summary: taking care of Joe when he’s sick. c.w: no use of y/n, pet names (love), established relationship. divider credit: @saradika-graphics. w.c: 678
You get home from work, and only had time to set your bag down and take off your shoes before hearing Joe's voice greet you from the living room.
He's laying on the couch, a soft blanket pulled up to his chin enwrapping his entire body except for his sock covered feet that are sticking out.
"Did I wake you up?" You wonder, sitting down on the empty space next to his legs. Resting your hand on his calf to rub soothing circles.
He doesn't look so good. You remember him mentioning something last night about his throat starting to hurt. His skin is paler than usual, his eyelids are heavy and the corners of his mouth droop slightly.
He offers you a weak smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I woke a few minutes before you got home."
“Are you not feeling well?” You ask, brows knitting together in concern.
Joe softly shakes his head no, sniffling.
You reach out, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. “You’re hot.”
Then immediately start walking to the bathroom to retrieve your all’s stash of cold and flu medicine underneath the sink for him.
Joe reluctantly sits up, pulling himself from the couch to trail behind you. His voice comes out weak and nasally. “Thank you, love, but I don’t think right now is the time to—“
You cut him off, unfazed by his suggestion while pulling out the cough syrup. “You’re burning up. I think you have a fever.”
“Oh yeah. . .right.” He sighs trailing off, leaning against the doorframe.
Your eyes are scanning the instructions. “Here, take 10ml of this.” Placing the bottle in his hand.
He takes in a breath to excuse. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll get better faster.” You try to persuade him, knowing how stubborn he can be. “Are you hungry?”
He nods, eyes blinking slowly.
To hopefully soothe some of the pain, you reach up to run your hand through his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, and starting to relax.
“I can make you some soup.” You suggest softly, wishing you can heal him instantly.
He protests. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Joe you’re sick, let me take care of you.” You coax, moving your hand to brush hair off his forehead and caress his cheek.
After convincing him to take medicine, drink some tea with lemon and honey, and eat canned soup that you heated up on the stove- you tuck him in bed.
You make sure that he has everything he needs in reach. Placing a box of tissues, bag of cough drops, and glass of water on his bedside table.
"I'm sorry that I'm sick baby." He mumbles while you're by his feet, making sure they are covered by the piles of blankets over his body - which he'll inevitably brush off in the middle of the night when he gets too hot.
"Don't be sorry." You chuckle, walking towards the headboard to lean over his side. "It's not your fault."
"It is though." He whines, a small frown adorning his face. "I didn't wear a scarf, breathed in too much cold air."
"Well I still think you're perfect." You smile down at him, meeting his tired eyes.
His hand reaches out from underneath the covers to grasp yours resting by your side. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"I'm happy to. Now go to sleep." You urge. "I can see you fighting it." A small laugh escaping you before leaning down to kiss his forehead.
He closes his eyes and before you can turn away, you feel his hand squeeze yours.
"Will you lay down next to me?" He wonders, voice coming out so weak that it makes your heart drop.
You nod your head before lifting up the covers to nestle down beside him.
He falls asleep first, completely exhausted from the virus reeking havoc on his immune system. Not long after, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with every breath helps lull you to sleep.
can i request a joe fic where reader is babysitting his niece and he sees how good she takes care of her and he gets a baby fever. Then he rushes them home and they do it, with multiple rounds (he also kind of has a breeding kink) 🫣
Baby Fever
Pairing: Joe Keery x Reader
W/C: 4.3k
Summary: Baby sitting his family made you both, more so Joe, realise that you want this for yourselves sooner rather than later.
The sunset started drifting between the garden trees and through the patio doors of the Keery family home. You stood in the living room, watching Caroline wrangle her kids into their shoes, and felt that familiar warmth that came with being part of this family.
"Are you sure?" Caroline asked for the third time, her hand pausing on her youngest's shoulder, "I mean, we could just bring them along with us".
"Stop" you interrupted gently, crouching down to meet her eldest's eyes, "We're going to have so much fun, aren't we?".
She nodded enthusiastically, her curls, so much like Joe's, bouncing with the movement, "Can we make cookies?".
"Absolutely" you said, and the way Caroline's shoulders relaxed made your heart squeeze. You knew how rare it was for her to get an evening out, especially one where she could actually enjoy herself without keeping one eye on her kids.
Joe's mom appeared in the doorway, elegant in a navy dress that made her look at least a decade younger than she was. "They'll be fine Caroline. She's practically family anyway" She caught your eye and winked, and you felt heat creep up in your chest. The engagement ring on your left hand, now a year old, catching the light as you brushed hair out of her face.
"More than practically" Joe's dad added from the hallway, adjusting his tie. "Now come on, we're going to be late, and you know what Martha's like about punctuality".
The house erupted into chaos of last minute lipstick checks, searches for car keys, reminders about where the emergency numbers were posted as if you didn't already know. You stood back, holding the middle child's hand while she played with the hem of her t-shirt watching along the mayhem with you. Then Joe appeared at the top of the stairs, and your breath caught the way it still sometimes did, even after all these years. He'd changed out of his casual afternoon clothes into dark trousers and a button down that made his eyes look impossibly warm. His hair was perfect in that way that looked effortless but you knew took him at least ten minutes.
"Ready?" Caroline called up to him.
Joe descended the stairs slowly, his eyes finding yours across the room. Something passed between you both, something soft and unspoken and then he smiled that crooked smile that had first made you fall in love with him at a friend's birthday party five years ago. "Actually" he said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and shoving his hands in his pockets, "I think I'm going to stay back. Help with the babysitting".
The room went quiet for a beat.
"What?" His sister laughed, "Joe, you got dressed up and everything".
He shrugged, but his eyes never left yours, "Yeah, well, I'd rather hang out with my girls I think". He gestured to you and his nieces, and your heart did that stupid fluttering thing that you thought you'd grown out of by now.
"Joe, you don't have to" you started, but he crossed the room and pressed a kiss to your temple.
"I want to" he murmured against your hair, and you felt the truth of it in the way his hand found the small of your back.
His family exchanged glances, the kind of knowing looks that made you feel simultaneously embarrassed and cherished at the same time till his mom was ushering everyone toward the door.
"Well, that's settled then. You two have fun with the girls. There's lasagna in the fridge if you want to heat it up, and-".
"Mom" Joe interrupted gently. "We've got this. Go have fun".
More kisses, more hugs, more reminders, and then finally, finally, the door closed behind them, and the house settled into a different kind of quiet. Not empty, but peaceful. Expectant.
The two year old, who'd been remarkably patient through all the commotion, chose that moment to toddle over to Joe and raise her arms, "Up Uncle Joey". Joe scooped her up without hesitation, settling her on his hip like someone who'd done this a thousand times. "So" he said, looking between you and the girls with seriousness, "What's the plan, team?".
"Cookies! She promised cookies!"
"Maybe after dinner depending on the time" you corrected, but you were smiling. "How about we play for a bit first? I saw that puzzle in the living room that looked pretty challenging..."
"I can do it!" One of them announced, thumb popping out of her mouth, "I'm really good at puzzles".
"I bet you are" Joe said, and you all migrated to the living room, where the evening light dropped more by the minute.
The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and play. You'd forgotten how exhausting kids could be, how they had seemingly endless energy. The puzzle turned into a game of hide and seek, which turned into a dance party when Joe's old iPod dock was discovered. You watched Joe spin them in circles, delighted shrieks filling the house, and felt something shift in your chest. You'd seen him with his nieces before. You'd been to countless family gatherings, birthday parties, holiday celebrations. But something about tonight felt different, more intimate, like you were getting a glimpse of something private.
When she finally demanded to be put down, dizzy and giggling, Joe collapsed onto the couch next to you, slightly out of breath. His hair was a mess, actual mess this time, and there was a smudge of something on his cheek that might have been chocolate from the candy one of them had snuck from the kitchen. "Having fun?" you asked, reaching up to wipe the smudge away with your thumb.
He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, "The best" he said, and his eyes were so soft, so full of something you couldn't quite name, that you had to look away.
"Okay" you announced, standing up before you could do something embarrassing like tear up. "Who's hungry?". Three enthusiastic voices answered in the affirmative, and you herded everyone toward the kitchen, Joe trailing behind.
Cooking dinner with three kids "helping" was an adventure. One insisted on stirring the pasta sauce, which resulted in more sauce on the counter than in the pot. The second oldest wanted to set the table but couldn't quite remember where everything went, and the youngest mostly just sat in her high chair, banging a wooden spoon against the tray. Through it all, Joe moved around the kitchen with you in that easy way you'd developed over five years of shared meals and shared space. He knew when you needed the colander before you asked. You knew he'd grab the parmesan from the fridge without being told.
"You okay?" Joe asked quietly, catching your expression as he passed behind you to get plates from the cabinet.
"Yeah" you said, and meant it, "Just...happy". His hand squeezed your shoulder, lingering for a moment before he moved away to help the kids.
Dinner was chaotic in the best way. Stories about friends at preschool, one demonstrated her ability to fit an entire piece of garlic bread in her mouth, much to Joe's amused horror whilst the youngest threw more food than she ate, but she was smiling the whole time, so you counted it as a win. You caught Joe watching you as you wiped marinara sauce off faces, and helped feed where you could, his expression unreadable. When you raised an eyebrow in question, he just shook his head and smiled.
Bath time was a production. The girls needed to be coaxed upstairs, then convinced that yes, they really did need to wash their hair, and no, they couldn't bring all of their bath toys into the tub at once. You knelt beside the bathtub, sleeves rolled up, making sure they scrubbed behind her ears while they created a story involving a rubber duck and a plastic boat. Joe sat on the closed toilet lid, holding the eldest wrapped in a towel after her turn in the bath, her damp curls making her look even more like Joe.
"You're really good at this" Joe said quietly, and there was something in his voice that made you look up from where you were rinsing shampoo.
"At what?"
"This. All of it". He gestured vaguely with his free hand. "You're just... natural with them".
You felt heat creep up your neck, "I've known them most their whole lives. It's not that impressive".
"It is to me" he said, and the intensity in his gaze made you look away.
After baths came pyjamas and teeth brushing which was another adventure, with you making silly faces in the mirror to keep them entertained while they scrubbed. Joe stood in the doorway, watching. And finally when it was time for bed, you led them to Joe's childhood bedroom, which had been temporarily converted into a sleeping space for the girls. His parents had set up a toddler bed and new bedding for the older two.
"Story time!" diving into bed.
You settled between them, and Joe sat on the edge, the youngest already drowsy in his arms. You read from a picture book about a brave little mouse, doing different voices for each character until their eyes started to droop. By the time you finished the second book, one was asleep against Joe's chest, and the other two were fighting to keep their eyes open.
"Goodnight, sweet girls" you whispered, pressing kisses to their foreheads and Joe carefully laid the youngest in her toddler bed, tucking her blanket around her. You dimmed the lights and tiptoed out, Joe's hand finding yours in the hallway. He pulled the door almost closed, leaving it cracked just enough to hear if anyone woke up. For a moment, you both just stood there in the quiet hallway, the house settling around you.
"That was-" Joe started, then stopped, shaking his head.
"Exhausting?" you supplied with a smile.
"Perfect" he corrected, and the way he looked at you made your breath catch.
You needed to do something with your hands, so you headed downstairs to tackle the kitchen. Dishes were piled in the sink from dinner, and there were still smudges of sauce on the counter that needed wiping down. You were elbow deep in soapy water, scrubbing a stubborn pot, when you felt Joe's presence behind you. He didn't say anything at first, just leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth.
"You know" he said finally, his voice quiet in the peaceful kitchen, "watching you tonight...". You glanced at him, hands still in the water. His expression was open, vulnerable. "You were incredible" he continued. "With the girls. The way you just... knew what they needed. How to make them laugh, how to calm them down. The way they held your hand during dinner, and how you did the voices during story time" He paused, running a hand through his hair. "You're going to be such an amazing mom".
The pot slipped from your hands into the sink. You turned to face him fully, water dripping from your fingers, "Joe...".
"I mean it" he said, and he was closer now, his hands coming up to rest on your waist. "I've always known it, but tonight... seeing you in action like that..." He shook his head, a slightly dazed smile on his face. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. About us. About our future".
Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. "You're going to be an incredible dad too" you said softly, wiping your hand on your clothes and reaching up to cup his face. "The way you were with them, and how you made them laugh, and how patient you were".
He laughed, turning his head to kiss your palm. "I can't wait" he said, "I can't wait to start a family with you. To have this" he gestured around the kitchen, at the evidence of the evening you'd shared, "but with our kids".
You felt tears prick your eyes, but you were smiling. "Joseph Keery" you said, trying for teasing but landing somewhere closer to tender, "Do you have baby fever? Is somebody broody?".
He groaned, but he was grinning, "Is it that obvious?".
"Just a little" you said, and then you were both laughing, foreheads pressed together in the quiet kitchen.
"I'm serious though" he said when the laughter faded. "I know we've talked about it before, about someday, but tonight made me realise... I don't want to wait too long for someday. I want this with you. I want everything with you".
You kissed him then, soft and sweet, tasting like promise and future and home. "Me too" you whispered against his lips.
The sound of car doors closing outside broke the moment. Joe's family was back, their voices carrying through the evening air as they made their way up the front steps. You quickly dried your hands and checked your reflection in the window, making sure you didn't look like you'd been crying. Joe squeezed your hand once before the front door opened.
"How were they?" Caroline asked immediately, dropping her purse on the hall table.
"Angels" you said, and it was mostly true, "They're all asleep upstairs".
"Already?" His mom looked impressed, "How did you manage that?".
"She's magic" Joe said simply, and the pride in his voice made you flush.
The next twenty minutes were a flurry of thank yous and debriefing. Caroline went upstairs to check on the kids, coming back down with a soft smile. "They look so peaceful. Thank you both so much".
"Anytime" you said, and meant it.
"Seriously, you're a lifesaver. I don't know what we'd would do without you".
"She's family" his dad said firmly, pulling you into a hug of his own, "Of course she'd help".
Finally, you and Joe made your escape, climbing into his car as the family waved from the porch. The evening had turned cool, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as Joe started the engine.
"Hotel, right? I don't fancy a drive back to New York right now" you laughed, and he nodded.
"Booked us a room at that place in town you liked. The one with the good pillows". You smiled, settling back into your seat as he pulled away from the curb.
"So" Joe said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, his hand finding yours on the center console. "How many kids do you think we'll have?".
You laughed, but your heart was racing, "Are we really doing this? Having this conversation right now?".
"Why not?" He glanced at you, and even in the dim light of the car, you could see the sincerity in his expression. "I've been thinking about it all night. I want to know everything".
So you talked. About how you'd always thought two or three kids would be perfect. About how he'd always wanted at least two so they'd have each other, like the way he had his sisters. About names you liked, and whether you'd want to stay in the city or move somewhere with more space. About the kind of parents you wanted to be, present, supportive, the kind who made their kids feel safe and loved and seen.
"I want a daughter who looks like you" Joe said, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "With your eyes and your smile".
"I want a son with your hair" you countered. "Those curls are too good not to pass on".
He laughed, "What if we have a daughter with my hair and a son with your eyes?".
"Then we'll have to have more kids until we get the combination right" you teased, and his sharp intake of breath made you realise what you'd said.
"More than two?" he asked, and there was hope in his voice.
"Maybe" you said softly. "If tonight is any indication, I think we could handle it".
The conversation flowed easily, naturally, the way it always did between you. You talked about the practical things, timing, careers, logistics but also the dreams, the two of you weren't exactly getting any younger.
"I want to be the kind of dad who does voices during story time. Like you did tonight. The girls loved that".
"You'll be that dad" you assured him. "You already are with your nieces".
"I want Sunday morning pancakes to be our thing" he continued, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "And teaching them to play guitar. And embarrassing them at their school events by being too enthusiastic".
"I want bedtime routines that feel good" you added. "And inside jokes that only our family understands. And traditions that they'll carry on with their own kids someday".
By the time Joe pulled into the hotel parking garage, you'd mapped out an entire future together. It felt real, possible and so close you could almost touch it. The hotel room was exactly as you remembered, elegant and modern, with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the town. Joe closed the door, and suddenly you were alone together in a way you hadn't been all evening. He crossed the room to you slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. "Hi" he said softly, and you laughed at the simplicity of the greeting after everything you'd shared tonight.
