice. "I think that  jellycat rabbit hates me."

"He does."

"Please say sike."

"I'm kidding."

Joe wasn't convinced. Carefully—far more carefully than necessary, he sat on the edge of the mattress. Like he was afraid the bed might revoke his privileges. He afraid he might broke something. The sight was ridiculous. A six-foot-tall man sitting stiffly among strawberry pillows and pink stuffed animals.

He looked wildly out of place, like somebody had accidentally dropped a rockstar into a princess tower. While you searched through your dresser for a shirt he could borrow, Joe's attention drifted toward the small frame resting on your bedside table.

He picked it up gently. "Oh my God, you even framed her."

You immediately looked over. And immediately snatched it from his hands, heat rushed to your face.

Joe smiled teasingly. "This My Melody must be important."

You stared down at the frame. "She is important."

Then you cleared your throat dramatically and shoved the borrowed clothes into his chest. "Anyway."

Joe grinned immediately. "Anyway."

"You can change in the bathroom."

"Probably for the best."

"Definitely for the best."

Joe glanced around the room one more time before heading toward the door still smiling. A little chaotic. Full of things you loved. And for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely, it already felt like one of his favorite places he'd ever been.

You were halfway through changing your shoes when Joe emerged from the bathroom wearing the oversized clothes you'd lent him.

The sight nearly made you giggle.

The sweatpants were slightly too short on him. The shirt fit, technically, but only because Joe was making a very sincere effort not to stretch the fabric. He looked ridiculous, ridiculously cute.

Joe narrowed his eyes immediately. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You pressed your lips together. "No reason."

"It's just..." You pointed at him. "You look cute."

Joe groaned. "Please don't start."

"I'm serious."

"I am wearing Hello Kitty pajamas."

"At least they have tiny bows on them."

"Exactly."

You looked at him thoughtfully. "They bring out your eyes."

Joe stared at you, then pointed toward the front door. "Leave."

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your keys. "My friend needs help assembling a bookshelf," you explained. "Apparently she bought furniture and now regrets every decision she's ever made."

Joe nodded.

"I'm probably staying at her place tonight."

That got his attention. "You are?"

You grabbed your coat. "Mhm."

Then you pointed dramatically around the apartment. "So."

Joe already knew that tone. "So?"

"Feel at home." You emphasized the words. You grinned. "Goodnight, Joe."

Before he could argue further, you disappeared out the door.

Joe wasn't tired yet.bOr maybe he was, but your room kept distracting him.

The entire place felt like stepping inside somebody's daydream.bJoe wandered carefully, as if he were inside a museum. "Jesus Christ," he muttered quietly.

A stack of baking notebooks sat on your desk he didn't open them. Just read the labels written across the spines.

Spring Menu Ideas.

Failed Recipes.

Actually Good Recipes.

That one made him laugh. Nearby sat a jar filled with folded slips of paper. Curiosity got the better of him. He picked one out.

"Customer said my cinnamon rolls reminded him of home."

Joe stared at the note for a moment then another.

"Little girl in the blue raincoat liked the blueberry cupcakes."

And another.

"Sold out before noon today."

His chest did something strange. Like every tiny thing in your apartment was proof that you paid attention to the world. That you collected moments the same way other people collected souvenirs.

A small smile appeared on his face. "This is very you."

"...Don't tell anybody about this." Ponkan offered no promises.

The apartment immediately became quiet. Joe stood there for a moment. Then looked around again. Then finally dropped backward onto your bed. The mattress practically swallowed him whole. "Oh."

Joe stared at the ceiling. "Oh, okay okay , this is dangerous." The bed felt less like a mattress and more like being gently adopted by a cloud.

Joe buried his face in one of the pillows then immediately sat back up. "Nope." He pointed at himself. "We're not doing that."

The room remained silent, Joe sighed. Then reached for a nearby My Melody plushie. He held it up. "Hi, Joe." He immediately switched to a tiny voice. "My name is My Melody." Then back to his normal voice. "Nice to meet you, My Melody." Tiny voice again, "Thank you for respecting our home."

