this is genuinely the funniest interaction I hold it ridiculously close to my heart because Jess is just so unserious here. like what do you mean ‘what makes you think I care about you?’
by this point he has annotated an entire book for her. he did his terrible little close up magic attempt. he spent an ungodly amount of money just to be able to have a picnic with her!! then spent said picnic telling her how much he thinks she would like his favourite books. they had a late at night phone call to discuss both of their recommendations. literally just before this very scene he lent her a cd just because he thought she’d like it! he’s so hilarious with his attempts at being cool like he is such a funny little man I love him so much.
messing around with scoops!steve before his shift... send tweet
:o
mdni/18+ only
pairing: fwbs/scoops!steve
word count: 755
content/warnings: smut, grinding/humping, thigh fucking kinda?, little bit of dirty talk, sort of public sex but not rly
"Oh—!"
A strong arm is pulling you — no, really, yanking you — into the Starcourt Mall bathrooms, causing you to nearly stumble off your feet had your mystery capturer not be so... steady. You yelp at the blur of Americana colors, eyes wide as none other than Steve Harrington pushes you up against the bathroom door, his palm pressing hot and heavy into the thick of your hip.
"What's your problem?" you hiss, craning your neck to make sure none of the stalls are occupied, "Did you lose my number and forget you can, like, call me to hookup? Like a normal person?"
"I've been busy," Steve mutters dismissively, fingers skirting under the hem of your shorts. He finds the soft fabric of your underwear easily, plucking the material teasingly against your skin. "I have a shift in 10. Do you— can we do this now?"
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Part of your unspoken agreement with Steve is that you don't really talk — it's the convenience and mutual attraction that makes it work, and so you decide it's not your business if he's been busy or if he needs a quickie before he clocks in to his, apparently, arduous job slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy.
You don't answer, instead allowing your movements to provide the consent he's eagerly awaiting, reaching out to pull royal blue shorts down his legs. Steve swallows harshly, focusing on his own task at hand — getting you out of your shorts and underwear — as you stroke at the hard length still hidden beneath his briefs.
He's leaking already, a small stain of pre-cum bubbling where his tip lays underneath the cotton material, and you lick your lips at the sight. If you had more time, you'd lower to your knees and mouth at him through the fabric. And maybe you would, but you're nearly positive that with the near-animalistic look on Steve's face right now, he would cum just from the feeling of your tongue suckling at his sensitive tip, even if obstructed by his underwear.
"I wasn't expecting to see you, I don't have a condom on me," Steve mumbles distractedly, and the back of your head hits the wooden door as his fingers swipe through your slit. Your underwear's hooked around your thighs, but you don't even care. His thumb finds your clit and you moan, eyes fluttering, unbothered by Steve's remark.
"Baby, you hear me?" he asks, but you know it's part of his game, because he only keeps pressing harder against your clit, circling tighter, faster. You can feel yourself breathing harshly, chest nearly concave as his broad frame crowds you in the most overwhelming sense, and all you can smell is Steve and sex.
"Lemme just fuck between your thighs," Steve says, and you're nodding quickly, tugging your underwear further down your thighs, "You're wet enough, baby, I'll slide right through. It'll feel so good, promise."
"Do whatever you want," you mumble, pulling him closer by the waistband to his briefs. He laughs breathlessly and nods. "Don't— don't care, just need to come, okay? Can you make me come?"
Steve murmurs out an uh-huh as he fixes his cock between your thighs, bumping up against your clit with every messy thrust. He's right, you are wet enough for him to glide in and out, and you can't imagine it feels as good as when he fucks your pussy but it must feel decent enough because his eyes are squeezed close, pretty groans falling from his swollen lips.
You knock your head forward, leaning it against his shoulder and he mumbles praise and a pet name, something to the effect of baby or sweet girl; you can hardly make sense of anything he's saying because all of your muscles are clenching, your pussy twitching helplessly as Steve tells you to make a mess all over his dick.
He's not far behind — he never is after watching you finish, and it's maybe one or two thrusts more before he's jerking his cock in his hand and spurting his cum over your mound, grunting out and biting his pink bottom lip. You watch him, in awe.
"Fuck," Steve says, swallowing loudly, "God, you're so fucking hot. Thank you."
You smile and lean back against the door, still catching your breath. "Any time, Steve. You know that," you reply, reaching forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Hope you have a good shift."
He chuckles humorlessly. "It'll definitely be a lot better now."
c.w: established relationship, fluff, joe being a loverboy. no use of y/n divider credit: @saradika-graphics w.c: 337
The interviewer steered the conversation over to you, something that was happening more often now that the world knows Joe’s in a relationship.
“What are her favorite songs of yours?” The interviewer chimes, hoping to get him to open up.
“Um, if you ask her she’d say that all of my stuff is her favorite.” He smiles, eyes lighting up at the mention of you.
“But” He drags out. “I do know that she favors Golden Line and Chateau.”
“Really?” The interviewer exclaims, their eyebrows raising slightly.
Joe nods along. “Yeah, she likes the slower, softer ones. Always asking me to sing those.”
“So you sing for her?” They ask, urging him to share more.
“Sometimes at night, yeah.” Joe responds, still grinning at the thought of you.
Memories flood his mind of laying beside you in bed, holding your hand while quietly singing anything that you request.