"Hi to you too"
His hands came up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "I love you" he said. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes. And tonight, watching you with the girls, talking about our future... I've never been more sure of anything".
"I love you too" you whispered, and then his lips were on yours, and the kiss was different from the one in the kitchen. Deeper and filled with all the promise and possibility you'd been talking about for the past hour. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly in your eagerness to take it off him. He smiled against your lips, helping you unbutton it and then his shirt was on the floor and his hands were sliding under your sweater.
"Is this okay?" he murmured, even though you'd been together for five years, even though he knew your body as well as his own. He always asked. It was one of the thousand things you loved about him.
"More than okay" you assured him, and then you were moving together toward the bed, shedding clothes and inhibitions, until it was just skin against skin and breath mingling with breath.
He laid you down gently, his hands tracing patterns on your skin. "You're so beautiful" he whispered, pressing kisses along your collarbone, "So perfect". You arched into his touch, your own hands exploring his body.
When he finally moved over you, settling between your thighs, he paused to look into your eyes. "I can't wait to build a life with you" he said, and you felt tears prick.
"We already are" you reminded him, pulling him down for a kiss. "Joe?" you said softly as you pulled away, tracing idle patterns on his chest.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for staying tonight. For babysitting with me". He tightened his arms around you. "Thank you for showing me what our future looks like. For making me want it even more than I already did".
"Someday" he whispered, the word barely a breath before his lips crashed down on yours again. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hungry, immediate, fueled by the days emotions and the thrill of the conversation you'd just shared. You opened for him instantly, your tongue tangling with his, your hands slid up his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders pulling him impossibly closer. His skin was hot to the touch, damp with a faint sheen of sweat.
He made quick work of your clothes, stripping away your sweater, jeans and panties with urgency. When his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers brushing through your folds, you gasped, your hips bucking off the bed to meet his touch.
"Already so wet" he groaned, dipping a finger inside, "You feel amazing".
"Baby please" you begged, needing more than just his fingers. He shifted, reaching over the side of the bed to fumble in the discarded heap of his trousers. The leather of his wallet clicking as he flipped it open, the foil wrapper of a condom reflecting in the light of the bedside lamp. Your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist, stopping him cold. Joe froze, his chest heaving. He looked down at you, confusion warring with the haze of lust in his dark eyes, What's wrong?".
"Nothing" you whispered, your thumb stroking his wrist. "I just... don't want to use it anymore".
The silence stretched. He stared at you, his gaze dropping to your hand on his wrist, then back to your eyes. "You sure?" he asked, his voice rougher than before.
You nodded slowly, spreading your legs wider. "I want to feel you. I want...us".
He dropped the wallet onto the floor. He positioned himself between your thighs. You were wet, ready for him, and as he pushed forward, the sensation was overwhelming and very hot, filling you without the barrier of a condom. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned, and sank deeper until he was buried all the way. He held still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts. It felt different this time.
"Fuck" he groaned, pulling back slowly before thrusting forward again, harder this time, "You feel so good babe".
The rhythm built quickly. A desperate, grinding pace that had the bed frame knocking rhythmically against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles at the small of his back, pulling him in deeper with every stroke. The friction was incredible for you, the slide of his cock inside you sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.
"Fuck" you moaned, your body tightening as the pressure built, "I'm close". He didn't slow down. If anything, his thrusts became more erratic, more urgent. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.
"I'm gonna cum" he growled, his hips snapping against yours in quick motion, "I'm gonna cum so deep inside you. I'm going to give you what you wanted".
The words hit you like a physical blow, triggering your orgasm. You clenched around him, waves of pleasure rattling through you as you cried out. But he didn't stop, he drove into you through the aftershocks, chasing his own orgasm. "Take it" he grunted, his body going rigid, "Take it all".
You felt the pulse of him inside you, the hot spurts of his cum filling your insides. He didn't pull out. He stayed deep, grinding his hips as if he wanted to push his load as far into you as possible. The realisation hit him then, you could see it in the way his eyes widened, the way his hands gripped your hips. He liked it. The thought of getting you pregnant, of marking you from the inside, it drove him wild.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting in a way as you both struggled to catch your breath. Joe pressed soft, open mouthed kisses to your shoulder, his hand stroking your hair back from your face. "Jesus baby" he whispered, rolling onto his side but keeping an arm draped heavily over your waist, "That was...".
"Yeah" you agreed, your eyelids already drooping. The exhaustion from the day returned, alongside the intensity of the orgasm. You curled into him, your bodies tangled together, and both drifted off into a deep sleep.
Hours later, you stirred. The room was pitch black, the air conditioner still humming. You blinked, realising Joe wasn't asleep. His breathing was too steady, too alert. You felt the hardness of him pressing against your ass again.
"Joe?" you murmured sleepily, turning in his arms to face him.
He was watching you, even in the dark you could feel his gaze. His hand slid down your side, cupping your ass and pulling you flush against him. "I can't stop thinking about it" he whispered, his voice rough. "About what we did. About my cum inside you right now".
His fingers dipped between your legs, finding you already wet with both of your cum. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he coated his fingers. "You're still full of me" he said, sliding a finger inside, pushing himself back inside, "Leaking".
The dirty talk sent shivers through you. You pushed back against his hand, silently begging for more. He didn't hesitate. He rolled you onto your back, settling between your thighs again. There was no fumbling for a wallet this time and no hesitation. He lined himself up and thrusted in, the wet sound of your combined fluids loud in the quiet room.
"Fuck, you're so messy" he groaned, bracing himself on his elbows, "I love it". He set a mindblowing pace, driving into you with a newfound focus. This kink wasn't just a realisation anymore, it was the only thing that mattered to him now. He hooked your legs over his arms, folding you nearly in half, opening you up completely. "Gonna fill you up again" he panted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest, "Gonna make sure it takes. Gonna put a baby in you".
The words were filthy, but they only made you wetter. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails raking down his back, urging him on.
"Yes babe" you cried out, the pleasure building to a whole new level. "Fuck, do it. Cum in me again".
He let out a ragged breath, you felt him pulse, prolonging your own orgasm. He stayed there, twitching and pumping every last drop into you. As the shaking subsided, he collapsed against you, his heart hammering against you, both of you knowing that this had changed everything.
summary: watching other girls think they have a chance with steve hits a nerve inside of you that you thought you buried. looks like you’ll just have to remind him who he belongs to.
warnings: smut, p in v sex, public sex, getting caught during sex, finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, tiniest bit of sub!steve - actually maybe just switch!steve, jealousy, cursing, probably more!
word count: 4k
from jen: longer than i hoped but i really love this one and i hope you guys do too. as always, with love <3
The bar was lit up by multi colored flashes. It almost felt like the walls were banging from the loud bass coming from the live band. The floor was full of people dancing, drinking and laughing. There was a smell in the air – cheap vodka, twelve different kinds of perfume and shitty bar food. It was overstimulation thrown into one building.
But it was so much fucking fun.
You, Robin and Nancy were dancing – well, attempting to – in the middle of the dance floor. Eddie and his buddies were to thank for the volume of the music as they played their cover of Enter Sandman.
The three of you were three drinks and two shots into the night and it was obvious Robin was already drunk, Nancy was teetering the line, and you were in a state of blissful tipsy.
It was a three day weekend and for the first time in months, the whole groups schedule managed to align perfectly. While you and the girls danced, Steve and Jonathan were ordering more drinks at the bar.
Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve
As soon as your brain reminded itself of your boyfriend, your eyes began to scan the crowd. You were a clingy girl on a regular day, but adding alcohol into the mix? You were about five seconds from sewing your skin to his.
Nancy and Robin continued to dance together as you stood on the tips of your toes to look for him. He was basically a damn tree, it shouldn’t be hard to find him!
Finally, your eyes graze over the far right side of the bar and you see his beautiful floppy hair. His back is to you on the dance floor, and he stands shoulder to shoulder with Jonathan as they wait for the drinks.
A dopey smile breaks onto your face at the sight of him, your feet are tingling to run to him. Quickly, you turn to the girls and grab their arms.
“C’mon! Steve’s at the bar!“ You urge them and make it a point to ignore the way they playfully roll their eyes. You don’t wait before you’re making your way to him, practically skipping the whole way.
You kept your eyes on him as you approached him. He still hasn’t turned around but with the view of his back, you were not complaining. Steve and Eddie had grown even closer this last year and he wanted to support Eddie so much that he’d bought a brand new outfit for tonight.
He still didn’t quite capture Eddie’s metal style but he tried. He went with an all black outfit: a nicer pair of new black jeans, a plain black shirt – a fitted one. One that clung to his skin so nicely you could see every ridge of muscle he had in his abdomen – and a new leather jacket thrown over it.
Truth be told, you were about five seconds away from devouring him. But tonight was about being with friends and you wanted to spend time with them, even if your boyfriend looked like that.
You were only a few feet away from reaching him when a girl slid into the chair next where he stood. The movement was so slick, effortless – like she fit right next to him. She rested both her elbows atop of the bar, swirling the barstool so her legs were only a few inches from his waist.
She had a look in her eye and you recognized it immediately, because it was the exact one you had. Hunger, desire, want. All aimed at your boyfriend.
Easily, she raised her hand and slid it up his bicep. Steve looked at her then, expecting it to be you but when he saw it wasn’t, his eyes flickered down to her palm on his arm.
Immediately, he dropped his arm from where it leaned on the bar and turned away. He was still looking at her but he pushed himself backwards, almost until his back was fully leaning into Jonathan’s chest. It might have been funny if it wasn’t for the girl touching him.
Still, it didn’t seem to deter her. She smiled up at him, the gloss on her lips glistening under the flashing red lights. You couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying from where you stood and a few seconds later, Robin and Nancy barreled into your back.
Their confusion quickly dissipated when they realized why you had stopped. The girl had leaned even closer into Steve’s spaced, her chin resting in one of her palms. She was still smiling up at him – not a friendly smile, a sultry one. She was a beautiful girl, there was no denying it and you wondered if Steve also noticed.
Jealousy bubbled in your chest. You weren’t worried about him or his loyalty, but there was no reasoning with a drunk version of yourself seeing another girl flirt with him.
Without much thinking, you resumed your walk towards him – Nancy and Robin hot on your tail. Now, you were able to hear the conversation.
“Uh yeah, I’m not sure,” Steve’s voice rang in your ears first. “My girlfriend picked the spot,”
Good. He mentioned me. She’ll get the hint, you think.
“Girlfriend?” The girl echoed, her fingers tapping against the counter top. “Is she here?”
“Yep,” Steve replied. You could tell he was uncomfortable and he was being as dry as he could be without coming off as an asshole. From behind him, you noticed the way Jonathan also seemed to look uncomfortable.
“Hmm,” She hummed. Her eyes raked down his body before looking back up at him. The same hand he shrugged off only a few minutes earlier came back up and landed on him again, her fingers curling around his elbow. Finally, you were right next to Steve, but neither of them noticed yet. “I don’t see her anywhere,”
Before Steve could respond, your own hand raised and you easily grabbed hers and pushed it off him again. You barely glanced at her as you wrapped your own arms around his neck, pushing your chest into his own.
When Steve looked down at you in his arms, you felt his entire body relax. He didn’t spare another glance at the girl before his arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer to him.
“Hi baby,” You smiled, leaning on the tips of your toes to kiss him. He smiled into it and you could feel the girls eyes burning into the back of your head. Steve murmured a greeting back against your mouth, but before he could deepen in, you maneuvered your body to lean your back to his chest.
The girl looked at you now, almost glaring at you, but you smirked back at her.
“Thanks for keeping my seat warm. You can go now,” Your voice was syrupy sweet but it was more than clear how little kindness it carried.
Her eyes narrowed just a bit. “I was actually pretty comfortable,”
You sent her a fake sympathetic pout. “I’m sure you were – not anymore though,”
Even if there was a part of you that could have felt even remotely threatened by her, the warmth of Steve’s body behind you and one of his hands holding onto your hips and the other arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders, silenced those feelings immediately.
Her eyes glanced down and she seemed to also notice the way he was holding onto you. She scoffed before reaching over the bar, quickly plucking a pen and a napkin before scribbling over it. When she finished, she hopped off the stool and stood directly in front of you, the napkin in hand.
She looked back at Steve behind you and slid the napkin towards him. You could feel it now – the way you were glaring at her and from beside you, you saw the way Nancy and Robin also were. “Here’s my number,” She glanced back down at you. “For when you get bored tonight,”
The words landed exactly where she intended them to and if it weren’t for Steve’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, you would’ve pounced on her. He felt the way your body tensed and held you closer to his chest.
Before you could react, Steve raised the napkin. Still looking at her, he crumpled the flimsy paper into a ball and threw it over the other side of the bar. You watched the way her expression pinched, and a look you clearly recognized as embarrassment covered her features. “I’m good.” He said simply, both hands sliding down your sides to land on your hips. Easily, he spun your body around so you were facing him again.
Oh, he was so fucking hot.
Neither of you paid any attention to where the girl wandered off to. Steve was smiling down at you and that was enough for you to feel like you were going insane.
The smile on his face, his rejection of that girl, his hair, his fucking outfit. Nope, you were done restraining yourself.
You grabbed Steve’s hand and glanced over at Nancy, Robin and Jonathan. The three of them were looking at you expectantly but you didn’t give them a chance for questions.
“Be right back,” You rushed, tugging Steve along with you. You heard a small surprised sound come from him as you pulled him along.
“Wait! Where are you guys going?” Nancy asked, and Robin snicked beside her. You didn’t respond as you pulled Steve further into the crowd and towards the other side of the bar. But you were able to catch Robin’s last comment.
“Twenty bucks says they’re gonna bone in the bathroom,”
Hopefully no one takes that bet – because she’s right.
Still holding onto Steve’s hand, you approach the women’s bathroom and swing the door open. When you let go of his hand, he stands directly in front of the doorway, still not entering, and you quickly wander through the stalls to make sure it’s empty.
Once you’re sure it is, you turn back to Steve and you twist the front of his shirt in your hand and drag him into the bathroom.
“Woah baby, wh-what are you doing?” He laughs nervously, quickly catching his balance against the porcelain sink. You lock the door behind him and within seconds, your hands are tugging at his leather jacket and shoving it off his shoulders.
Breathlessly, Steve murmurs your name. First and last.
“Hey, this is the women’s bathroom, all of our friends are outside and anybody could walk in right now,”
He’s so damn cute when he tries to be so serious.
Without his help, you’ve managed to strip his jacket off his shoulders and your fingers are working at unbuckling his belt. As you pull the metal away from the buckle, you look back up at him.
“The doors locked. You’re right, our friends are outside and if anybody walks in,” You pause for a moment and pull his belt from the loops of his jeans, dropping it to the ground. “Then they can watch.”
Something in Steve’s eyes switch and within seconds, his mouth is on yours. It’s messy and desperate, and you’re moaning into his mouth immediately. His hands raise, both palms holding your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.
The sound of your lips sloppily meeting his fills the room and the sound of the band playing begins to fade away as he kisses you. Between your bodies, your hands slip beneath his black shirt and trace the skin of his stomach. You can feel the way his muscles twitch under your touch and he begins to walk forward, until your back his pressed against the wall of the stall.
Steve pulls his mouth away from yours and his lips begin a trail from your lips to your jaw and down your throat. He lands on that patch of skin where your neck and shoulder meet and bites.
You whine into the air, palms sliding up his sides and curling around his biceps. His teeth graze against your skin again, but this time his tongue swipes over it right away to soothe it and then he’s sucking that piece of skin into his mouth.
You can feel the mark already beginning to form and your stomach flips. You bring your hand back up to his face and you pull him away from your neck to kiss him again.
One hand continues to cradle his jaw and the other tangles itself in his hair. All the while, Steve brings his hands between your bodies and shoves your skirt up, all the way until it’s bunched around your waist.
Without breaking the kiss, his large hand splays across your thigh, gripping the skin and hikes your leg up until it’s resting over his hip. His other hand curls around your throat, not to squeeze but to keep you grounded to him.