Joe laughed at himself. "Oh my God." He looked around the room as if there’s a camera. "If my band ever finds out about this, I'm never hearing the end of it."

At that exact moment Ponkan jumped onto the bed. The cat stared directly at him and blinked. Then curled up beside him like they had known each other for years.

"Really?"

Joe scratched behind his ears.

"You're choosing me?"

Ponkan purred. The cat's answer was immediately falling asleep against his side.

Within twenty minutes Joe had a sleeping cat pressed against one arm and a My Melody plushie tucked beneath the other. By midnight he was asleep too, completely unconscious snoring softly looking embarrassingly comfortable.

The next morning you slipped back into the apartment a little after six. You needed to change before heading to the café.

Carefully, you pushed open your bedroom door then immediately froze.

Your heart completely melted.

Joe was still asleep.One arm wrapped around the largest My Melody plushie in existence. The other draped protectively around Ponkan. Who was also asleep. The cat had somehow migrated onto Joe's chest sometime during the night.

Neither looked interested in moving. It was ridiculous.

Joe, your rockstar-touring musician-professional cool person-neighbor currently sleeping beneath a strawberry blanket while cuddling a giant stuffed rabbit.

You quietly pulled your phone from your pocket.

Snap.

The photo was perfect. Joe didn't even stir. You smiled to yourself. "Hi, adorable man." Still asleep, Joe pulled the plushie closer. As if making sure nobody could take it away. Your smile widened instantly.

Oh.

You were absolutely never deleting that picture.

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The past few days were very busy. By "busy," you mean customers ordered 200 cupcakes, 150 macaroons, 30 lecheflaan, and 3 gender-revealed cakes. You and your staff work overnights for it.

So when you woke up at two in the morning feeling horrible, your first thought was exhaustion. Your second thought came moments later when you barely made it to the bathroom.

The sound of Joe's sleepy voice drifted through the apartment. "Honey?"

You were kneeling on the bathroom floor, forehead resting against the toilet seat. "Hm."

Immediately, the blankets rustled. A second later Joe appeared in the doorway, hair sticking up everywhere, eyes barely open.

The second he saw you, he woke up completely "Oh, baby."

You groaned. "I think..." You swallowed hard. "I think I'm calling in sick tomorrow."

Joe crouched beside you immediately. "Okay." His hand found your back instantly. "you've been running on caffeine and stubbornness for two weeks."

"I'm pretty sure stubbornness is keeping me alive."

Joe laughed softly, then helped you back into bed. He tucked the blanket around you like you might disappear if he didn't.

"Sleep," he murmured, pressing a kiss against your temple. His arms wrapped around your waist.c"You worked hard."

You were asleep again before he finished the sentence.

It was late afternoon when you woke up, your head pounded and your stomach felt awful.  Joe's side of the bed was empty. Oh, right, he has nterview today.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment while absentmindedly petting Ponkan. The cat immediately stretched across your stomach dramatically. 

Then the nausea hit again, The bathroom floor greeted you for the fifth time that day. By the time it passed, your legs felt weak.

You washed your face looked up and froze. Your period tracker notification sat on your phone screen.

10 DAYS LATE

The color drained from your face. "No."

You opened the app, counted, and counted again then once more. Like somehow the number would change if you stared at it long enough.

"No no no no."

Your pale, wide-eyed, and terrified reflection stared back at you from the mirror. Your heart started beating faster. The nausea suddenly felt different—your hands shook. "Please."

A loud growl interrupted your panic. You hadn't eaten all day. The realization made you feel even worse. Somehow, you ended up in front of the refrigerator. Inside sat a beautiful two-tier birthday cake the customer had cancelled yesterday.

You grabbed a fork.

“Grandma probably cursing me now in heaven” you crying then shove another bite of the cake. “We’ve dating for like 6 months officially, Ponkan” you talk to your cat, clueless.

You looked around your apartment. Your eyes landed on the stack of bakery invoices sitting on the counter. Then on tomorrow's order list. Then on the recipe notebook you'd left open. Everything suddenly felt fragile. Like a tower built from sugar glass, one wrong move and everything would shatter.