There have been a few occasions, when he’s out of town and you call him before bed, that you’ve drifted off while talking on the phone together.
Also when he’s away and you have a particularly hard time falling asleep, you’ll play old voice notes and demos that he’s sent you. They do the trick every time.
His heart is so full knowing that you find his voice soothing and can help you relax.
“There’s a few unreleased songs that she really likes too.” He adds, fondly remembering more of your favorites.
“Any that we’ll get to hear eventually?” The interviewer gleams.
“Maybe.” He teases, lips pulling up into a smirk. “Some will only ever be for her.”
Luckily for the interviewer and everyone listening, Joe loves talking about you. But he loves talking to you more.
He can’t focus on anything else for the rest of the interview. The moment that it wraps, Joe’s pulling out his phone, quickly dialing your number to hear your voice come through the other line.
The interviewer didn’t ask him, but he loves your voice just as much as you love his.
summary: steve taking care of you after a night out <3
tags/warnings: boyfriend!steve x reader, mention of alcohol consumption, drunkness, mention of vomit, hangovers, domestic fluff, caretaker!steve harrington, mentions of sex, use of pet names (baby, honey, pretty girl), this is diabolically tooth-rotting
---
It’s almost 1:30 AM when the doorbell rings.
Steve glances up at the sound, breaking from his vigil on the couch in front of the TV. He’s been sitting there fighting his own exhaustion all night while he waits for you to come home. When you’d told him earlier about your plans to hit a few bars with your girlfriends, he’d passed on the offer to join you, resigning himself instead to a quiet night in, recharging from work and letting you have your fun on your own. But because he always insists on staying up till you make it back despite your exasperated requests, tonight has been less than entertaining for him.
He doesn’t mind, though. He’d pull an all-nighter if it meant he saw you home safe.
Steve gets up from the couch and pads over to the door, snorting a little at the thought that you must be drunk enough not to be able to turn your key in the lock. Well, that was part of tonight’s plan, like you’d told him earlier– you’d been looking forward to getting shit-faced all week.
Steve pulls open the door and finds you draped over your friend Gina, your miniskirt riding up on your thighs as you stumble against her.
Wow. Mission accomplished, then.
You let out a long, exaggerated gasp. “Oh my God,” you breathe as your eyes find him. “Oh my God, it’s Steve!”
Steve stifles his laughter at your expression– the total shock and joy splitting your face from ear to ear. “Hi, baby.”
Gina shoots him a sympathetic look and hauls you back onto your feet, transferring you into Steve’s arms with a grunt of effort. “Hey, Steve. Sorry– she’s really gone.”
“Steve!” you say again as you fold yourself into his chest, his arms supporting you easily. You smell like fruity liqueur. “I kept trying to call you, but Gina took my phone–”
“Here’s that,” Gina supplies, pulling the phone out of her pocket and handing it to Steve. She gives him a dry look. “I didn’t want her to freak you out.”
“Thanks,” Steve laughs, voice full of amusement as he clutches your swaying form. “And hey, thanks for taking care of her tonight.”
“Anything for my girl,” Gina tosses back, flashing a sweet smile. She’s not usually a big drinker, but it’s never a great job to be designated babysitter. “I should go– I’ve got two more dropoffs.”
Steve smiles back, holding you around the waist while your fingertips trace patterns onto his chest. “You need anything?” he offers Gina. “Anybody need a ride?”
“All good. I’m sober,” Gina assures him. “Tell her to call me tomorrow, yeah?”
Steve nods, watching your friend retreat down the hallway. “You’re doing God’s work, Gina!”
She laughs and waves goodbye, and Steve helps you stumble inside, closing and locking the door behind you both.
“Agh!” you exclaim, pulling back from his grip a little to press a hand to your mouth, your excitement uncontainable. “Wow. It’s my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, hi, baby,” Steve laughs, hands gripping you firmly to keep you from falling. “You have a fun night?”
“The best,” you gush, teetering off to the side in your heeled boots. “Oh my gosh, I wish you came with us. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Steve tells you, maneuvering you further into your apartment and easing you down into an armchair. “Let’s get your shoes off, huh?”
“These are my cute boots,” you inform him. “I like these boots.”
“They are cute,” he agrees. “Just not so good to sleep in, right?” He kneels in front of you and lifts one of your feet off the ground to unzip your boot for you, and you suck in a breath.
“Why are you taking them?” you ask in a whisper, appalled.
Steve has to bite his tongue to keep his smile down. “I’m just getting you comfortable, baby. You gotta change before bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” you shake your head. You always get argumentative when you’re drunk. “Why are we going to bed?”
“It’s late, beautiful,” he reminds you. “You’re gonna regret it tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep.”
Your gasp again, both of your hands flying to your mouth. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Steve’s smile spreads as he stares up at you. “The most beautiful girl in the world.”
You’re trying to hide your grin behind your hands, but it isn’t working. You tuck your knees up to your chest in your glee. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.”
Steve heaves a sigh at the retreat of your legs. “My beautiful, uncooperative girlfriend. Come on, baby. Help me out here.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” you repeat petulantly, humor in your voice as you angle your head at him. “Just wanna stay here and look at you.”
“You can look at me when we’re in bed,” Steve reasons with you. “I promise, honey. Just let me get your boots off.”