Steve pushes you further back into the wall and grinds his hips forward. You moan is muffled against his mouth when you can feel the clothes outline of his cock grinding into your core. The denim of his jeans slides perfectly against the cotton of your panties, feeding you a delicious feeling of friction.
Your eyes squeeze shut at the way his hips rut into yours and you’re both whining against each others mouths. His hand slips from its place on your thigh and trails up, up, up until the tips of his fingers graze against the wet spot of your panties.
At this point, you’re not even kissing anymore. The rock of his hips and the touch of his fingers knocks all common sense out of you and you’re left breathing against his mouth. His fingers continue to tease you. He runs them up and down your clothed pussy, still not giving you any skin to skin contact.
“Steve-Steve please,” You’re mindlessly begging for more and you can feel the way he smirks against your lips.
“What is it, baby? Tell me what you need,” He murmurs, carefully tracing the hem of your panties. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you break.
“I just – I just want you Steve, please,” You cry out, hands tugging at the ends of his hair.
To your surprise, he doesn’t tease anymore. Two fingers curl around the side of your panties, sliding them over and finally, they sink into the warm heat of your pussy.
Steve’s reflexes are quick – his hand flies to cradle the back of your head when you throw it back with a moan, making sure you don’t slam it against the wall.
Your head thuds against his palm and you’re whining into the air as his fingers thrust in and out of you. While you keep your eyes squeezed shut, Steve keeps his eyes on the way his fingers disappear in and out of you.
The air is filled with the sounds of his uneven breathing, your moaning and the sounds of your slick drenching his fingers. Your wetness leaks down his fingers, all the way down to his wrist.
“Fuck baby, you’re soaking me,” He groans, resting his forehead against yours. You whine incoherently and he feels the way you clench around his fingers at his praise.
It’s almost embarrassing how quick he can get you off but your mind finally came back to you. Steve was always the dominant one and he could so easily turn you into putty in his hands, but you came in here with one purpose – and that was reminding him who he belonged to.
With every bit of strength you had left, you opened your eyes back up and look up at him. He was still so lost in the way you were sucking his fingers in that he didn’t notice the mischievous look in you eyes.
Almost reluctantly, you wrapped one of your hands around his wrist and halted his movements. His gaze flicked up to yours, confusion and concern swirling in his expression.
“Why’d you stop me?”
Wordlessly, you drop your thigh from where it rested over his hip and the clack of your heel slamming back onto the floor echoed in the room. Keeping your eyes locked onto his, your fingers worked fast to pop the button of his jeans and the sound of you pulling his zipper down bounces off the walls.
“What was that girls name?” You asked softly, hand slipping into his jeans. Your palm gently grazed his length, but still not touching - teasing him the same way he did you.
“What?” Steve asked breathlessly. He kept his eyes trained on you and the movement of your hands.
“From the bar. What’s her name?”
“I don’t know baby,” He shook his head, groaning when you tightened your grip on him.
“No? Do you think she’s pretty?” Without waiting for a response, your hand slid beneath his boxers and finally, the skin of your palm met his.
He let out a shuddered breath but quickly shook his head again.
“No! No, f’course not. Barely – barely even looked at her,” He promised, mouth dropping open as your squeezed his length in your hand.
You hummed, leaning up to leave open mouthed kisses across his neck. He smelled so fucking good – a mix of sandalwood, your own perfume and something inherently him. It was intoxicating.
“I believe you baby,” You promised and you felt him physically relax. You smiled against his throat. It was nice to be reminded that even though he could turn you into a mindless mess, you did the same to him. Still, you tsked softly and pulled your face from his shoulder. “But she looked so damn comfortable around you. Touching you,”
You pulled your hand from his jeans and rested them against your own thighs, pulling away all contact from him. He whined softly, pushing his hips into yours but you push your palm back into his chest.
“I don’t care,” He said. “Didn’t matter to me. Only you do, baby. Please let me touch you,”
Maybe if you weren’t in public, you would have prolonged the agony but you knew there was a ticking clock before someone came knocking.
And you just really wanted him to fuck you.
Your hands found his jeans again, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. He groaned as the air hit his skin and his forehead settled against yours.
“Prove it to me baby,” You demanded, voice still soft.
Steve didn’t need to be told twice before his own hands were reaching back under your skirt, yanking your panties all the way down until they were wrapped around one ankle. Within seconds, his palms slid to the back of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly.
His cock slid between your soaked pussy and you both moaned at the first feeling of real contact of the night. Steve seemed to share the same sense of working on borrowed time and without words, he wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you up while the other gripped his cock in his hand and lined himself up.
You felt that delicious burn you craved all night the moment he began to push in. No matter how many times he fucked you, it almost always felt like the first time. His hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours.
Steve groaned against your mouth as he bottomed out, and you whined against his when he started his brutal pace. He felt the way you squeezed around his cock and his free hand squeezed your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Were you jealous?” Steve asks suddenly. His mouth was turned up into a smirk now, his hips still thrusting harshly.
“Yeah, I was fucking jealous,” You didn’t hesitate in your response and your forwardness seemed to take him by surprise. Steve reared his head backwards just a bit, careful enough to not lose his pace and let you continue. “Because that girl thought she could have what’s mine,”
Somehow, you find the strength to drop your hips down, meeting each of Steve’s brutal thrusts. He whines aloud at the way you match his speed, his cock twitching inside you.
“Can they?”
The words fall on deaf ears as Steve keeps his gaze locked on the way your pussy stretches to suck him in. His brows are pinched, cheeks flushed and strands of his hair hang over his forehead messily. As sexy as he looks, you’re dissatisfied with his lack of response. Almost meanly, your hand grips onto his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks to regain his attention.
“Can they?” You repeat when his gaze meets yours again.
“N-No!” He says quickly.
You grin and lean down, you hover your mouth over his – not quite a kiss yet. “Good. You’re mine, Steve. Nobody else gets to have you like this.”
It’s not a question, it’s a statement and you both know it.
He nods feverishly and you can feel the way his thrusts begin to get sloppy. He’s close, and you’re right behind him. His fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs as he pushes his cock deeper into you.
“Nobody else. Just you baby, just - just you,” He blubbers and you’re quickly whining into his mouth again. He buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, one hand sliding between you two to rub circles into your clit.
Your orgasm is fast approaching – you’re almost across the finish line when you suddenly hear the sound of a key sliding into the lock and the door swings open.
But instead of feeling embarrassed or worried, you feel so fucking smug.
Because standing in the doorway is the girl from the bar, a customer key to the restroom in her hand, and her eyes locked on the way Steve fucks you into the wall.
Heat rushes to her face and a blush to intense, her entire face is red. She looks something like embarrassed, mortified and humbled all in one.
Thankfully, Steve hasn’t noticed – or doesn’t care – her interruption and continues fucking you until you’re both teetering the edge of release.
Your arms wrap tightly around Steve’s back and you pull him close to your chest. As you look into her eyes, you give her one final smirk – one that reads: Good. Look at what you’ll never have.
Just as quickly as she entered, she stumbles backwards and slams the door shut.
You let yourself get lost in the feeling of Steve again.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna – fuck,” Steve curses, teeth sinking into the skin of your throat and spills inside you. He keeps his pace as even as possible with the movement of his thumb over your clit and only seconds later, he pulls you over the edge with him.
“SteveSteveSteveSteve,” You whine. His thumb continues moving over your swollen bud, helping you ride out your orgasm entirely.
Once you reach the point of overstimulation, you gently push his hand away from between your thighs. Steve watches the way your head lolls to the side and despite the fact that you had damn near all the power barely five minutes ago, you’ve effectively turned into jell-o.
With a smirk on his face, he raises his two wet fingers and brings them to your mouth. Instinctively, you part your lips when he taps them and he easily slides them into your mouth. You moan around his fingers, the taste of yourself filling your senses.
He groans quietly, gently thrusting them in and out of your mouth. “That prove it to you, baby?”
With your mouth full from his fingers, you give him a nod.
You were barely 13 weeks pregnant when it started. A small bump began to form on your belly, a beautiful life growing inside. Of course, Steve thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Not only did he have the knowledge that it was his baby growing inside of you, others could also see it.
Steve had always been a jealous man, so everyone knowing that he had put a baby in you was his favorite thing ever. Now he was on his knees, giving special little kisses to your belly, mumbling below his breath.
“you look beautiful darlin’”
“stuffed with my baby, my little Harrington..”
“Now everybody knows your my woman..”
“My woman”
“Mine.”
He practically growls, voice growing huskier as he rises to his feet, his hand finding its way to cup your cheek.
“Can’t even look in the mirror without thinking of you Stevie..”
You mewled.
It was all he could do not to have his way with you right then and there, but he remembered how fragile you were in this state. Now almost 7 months pregnant, you couldn’t move like you used to. Most of the time you just waddled around.
“Do you think you have enough energy to-?”
“I need you Steve”
His eyes darkened as he leaned down to kiss your neck.
“Just lay back mama, let Stevie do all the work for ya..”
He muttered, laying you down on the bed slowly. Careful not to hurt you, he reached underneath your sleep shirt. None of your pants fit you anymore with the weight gain, so you rarely wore any. Then he hooked his finger under the waist band of your cotton panties.
“You’re just soakin’ ain’t ya mama?”
You whined softly, nodding your head
“C’mon baby… I want the whole neighborhood to know just who put that baby in pretty little Mrs. Harrington..”
can i request a scene for the Harrington Household series? maybe one where the oldest son (or the oldest daughter) tries sneaking in (or out) their bedroom window, because hello! they’re steve’s kids and he was the stealthiest ninja back in his days and knows all about climbing through windows. but also bc they’re steve’s kids, he knows and catches them.
maybe if they’re sneaking back in, when they turn on their lights, steve is just sitting there in the dark.
or if they’re sneaking out, steve is already outside their window waiting for them to climb down and makes them climb back up instead of going through the front door.
Summary: Trying to steer your teenagers down the right path makes Steve’s memories of his past stir, and you help remind him that he’s the most loved person in your home.
WC: 3.6k
Warnings & What to Expect: hargrove!fem!reader, mentions of sex (having the talk w/ the oldest) parental struggles - Steve’s parents not demonstrating enough love to him and he’s feeling the weight of it 😢
Harrington Household Masterlist
putting reqs on pause so i can catch up on what i have. feel free to still send me chats! I adore talking to y’all! 🫶🏻 this fic would take place months after the dinner imagine, and before summer starts!
Main Masterlist If Interested!
Peach’s Note: hii anon!! omg Steve would be stressing over this, poor guy! im combining this w/ another request about the oldest and his gf. i definitely went a more angsty route with Steve being hard on himself, but tried to keep it lighthearted too. hope y’all enjoy ❤️
i feel like this song sums up Steve’s feelings for his kids 😭⤵️
Your seventeen year old boy may be the kindest teenager you know, but he’s still Steve Harrington’s teenager.
It’s why you shouldn’t be surprised by the situation you’ve just caught your son in, but you’re still completely thrown off - frozen in his doorway with a stunned expression on your face.
“Mom!” He yells at you, panic lacing his voice.
In your defense, you had knocked on the half open door before coming in to ask him if he could move his load of laundry in order to start yours.
And because he was supposed to be studying, you definitely didn’t expect to find him kissing his girlfriend on his bed.
He scrambles away from her, running his hands through his hair - a nervous tick he’s picked up from Steve, and he refuses to look at you.
“Uh, hi Mrs. Harrington,” his girlfriend says, looking down at her hands bashfully.
She’s curled in on herself a bit, clearly flustered at the interruption.
“Hi, sweetheart. Are you, um, staying for dinner?” You try to play it cool, not wanting to make her feel worse.
She picks at the fabric of her sleeve, “If you’ll still have me, I’d love to stay for dinner.”
You smile when she finally works up the courage to look at you, “Of course, you’re always welcome here.”
You can visibly see the tension release from her, but your boy isn’t off the hook so easily.
“Let’s keep the door fully open,” you quip, staring pointedly at him, “and move your laundry, please.”
“On it, Mom,” he replies, instantly grabbing the basket and booking it out of his room without so much as a backwards glance.
“Steve,” you whisper, grabbing at his elbow and gesturing for him to follow you into the downstairs bathroom.
He slips inside the tiny space with you, shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Hate to break it to you honey, but we’ve got hungry kids in the dining room ready to eat. We don’t exactly have time for you to feel me up in here,” he grins teasingly, hands coming down to rest on your hips.
You roll your eyes, pushing lovingly at his shoulder, “I didn’t drag you in here to get into your pants, Steve.”
You’d been waiting for a chance to talk to him without tiny ears eavesdropping, which was quite the feat when everyone was home.
He notices your expression shift, and he furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong, honey?”
You explain how you found your boy with his girlfriend, and Steve nods along - listening carefully to the concerns you have over it.
“It’s just, this is his first girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure he’s starting to feel more for her,” you say, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
“And?” He prompts, knowing there’s more - hands sliding to cup your lower back.
“And, I'm worried about him being sexually active at his age,” you admit anxiously.
“We've talked about this with him before, honey. And don't forget he had to sit through a whole sex education class with me in seventh and eighth grade. Poor kid couldn’t look me in the eye the whole time,” Steve reminds you.
“Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s stupid,” you bring a thumb to your lips, biting the skin there tensely.
Steve pulls your hand away, “Hey, none of that. Don’t want you hurting yourself, honey”
He presses a kiss to the tender skin you were prodding at, “And it’s not stupid. We can talk to him again if that’ll ease your worries, baby.”
“It would,” you reply, sighing in relief at the fact that he’s on the same page as you.
“Then we’ll talk to him after dinner,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, tugging you tighter to his chest, “I mean, we are experts after all.”
His teasing works, pulls a laugh out of you that encourages him to capture your lips with his - nose nudging yours, silently promising that the two of you will always be a team.
“Oh my god, are you seriously about to give me the talk? We’ve gone through this before, multiple times,” your boy emphasizes, wincing at the memories.
“Not necessarily the talk. We know you already know how it, uh, works,” Steve clears his throat.
“We just want you to be careful, hun,” you chime in, and you swear if your boy flushed anymore he’d be on fire.
“Mom, please stop,” he begs.
Steve cuts in, “You know we encourage waiting until you’re an adult. But we also know there’s going to be times where you have to make decisions on your own without our input."
Your son looks like he’s about ready to pass out from embarrassment, and you’d feel sorry for him if you hadn’t been the one that walked in on him, which is why you’re much more blunt about it than Steve’s being.
“What your father is trying to say is that, if you are having sex, which we don’t approve of you doing until you’re at least eighteen and as your parents, preferably even older than that. But if for some reason you are, you need to be using protection," you conclude.
His mouth flounders, jaw opening and closing - almost the spitting image of your husband when he does that.
“We aren’t,” he trials off, flailing his hands wildly like it’s supposed to fill in the blanks for you.
“You aren’t using protection?” Steve asks sternly.
“No! I mean, yes, if we were having sex. But I’m not,” he’s positively mortified now at the way you and Steve look at him in confusion.
“Not having sex, or not using protection?” Steve questions, wanting a clear answer.
“God, Dad, why do you have to keep saying it?” He groans, shutting his eyes.
“What? Sex? You know that’s in my job description, right?” Steve teases, trying to get him to lighten up.
He falls flat on his back on the bed and throws his hands over his face, “Believe me, I know.”
“Hun, I know this is an embarrassing conversation. Trust me, we don’t want to be having it either. But we love you, and it's because we love you that we want you to be making smart decisions,” you try to reassure him.
“I’m not having sex. I actually don’t think I’m ready yet,” he grows a little shy at the confession.
You feel yourself relax at the admission, “Oh. Well, okay then. It’s a good thing you recognize that, hun.”
“Mom, can you seriously not? I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he grits out, less self consciousness and more attitude seeping into his tone.
“Hey,” Steve says firmly, “Mom’s just doing her job, bud. It’s our job to help guide you with these things.”
He sits back up at that, “I’m sorry.”
You smile at him, patting his knee, “It’s okay, hun. I know it’s not a fun thing to talk about with your parents.”