"My café just started doing really really well." Your voice cracked, "We finally accept orders online." another bite. "I just hired another employee." another bite.

"We were talking about opening earlier on weekends." Your eyes started burning. "What happens if I can't work?"

The question hung heavily in the room. You looked down at the cake—the frosting smeared across the cardboard box, at your trembling hands.

Suddenly your mind went somewhere even worse. "What if I'm a terrible mom?" The words slipped out before you could stop them. Fresh tears spilled immediately.

You laughed once, a broken little sound. "God." You wiped your face angrily. "I barely remember to water my plants." You pointed toward the kitchen window. "That basil plant has died three separate times."

You swallowed hard,another thought arrived then another then another. Fast and relentless, and you thought of Joe. 

Joe on tour. Joe in interviews. Joe winning awards. Joe recording albums. Joe finally getting everything he'd worked for. Your chest tightened. "What if this changes everything for him?"

The thought hurt most of all because Joe would never say that. Never, not in a million years. If you told him right now, he'd be sitting beside you before you finished the sentence.

Holding your hand and promising it'd be okay. That's who he was but that didn't stop the guilt. It didn't stop the fear.

Your grandmother used to say anxiety was like opening every oven door at once. Everything becomes too hot too fast. And that's exactly what it felt like. Every possible future was rushing toward you simultaneously.

Doctor appointments.

Cribs.

Tiny shoes.

Telling people.

Not telling people.

Your café.

Joe's career.

Your apartment.

His apartment.

Money.

Everything.

Too much.

Far too much.

You pressed your palms against your eyes. Joe has genes of twins, what if what if  "Oh God, please make it stop."

The apartment door opened, you barely heard it.

“Honey?"

The familiar sound of his voice should've grounded you. Instead, you started crying harder, abeat of silence followed. Then quick and concerned footsteps.

"Oh my God." You looked up.

Joe stood frozen in the kitchen doorway. Still wearing his jacket from the interview. His hair slightly messy from the wind outside. His eyes moved between your face.

The tears.

The half-destroyed cake.

The fork on the floor.

Ponkan.

"Okay."

Joe blinked once, twice. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

A tiny laugh escaped you. Then immediately dissolved into another sob. Joe's expression changed instantly. The joke vanished.

Concern took its place. "Honey" he crossed the kitchen in seconds and crouched beside you. "Hey, sweetheart."

His warm hands gently cupped your face. "What happened?"

You couldn't answer, the words refused to come out.

Joe's eyebrows pulled together. "Baby."

You looked down and whispered, "I missed my period."

Silence follow not long, but just long enough. Long enough for the possibility to land.

Joe froze, and you watched it happen. The realization. The surprise. The shock.

"Oh."

You immediately started crying again. "I'm sorry."

Joe blinked. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know."

The answer came out broken because you really didn't know. Everything felt wrong. Everything felt scary. Everything felt too big.

"We're not ready."

Joe tried to opened his mouth. You kept talking. The words pouring out faster than you could stop them.

"My café is doing well." a sob. "You have your career." you voice cracked again. "Things are finally good for both of us." you took one lite bites and cried again, "And what if I can't do this?"

He manages to stay calm but deep inside, he's spiraling just like you. Decided not to show it, he doesn't want to worry you more.

Joe's face broke a little because suddenly this wasn't about pregnancy anymore. It was about fear. About you being terrified. About carrying the weight of every possible future by yourself.

"Oh, honey." His thumb brushed away another tear.

You shook your head. "What if I'm bad at it?"

"What?"

"What if I'm bad at being a mom?"

The question shattered immediately and completely something inside him. Joe's eyes softened, not pity, not disappointment. Just love, pure and overwhelming.

"Sweetheart." His voice cracked slightly. "We don't even know if you're pregnant."

You laughed wetly, then cried again.

Joe slowly nodded. "Okay." He took a breath. "If you are?" His fingers intertwined with yours. "We'll figure it out…." You stared at him. Joe squeezed your hand. “together."

 Joe wasn't pretending it wasn't scary. He wasn't pretending he had all the answers. He wasn't promising perfection. He was simply promising he wasn't going anywhere.