You sigh and relent, letting him drag one of your feet toward his chest again. His hands come up your calves to unzip your boot, and he can feel your eyes fixed securely on him.
“You’re so pretty,” you hum, eyes tracing over his face. “So pretty. I was showing everyone pictures of you tonight.”
Steve feels his ears go pink. “Baby, what did I tell you about showing people my picture?”
“I can’t help it!” you protest as he sets your now-bare foot gently down and moves for the other. “I’m so proud of you. Agh, you’re so cute.”
The words make something in Steve’s chest flutter, even after being with you for so long. It always feels like he’s still getting used to being loved the way you love him– the way he knows himself to be capable of loving, but never fully expected in return. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs as he tugs off your other boot and rises. “Okay. You ready to stand?”
“Mm-hm,” you chirp, reaching your hands up toward him. Steve leans down and wraps his arms around you to haul you upright, and you wobble as you teeter to your feet, only steadied by the press of your body against his. “Wow. You’re strong.”
Steve bites back his laughter. “I try.”
“Your arms are huge,” you marvel, gripping them with your icy fingers. Suddenly, you glance up at him, face open. “I love you. Will you kiss me?”
The words are so plain– so natural. Steve doesn’t fight his smile this time as he lowers his head and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, sweet and delicate.
You sigh into it. “Wow. That was really nice.”
“I love you,” Steve tells you, amusement flickering through him. “Okay,” he repeats, his focus honed on stabilizing you once more. “You wanna walk, or can I carry you?”
You wave him off. “Pfft. I can walk. I’m not that drunk.”
“Uh-huh,” Steve replies flatly.
You shoot him a look you probably intend to be stern, but your total lack of control over your emotions right now isn’t doing you any favors in convincing him. Still, stubbornly, you push away from him and make your way to the bedroom, Steve’s hands hovering over your waist as he follows behind you, just in case.
“You got it?” he affirms, his voice a hum. “Yeah, there you go. Okay– careful, baby.”
“I’m fine,” you sigh. “I’m good.”
“You think you’re gonna be sick?” he asks you– not that he’d really mind either way. He’s certainly helped you drunkenly vomit before.
“Nope,” you assure him, the word dropping off your tongue casually despite the way you’re about to run into a wall.
“Careful– careful, baby,” Steve chides you, managing to grab you out of the way just before you smack into the doorframe.
“You worry too much,” you huff.
Steve swallows his stress and steers you toward the bed. “Yeah, well, you give me plenty to worry about.” He situates you so you’re seated on the bed, and you flop back against the comforter, heaving a sigh. Steve shakes his head fondly and crosses to the dresser to pull out some of his sleep clothes for you. He doesn’t know if he could wrestle you into one of your pajama sets in your condition, and you have a weird obsession with sleeping in his clothes, anyway. He’s never understood it.
When he returns, you’re winding your hands through the air and staring at the ceiling. “I feel great. I wanna stay up forever.”
“Uh-huh,” Steve says again, playing along to get you to comply. “Gotta sit up, babe. Come on– gimme your hands.”
You heave another breath as you let him pull you upright, and Steve lifts your hands over your head so he can attempt to work your tight shirt off your body.
“Woah,” you giggle as his hands make contact with the exposed skin of your stomach. “What’re you doin’?”
Steve pulls his hands off of you, just in case you want to do it yourself, and points to the sweatshirt waiting on the bed. “Getting you comfy. That okay?”
“You wanna have sex?” you whisper conspiratorially, grinning at the offer.
Steve just barely holds back his laughter. “Pardon?”
“Wanna have sex?” you repeat, your eyes wide with enthusiasm as you reach out one of your legs and rub it along his.
He grins and shakes his head. “Not right now, baby.”
“What?” you ask, brow knitting in confusion. “Why not? You always wanna have sex.”
Steve fights his blush again. “I don’t always want to have sex,” he protests.
“Yeah, you do,” you tease him. “I’m not complaining, though. Feels good.”
Steve lets out another laugh. “Maybe tomorrow, pretty girl.”
“You don’t want to?” you ask, still confused– hurt flashing across your face.
Steve sees that look and moves immediately to soothe you, one of his hands lifting to brush your hair down gently. “Not like that, honey. I just don’t wanna do anything while you’re drunk, okay?”
“But I want to,” you protest gently, your eyes finding his pleadingly.
“I know,” Steve smiles softly. “Not tonight. Sorry, baby.”
“Worst boyfriend ever,” you mutter, and he barks a laugh.
“You want my help changing, or you wanna do it yourself?” he asks you, still grinning.
You consider your options, then look back up at him. “You.”
“Okay,” Steve nods, always glad to have the confirmation. “Hands up, buttercup.”
You dutifully lift your hands and help him wrestle off your top, and Steve is extra mindful to work the fabric gently around your chin, ensuring it doesn’t snag on your face. Just as carefully, he unlatches your bra and pulls it off of you, practiced with this particular style after months of being with you. Your nudity is anything but arousing to him, though– just intimate, in that strange, quiet way familiar domesticity has become precious to him. It’s a kind of trust he doesn’t know what to do with, the way the two of you are unashamed to be bare in front of one another, the way you put yourself in his hands tonight without a thought.
And he hadn’t lied before– he doesn’t want to have sex with you now. He doesn’t find vulnerability attractive.