“And, uhm, not that I’m trying to get out of this conversation, but do you hear that?” He points to the wall that borders your eldest girl's room.
The three of you fall quiet, ears straining to listen, and the tell tale sign of a window sliding open makes Steve jump out of his seat.
“If she thinks she’s sneaking out,” he grumbles, fleeing the room - stumbling down the stairs and through the front door.
Your boy looks at you in bewilderment, “How did he know that?”
“Maybe one day Dad will tell you about his ninja skills as he likes to call them, but today is not that day,” you grin.
“Not sure if I need to know why he refers to himself as a ninja,” he replies.
“Probably not,” you agree, “I’m gonna go check on them.”
You make your way downstairs and lean against the threshold of the door - peering out to look over at your girl’s bedroom window.
There’s a trellis that sits below it as it wraps over the first floor window. It allows her to swing her legs out and onto it - wobbling a little to right herself as she gently slides the window closed.
Steve’s planted himself under her window, hands on his hips - silently waiting for her to realize he’s there. You bite your lip in amusement at the sight, curious to see how he’s going to approach this.
When your girl turns around to start the climb down, she freezes at the sight of him.
They have a silent stare off before she gives him a sickly sweet smile - already trying to worm her way into the soft spot of his heart to let her off easy.
“Going somewhere?” Steve remarks.
“Nope, just uh, checking to make sure if there was an emergency I could get out,” she shrugs sheepishly, already knowing the excuse is weak.
“Uh uh, sure. Turn around,” Steve replies, standing his ground - making a circling motion with his hand.
“I’m sorry?” She tries, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.
“Appreciate that, sweetheart. But you’re still grounded,” he raises his eyebrows at her.
She sighs, “For how long?”
“How long would I have been sick to my stomach, worrying about where you were?” He inquires, folding his arms.
She closes her eyes in defeat, “Two hours. So, two weeks?”
“Sounds fair,” Steve nods.
She picks up on his cues that he has more that he wants to say to her, and she waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
“Please don’t ever try this again. Just ask Mom and I if you can go next time,” he pleads, frustration and fear lingering behind the words.
“You would’ve said no,” she grumbles.
“Maybe, maybe not. Guess you won’t know because you’re grounded and not going tonight,” he sasses her back.
“I really am sorry, Dad,” she says, eyes that look just like his begging him to forgive her.
“I love you. If anything had happened to you,” he trails off, not wanting to finish the statement.
She looks guilty at that, because she knows she put you and Steve through misery during her rebellious phase, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“That's all I can think of when you leave this home, that you return safely to Mom and I. And we can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are,” Steve clarifies, wanting her to understand the significance of why he’s upset.
She nods solemnly, “Okay, I understand.”
“Don’t think you’ll fully understand until you have kids of your own, sweetheart, but I appreciate you trying to,” Steve gives her a warm smile, communicating that she’s forgiven for scaring him.
“And I’m removing that damn trellis, by the way,” he calls out while she hauls herself back up into her room.
She narrows her eyes at him, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
You have to put a hand over your mouth to stop a giggle from slipping out at her quip - she always makes it glaringly obvious that she got her attitude from him.
“What the hell has gotten into our kids?” Steve asks you later that evening as the two of you relax on the couch, hand covering his face in disbelief.
Your legs were thrown over one of his parted thighs, and you were cuddled up under his arm - hand lazily tracing circles on the soft cotton of his sleep shirt.
Your younger babes were sleeping, and your oldest two probably weren’t, but at least they were safely tucked into their rooms. Steve was still jittery about your eldest girl, worried she was going to try to sneak out again - eyes flitting continuously to the front window.
“They’re teenagers, babe,” you remind him.
“Exactly, though. They’re teenagers, not adults. Why are they trying to do adult things?” He throws his hands up, raking them through his hair, before letting them fall back to rest on your legs.
“Steve, do you remember what you were like in high school?” You ask playfully, running your free hand through his soft locks that curl around his ear.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs heavily.
“Then why are you surprised that your children are literally just like you?” You smile, bringing your hand down over his thigh that’s not tucked under you.
He laughs under his breath, “Yeah, guess that’s biting me in the ass.”
“They’re not purposefully trying to stress you out, baby. They’re just growing up,” you trace your hand up and down his thigh, trying to soothe the built up tension in him.
He’s quiet for a moment, before he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes starting to rim red from holding back tears.
“Where did our babies go?” He asks, tone laced with distraught.
You press a kiss to his shoulder, “They’re still our babies, honey, just older.”
“You know, I look at them and think about how there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I’d do anything to protect them from making the wrong choices,” he reflects, eyes flicking back up the stairs to where his children rest.
“That’s because you were meant to be a dad, Steve,” you press a kiss to his jaw, hand curling around his bicep as you snuggle closer.
“Meanwhile, my parents didn’t give a shit about what I was doing with how often they were gone,” he scoffs, fingers running up the calf of your leg absentmindedly.
You frown, not liking where his thoughts seem to be heading as he stares straight ahead - face twisting in unease.
“What’s wrong with me?” He asks thickly.
“What?” You ask incredulously, not quite sure if you can believe the words that just came out of his mouth.
Steve’s parents had left Hawkins a long time ago, though they kept in touch here and there. You knew they loved their grandchildren to some extent through the gifts and money they sent. But you also knew they thought your family was much too big, too loud, and too messy - not living up to their own standards.
“How can I feel this all consuming, unconditional love for my children, but my parents clearly never felt the same thing for me,” he remarks, lost in the ugly thoughts his mind is throwing at him.
You feel like the wind is knocked out of you from the harsh words leaving his lips, “Steve, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“There’s gotta be. Must’ve been some reason they couldn’t love me,” he replies dejectedly, still zoning out.
“Hey, that’s my husband you’re talking about,” you chide softly, reaching out to grasp tenderly at his jaw - trying to get him to look at you.
“I’m being serious,” he says, voice starting to wobble.
“So am I,” you shift, settling yourself fully in his lap, cupping his face tenderly.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.
“Look at me,” you whisper, stroking at his cheekbones - ducking your head to meet his eyes.
“There is not a single part of you that’s unloveable, Steve Harrington,” you say it firmly, with a tone of finality - leaving no room for argument.
“But-,” he starts, and you cut him off - refusing to allow him to continue to think about himself in such a negative way.
“No. No buts. You were not hard to love then, and you are not hard to love now. You wanna know how I know?” You smile, starting to think of the mile long list of ways that makes loving him as easy as breathing.
He clenches his teeth together as the first drops of tears spill, “How?”
You lean your forehead against his, “When something goes wrong, do you know who every single person in this family turns to?”
He lets the words settle over him, trying to rub at his eyes. You stop him, replacing his hands with yours - fondly wiping the tears that trail his cheeks.
“You. Because we all know that you’re going to do whatever you can to make it better,” you tell him, and he sinks into your touch - head coming to a rest against your collarbones.
You can feel his intake of breaths becoming ragged, can feel the shake of his shoulders against you.
“And what about when you go watch their softball or baseball games? They run straight to you afterwards - no matter the outcome, because they know you’re going to be proud of them either way,” you add on.
Steve makes a pitiful sniffling sound, and it just about breaks your heart clean in half at having to hear those noises coming from him.
“Guess how many times they come home from school and ask me when you’ll be back from work because they’re desperate to tell you something about their day,” you wrap an arm around his back to hold him closer - free hand slipping into his hair to caress the back of his head.
He can’t answer with the way his throat has become tight, raw emotion bleeding from every part of him - breaking open at the unresolved pain that his parents caused.
“I honestly think you’re the most loved person in this house, baby,” you confide - nails running down the length of his back, trying your best to provide the dependable comfort he always shows you.
He makes a sound of protest, but you refute it, “You are, Steve. I’m so sorry your parents didn’t show you love the way they should have, baby. But that’s on them. Not you.”
You think about your next words carefully, trying to formulate what to say to ease his mind - aching at seeing him in distress.
“You know who does love you? Those teenagers - trying to act like adults because they know you’re gonna love them despite the choices they make. And don’t even get me started on the rest of them. God, they adore you, Steve,” your voice cracks, and your own eyes get glassy at the overwhelming gratitude that kicks up in your chest for him.
He breaks from your hold, leaning back against the couch to gaze at you adoringly.
You stare back, hand slipping to rest against the place where that radiant heart of his lies - feeling the steady rhythm it makes, “I fall in love with you more every day because I get to watch you be the best dad in the world.”
“Thought you loved me for my looks,” he mumbles jokingly.
“Oh well, that’s a given. You’re so hot, baby,” laughter bubbles up inside of you at his ability to lift the atmosphere.
He bites his lip, before gesturing to himself, “Even though I’m getting older?”
You smirk, “That just makes you more attractive, honey.”
His hands cradle your waist, thumbs slipping under your top - sweeping over the warm skin there as a serious expression takes over his features.
“Thank you for not letting me get lost in my head,” he says quietly.
“Would never let you, I love you,” you emphasize, reminding him once again because he deserves to be told so - deserves to know he’s worthy of every ounce of love that you could possibly give to him.
“Love you, gorgeous,” his lips curl up delicately, “c’mere.”
He tugs you to lay down against him, and the two of you listen to the sounds of your home - the hum of the refrigerator littered with drawings from your babes, muffled noise from the television that casts a soft glow across the living room, the creek of the stairs as little feet pad down them.
“Daddy?” The voice of your ten year old girl floats across the room.
“Yeah, babe?” Steve replies, turning his head to look at her.
“I can’t sleep,” she yawns tiredly, “can you read me a story?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be right up,” he answers, watches as she clambers back up to her room to wait for him.
“Told you,” you smile affectionately.
You force yourself to move off of him, so he can go follow his girl - sinking into the cushions of the couch.
“You wanna come with me?” He asks.
You shake your head, “She wants you. Go take care of your baby. I’ll be waiting here for you.”
He leans over to kiss you slowly - plush lips working against yours measuredly, trying to communicate his love for you.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispers when he pulls away, pecking your lips once more.
You nestle deeper into the couch, watching him as he moves up the stairs, eyes trailing the muscles moving in his back - wishing that he could see himself the way you did.
He may not have been shown love the way he deserved as a child, but he certainly worked his ass off to make sure each and every one of his children never felt that way; and in return, he had a home full of these perfect little humans whose whole world revolved around him - orbiting their dad because they knew his heart belonged to them completely.
hello ! i absolutely love ur writing but i’m sure you hear this a lot ;) i was wondering if you could do a steve x fem reader making out in the school bathroom (like with nancy in season 1), and then lead it to whatever you want (suggestive or smut…) tysm ♡︎
i feel so high school, everytime i look at you
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: request above
tags: smut, dry humping, orgasm (f & m), making out, hickey's & lovebites (they're horny teenagers give them a break), not proofread
word count: 1k
author's note: hi lovely! thank you for this request, i hope you like this! sorry for the wait x
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
You’re aimlessly scanning your locker, half asleep as you page through your notebooks to find your history one. You had them colour coordinated at the start of the year, but you’d be lying if you said you remembered which is which.
“Morning,” a voice chirps next to you, startling you enough to flinch. You whip your head to stare at Steve incredulously who pinches his lips together like he’s trying to muffle his laughter.
“Thin ice,” you warn him, pointing your finger at him threateningly whilst a yawn tries to lock your jaw.
He pouts woefully, “Harsh. That’s the kind of greeting I get for wanting to say hello to my girlfriend?” he says as he leans against the locker next to yours, tilting his head in a puppylike display.
You hum, flicking his nose slightly which has him scrunching his face together as you snort a laugh.
“Talk to me again after lunch.” You groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you close your locker and drag yourself lazily to your first class.
Steve huffs, jogging to get a little bit in front of you before switching and walking backwards to continue your conversation. His backwards cap is somewhat slanted on his head, but he looks like he’s the perfect embodiment of Hawkins High’s star athlete with his matching letterman jacket.
“That’s forever away though.” He whines, holding his own binder to his chest which you’re surprised he even managed to bring in the first place.
You can’t help the small uptick of your lips at his dramatic display, “You’ll manage.”
Steve blocks your entrance to your class, tugging you towards the water fountain in the corner despite your protests.
“Steve, I’m going to be late—”
“—5 seconds baby, promise.”
You frown, looking at him with impatience as he gazes at your face, his eyes tracking every part of it despite you being on a time crunch.
“I like when you’re grumpy.” He says softly, lifting one of his hands to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he smiles dopily whilst cupping your cheek in one hand
You must look bewildered because he huffs a laugh, “’S cute.” He admits.
Your smile grows soft, “You’re a real softie you know that Harrington?” you tease.
He rolls his eyes before straightening as he takes a quick scan of the slowly emptying halls, “Skip with me.” He says.
“What? No.” you laugh, shaking your head and moving to leave before he plants his hands on your hips and pulls you back to face him.
“Juts for first period,” he begs. “They won’t even miss us.” He bargains.
You look at his pleading expression and faux quivering lip and sigh, relenting with a small nod, “Only first period.” You tell him, raising your eyebrow in warning.
Steve lifts his hand as if swearing solemnly before pecking you quickly on the nose and tugging you towards the men’s bathroom at the end of the hall.
You giggle softly, turning back to make sure you won’t get caught before you’re pulled into the bathroom and placed onto the sink. It’s the cleanest you’ve ever seen it, but you don’t have high hopes considering it’s Monday morning, by the end of today you’re more than well aware of the state it will inevitably succumb to.
“Mmm, hiya baby.” Steve croons teasingly, making his way in between your legs to press an achingly sweet kiss to your smiling lips as he winds his arms around you. Your teeth clack with his softly as you both smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around one another.
Steve grows impatient quickly, deepening the kiss without further warning as he tilts his head to prod softly at your bottom lip with his tongue.
You let out a breathy noise as he licks into your mouth, tilting your head further back and pulling him into you as your hands tangle into his hair. He groans at the feeling of your nails scratching softly at his scalp as tangles his tongue with yours.
Your head starts to feel fuzzy and bright as you continue to make out with Steve, detaching your lips from his only to trail soft, wet kisses past his jaw and to his neck as you suckle softly on his skin.
You inhale his cologne, muffling your own moans as you bite softly at his neck causing him to thrust his hips forward in reckless abandon. He grunts, tightening his arms around your waist as he lets you mark him.
You lick softly over the reddened skin when you pull back to admire your work and watch as Steve examines the hickeys and love bites in the mirror behind you.
“You’re so lucky my jacket will cover those up,” he grumbles leaning back in to kiss you.
“You love it,” you pant, already opening your mouth and pulling him in as you moan softly into his mouth. His groans are muffled into your mouth as he pulls you closer to the edge of the sink so that your cores grind against one another as you make out.
You can feel the hard outline of his cock meeting your panties under your skirt and you jerk against it as Steve dominates your mouth through your kiss. He trails his own kisses down your jaw to the area behind your ear to bite at softly and suck as he grinds into you.
“Steve,” you whine softly, tilting your head to the side as your legs spread wider to accommodate him.
“I know,” he mumbles into your skin, pushing and pulling you towards his cock as you both hump at one another like bunnies in heat.
“I need—” you gasp, clenching your hands into his letterman jacket as you feel yourself start to grow wetter.
“Feels good?” he says lowly. “Yeah? Yeah I know it does baby.” He coos condescendingly as you continue to whimper as he grinds you against him.
He’s panting into your neck and grinding slowly as you feel your core clench, gasping and moaning lowly.
“Go on baby, cum for me,” Steve mumbles, thrusts going jerky as his cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.
He pulls back to lean his forehead against your own as your orgasm crashes over you, your eyes rolling back into your head slowly as you cum in your pants.
Steve pants and growls as you cum against him before he stills, groaning lowly as he spills into his own boxers with a shaky sigh.
Summer Steve!! Reader is pregnant and due at the end of August, so homegirl is straight up SUFFERING this summer. What is Steve doing to make her more comfortable bc we know he be doing The Most :D
summer!steve harrington x fem!reader (18+)
cw: pregnancy, pregnancy kink (if you squint), allusions to sex, MDNI
wc: 431 || divider by @/saradika-graphics
“This is all your fault.”