That made you cry harder than before. Joe immediately pulled you into his arms. You buried your face against his chest while his hand rubbed slow circles against your back.

"It's okay." a kiss to your hair. "We'll figure it out." another kiss on your wet eyes. "I'm here."

Beside you, Ponkan chose that exact moment to lick the frostin of the abandoned birthday cake. Neither of you had the energy to stop him.

After a few minutes, you finally gathered enough courage to stand. Your legs felt strangely weak. The pregnancy test box sat on the bathroom counter where you'd left it earlier. Untouched and waiting.

"I have one." Your voice came out small.

Joe glanced up from where he was sitting beside you on the kitchen floor. "What?"

You swallowed hard. "The test." Your fingers twisted together. I didn't take it earlier."

Joe's expression softened immediately. "Why not?"

You laughed weakly because the answer felt ridiculous. "I was scared."

Joe reached for your hand instantly. His thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles. "Hey."

"Take the test."

Your throat tightened.

Joe squeezed your hand gently. "And whatever it says," he said quietly, "it doesn't change anything." You blinked. "It doesn't change the fact that I love you."

A few minutes later, you found yourself standing inside the bathroom holding the test with trembling fingers. The apartment felt impossibly quiet. Outside the door, you could see the faint shadow of Joe's shoes through the gap beneath it. He hadn't moved, not even a little.

You looked down at the test. Then at the timer on your phone. Three minutes. Three stupid minutes. Three minutes that somehow felt longer than the entire six months you'd been dating.

Your leg bounced anxiously. Your fingernails disappeared between your teeth. You checked the timer. Twenty-seven seconds. "Oh my God."

Another glance. Thirty-three seconds. "This is torture."

Outside the bathroom, Joe laughed softly. Trying not to make you more nervous. "You okay in there?"

"No."

"Fair."

You checked again, one minute. You groaned dramatically.

"I've aged ten years."

"You look great for your age."

You rolled your eyes despite yourself. Then your voice softened. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

A beat passed. "Can you come in?"

The answer came immediately. "Always."

A second later the door opened. Joe stepped inside quietly. He moved beside you and took your hand without saying anything.

The timer kept counting. The two of you stared at the test.

Waiting...

Waiting...

Waiting...

Then finally the timer beeped your heart nearly stopped. Slowly, you looked down. One line. Just one single line.

For a moment neither of you spoke. You stared and looked again, and one more time just to make sure. 

It couldn't be over that quickly. "I'm not pregnant."

The words came out barely above a whisper. Joe exhaled softly beside you. A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

You looked down again.

One line.

Still one line.

"Oh."

Your chest loosened immediately. Relief washing through you so hard it almost made you dizzy. "Oh my God." A shaky laugh escaped. "I'm not pregnant."

Joe smiled gently. "Told you stress was probably kicking your ass."

You laughed through lingering tears then suddenly, you started crying again. Harder this time. The relief disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. Because now something else hurt. And you couldn't even explain why.

Joe's smile faded immediately. "Honey?"

You shook your head. You didn't understand it yourself. You were relieved. You were. You knew you were. So why did your chest suddenly ache? Why did your eyes keep filling with tears? Why had a tiny, secret part of you already started imagining things?

Little things.

A crib.

Tiny socks.

Joe teaching someone guitar.

You teaching someone bake.

Ponkan looking deeply offended by a baby crying.

The future.

A future that wasn't happening. Not now. Maybe not for years. that realization hurt more than it should have.

Joe gently pulled you against his chest. "Hey."

You buried your face against his shoulder. "I feel stupid."

"You aren't."

"I was terrified."

Joe nodded. "I know."

“Now I'm sad." His arms tightened around you. For a long moment he simply held you.

Then quietly he pressed a kiss into your hair. "I don't think that's stupid." Your eyes stung. Joe smiled softly. "I I can see future with you." he added before kissing your lips. 

Joe made chicken soup. Just warm broth, vegetables, shredded chicken. You sat at the kitchen island wrapped in one of Joe's hoodies while he hovered nearby like an anxious mother hen.