Slowly, he pulls your clothes off of you and tugs you into his own. His sweatshirt and shorts absolutely dwarf you, and you wrap your hands gleefully in the too-long sleeves as you reach out for him again.
“Hi,” he says again as your hands come around his waist, tugging him close. He holds you back, stroking your hair. “Are you hungry? You want me to make you something?”
“No,” you sigh. “I need to wash my face. That’s all.”
“Okay,” Steve relents as your hands run over his back. “You know, to do that, you gotta get up.”
“Mm-hm.” You affirm lazily, your cheek pressed to his chest.
Steve smiles to himself and reaches down to scoop you up, hooking your legs around his waist. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s go.”
You make a muffled noise of agreement against him as he carries you to the bathroom.
“You getting tired?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer. He’s always been good at memorizing your tells. It’s a small, affectionate hobby he’s adopted.
“No,” you tell him petulantly, and he chuckles as he gently sets you down in the bathroom and you take a seat on the closed toilet lid.
It’s a slow, quiet process as Steve wets a washcloth with warm water and turns to you, wiping gently at your face until he’s worked the makeup off of your skin. Your eyes are closed, and your breaths are sighing against his face. Steve is diligent about it, his hands moving with careful precision. When he’s done, it’s a wordless effort to get you to stand and rinse your face, towel it off, and brush your teeth. Eventually, though, Steve helps you get it done, and pads back to the bedroom after you.
He helps you into bed, pulling the covers up around you, and he can tell you’re too far gone now to protest any more. Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, Steve leaves to pick up the clothes still scattered on the floor and get you a glass of water for the morning.
“Steve,” you call out, your voice suddenly panicked.
He already knows what you’re going to ask. “I’ll be right back, baby,” he promises. “Give me one second.”
You make a disheartened sound and turn over in bed.
Steve turns off the TV and picks up the front room as quickly as he can. When he returns to the bedroom with a glass in hand for you, the lights are all off except for the lamp on his nightstand, which casts light over your softened face. He smiles when he realizes you’ve curled up on his side of the bed, your hair scattered across his pillow. He sets the glass down, turns out the light, and carefully slips under the covers beside you, realizing you’re still awake by the way you reach for him instantly, your arms wrapping around him.
“Steve?” you start, your voice a low mumble.
“Yeah, baby?” he whispers back, shifting so you can curl up against his chest, your body practically thrown over his.
“You’re not the worst boyfriend,” you tell him sleepily. “You’re the best. Ever.”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. “Thanks, baby. You’re the best girlfriend ever.”
“I’m sorry you had to take care of me tonight,” you make out, your eyes already shut.
“Why are you saying sorry?” Steve chides you, pulling you tighter into his arms and pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Nothing to be sorry for. I like taking care of you.”
“I’m sorry,” you say again, unconvinced.
“Hey,” Steve stops you. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Mm-hm,” you affirm skeptically.
“That’s all that matters,” he says firmly. “No apologizing.”
You take a big breath. “I love you more than anything,” you mumble against his chest.
The words still Steve, halting his hands on you. It’s simple– stupid. He’s heard you say it a million times before. But he can’t help it– every time, it feels like you’ve stopped his heart in his chest.
“I love you too,” he says back, his voice a little weak. “I love you so much.”
His hands continue their gentle tracing against your skin, and within moments, you slip into sleep. And Steve, swallowing emotion, follows after you.
When the morning finally breaks over your peacefully sleeping form, so does your pounding headache.
You groan as you roll over, realizing when you hit the abruptly cold other side of the bed that Steve isn’t in it with you.
It takes a while for you to drag yourself out from beneath the covers and push to your feet, and you follow the faint sounds of plates clanking out to the kitchen. The image of your boyfriend standing there, pajama pants slung low on his hips, the skin of his bare torso bronzed by the morning light, his messy hair falling over his forehead as he stares down at the pan on the stove, almost feels like a miracle cure for your hangover.
You sidle up to him and lean back against the counter, arms crossed in the old sweatshirt he put you in, worn and soft from years of use.
Steve smiles as he glances over at you. “Morning, sunshine.”
You bite back your indignation at the nickname– the one he always uses when you sleep late. “Morning.”
“Your coffee’s on the counter,” he tells you, gesturing with the spatula on his hand.
You mumble out a thank you and go hunting for the cup, watching out of the corner of your eye as the muscles in his back flex while he flips the pancake.
“So, how bad was I?” you ask ironically, though you remember what happened last night with fair enough accuracy.
Steve shakes his head, still smiling. “Not bad.”
“Mm-hm,” you reply, unconvinced. “I’m ridiculous.”
“You’re cute,” he tells you, his grin spreading. “It was nothing embarrassing, beautiful. You were just very excited.”
You let out a little groan. “God, I showed so many people your picture.”
Steve huffs a laugh, going a little pink. “Yeah, you told me.”
“Never let me get drunk again,” you beg him. “I’m a danger to myself.”
“You’re an adorable drunk,” Steve informs you, eyes on the pancake batter as he ladles it into the pan. “You’re so smiley. I’d prefer it if you didn’t fight me so hard, but I’ll still take it.”
You whimper, leaning forward to press your forehead against his shoulder, wishing it would soothe the ache there. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he tells you, like he’s said it a million times. “You’re my girl. It’s my job to take care of you.”