Steve’s hands still on your back at the sound of your voice, pausing where he’d been kneading soft circles into your sore muscles at your request. He doesn’t pause for long, though, and before you can complain, he continues his ministrations, his tone fond and soft when he says, “I’m sorry.”
You sigh and press your face further into your arms folded over the edge of his parents’ pool, letting the water lap at your heated skin as you petulantly whine, “Seriously, who thought that being pregnant in July was a good idea?”
This, of course, is a complaint that Steve has heard many, many times as your pregnancy progressed to the state you’re in now: Weeks away from your due date, feeling stretched beyond belief, and desperate for any form of relief from the summer heatwave that you can find.
Like with everything else in life, Steve has taken all of your grousing in stride, never once getting upset or annoyed when you were in a bad mood and simply doing what he could to make you more comfortable. Even if that meant relying on his mother’s hospitality — who, quite frankly, was more than happy to have the two of you show up at her house early in the morning and not leave well into the evening — and spending every free moment sitting in the shade of the pool, letting Steve try to work the knots from your back and hips to no avail.
“Well, next time we can plan for a winter baby,” he offers congenially.
You lift your head up just enough to shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “Who said there will be a next time?”
“If you want there to be a next time,” he corrects with a smile.
You sigh, pressing your cheek to your forearm, and announce, “I’m moving in with your mom. She has air conditioning.”
“She’d let you with no questions asked,” he says. “But we are getting it installed next week.”
“That’s too far away, Steve. I just want to feel better.”
He huffs out a laugh and slides his hand around your front, running it along the curve of your tummy as he says, “I know a way to make you feel better.”
You don’t bother peeling your eyes open. “Not in your mother’s pool.”
“No,” he says easily. “But later, if you’d like. I’ll take care of you, honey.”
“You always do,” you murmur, pressing further into his hands.
He shifts closer, and very carefully, presses a kiss to your sun kissed shoulder.
Summary: You and Joe had been broken up, but when seeing each other at a party, neither of you could remember why
A/N: This song has been stuck in my head since it came out
You hadn’t seen Joe in almost a year.
Not properly.
There had been little things, of course. His name showing up on your phone because a mutual friend had tagged him in something. A song of his playing low in the background of a shop while you pretended not to notice. A photograph online that you scrolled past too quickly because looking for too long felt like doing something wrong.
But you hadn’t seen him.
Not in real life.
Not close enough to remember the shape of his smile or the way his eyes softened before he laughed.
That was probably why you convinced yourself you were fine.
It was easy to be fine when he was just a name you avoided, a memory you kept folded up somewhere quiet. It was easy to tell people you were happy for him, that things ended naturally, that sometimes two people loved each other and still lost the timing.
That was what everyone said, wasn’t it?
Bad timing.
You hated that phrase.
It made heartbreak sound polite.
The party was smaller than you expected, tucked inside a friend’s apartment with warm lighting, half-empty wine glasses, and people sitting on the arms of couches because there weren’t enough seats. It was the kind of gathering you usually liked. Familiar faces. Music low enough to talk over. Someone in the kitchen making everyone try a dip they were very proud of.
You should’ve been comfortable.
Instead, from the second you walked in, you felt like you were waiting for something.
Or someone.
You knew Joe might be there. Your friend had mentioned it so casually that it almost made you laugh.
“Joe said he might stop by.”
As if that sentence didn’t still have the power to ruin your evening.
You’d nodded like it meant nothing.
“Cool.”
Cool.
Pathetic.
So, you did what you always did when you were trying not to care. You became too normal. Too cheerful. You laughed a little too quickly, asked people too many questions, kept your hands busy with a drink you barely touched.
For almost an hour, it worked.
Then the front door opened.
You didn’t turn around at first.
There were voices in the hallway, a burst of cold air, someone saying, “Finally, dude,” and then a laugh.
His laugh.
Your body knew before your brain did.
It was awful, really, how quickly it all came back. How one sound could reach across months and pull you straight back into every version of yourself that had ever loved him.
You stood near the window, your fingers tightening around your glass.
Don’t turn around, you told yourself.
Then you did.
Joe was standing in the doorway, half-lit by the warm yellow light from the hall. He was wearing a dark jacket, his hair slightly messy from outside, cheeks pink from the cold. Someone was talking to him, but he wasn’t fully listening anymore.
Because he’d seen you too.
For a second, the whole apartment seemed to fall away.
The music, the voices, the clinking glasses. All of it blurred around the edges until there was only him, standing there in the light of the window across from you, wearing that same smile.
Not a big one.
Not the kind he gave cameras or strangers.
It was smaller than that. Softer.
The smile that used to appear when he came home and found you asleep on the couch. The smile he gave you when you’d say something stupid and then immediately pretend you hadn’t. The smile you never realised you’d missed so much until it was right in front of you again.
And just like that, you remembered.
You remembered you loved him.
Not in some dramatic, movie kind of way. Not like lightning. More like breathing in after holding your breath for too long.
You remembered slowly and then all at once.
You remembered his hands on your waist in crowded kitchens. His voice in the morning, rough with sleep. The way he used to press his cold nose against your neck just to annoy you. The way he’d always say your name gently, even when you were arguing.
You remembered how safe he used to feel.
How much you had missed being known by him.
Joe looked at you like he was having the exact same realisation.
That made it worse.
Or better.
You weren’t sure yet.
He started making his way over, stopping when people greeted him, hugging someone quickly, answering a question with a distracted nod. His eyes kept coming back to you like he was checking you were still there.
By the time he reached you, your heart was beating so hard it felt embarrassing.
“Hey,” he said softly.
You swallowed.
“Hi.”
That was it.
Months of silence, and all you had was hi.
Joe smiled, but his eyes looked a little sad.
“Man,” he said, letting out a quiet breath. “It’s been a while.”
You tried to laugh, but it came out thinner than you wanted.
“Yeah. It has.”
He looked at you for a moment, properly looked at you, and you forgot how to stand normally.
“You look…” He paused, like he was trying to choose a word that wouldn’t give too much away. Then he shook his head a little. “You look really good.”
You smiled down at your drink.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know.”
You looked back up.
Joe’s expression was open. Nervous, almost. Like he wasn’t hiding behind charm tonight.
“That’s why I said it,” he added.
You hated how easily that got to you.
There was a pause between you, full of every unsaid thing.
Then he nodded toward the window behind you.
“You still do that.”
“What?”
“Stand by windows at parties.”
You blinked, caught off guard.
“I do not.”
“You do.” His smile grew. “You say it’s because you like the view, but really it’s because you want to be near an escape route.”
Your mouth fell open slightly.
“That is not true.”
“It’s completely true.”
You wanted to argue, but the familiar warmth of it hit you too hard. The fact he remembered something so small. The fact he said it like no time had passed, like he still had a drawer full of tiny details about you in his head.
Your smile faded before you could stop it.
Joe noticed.
Of course he did.
His face softened.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
You shook your head.
“No. It’s okay.”
But your voice had changed.
Both of you heard it.
Joe’s hand shifted at his side, like he wanted to reach for you and didn’t know if he was allowed.
“You okay?” he asked.
You looked at him and almost laughed.
Because what a question.
Were you okay?
You were standing in front of the person you had spent almost a year trying to unlove, and he still knew where you stood at parties. He still looked at you like that. He still made the room feel smaller just by being in it.
“I don’t know,” you said honestly.
Joe nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”
The honesty of it made your throat tighten.
Someone behind him called his name, but he didn’t turn around. He stayed exactly where he was, looking at you with that careful, familiar softness.
“Do you want to get some air?” he asked.
You let out a tiny laugh.
“I’m already by the window.”
“I mean outside.”
“It’s freezing.”
“I’ll give you my jacket.”
“You always do that.”
His smile flickered.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
And that was enough to make your eyes sting.
You looked away quickly, blinking at the lights outside.
Joe’s voice dropped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You still say that when you’re not.”
You looked back at him.
His eyes were gentle, but there was sadness there now too. The kind that came from knowing someone well enough to hurt them without meaning to.
You held his gaze for a second, then sighed.
“Air would be good.”
The two of you slipped out onto the fire escape through the window. It was clumsy and awkward, especially when your shoe caught slightly and Joe instinctively reached out to steady you.
His hand landed at your waist.
Just for a second.
Both of you froze.
His touch was warm through your clothes, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling back quickly.
“It’s okay,” you said.
You wished he hadn’t moved.
You hated that you wished that.
Outside, the air was cold enough to make you shiver almost immediately. Joe noticed within seconds and took off his jacket without a word.
“Joe.”
“What?”
“You’ll be cold.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m barely shivering.”
“You’re aggressively shivering.”
You rolled your eyes, but you let him drape the jacket around your shoulders. His fingers brushed your collarbone lightly as he fixed it, careful and gentle.
“There,” he said.
You pulled the jacket closer around you.
It smelled like him.
That was unfair.
You stared out at the street below, blinking harder than necessary.
For a few moments, neither of you said anything.
The party carried on behind you, muffled through the window. Laughter. Music. The kind of life you were meant to go back to once this strange little moment ended.
Joe leaned beside you, elbows on the railing.
“I thought seeing you would be easier,” he said.
You looked at him.
He let out a breath, smiling faintly but not happily.
“I don’t know why. That sounds stupid now.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does a little.”
You smiled despite yourself.
“Maybe a little.”
He laughed quietly, and the sound settled something in you.
Then he looked at you again.
“I missed you.”
The words were simple.
That was what made them hurt.
You pressed your lips together, looking down at your hands inside his sleeves.
“I missed you too.”
Joe looked like he’d been holding his breath and had only just remembered how to let it out.
“Yeah?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
His eyes moved over your face, soft and almost disbelieving.
“I didn’t know if you did.”
You laughed once, but it came out shaky.
“Joe.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. I just…” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I thought maybe you were better off. And I didn’t want to be selfish.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
“You were always too good at deciding things for me.”
His face changed.
Not defensive. Just guilty.
“You’re right.”
That surprised you.
He looked out over the street.
“I told myself leaving you alone was the decent thing to do,” he said. “That if I really loved you, I’d let you move on without dragging you back into all of it.”
Your chest tightened.
“And did you?”
He looked at you.
“Did I what?”
“Let me move on?”
Joe’s eyes softened painfully.
“I tried.”
The cold air slipped between you.
You nodded slowly.
“I tried too.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Did it work?”
You looked at him, and that was answer enough.
Joe’s expression crumpled slightly, like he wished it didn’t make him happy to hear that.
You looked away first because your eyes were burning again.
“It’s so annoying,” you said, wiping quickly under one eye.
“What is?”
“You.”
He let out a surprised laugh.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” You laughed too, even though you were crying now. “You come back with your stupid hair and your stupid jacket and your stupid face, and I’m supposed to act normal?”
Joe’s smile broke through, soft and helpless.
“My stupid face?”
“Don’t make me say nice things right now.”
“I would never.”
“You would absolutely.”
He looked at you for a second, then his smile faded into something gentler.
“I saw you by the window,” he said, “and I just…”
You waited.
He looked down at the railing, almost embarrassed.
“I remembered.”
Your breath caught.
“What?”
Joe’s thumb rubbed against the side of his own hand, nervous.
“I remembered loving you,” he said. “Not that I forgot. I didn’t. But I think I got used to missing you in this quiet way, and then I saw you standing there, and it wasn’t quiet anymore.”
You couldn’t speak.
He looked at you then, eyes shining slightly.
“It was just there again. All of it.”
Your face crumpled before you could stop it.
Joe’s expression softened instantly.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” you admitted, laughing through the tears. “I’m really not.”
He stepped closer, slow enough that you could move away if you wanted.
You didn’t.
“I knew it,” he said quietly.
You looked up at him.
“I knew I missed you. I knew I still looked for you in every room. I knew I wasn’t over it.” His voice softened even more. “But then I saw you tonight, and I knew you. I remembered how it felt to know you.”
A tear slipped down your cheek.
Joe lifted his hand, then stopped.
“Can I?”
You nodded.
His thumb brushed the tear away so gently it made you want to cry harder.
“You still ask,” you whispered.
“Of course I do.”
That was it.
That was the thing that broke you a little.
Not a grand speech. Not a dramatic confession. Just the way he still treated your heart like something he was lucky to be near.
You leaned forward before you could overthink it, resting your forehead against his chest.
Joe froze for half a second.
Then his arms wrapped around you.
Carefully at first.
Then tighter.
Like he’d been waiting months to hold you and was trying not to make it too obvious.
You closed your eyes as his chin rested lightly on top of your head.
“I missed this,” you whispered.
His hand moved slowly over your back.
“Me too.”
“I missed you being annoying.”
“I can be more annoying. Really easily.”
You laughed into his shirt, and you felt him laugh too.
“I missed that,” he said.
“What?”
“You laughing at me.”
“I’m laughing with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” you admitted. “I’m not.”
His arms tightened around you for a second, and somehow that made everything feel lighter.
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
His face was close now. Too close to pretend this was casual. His eyes moved over yours, down to your mouth, then back up again.
But he didn’t rush.
He never did when it mattered.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said.
You swallowed.
“Then don’t.”
He nodded, serious.
“I won’t.”
“You can’t just say things like that because it’s a nice moment.”
“I know.”
“I mean it, Joe.”
“I know,” he said again. “I’m not saying I have everything figured out. I’m not saying we just go back like nothing happened.” He paused. “But I know I don’t want to walk back inside and pretend this didn’t mean something.”
Your eyes searched his face.
“And what does it mean?”
He smiled faintly.
“I think it means I’m still in love with you.”
Your breath caught.
There it was.
So simple.
So awful.
So perfect.
You looked down, overwhelmed, and Joe immediately panicked.
“Sorry. Was that too much? That was probably too much. I can take like, twenty percent of it back if you want.”
A laugh burst out of you through the tears.
“You can’t take twenty percent of being in love back.”
“I could try.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I’m your idiot, historically.”
You looked up at him.
He looked nervous now, like he realised he’d said too much again.
You smiled, small and teary.
“Historically.”
Joe’s face warmed.
“I’ll take historically.”
You shook your head, but you were still smiling.
Then, because you were tired of pretending and tired of waiting and tired of acting like loving him was something you had grown out of, you reached for his hand.
His fingers closed around yours immediately.
Like muscle memory.
Like home.
“I think I’m still in love with you too,” you said.
Joe stared at you.
For once, he had no joke ready.
His eyes went glassy, and he looked away for a second, laughing softly under his breath like he needed somewhere to put the feeling.
“Don’t cry,” you said, even though you were crying.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m emotionally sweating.”
You laughed again, and he looked back at you with that same smile.
The one from the doorway.
The one from before.
The one you knew.
He lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
It was so gentle that it hurt.
Not badly.
Just deeply.
Like something in you had been waiting for it.
“I don’t want to rush you,” he said. “I don’t want to assume anything. I just… I’d really like to see you again. Properly.”
“You’re seeing me now.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
He smiled.
“Dinner?”
You pretended to think about it.
“With you?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Wow. I pour my heart out and get hmm.”
You smiled wider.
“I’m considering.”
“Take your time. I’m only freezing.”
You looked down at his thin shirt and finally laughed properly.
“Oh my God. Joe, take your jacket back.”
“No.”
“You’re literally shaking.”
“I’m being romantic.”
“You’re being stupid.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
You rolled your eyes but stepped closer, wrapping the jacket around both of you as best you could. It didn’t really work, but Joe seemed pleased anyway, pulling you back into him with a smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered.
“I know.”
His cheek rested lightly against your hair.
You stood there together, half-wrapped in his jacket, the city glowing beneath you and the party humming behind you.
Nothing was fully solved.
There would be things to talk about. Real things. The kind that didn’t fit neatly into a cute moment on a fire escape. You both knew that.
But his hand was warm in yours.
His smile was the same.
And when you looked up at him, you didn’t feel like you were going backward.
You felt like something had come back when it mattered.
Joe looked down at you.
“What?” you asked.
He smiled, soft and teary and familiar.
“Nothing.”
“You always say nothing when it’s something.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You know me.”
You squeezed his hand.
“I knew it.”
His smile grew.
“I knew you.”
And there it was.
The thing you’d both been pretending not to know.