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Joe filled most of the silence by talking about his interview. A funny question he'd been asked. A story about a producer who couldn't find the script. A woman whose talked then after 15 minutes realized the mic was off. 

Normally you would've laughed. Normally you would've asked a thousand questions. Tonight you mostly listened. Pushing vegetables around your bowl. Staring off into space whenever Joe wasn't looking, Joe noticed. Joe noticed everything when it came to you.

Later, after dishes were washed and Ponkan had aggressively demanded his nightly treats, the two of you got ready for bed.

You changed into fresh pajamas while Joe disappeared into the kitchen.

When he returned, he carried a glass of water in one hand and your medicine in the other. "Open." You obediently accepted both. Joe looked absurdly pleased with himself.

"You take care of me like I'm old woman."

"You spent half the day crying on the kitchen floor."

A few minutes later you were curled against his side beneath the blankets. Your head rested on his shoulder. Joe's arm wrapped around your waist. His fingers slowly combed through your hair. The apartment was comfortably quiet. For a while neither of you spoke.

Then Joe pressed a kiss against the top of your head. "You know..."  You hummed sleepily. "I think you've been sad all evening."

Your eyes immediately  opened.

Joe continued gently stroking your hair. "You don't have to talk about it." His voice stayed soft. "But I know you."

You stared at the blankets. "I don't know why I feel brokenhearted."

Joe nodded. "I know."

"And now I feel guilty for being upset."

Joe shifted slightly until he could look at you properly. His expression was so tender it almost hurt. "Honey,." His thumb brushed your cheek. "you spent an entire day imagining a future." Your eyes immediately burned, Joe smiled sadly. "And then that future disappeared." A tear slipped free. Joe wiped it away before it could fall. "I think it's okay to have feelings about that."

Joe leaned down and kissed your forehead—long, slow, and comforting.  Then suddenly his expression changed. Something suspiciously smug appeared.

Immediately, you became wary. "What?"

Joe grinned, nothing good ever followed that grin. "What?"

He reached toward the nightstand, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to you. Your eyebrows knitted together. "Joseph."

"Open it."

You squinted. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Open it."

You carefully pulled out the papers inside, then froze. Your brain completely stopped working.

"Joe."

His grin widened. "Joe."

"Hi."

You sat upright so fast you nearly headbutted him. "ARE THESE PLANE TICKETS?"

Joe burst out laughing. "There she is."

Your mouth fell open. "Japan?"

Joe nodded. "Japan."

You stared at him and back to the tickets. Your brain struggled to process anything. "Shut up", very eloquent.

Joe looked incredibly proud of himself. "I bought them last week."

"LAST WEEK?"

"Yep."

"Babe!"

"I was waiting for the right moment."

You stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Your timing is terrible."

"My timing is incredible."

You smacked his shoulder and earned a laughed. The sound warm and bright and familiar.

"You've been working nonstop," he said more softly now. His grin faded into something gentler. "You've taken care of everyone else for weeks, making sure thay have their sweets." His fingers found yours beneath the blanket. "So let me take care of you for a little while."

"You bought us tickets to Japan?!"

Joe shrugged trying and failing to look casual. "You mentioned wanting to visit a capybara cafe once." Your eyes filled immediately.

"Oh no," Joe groaned. "Don't cry again."

You laughed through the tears, launched yourself at him. Joe barely had time to react before you wrapped both arms around him. He laughed as the two of you nearly fell sideways across the mattress.

"Thank you."

The words came out muffled against his neck. Joe's arms tightened around you immediately. "Anything for you."

You pulled back slightly. "Even survive another pregnancy scare?"

Joe looked offended. "I survived you eating half a birthday cake on the kitchen floor. I can survive anything."

He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. "Now get some sleep." You curled back into his side. The plane tickets resting safely on the nightstand.

Joe's fingers finding your hair again and for the first time all day, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. Tomorrow could wait. Tonight, you were safe and you were loved.

issy talks: thanks to @you8sblog request because we're going to japan (drafting). i want to make a playlist, drop some songs you think would fit:)

the girl next door (is not a grandma) masterlist

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some of you when i write the names, don't show the account, but i hope y'all got mentioned 🫶🏼🫶🏼