“You’re too good to me,” you tell him, eyes pressed shut. “You’re standing here being all perfect, making me coffee and pancakes and dealing with all my drunk bullshit.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says mildly. “Plus, you know, you’re a really intense cuddler when you’re wasted. I can’t get you off of me in the mornings.”
You laugh reluctantly, and Steve turns from the stove to wrap his arms around you, tugging you into an embrace.
“I love you,” he says. “You make it worth it, you know that?”
Your hands knit behind his back, pressing him impossibly closer. “I love you. So much.”
He nuzzles into your hair, breathing you in for a moment. And when he pulls back, a smile on his face, all he tells you is, “Eat your pancakes.”
You smile back at him, brilliant feeling shining in your chest. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he throws back, waving his spatula. “And once you’re done, I’m putting all your photos of me in a locked album.”
---
author's note: this is so deeply unproofread my bad
the rain was relentless, sticking to your skin and frizzing your hair in a remarkably short amount of time. not only did you now look absolutely ridiculous, you also couldn’t see.
great.
the rain had decorated your glasses with blobs that obscured your vision.
why were you even out here?
oh, right.
wes.
he’d promised to meet you here. he didn’t preface why in his very cryptic text message, but you settled with the assumption that it was some ridiculous reason.
“hey!” you heard a familiar voice call.
there he was, the man of the (very late) hour, jogging up to you on the sidewalk.
“took you long enough.” you muttered, trying to wipe the rain from your glasses. it only served to make it worse, smearing over the lenses and transforming the previously handsome vision of wes into a blurry spot.
“sorry.” he chuckled softly, a sound that always made your heart skip a beat or three.
god, as irritating as he could be, wes had a way of igniting butterflies in your stomach. or maybe it was cardiac arrest. either way, you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in a way that didn’t feel like everyone was staring at you in middle school while the teacher lectured you.
sorry. projecting. anyway.
wes was taller than you. this was a known fact, and you were constantly reminded of it whenever he stepped closer to you. like he was doing right now.
your brows furrowed. he had a look in his eye that you couldn’t decipher, no matter how long you spent staring at his dark eyes. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, but right now, it looked like the blinds were drawn.
his hand cupped your cheek. you were stupid to think this was a lovey-dovey gesture, like the last scene in bridget jones’s diary, because once your guard was down, he took your glasses from you. plucked them straight off your pretty face.
“hey!” you protested, but quickly shut up when you saw what he was doing.
wiping your glasses, very carefully, on the fabric of his shirt. the one you’d bought him a few weeks back.
your eyes were on your frames—it’s not your fault, they were expensive—but wes’ eyes were on you.
“i’m not all bad.” he murmured, sliding your glasses back onto your face with impressive accuracy. both hands cupped your face this time, warm, safe.
he smiled that soft, lopsided grin of his that made your stomach do a sort of loopy thing, almost like you were on a rollercoaster.
he leaned in. you could smell his cologne—something distinctly him. something you found yourself thinking about late at night when you can’t sleep. you were so thankful wes had a good sense of personal hygiene.
it may seem like common knowledge, but for some boys on campus, it apparently was not.
wes’ lips brushed yours gently. it was soft at first. it always was with him.
“sorry for making you wait.” he muttered softly. you couldn’t help but smile, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips.
the rain continued to pour around you, but in his arms, you didn’t feel anything apart from him, and the soft tune of kiss me by sixpence none the richer playing in the back of your head.
Summary: When a creepy guy approaches his new coworker Steve steps in to protect you.
Warnings: yearning. tension. protective Steve. damsel in distress. no use of y/n.
___________
Steve had exactly three thoughts when Robin introduced the new Scoops employee.
First: She's pretty.
Second: Really pretty.
And third: Oh no. I`m so fucked.
Because now he had to somehow survive entire shifts standing next to you without embarrassing himself. It wasn't going well.
"Steve?"
"Hm?"
"You handed that kid three spoons."
Steve looked down. The child was indeed holding three spoons. The kid looked delighted. Robin looked exhausted. You were trying very hard not to laugh.
"Right," Steve muttered. "One spoon. Usually."
Your smile appeared. And just like that, his day got significantly worse. Or better. Honestly, Steve couldn't tell anymore.
The first week was easy. You learned the menu and how to work the register. You learned that Robin talked approximately six hundred words per minute. And you that Steve got adorably flustered whenever you complimented him.
"Thanks for helping me with the machine."
"No problem."
"You explain things really well."
Steve nearly dropped a scoop of vanilla. Robin noticed. She spent the next ten minutes grinning like a maniac.
The creepy guy showed up on your fourth shift. Steve noticed him before you did. Mid-forties. Always staring. Something about him made Steve's skin crawl.
The guy ordered a sundae and then spent ten minutes leaning on the counter trying to talk to you.
At first Steve ignored it. People were weird. The mall was full of weird people, right?
Then he noticed the look on your face. The smile you were forcing. The way your shoulders had tightened. The way your eyes kept flickering toward Steve.
Like you weren't sure what to do. Something immediately twisted in his chest.
"Hey." Steve appeared beside you.
The guy looked annoyed but Steve just smiled. The fake customer-service smile. The one Robin called his "serial killer smile." "Can I help you with something?"