That sometimes love left quietly, not because it was gone, but because it was waiting for the right moment to come home.
summary: five times you danced with steve, and the one time that mattered most.
words: 6.3k
warnings: little bit of angst but a lottt of fluff tbh, grinding at some random's house party, brief mentions of alcohol/drinking under age 21, reader is described wearing feminine clothing more than once
notes: this honestly was only meant to be like 1500w but i went overboard oops, i hope you guys like these lil moments between friends
It seemed out of place to hold such a celebratory event at a time when your town was barely holding onto the cusp of solidarity. Despite the gym at Hawkins High being decked out in sparkly embellishments and a whimsical story of banners and streamers, an eeriness still lurked in the shadows, mirroring the town's unsteadiness. Your heart stuttered at every flash of light, the room changing colours in time with the varying tempo of the music - it was as if your body was preparing, bracing for something to reach out and grab you, which is why you yelped, a sharp gasp strong enough to tighten your chest, when a hand grasped your shoulder.
"Shit - sorry, you okay?" Steve's voice was concerned as he leaned down, both hands now holding your shoulders steady, the golden flecks in his eyes shining even brighter against the yellow tone encasing the room. He was studying you, the way your breath was held and how your gaze widened in shock. He knew he had interrupted something as he watched your gaze flicker between realities, "Where were you just now?"
A forced smile clung helplessly to your lips as you faced him, attempting to shake off the darkened thoughts. Your voice was strained, and Steve tried not to notice, "Somewhere I shouldn't be. But it's okay - I'm okay."
Brown strands of hair fell across Steve's face as he nodded, the inside of his cheek bitten raw to stop him from pressing further. He understood what you were saying. Nightmares have become real figures in your lives now, and it is hard to withdraw from that. The acknowledgement didn't make it any easier, however.
Steve cleared his throat with a gentle rumble, his stance straightening before his hand was held in your direction. The palm was facing up like an invitation to feel him, to ground yourself in the real world. It was an offered distraction for your mind to be taken elsewhere. His jaw dropped slightly, and his words caught.
But your widened eyes, filled with curiosity and trust, reached in deep and pulled out a smile for Steve to wear for you.
"Dance with me."
You blinked silently, but accepted with an absence of hesitation, the feeling of Steve's fingers flexing slightly from the contact before his hold embraced yours completely. The beginning notes of 'Heaven - Bryan Adams' began to play softly as he guided you toward an unoccupied space.
His large hand splayed over your hip, introducing a comfortable warmth to seep through your dress. It was a grounding touch, as much of an anchor as the way his fingers slid between yours before holding you with confidence. He wasn't in any way a professional, but Steve swayed you both gently in a small circle, his eyes absent-mindedly dropping to his feet to make sure he wouldn't step on you.
For the first time in a long time, you both felt content.
Steve's lips hovered by the shell of your ear, hilarity riding the tone of his voice, the rumbling from his chest close to pressing against your own, "I'm not much of a dancer, just thought I'd warn ya."
"Thought you were good at everything, Harrington?"
Steve laughed and chuckled, and the hand intertwined with yours offered you a slight squeeze. He had to hold himself back from pulling you completely flush against his front. "Yeah, well, fighting off interdimensional monsters really brings things into perspective."
Your bodies moved slowly, a union that harmonised easily with little thought. It allowed you to release a shaky breath, expelling fear as you instead chose to accept the safety of your new friendship with Steve. The hand that you had placed on his shoulder snuck around his neck, closely followed by the other one, until you were hugging him to you. Your cheek pressed carefully to his chest to revel in the steadiness of his heartbeat. The boy dropped his head, nose against your temple, hugging you back.
Your steps had slowed now as you settled into the feeling of Steve's embrace. He didn't want to scare you - to squeeze so hard that you'd crack, or to speak too loudly that the moment you found yourselves within shattered. He had developed a desperation to keep you protected, and right now, it was by holding you against his chest to shield the outside from invading your thoughts.
And it was as if you could sense it, "Thank you, Steve."
He didn't ask what for, but he had an idea. Your lives had now intersected in a cruel twist of fate, and the unknown hung dangerously over your heads every day. Finding people to band together with was crucial - and he had happened to now be your person, and you were his.
Steve's nose buried against your temple, breathing you in as he tried to slow his heart's pace.
"Anytime."
ⅱ. ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• tainted love - soft cell
The strength of the bass made you flutter as it thumped, musical patterns reverberating up from the floor and settling in your chest. You weren't sure whose house Steve had dragged you to on this summery Friday night, but the place was crowded, and the beer was warm. The perfect concoction for letting loose.
He made sure not to stray too far - focus drawn to you and Robin as if second nature by now, whilst he mildly engaged in conversation with someone from your school days. Steve's head nodded in the right places, and his smile showed interest enough, but he still couldn't look away from you. Both of you. Unable to drop his protector status for even a mere moment.
Robin exuded confidence as she settled comfortably into your surroundings, using her energetic nature to ensure a full plastic solo cup always accompanied your palm. You both lost track of the drinks you had had, but Steve was counting them; not to be controlling, no, but because he has unconventionally learnt to be overly observant, to keep an eye out for danger, triggers, walking and talking caution signs.
You could've sworn the music got louder, or the bass had gotten deeper, feeling each note and tune so viscerally. Bone-deep, as if it were a part of you, etched deeply. Robin's mind was lost within a world of her own, quite like yourself, as her body swayed to a beat far from the song blaring across the living room, but her smile was still wide. Though maybe that was because of Vickie Dunne and her inability to look away from your joyous friend, and the longing looks Robin had been throwing back to her all night.
"You should go talk to her," you attempted to say, needing to repeat yourself as Robin peered at you with curiosity. When you spoke louder against the shell of her ear, you could feel the warmth flush her cheeks.
Robin stammered, "I-i mean, yeah, I.. but what about you?"
Although you'd love to think she was purely being caring, you knew your friend well enough to see the deflection, trying to conjure an excuse. Robin was one of the most assured people you know, but at this moment, she had never seemed shyer.
"I'll be fine, promise. better to try now before that liquid courage dries up." You cooed, eyes gesturing over your friend's shoulder. With a comically deep breath and a shake of her head, Robin hyped herself up before you sent her on her way. You watched as she stumbled briefly into a small console table, only to straighten up immediately, all without breaking eye contact with the redhead - and you stood back, thoroughly impressed, but now bored.
And that's when the thought of Steve popped into your head.
He always did, so easily these days. When you had a nonsensical thought, were unsure what to do next, unable to cure the monotony of your day, he would answer your beck and call. Steve was always the solution, and he never let you down.
You could feel his gaze watching over you across the density of the crowd. The room was thick with drunken bodies, much like the air, an almost suffocating atmosphere that you didn't realise until now. You found it difficult to see where Steve was as you stood tiptoed, examining your surroundings. It was as if he knew, however, already making his way to you. Like a magnet. An indescribable force. A taut invisible string.
The scent of his cologne wafted around you before steady hands were placed on your shoulders, a firm chest pressing to your back, a chuckling voice sounding by your ear, "You lookin' f'me?"
Steve could've sworn he stopped breathing as he watched you turn around and smile so wide at him. The excitement of your night mixed with relief to see him as it tugged between your cheeks, igniting a fire behind his ribs. He could stare at you all night if you kept looking at him like, probably even the rest of his life...
"Dance with me." Your declaration broke his thoughts, and Steve blinked back into reality before looking at your dainty hand held out to him. It brought back a memory from a year ago, where you attended somewhere as friends and left as something more intimate and trustworthy. Oh, how far you've both come since then.
"You know I'm not much of a dancer," he replied, his smirk deepening as he watched you prepare a comeback.
A scoff escaped between your lips, arms crossing over your chest. "Please, I've seen Steve 'the hair' Harrington dance at parties before." Your eyes squinted, nose crinkling in the way he loves. He rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it. Still, a crack formed in his teasing as he noticed you biting your lip, "C'mon Steve, I'm buzzed, and I wanna dance with you."
How could he say no when you were looking at him like that? As if he were the only one that mattered in this crowded, stale room. Steve sighed dramatically as his eyes rolled clockwise, fingers easily interlocking with your own as his palm slid against yours. He would be lying if he said that he didn't wish his hand could hold yours forever.
Nothing could wipe the slanted smirk off Steve's lips as he watched you situate yourselves closer to the music, your lips moving as you mouthed the words to the current song, head moving side-to-side rhythmically. You were completely unaware of how cute you looked, and Steve had to draw a deep breath before looking away so that these new thoughts didn't evolve into something else. Something deeper.
The music took control of your body for the umpteenth time that night, hips now swaying, and Steve's hand that you were still holding now lifted above you both as you tried to entice him to join. He rolled his tongue at the gesture before his head began to bob with an accompanying smile that he couldn't bite back. His fingers tightened around yours before tugging you closer, your frame twirling gently under your arms, until you landed in front of him with a palm pressed to his chest.
Steve's smile didn't falter, not in the slightest, but it did soften.
You let him go so that your hands could slide up to his shoulders, finding their home at the back of his neck. Your lip was bitten again, the spot swelling with pink plumpness from the constant harassment of your teeth - and Steve tried not to stare.
"You can put your hands on me. I won't bite." You said, noticing how they had fallen to his sides. It made you giggle, gentle and sweet, when he realised he was stuck in an entrancement. But you moved before he could, your fingers taking hold of his wrists and bringing them to your waist. They flexed against you, tightening, savouring the feeling of your body under his touch.
Your hips were near flush to his now as they kept their momentum. Being so close to Steve brought a different thickness to the air - one that allowed you to breathe more, but you were merely breathing in him. It was like a bubble made just for the two of you, everybody else fading.
The tempo changed as 'Tainted Love - Soft Cell' sang through the speakers nearby, so you turned around, Steve's grip still tight as you twisted until your back was against his chest. You could feel it thumping, fast, hard. His breath quickening. You're not sure if the drinks you had were finally settling, but your mind felt lighter, and you settled among the carefree.
Your body rocked in cadence, and although you couldn't see Steve, you could tell that his hips were following yours like a lost puppy - desperate and dependent on you. The people around you shifted, and he instinctively pulled you closer after his grip dragged to your hips, guiding your movements, controlling how you grazed him. The pace. The pressure.
You could feel a carnal fervour lulling down your neck as Steve breathed. It forced a jagged inhale to gather in your lungs, hitching abruptly, and you didn't expect the beautiful boy behind you to make you feel so stirred. A sudden heat made your skin pebble, and you retreated forward like his presence had burnt you, his hands dropping from your frame. It was as if your bubble had been popped, and you both remembered where you were and who you were with. What you were doing. How it made you feel.
Steve cleared his throat. You looked to your feet.
ⅲ. ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ ᴋɪᴛᴄʜᴇɴ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• centerfold - the j. geils band
Steve couldn't sleep. More accurately, Steve didn't sleep. He was cursed with unforgettable scenes that haunted his mind whenever he closed his eyes. Which is why he preferred to sit within spaces bathed in light when he was alone; scared that the shadows would prey on him when he couldn't see, that they would sink in their claws and refuse to let go.
Three raps against the chipped-red wood of his front door made Steve jump, his mind broken from an exhausted trance. As one normally would, Steve didn't actually become concerned at a late visitor. In fact, he was used to it. He was used to you - and how you too suffered the inability to settle into a sweet slumber, how you would flinch at loud sounds and the creeping inch of darkness.
You didn't need to ask why he opened the door so quickly at one a.m, his living room bright with every globe aglow, your gaze drifting from the space behind him to the tired lines framing his eyes, "You too, huh?"
"Just the norm." He murmured back, a sympathetic smile shaping his lips and softening his eyes. Steve moved to the side so that you could walk inside, your shoes instantly kicked off by the door. He fell easily in step with you as he guided you both toward the kitchen, the room also lit up with nearly enough wattage to require UV-protected sunglasses. It made you squint, but you knew Steve needed it - the reassurance, the lack of shadows.
Steve's hands found solace around a half-drunken mug of tea, the aroma sweet and warm as it filled the space. It was complementary to the gentle hum of the radio on the island bench, and you could see where your friend had been propped up for most of the night as he leaned next to the askew bar stool with an upside down book nearby and a pair of discarded glasses. You didn't know that Steve had taken up reading, but you were sure it was out of boredom or avoidance that had prompted him to raid his father's forgotten stash.
"You want a mug? Kettle's still warm."
His voice drew your attention toward him, thoughts too loud and imposing to consider what he had said, and the furrowed brows you displayed were an indication enough to Steve. He easily recognised that expression of disorientation: astray from reality, stuck in a purgatory between fact and fiction. And it made his chest tighten.
The tender melody emanating from the speakers to his right filled the silence between you. It sounded comfortable - a tune that dared Steve to put down his mug and hold his hand out toward you. His eyes were tired, but they still managed to sparkle, "Dance with me."
It wasn't a question, yet it was neither a demand. It was more of a silent understanding between you both that always ended the same way - your hand slipping against his, and a large, warm hand splayed against your waist.
Steve guided you so that you were situated in front of him, your matching sock-clad feet opposite each other on the brown tiled floor. He desired your full attention, for you to tell him what was bothering you, because he could see that something was. He could tell easily, like a book he's re-read a hundred times. A movie he knows all the words to. A song that had embedded its melody so deeply in his mind.
After all, you were his person. And he was yours. It only made sense.
"Thought you weren't much of a dancer." You hummed, looking down at your socked feet.
His response was quiet as he spoke, scared to break the moment, "For you I am."
Steve slowly swayed as his fingers flexed around yours, the hand on your hip allowing his thumb to rub reassuring circles through your thin sweater. His eyes bored toward your crumbling facial expressions. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice was delicate, yet stern. Careful.
"I'm just tired, Steve - "
"C'mon. You don't need to bullshit with me. You never do."
You had told him that you had trouble sleeping, but you never properly explained why; the visions that controlled your nightmares were now seeping into the daylight and playing when you were awake, and you had been experiencing sporadic and painful headaches.
He would lose his mind if he knew, but he would lose it even more if he didn't.
You drew a deep breath, "The migraines are back, and they're always hurting."
Steve's steps faltered. He became uneasy too quickly. Knowing you were in pain and what it could mean was enough to turn his blood cold. He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat before absentmindedly pulling you closer, your arms instinctivly tangling around the back of his neck as his cheek pressed to your temple.
"You could've said something." He murmured, feeling you hum in agreement against his clavicle.
The song changed on the radio and the kitchen was soon filled with a soft ballad, a toned-down crescendo that bespoke mosaics bounced between four walls. It carried a melody you knew well, and Steve could feel your shoulders ease as you let it engulf you.
It was fitting for this moment - tender and delicate, like the way Steve was holding you, your bodies still swaying despite the minimal space that separated you both.
"This would be my song." Your words were spoken in a barely audible whisper, the confession licking at Steve's collarbone.
His brow quirked when confusion took over, "What do you mean?" Yet he had an idea, and he instantly wished he hadn't asked.
"If Vecna came for me."
"You know damn well I wouldn't let that happen-"
"But it could, Steve. And if it did, it would be this song." Your nose dragged gently by the base of his throat as you repositioned your head, shifting slightly, "I would think of now. This mere moment of peace. And it would bring me back."
Your admission hung like a safeguard, readiness for the unseeable. It made him think of Max, floating high above him, her mind lost. And how he would rather die than ever see you enter a similar fate.
Your fingers fidgeted with the hairs at the nape of his neck, nervous movements from such a serious revelation. The tension was thick but Steve knew that you trusted him with everything you embodied.
"Centerfold."
You pulled back at his word, only enough to see his face as he peered down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
"By The J. Geils Band. That'd be mine." Steve confessed, his smile widening as you began to giggle, chest warming at the sight of you happy.
"Homeroom angel, that'd be your pick? Seriously?"
The boy scoffed before pulling your laughing form closer to him again, smooshing your face into his shirt as your jovality grew louder. There was no point in holding back the pleased grin he wore so well around you; pressing the smile against the crown of your head, the swaying movements you were making now became exaggerated, back and forth as he tossed you playfully.
"Not that we're gonna need 'em, okay? I got you, and I always will." Steve started, slowing once more, embracing you tightly, "And when this is all over, there will be time for us. Just you and me, if... ya know, you'd want something like that."
You didn't waste a second, "I would."