The man frowned. "I was talking to her."
"Yeah." Steve nodded. "I noticed." The smile never left his face. "You've been here for about fifteen minutes."
The guy shifted uncomfortably. You looked relieved. Steve felt a tiny surge of satisfaction.
"Think it's time to enjoy your ice cream."
The man stared. Steve stared back. A beat passed and finally the man grabbed his sundae and walked away.
The second he was gone, Steve turned toward you. "You okay?"
You let out a breath. "Yeah." Then you hesitated. "Thank you for that. I was getting a little scared."
Something in your expression made Steve's stomach flip. "It's nothing, really. He was creeping me out too."
"It wasn't nothing." Your voice was soft. "Scoops Hero strikes again."
Steve groaned. "Please don't call me that."
You laughed. And before he could react you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. For one second Steve forgot how reality worked.
Warm. That was his first coherent thought. His second thought was that you smelled nice. His third thought was that he was absolutely going to die.
"Thank you," you said quietly.
Steve's arms hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before settling around you. "No problem." His voice came out embarrassingly hoarse.
You pulled away still smiling. Steve watched you walk back to the register, then immediately smacked his forehead against a freezer door to cool his thoughts down again.
Robin cackled so loudly a customer turned around.
After that, things changed. You started sharing shifts more often. Talking more. Laughing more. You learned Steve secretly loved bad movies. Steve learned you sang along to every song on the radio.
You learned he always gave nervous customers extra napkins and Steve learned your favorite ice cream flavor. After some time you learned he pretended not to care about people and unfortunately for him, Steve learned that was impossible for you to believe.
Somewhere along the way, becoming friends stopped feeling like enough but neither of you mentioned it.
One evening the mall was unusually quiet. Robin had gone on break. The food court was half-empty. You were wiping down tables while Steve organized cones behind the counter.
The bell above the entrance chimed. Steve glanced up and immediately felt his stomach drop.
The guy again.
Steve straightened. Across the room, you clearly recognized him too and your shoulders tensed.
The man approached, said something to you but Steve couldn't hear it. He saw your polite smile. Saw you try to move past him. Saw the man step closer.
Too close.
His hand reached toward your arm and everything inside Steve went cold. He was moving before he even realized it.
Three long strides then he was there between you and him. One hand lightly against your back to guide you behind him. Protecting you without even thinking about it.
"Hey." Steve's voice was calm. Dangerously calm.
The man's smile faltered. "I was just talking—"
"Cool." Steve nodded. "Now you're talking to me."
You could feel the tension radiating from him and feel how solidly he had placed himself between you and the customer. Like a human shield.
The man frowned. "I wanted to order."
"Great." Steve smiled that same terrifying customer-service smile. "What can I get you?"
Eventually the man took his order and left. Steve waited until he disappeared completely. Then another minute just to be sure.
Only then did he turn around. You were looking at him wide-eyed. "Steve."
"What?"
Your smile was small so soft and fond. "You know you were glaring at him the whole time, right?"
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
"I was providing customer service."
You laughed. Steve's heart immediately betrayed him. Again. Then your fingers brushed his wrist just for a second.
"Thank you." The words came out quiet.
Steve looked down at your hand then back at you and something warm settled in his chest. The same feeling he always got around you. The one he hadn't figured out how to stop. Or hide. Or survive.
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." Your smile softened. "I always feel safer when you're here."
Steve forgot every response he'd ever learned. Because you were looking at him like he mattered. Like he was someone worth relying on. And maybe that should have made him feel brave.
Instead it made him fall a little harder. Because all Steve could think was: I'd stand in front of every creepy guy in Indiana if it meant seeing you smile at me like that.
And judging by the way you were looking at him ... maybe he wasn't the only one falling.
Something was wrong with Steve after that night. You knew it. Robin knew it. Probably half the mall knew it.
The only person who seemed unaware of it was Steve himself. For two weeks he'd been acting strange. Not bad strange. Just… Steve strange.
Which was somehow worse. Lately he'd walk over, look like he wanted to say something and then immediately leave.
It was driving you insane.
"Okay." Robin appeared beside you. "Are we finally talking about it?"
You sighed. "Talking about what?"
"The giant lovesick sailor standing over there."
You nearly dropped a stack of cups. Across Scoops, Steve was reorganizing napkins. For the third time. There were already enough napkins to survive the apocalypse.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Robin laughed so hard she had to grab the counter. "Sure."
Three days later, things somehow got worse because Steve kept looking at you. Then looking away. Then looking at you again. Like a very confused golden retriever.
You finally cornered him during closing. The mall was mostly empty. Robin had already left and Steve was wiping down the counter with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb.
"Steve."
"Hm?"
"You've been weird."
"No I haven't."
"Steve."
"I haven't."
"Steve."
He sighed. Still refusing to look at you.
"You just spent thirty seconds arguing with a mop."
"It started it."
You stared. Steve stared back. Then immediately regretted making eye contact because you were close. Very close. And very pretty. Ridiculously pretty.
You crossed your arms. "Tell me what's going on."
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm really not."
You took a step closer. "Steve." Another step. "Seriously." Another. Until there was barely any space left between you.
"You've been staring at me. You've been avoiding me. You keep starting sentences and then stopping." You poked your finger against his chest. "And every time I ask what's wrong you look like you're about to throw yourself into traffic."
Steve dragged a hand down his face. This was a disaster.
You sighed a little bit sad. "Did I do something?"
His head snapped up. "What?"
"Did I upset you?"
"No!" The answer came so fast it almost echoed.
The silence stretched. "Then what is it?"
Steve opened his mouth but nothing came out. Closed it again. Tried once more. Nothing.
"Oh for fucks sake why is this so hard?" Steve blurted out and left you with a surprised look on your face.
Steve looked horrified. You looked exasperated. Neither of you noticed how close you'd gotten. How his hands flexed nervously at his sides and Steve thanked the universe that you couldn't read his mind in this moment. Because it nearly killed him to not touch you.
"Okay." He swallowed. "Okay." Another swallow. "You know that creepy guy the other day?"
You immediately tensed.
Steve noticed. "I know." His voice softened. "I know."
"So…"
Steve rubbed the back of his neck. Then looked everywhere except at you. His soul briefly left his body.
"So I didn't want—" His voice caught. "I didn't want you to think I was…" The words seemed difficult.
"I don't know." He laughed nervously. "Like him."
You frowned, now fully confused. "What do you mean?"
"I know that guy freaked you out and the last thing I wanted was for you to think I was pressuring you or making you uncomfortable or—"
"Steve."
"—or like I expected something because I helped you and—"
"Steve."
"—and then I kept trying to figure out how to say it normally but every version sounded stupid—"
You grabbed his hand and he immediately stopped rambling. Instead he looked at you with wide eyes and a soft layer of pink covered his cheeks.
"What war you saying... exactly?"
He sighed, but moved his thumb over the back of your hand like a reflex. It felt so ... familiar like he did it a thousand times and somehow it was as intimate as a first kiss.
"What I`m trying to say is ... I want to ask you to go out with me. On a date. But I was not sure when would be the right moment to do so, you know, after everything that has happened?"
He let go of you hand and you could feel his fingers wandering up your arm, towards your shoulder. You couldn't resist and leaned into his touch. Finally his hand settled on the side of your neck, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or fear. He found none.
"You could never make me feel the way he did."
Something in his expression cracked. He looked so relieved, that you melted a little more into his frame.
A smile tugged at your lips. "And for the record?"
"Hm?"
"I've been waiting for you to ask."
Steve stared.
"Steve. Did you hear me?"
"No, I did."
"Then why do you look like that?"
"Because." He laughed once like he couldn't believe it. "You've been waiting?"
Your smile widened. "You're not exactly subtle."
"Robin told you?"
"Robin told everyone."
Steve groaned and you laughed. Then his thumb gently brushed your jaw and your laughter died in your throat. Instead a little breathless sound escaped your lips.
"So…"
You tilted your head. "So?"
"Would you maybe…" He took a breath. Gathered what little dignity he had left. "Would you maybe want to go out with me sometime?"
The smile you gave him could have powered every light in Starcourt Mall. "I'd love to."
Steve's answering grin was so bright it almost hurt to look at. And for the first time in weeks, he finally stopped overthinking. Mostly because you were still so close to him, he could feel your soft frame against his body.
And neither of you seemed interested in getting more distance.
________________
Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated
summary: your ex boyfriend is your parent’s favorite boy ever and he uses this as an excuse to be around you all the time.
warnings: steve being a pain in the ass, kissing, just a fluff, not proofread.
note: this is a request sent by an anonymous person, tysm love, hope this reaches you !! ♡
don’t repost or translate my work.
the thing about breaking up with steve was that it didn’t actually make him go away.
you’d assumed it would.
that was the whole point, really.
you thought if you ended things cleanly, no screaming, no slammed doors, just quiet words in a parking lot under a flickering streetlamp, he’d eventually drift out of your life like every other high school relationship people swore didn’t last anyway.
except steve wasn’t drifting anywhere because, apparently, your parents were still completely obsessed with him. you couldn´t blame them...
you knew the moment you walked into the house after work that something was wrong.
your dad was laughing.
not his normal laugh. the big one. the one he only did when he was watching football or when steve harrington was sitting at the kitchen table like he belonged there.
you stopped in the doorway.
and there he was.
steve sat at the table with a screwdriver in his hand, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, your dad standing next to him holding the loose hinge from the cabinet door.
your mom was hovering near the stove.
everyone looked very comfortable. too comfortable.
steve noticed you first.
his head lifted and his eyes landed on you instantly, the way they always used to when you walked into a room, like some invisible string had pulled his attention straight toward you and then he smiled.
that stupid soft smile that used to make you forget what you were mad about.
“hey.” he said.
you stared at him.
“why are you in my house?”
“he’s fixing the cabinet hinge.” your dad answered before steve could.
steve lifted the screwdriver slightly like proof. “your dad said the door’s been crooked for two weeks.”
you dropped your bag on the chair.
“so you called my ex-boyfriend?”
“he called me.” steve corrected lightly.
your mom turned around from the stove and pointed a wooden spoon at you.