ⅳ. ʜᴏᴘᴘᴇʀ-ʙʏᴇʀꜱ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• time after time - cyndi lauper
It was odd; standing in a room bathed in pastels and florals, no resemblance to the darkness of any kind, surrounded by the people that you had spent years running toward the light with. Being on high alert for so long still left your bodies trembling at unexpected moments, compelled to always look over your shoulders, to view the world a little differently.
And yet, the party that you eventually built your life around had finally found relative happiness.
They say that some families only come together during weddings or funerals, and thankfully, today was the former. The turnout was small yet familiar and intimate, a perfect setting for the matrimony of Joyce and Hopper. It felt like years in the making; finally expelling into a contented deep breath, an introduction to the rest of everyone's lives, the capability to move forward.
You stood back, listening to the melody of laughter around the room, noting the matching smiles that complemented the serenity. Even after all this time, your gaze still trailed over the kids like a protective caretaker, but you couldn't help the softened grin that pinched up your lips when you saw their eased shoulders and joviality. Finally.
"You're staring." Humour voiced by your ear, the familiar scent of oakmoss and leather notes filling your vicinity. Steve was instant warmth as he settled beside you, his arm now wrapped comfortably around your back as you leaned into his side.
"How can I not? Look at them, our babies are all grown up." You cooed like a reminiscing parent, prompting Steve to chuckle heartily in return. He was the other half of your babysitting madness, earning just as much of a right to gush about those kids as if they were his own. And he often did.
He gently nudged your hand with a cool glass of champagne as he took a sip of his own, eyes dragging back over to you after monitoring the younger party members. Cheeks grew pink when he noticed your bottom lip pinched between your teeth.
"Trying to get me drunk on the first date, Harrington?"
Steve scoffed, completely enamoured, "Maybe I just wanted to make sure my girl was well looked after."
My girl.
The words struck something within you. A chord played just right. It was the first time you heard the sentiment fall from his lips, and you were sure that the warmth travelling up your neck was giving away how taken you were.
The glasses were soon abandoned as guests started to gather around cleared floor space, gentle notes of Cyndi Lauper drifting around Hopper and Joyce as they took their first steps together as a married couple. It was awkward to watch, yet endearing, as Jim Hopper tried to do a bridal waltz before giving up and simply swaying Joyce with all the happiness in the world.
It was then that you felt Steve's hand nudge yours. A touch, a feeling that you could never forget. Calloused and scarred skin mingling with your own. His hold safe, and loving. The floor was declared open, and he wasted no time before standing in front of you, eyebrow cocked, famous smirk shaping his lips.
"Dance with me."
Nothing could ever feel more right in this world than being in Steve Harrington's arms. They fell effortlessly to your lower back before he pulled you close to his chest, your own tangling behind his neck where fingers could lightly play with long brown tufts. Steve's cheek pressed to your temple as you both swayed, the chorus of 'Time After Time' being hummed gently into your hair.
You couldn't help the smile that contorted your facial features - wide lips, a scrunched nose, crinkled eyes. The embodiment of contentedness. A place you never want to leave.
"You know..." Your voice started after a change in song, your nails scratching lightly at Steve's scalp to coax him out of his comfortable trance, "It's pretty ballsy taking a girl to a wedding for a first date."
Steve snorted. As if you weren't already invited. But there was a difference in his tone a few days ago when he brought it to your attention; and asking if you'd go with him, was entirely different to asking if you'd go with him.
"Yeah, well. I've been into taking risks as of late." He sounded in reply, thumbs absently rubbing your hips through your dress. It was then that he pulled back, hazel eyes lidded in what one could only describe as love. His large hands warmed your skin as they slid up your arms, hands capturing your own, and pulling them gently between you both.
Your swaying continued, feet moving around in small steps, before Steve pressed a kiss to each of your knuckles.
"And how is that working out for you?" You asked, eyes remaining on his. Your voice was gentle among the budding crowd, but in the moment, it was just the two of you. No distractions. No intercepts. Just you and Steve.
He had always been a smooth talker, so it took you by surprise when that charm exuded into his movements as Steve suddenly spun you away from him, never once breaking eye contact. A stunned exhale pushed through you after you were pulled back in, your back now pressed to his chest and arms tangled over yours.
He could sense your shock, so he laughed against the shell of your ear before lips trailed down to a spot that he knew would make you sigh, "You wanna know how it's working out?" He whispered into your skin.
You nodded, breathlessly.
Steve placed a kiss. "Unbelievably perfect."
ⅴ. ʟᴏʟʟᴀᴘᴀʟᴏᴏᴢᴀ '92; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• porch - pearl jam
You thought that Hawkins mid-Summer could be the hottest place on Earth, but nothing prepared you for Cincinnati. Maybe it was the intensity of the sun that cast its warmth ferociously over the festival, or perhaps it was the electrifying energy that surrounded you as you stood within a buzzing swarm of music-lovers.
Either way, it was far from a deterrent for Steve Harrington as he still found every opportunity to place his hands somewhere on your body. Or if his hands had already found refuge, his lips were quick to seek out the next best sliver of skin.
Spirits were high, as were many of the thriving patrons around you. The smile that tugged eagerly between your cheeks was reciprocated easily by your friends as your group stayed close to one another throughout each set. Vickie, at some point, climbed onto Robin's shoulders as their voices boomed with loud joviality to each song, whilst Jonathan captured every moment through his trusty lens, and Nancy moved so freely as she finally let loose.
And then, there was you and Steve. Your voice also carried alongside the crowd, but it began to falter the more you felt Steve's fingers absently fiddle with the shiny band and stone that now graced your left hand. It was an obsession he had - the inability to stop feeling for it, to remind himself of reality, to ground his thoughts and reassure his dreams that he proposed to you and you had said yes.
It had been three months since his knee found the plushy carpet of Enzos. Three months since the speech he had planned for weeks had dispersed because he couldn't stop smiling and crying. Three months since you dropped from your seat, dress crushed as you knelt in front of him, and fell happily into his arms. After all this time, he was still addicted to the thought of you as the future Mrs Harrington.
Hollers and cheers erupted as the large stage ahead sounded a new song; Pearl Jam setting the scene for another track from their new album, before Robin's excitement boomed in your ear when the opening notes of 'Porch' began to play.
The atmosphere was contagious like a fever that couldn't be held down. As one entity, the crowd was moving and singing - a unified moment between thousands of people. It was hard to feel out of place when you were in the middle of such cohesion.
The second you turned to your side, Steve was already looking down at you, the sun reflecting golden flecks from his hazel eyes in a mesmerising moment. It made him appear younger, as if the trouble you had all faced didn't exist within this brief instance of time.
"Dance with me." You said, your smile still worn well and wide.
He snickered, leaning in to peck your sun-kissed cheek before his nose grazed along the warmth. The man hummed in acceptance and smoothly wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging your body back until you felt the hard plane of his chest behind you. You were back in your favourite place, Steve Harrington's embrace, as your hands rubbed over his forearms before your head fell to his shoulder.
Steve guided your bodies from side-to-side. It was a momentum that you knew all too well, ignoring the heat and beading sweat that clung between you both so that you could immerse yourself in all things Steve. His cologne had yet to falter, adhering to his baggy tee and wafting further toward you the more his arms tightened.
You eventually grasped his wrists, wrapping around them with care before pulling them to your sides. It was always so invigorating whenever Steve's large hands splayed against your waist - their size making you feel safe and heated in a conflicted concoction. You craved for him to both protect and tear you apart at the same time. They slipped generously to your hips before his fingers tensed, blunt nails digging into you with calculated strength.
His lips fell next. They found their home below your ear, claiming the expanse of skin down to the base of your throat. Every drag of his tongue professed ownership, only justified by the control he now had as he moved you with his hands - your pace, your position, your pressure.
The festival had become background noise; all that you could focus on was your future husband and the significant devotion of love he had for you.
ⅵ. ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ; ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• more than words - extreme
It had taken ten years in the making for this moment to happen. Bright flashes of light still trigger something within you, and pure darkness is more than enough to haunt - but standing, hand-in-hand, with what you could call your universe and more in a single person had easily rewritten the cruelty of the past. The suffering still existed; however, Steve Harrington's love made the fight and survival absolutely worthwhile.
You wore matching smiles with twin pinched lips, intertwined with devotion and warmth. They paired harmoniously with the two sets of eyes that were still slightly red-rimmed from the jovial tears that ran rapidly. And then, there were the words that were declared not too long ago that continued to sing sweetly in your mind - Husband and Wife. Steve and You. A pairing that outlived monsters and anguish, that sought each other through the dark with fumbling hands, that created their own light instead of waiting for it to come.
Steve's right hand was stubborn, refusing to let go of you. From the moment you two ventured back down the aisle, and through the audience of loving words delivered in toasts from your loved ones, he held you tight as a reminder that this was real. That you were now a constant in his life - like oxygen, and he was desperate to breathe you in and fill his lungs with this stunning promise of forever.
"I love you." His whispered words felt like a tattoo the more he whispered them against your throat, your pulse jumping and the proud turn of his lips grazed skin so stunningly before they pressed yet another kiss below your ear.
Your hand snaked up the side of his head as fingers carted through his hair, slight pressure forming as you made sure to keep his face in that position against you. Steve chuckled, the gentle huffs of breath tickling your skin. You could feel his glasses nudge the underside of your jaw before you turned slightly to smile at him. "I love you, too."
It was perfect. Even more so, when delicate sounds of music began to emit around the reception space.
'More than Words - Extreme' was a song that Steve picked. It was his only must-have requirement for the Wedding you two found yourselves the centre of. He proclaimed it a story that followed you closely, as if your journey together across all these terrifying and beautiful years had been summarised. As if the song itself were a neon arrow, pointing toward this moment of you both wearing matching rings.
He stood from his seat as if the notes were a trigger, hazel eyes widened with hope when he looked to you. You could read him like a book - the way his smirk cocked, how his gaze softened. He'd already encaptured your hand, but the invitation was still laid out. Steve didn't need to ask you aloud, not this time.
"I would love to dance with you. Always." You spoke gently, attempting to hold down the shake that followed your words and the happy tears that threatened to spill.
Steve guided you both to the dedicated space, family and friends watching on with endearment. He positioned his left hand on your hip, thumb already rubbing delicately into your side. His right still holding onto you, never planning on letting go. Your chests were close, and you cupped his cheek before Steve's lips pressed into your palm.
He took the lead.
It was more than a sway this time, more than intimate touches as two bodies moved clockwise. More than wandering hands that burnt with every drag of skin over skin. It was more than a distraction or a promise of safety, a budding romance from years of dancing around feelings rather than just dancing together.
The way he moved with you, and you with him, was a sentiment that vowed beyond longevity. Steve Harrington was holding you as if you were the most delicate thing he had ever touched, whilst also being the one thing that he craved more than life itself.
It was, simply, forever.
You could see the glassiness coat his eyes, contentedness settling so easily now within him. Carefully, your hand dragged up from his cheek to take hold of his glasses, removing them and placing them in his front jacket pocket before the lenses could fog up. He chuckled under his breath as a tear began to fall.
"You know, I'm still not much of a dancer."
You chuckled back, tears of your own falling once again, yet the smile between your cheeks had grown.
"Thought you were good at everything, Harrington?"
Fingers flexed against your hip before they trailed up your side, taking their time to map each curve. They eventually found solace on your back before splaying comfortably, and then he tipped you backwards.
The joyful laugh that pushed through you was Steve's version of angels singing. And he would do whatever, whenever, for the rest of your lives to always hear that noise. He didn't want to interrupt it, but the desperation to kiss you came first, his lips capturing yours as he swallowed your laughter, smiles pressing to one another.
When he pulled you upright, you laughed again, softer but passionate as your crinkled eyes and scrunched nose looked to him. Steve would never understand how you were both his oxygen and the reason for his breathlessness.
"I'm good at a lot of things..." He began, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. The two of you couldn't hear the cheers from the wedding guests; how they gushed and cooed, the way their applause echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead, you were focused on each other. More specifically, the way Steve's lips grazed yours, and the shudder that shook him,
"- But loving you is what I'm most good at, Mrs Harrington."
Hi could I make you a request like Joe has a baby boy with reader and they are doing an interview together and he leans to kiss the reader but their baby gets jealous like really fluff thanks youu
"Daddy vs baby"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
summary: Joe tries to flirt with you during a live interview, but your jealous baby keeps physically stopping him every single time
The interview had only been running for ten minutes and somehow Joe was already causing chaos.
It started innocently enough, the three of you sat together on the oversized cream-colored couch in the center of the studio, you tucked comfortably against Joe’s side while your baby boy sat in his lap wearing the tiniest little sneakers anyone had ever seen.
The audience had collectively lost their minds the second you walked out.
Especially because your son looked exactly like Joe.
Same curls, same big brown eyes, same pout. It was honestly a little unfair.
“And here they are,” the host grinned dramatically, gesturing toward your family. “The internet’s favorite couple and apparently the cutest baby alive.”
Joe immediately nodded seriously. “Correct.”
You laughed while your son blinked at the audience lights with complete fascination, one tiny hand gripping Joe’s thumb.
“He is adorable,” the host continued. “But I have to ask…who does he behave better for?”
You snorted instantly, Joe looked offended already. “Why’d you laugh like that?”
“Because we both know the answer.”
Joe adjusted the baby higher on his lap. “Excuse me. My son and I are best friends.”
Right on cue, your baby leaned over and grabbed a fistful of Joe’s curls hard enough to make him yelp. The audience erupted.
Joe winced. “Okay… alright… tiny warning next time maybe?”
“He keeps doing that?” the host laughed.
“All the time,” you said cheerfully. “Joe refuses to learn.”
“Because one day,” Joe insisted while carefully untangling tiny fingers from his hair, “he’ll do it gently.”
“He won’t.”
“He loves me.”
Your son chose that exact moment to smack Joe directly in the face with startling force.
The sound echoed through the microphones, you wheezed and the host physically turned away laughing.
Joe stared at the baby in disbelief. “I have done nothing but provide for you.”
The baby blinked at him innocently.
“You know what?” Joe sighed dramatically. “This is because mama likes me more.”
Immediately your son twisted around in Joe’s lap toward you, reaching both arms out desperately.
“Ohhh,” the audience cooed.
Your entire face softened as you took him from Joe’s arms. “Hi, sweetheart.”
The second he settled against you, he relaxed completely, tiny cheek pressed to your shoulder.
Joe looked devastated “You see this betrayal?” he asked the host. “I carried him for, like, twenty minutes this morning.”
“You carried him from the bedroom to the kitchen,” you corrected.
“It was exhausting.”
“You sat down halfway.”
“He’s dense.”
The host laughed so hard she nearly dropped her cue cards. Honestly, interviews with Joe always ended like this, complete nonsense. Half the time he forgot cameras were there entirely, especially when you were around.
“So,” the host said after calming herself slightly, “be honest, who’s stricter as a parent?”
Joe pointed at you immediately while you pointed at Joe at the exact same time. The audience laughed again.
“Wait,” the host said. “Really?”
“Yes,” Joe answered.
“No,” you answered over him.
Joe gasped. “BABE.”
“You literally let him do whatever he wants.”
“He’s a baby.”
“You let him eat paper yesterday.”
“He seemed passionate about it.”
“He was chewing a receipt.”
Joe shrugged. “Maybe he had financial concerns.”
Even the cameramen were laughing now, you buried your face in your hands. “See what I live with?”
Joe grinned proudly. “And yet you married me.”
“Against my better judgment.”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
“I tolerate you.”
Joe placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “That’s actually evil.”
The baby suddenly let out a loud squeal, bouncing excitedly in your lap.
Joe’s entire attention snapped toward him instantly “What? What happened?” he asked softly, like your son had just delivered groundbreaking news.
The baby squealed again and slapped both hands onto your cheeks.
Joe melted immediately “There he is,” he cooed. “That’s my dude.”
You smiled watching them together, you never got tired of it, not even a little.
Joe was so different with your son than he was with anyone else, softer, more patient and completely gone over him.
Your baby could sneeze and Joe would react like he’d witnessed the greatest event in human history.
“Has becoming parents changed your relationship?” the host asked gently.
The question softened both of you instantly, Joe looked over at you first before answering.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “In the best way.”
Your heart squeezed and Joe reached over, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against your knee while he spoke “I already loved her before,” he continued, glancing down at your son. “But seeing her be his mom…” He shook his head with a soft smile “It’s kinda insane.”
The audience collectively melted.
You looked at him helplessly. “You can’t say things like that on television.”
“Why?”
“Because then I start crying.”
Joe looked delighted. “You’d cry for me?”
“I literally gave birth to your child.”
“Not the point.”
The host laughed warmly. “You two are disgustingly in love.”
“Correct again,” Joe nodded.
You rolled your eyes fondly while your baby suddenly became very interested in Joe again, reaching toward him.
Joe perked up immediately. “Oh? Dad’s cool again?”
The baby grabbed Joe’s chain necklace and immediately tried to put it in his mouth.
“Nevermind,” Joe sighed. “I’m just an object.”
You laughed so hard your shoulders shook, Joe looked over at you then and something in his expression softened instantly. It always happened like that, one second he was joking around and the next he was looking at you like you hung the moon.
The studio lights reflected in his eyes while he smiled slowly at you.
“Oh no,” the host whispered dramatically. “He’s doing the look.”
“The look?” you laughed.
“The look,” she repeated. “The one where he forgets everyone else exists.”
Joe didn’t even deny it, he leaned closer instead, arm sliding around your waist while your baby sat happily between you both “You’re really pretty,” he murmured casually.
Your face warmed immediately. “Joe.”
“What? Am I wrong?”
“Yes because now there are cameras.”
“So?”
“So stop flirting with me on live television.”
“Can’t.”
The audience practically screamed.
Joe grinned at your embarrassment before leaning in closer clearly intending to kiss you and immediately your son shoved both tiny hands against Joe’s face with a loud offended babble.
The audience LOST it. Joe froze mid-kiss attempt, slowly he looked down at the baby.
The baby frowned back and a full staring contest began.
“You serious right now?” Joe asked him quietly.
Your son responded by turning around and dramatically burying himself against your chest.
The crowd erupted into laughter again.
“Oh my god,” you gasped between laughs. “He got jealous.”
Joe looked genuinely betrayed “Buddy,” he said carefully, “that is my wife.”
The baby tightened his grip on your shirt, the host was crying laughing now. “He said absolutely not.”
Joe pointed at the baby. “You weren’t saying that when I bought your formula.”
Another offended baby noise.
“You don’t even pay taxes,” Joe added.
You were laughing too hard to breathe properly at this point.
Joe looked at you helplessly. “Are you seeing this?”
“I am,” you wheezed.
“He blocked me.”
“With authority.”
Joe narrowed his eyes at the baby before trying again carefully, he leaned toward you slowly, your son watched him suspiciously and Joe got maybe three inches away before the baby physically grabbed his chin and pushed him back.
Joe fell backward dramatically onto the couch cushions. “OH THAT’S CRAZY.”
The host wiped tears from her eyes. “You’ve officially been humbled by someone who can’t pronounce his own name.”
Joe sat up pointing accusingly at his son. “You tiny cockblocker.”
You gasped loudly.
“What?” Joe defended. “That’s what happened!”
“You cannot say that!”
“He started it!”
The baby clapped happily like he’d won something and Joe stared at him in disbelief. “Oh, so now you know joy.”
You were crying laughing now, barely able to hold the baby upright. Joe watched you for a second, completely distracted again, his expression softened immediately “There she is,” he said quietly.
Your laughter faded into a smile. “What?”
“That laugh.”
His eyes crinkled softly “That’s my favorite sound.”
The audience gave the loudest collective “awww” of the night.
Your entire face warmed and Joe looked ridiculously pleased with himself for flustering you.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered.
“And yet,” he grinned, “you continue to adore me.”
Before you could answer, your son suddenly grabbed your face with both hands and planted a very slobbery baby kiss on your cheek.
Joe gasped dramatically. “EXCUSE ME?”
The baby smiled proudly.
“Oh, so he can kiss you?!” Joe cried. “That’s favoritism.”
You laughed breathlessly while Joe leaned over, pretending to argue with the baby.
“I knew it,” he sighed. “You’re trying to replace me as the man of the house.”
Your son squealed happily.
Joe pointed at him. “See? He admitted it.”
Joe shook his head dramatically before leaning closer to the baby with narrowed eyes.
“You know one day she’s still gonna kiss me, right?”
Your son blinked at him, then very slowly reached over and covered your mouth with his tiny hand. Joe fell back against the couch in fake heartbreak. “OH, THAT’S DIABOLICAL.”
You were laughing so hard tears gathered in your eyes while the baby proudly snuggled into your chest like he’d just protected national security.
The host wiped her eyes. “I think he thinks you’re stealing his mom.”
“I AM HER HUSBAND,” Joe cried.
The baby frowned suspiciously, while Joe pointed toward him. “Look at that face. That’s hatred.”
“He’s literally eight months old,” you laughed.
“Old enough to be disrespectful apparently.”
Your son suddenly leaned toward Joe again, grabbing onto the front of his hoodie.
Joe softened instantly. “Oh, okay. We’re friends again?”
The baby smacked a slobbery kiss against Joe’s cheek, he froze dramatically before placing a hand over his heart. “Nevermind. He’s perfect. He can have whatever he wants.”
“You fold so fast,” you teased.
“Because he’s our kid,” Joe said simply, smiling at both of you like he couldn’t believe either of you were real. “I never stood a chance.”
hii!! what if reader is pregnant with joe’s baby and they tell his family. he’s genuinely really happy because he’s always wanted to be a dad and have a family with her, and just seeing his family’s reaction and them getting excited about it, also her with his nieces, makes him extremely happy. she also probably shows them a video she secretly recorded of his reaction when she told him abt the pregnancy (i mean or u can delete that part, whatever u want xx
“A family on the way”
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
summary: you tell Joe’s family you are pregnant. Joe is thrilled, his family is excited, and everyone celebrates.
warnings: Pregnancy/parenthood theme, fluff
You’d been carrying the secret around for days now.
Days of almost slipping up in front of his family. Days of Joe randomly grinning at you from across rooms because he remembered. Days of him pulling you into his chest at night and resting his hand against your stomach like he still couldn’t believe there was really a baby there. And honestly, the sweetest part wasn’t even how excited he was.
It was how gentle he’d become.
Not that Joe had ever been careless with you, he hadn’t, but now there was this constant tenderness in everything he did. Like somewhere in his brain, a switch had flipped the second he found out.
Suddenly he was opening every door before you could touch it, making sure you ate even when you insisted you weren’t hungry, pulling blankets over you when you fell asleep on the couch, kissing your forehead every five minutes like he physically couldn’t help himself.
The morning sickness had only barely started, but the first time you felt nauseous, Joe looked more distressed than you did.
“Baby,” he said immediately, kneeling in front of you on the bathroom floor like his life depended on it. “What do you need?”
You laughed weakly. “Joe, I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t look okay.”
“You look more worried than me.”
“That’s because I am more worried than you.”and then, completely serious, he added quietly “I can’t stand seeing you uncomfortable.”
That was the moment you realized just how deeply this had already changed him, because Joe wasn’t just excited about the baby, he was emotional about you, very emotional actually.
About the fact that you were carrying his child, the idea of having a family together, waking up next to you for the rest of his life and getting to call that his future.
You saw it in the way he looked at you now, like he still couldn’t believe he got this lucky.
The day you decided to tell his family, he was somehow even worse. You were standing in the bathroom getting ready when he appeared in the doorway wearing a black hoodie and sweatpants, just leaning against the frame watching you quietly.
You caught his reflection in the mirror.
“…Why are you staring at me?”
He smiled immediately. “Can’t help it.”
“You’re being weird today.”
“I’m excited.”
“You’ve been excited for a week.”
“I know.” he said walking over behind you then, wrapping both arms around your waist carefully before resting his chin on your shoulder.
His hands slid automatically to your stomach. You watched his expression soften in the mirror the second he looked down, and God, it melted you every single time.
“You know they’re gonna cry, right?” you asked softly.
“My mom?” he laughed under his breath. “Absolutely.”
“And your sisters are never gonna let you live this down.”
“They already don’t.”
You smiled, turning slightly in his arms “Nervous?”
Joe looked at you for a moment before answering honestly “About being a dad?” he admitted quietly. “A little.”
That surprised you enough that your expression changed immediately, because Joe had seemed so confident ever since finding out but then he smiled softly and shook his head “Not because I don’t want it,” he clarified instantly. “I’ve wanted this forever.”
The way he said it made your heart ache.
Forever.
Like he’d imagined this long before now, long before he ever admitted it out loud.
“I just really wanna be good at it,” he murmured.
You reached up immediately, touching his face gently“You will be, baby.”
The emotion that crossed his face after that nearly ruined you, because those words mattered to him more than anything. He leaned down and kissed you slowly, carefully. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours for a second and laughed softly to himself.
“What?”
“I’m just…” He shook his head slightly, smiling in disbelief. “Really happy.”
The entire drive to his parents’ house, Joe kept one hand on your thigh,like he physically needed the contact. Every few minutes his thumb would brush back and forth against your skin before he glanced over at you again with that same soft, almost disbelieving expression he’d been wearing ever since you told him about the baby.
You were only a few weeks along, still early enough that it felt surreal saying it out loud, but Joe had already slipped into this quiet kind of devotion that made your chest ache.
You’d caught him staring at you in the middle of the night once, just looking at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.
“You okay?” you’d mumbled sleepily.
He’d smiled instantly and kissed your forehead.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “i just really love you and I'm glad for this.”
And now, pulling into his parents’ driveway, he looked somehow even more emotional.
“Are you nervous?” you asked gently.
He laughed under his breath. “About telling them?” he continued, glancing toward the house where you could already see people moving around inside. “No. They’re gonna lose their minds.” he sounded so unbelievably fond when he said it.
Inside, the house was exactly what you expected: loud, warm, chaotic in the best way. The second Joe walked in, one of his nieces sprinted across the living room screaming his name before launching herself at him. He caught her automatically with one arm, laughing while she wrapped herself around him and the way he looked holding her made your heart twist, because suddenly you could see it so clearly.
Joe in your kitchen at two in the morning holding your sleepy baby against his chest, teaching your kid how to ride a bike or carrying them on his shoulders.
Joe becoming someone’s dad.
You must’ve gone quiet because he looked over immediately.
“What?” he asked softly.
“Nothing,” you said quickly, smiling.
But he narrowed his eyes like he knew you too well already.
The night carried on normally for a while. Dinner, teasing, overlapping conversations. Joe sat close enough that his knee stayed pressed against yours the entire time under the table, occasionally rubbing his hand over your back absentmindedly. You noticed his mom watching the two of you more than once with a suspicious little smile. She definitely sensed something, and Joe was terrible at hiding it.
Every time someone mentioned kids or family or future plans, he’d glance at you with this uncontrollable softness that basically gave everything away.
Finally, one of his sisters pointed directly at him from across the room.
“Okay, what is wrong with you?”
Joe blinked innocently. “What?”
“You’ve been smiling at her like a kid in a candy store for the last two hours.”
Everyone laughed immediately, joe just ducked his head, grinning to himself.
“Oh my God,” his mom suddenly said, eyes widening. “Wait.”
The room slowly quieted,you felt Joe’s hand immediately find yours, his thumb brushed across your knuckles once. You looked at him, silently asking if he wanted to do it now, and the expression on his face…
God, he looked emotional already.
He nodded once and your pulse jumped.
“We actually do have something to tell everyone,” you said softly.
Every single person in the room looked at you.Joe’s nieces had gone quiet too, curled up on the couch nearby. You felt Joe squeeze your hand harder.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Joe looked down instantly, smiling so hard he physically couldn’t contain it anymore.
Then the room exploded. His mom gasped so loudly it startled everyone. His dad immediately stood up.
“No way.”
“Oh my God.”
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
One of his nieces started excitedly asking if there was a baby right now while another yelled that she wanted to teach it soccer.
And Joe, he just stood there for a second looking completely overwhelmed, like he’d imagined this moment a thousand times but reality somehow felt bigger.
His mom got to you first, already crying as she wrapped both arms around you.
“Oh sweetheart,” she kept saying. “Oh my God.”
His dad hugged Joe so hard he nearly stumbled backward.
“You’re gonna be a dad,” he laughed. And that was the exact moment Joe broke, his entire face crumpled into this emotional, disbelieving smile while he looked around at everyone losing their minds around him.
You saw him blink hard a few times, you saw him look down because his eyes were getting glossy, and then he looked at you, like everything else disappeared.
You watched his throat move as he swallowed emotion down “Come here,” he said quietly.
The second you stepped toward him, he pulled you into his chest with both arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt. But you knew why, because this was real.
You were having his baby.
His hand slid protectively over your stomach almost unconsciously, not even showing yet, and he already couldn’t stop touching you there.
You felt him laugh softly against your hair “I still can’t believe it,” he whispered.
“You say that every day.”
“Because every day it’s still true.”
That nearly made you cry.
One of his nieces climbed onto the couch beside you a little while later and rested her head against your shoulder while everyone kept talking excitedly around you. Joe had been answering questions from his sisters when he looked over and saw you sitting there with her curled against you, and he completely stopped talking mid-sentence.
You noticed immediately “What?”
He shook his head once, smiling to himself but he kept staring, and there was something almost devastatingly tender in his expression. Like seeing you like that unlocked something inside him. His future. His family..
One of his sisters followed his gaze and started laughing “Oh, he’s gone.”
Joe rolled his eyes immediately. “Shut up.”
“No seriously,” another one added. “Look at him. Man’s about to start crying again.”
“I didn’t cry.”
“You absolutely cried.”
“I was emotional.”
“That’s crying.” and before Joe could defend himself again, you reached for your phone.
“Actually,” you said, smiling slightly, “I have proof.”
Joe immediately looked suspicious.
“…Proof of what?”
You ignored him and opened the video, the second everyone realized what it was, the room went quiet again. The video started shaky because you’d been trying not to laugh while secretly recording him.
Joe sat on the couch wearing gray sweatpants and one of his old hoodies, looking completely unsuspecting while you handed him a tiny gift box.
“What’s this?” video-Joe asked.
“Open it.”
He did, and then everything changed.
The second he saw the positive test inside, his entire brain visibly stopped functioning. Everyone watching the video started laughing immediately because his face was priceless.
“What…” he whispered.
You could hear yourself laughing behind the camera.
“What is that?” Joe looked up at you slowly “You’re pregnant?” his voice cracked on the word. In the video, you nodded and the expression that crossed his face afterward shattered everyone. Video-Joe actually covered his mouth with one hand while tears instantly filled his eyes.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, then he stood up so fast the camera jolted because he grabbed you immediately, pulling you against him while repeating the same thing over and over into your hair.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Baby”
Back in the present, his mom was openly crying again.
One of his sisters yelled, “HE SAID HE DIDN’T CRY.”
“I WAS OVERWHELMED,” Joe defended instantly, face completely red now.
“You were sobbing.”
“I was NOT sobbing.”
The video very clearly showed tears. Everyone started laughing while Joe groaned and covered his face with one hand, but then he looked at you again and all the embarrassment disappeared immediately.
He crossed the room toward you slowly until he was standing right in front of where you sat. Then he crouched down slightly beside you, one hand resting on your knee while the other slid instinctively back to your stomach.
“You know what the craziest part is?” he said softly, mostly to you.
“What?”
“I thought I couldn’t love you more before this.” the room collectively melted.
His sisters groaned dramatically, his mom looked ready to cry for a third time, and Joe just smiled, completely unbothered, because he meant every word.
You touched his face gently. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”
The emotion that hit him after that was immediate. You saw it happen in real time. His eyes watered again, his smile turned smaller, shakier. Because out of everything people had congratulated him for, that was the thing that mattered most.
This.
You.
Your baby.
The family he’d secretly dreamed of.
Joe leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, laughing quietly because he was too emotional to do anything else, and surrounded by his family’s excitement, his nieces climbing all over both of you, everyone already arguing over baby names and who the baby would look like and you and Joe had never looked happier in your entire life.
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