“don’t start. steve was being very helpful.”
steve’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
you narrowed your eyes at him.
he had the decency to look a little guilty but not guilty enough to leave.
that became the problem because he kept showing up. sometimes it was because your dad “needed help” fixing something, lie, he just wanted to spend time with steve. sometimes your mom invited him to dinner.
once he showed up with a grocery bag because he said the store had a sale on the cereal your dad liked.
your parents adored him.
and steve… steve was annoyingly good at acting like nothing had changed. like the two of you hadn’t broken up. like he wasn’t still
it drove you absolutely insane because the worst part was how natural it all felt.
you’d come downstairs in the morning and he’d already be there drinking coffee with your dad, hair messy, wearing that faded sweatshirt he’d had since senior year.
and he’d look up and grin at you like this was completely normal. “morning.”
like he hadn’t kissed you in this house a hundred times.
you tried ignoring him.
that lasted about three days because steve was terrible at being ignored.
one evening you were standing in the kitchen pouring yourself a glass of orange juice when he wandered in behind you.
no parents.
just you and steve.
he leaned his hip against the counter like he’d always done, arms crossed loosely.
“you’ve been avoiding me.”
you didn’t look at him. “i live here.”
“yeah,” he said. “and yet somehow i only see the back of your head.”
you set the carton down harder than necessary. “what do you want, steve?”
there was a pause.
long enough that you finally looked at him.
he looked nervous, which was weird.
steve was many things, dramatic, stubborn, occasionally dumb, but nervous wasn’t usually one of them.
he rubbed the back of his neck. “i just think it’s weird.”
“what’s weird?" you ask.
“that we broke up and suddenly you act like i’m radioactive.”
you scoffed. “we’re not friends, steve.”
“we were before we dated.”
“yeah, and then we dated.” you sigh.
“so?”
you stared at him. “so you don’t get to just… keep hanging around like nothing happened.”
his eyes softened a little. “something did happen.”
“exactly.” you murmur.
“you broke up with me.” he whispers.
you flinched slightly. steve noticed immediately. he always noticed when something hurt you.
he pushed away from the counter slowly.
now he was standing closer. so close you could smell his cologne. the same one he’d worn since senior year. it made your chest ache in an annoying, familiar way.
“you said you needed space.” he said quietly.
“i did.”
“so i gave it to you.”
“i know-”
“i didn’t call,” he continued. “i didn’t show up at your job. i didn’t beg or make a scene or any of that stuff guys in movies do.”
you opened your mouth, but he kept going.
“but your parents still like me.” he said with a small shrug. “what am i supposed to do, tell them no when they invite me over?”
“yes.”
he huffed a quiet laugh. “your mom made pot roast last week and literally told me to take leftovers home.”
you rubbed your forehead. “that’s not the point.”
steve watched you for a moment and then he said softly, “you don’t actually want me gone.”
“excuse me?” your head snapped up.
“you keep saying you do,” he said. “but every time i come over you still look at me like-”
“like what?”
he hesitated, and then he said it anyway.
“like you’re trying really hard not to remember you still love me.”
your stomach flipped hard enough that you hated him a little for noticing.
“you’re unbelievably full of yourself.”
“maybe.” he said but he didn’t sound convinced.
he was even closer now, close enough that if you leaned forward even a little your shoulder would touch his chest.
you hated that your body remembered him so easily. how tall he was. how warm he always felt. how his presence filled a room.
“why do you keep coming here, steve?” you asked quietly.
steve didn’t answer right away. he looked down at the floor, nudging the tile with his sneaker, then he looked back at you.
and there it was.
that soft, open expression he only ever showed you.
“because,” he said, voice low. “your house still feels like home and i can see how you´re doing, if you´re okay...”
your throat tightened.
you looked away first and steve stepped closer.
his hand came up like he was going to touch your arm but stopped halfway, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed anymore.
that hesitation hurt more than if he’d just done it.
“i- you-” you hesitate.
he swallowed, big brown eyes staring right into you. “yeah?”
“you can’t keep doing this.”
“doing what?” he asks.
“being here.”
he studied your face carefully.
“you’re the one who told me i wasn’t allowed in your room anymore.” he shrugged slightly. “you never said anything about the kitchen.”
you shoved his shoulder. “you’re impossible...”
he laughed and for a second it felt exactly like it used to.
then your mom’s voice called from the living room. “steve, honey, are you staying for dinner?”
steve glanced toward the hallway, then back at you, one eyebrow lifted slightly like he was asking permission.
you stared at him.
he smiled just a little.
“your call, baby.” he murmured.
your heart was beating way too fast for someone who had supposedly moved on from their ex-boyfriend.
your mother didn’t even try to hide how pleased she was when you walked into the dining room with steve a few minutes later.
she looked from you to him, eyebrows lifting just slightly in that knowing way that made your skin crawl.
“good,” she said, placing a bowl of mashed potatoes in the middle of the table. “i was hoping you’d stay, steve.”
steve, who had somehow already ended up with his hand on the back of your chair, smiled easily.
“i mean, it’d be pretty hard to say no to your cooking.”
your dad laughed from the head of the table. “smart man.”
you shot steve a warning look before sitting down.
he just grinned like he hadn’t noticed or like he had and was enjoying it.
the chair beside you scraped softly as he sat. too close.
not technically inappropriate. there were only four chairs at the table but still close enough that when he shifted, his knee brushed yours under the table.
you immediately moved your leg.
steve noticed.
he glanced sideways at you, mouth twitching slightly before he reached for the basket of bread.
“so,” your mom said brightly, settling into her chair, “how’s work been, steve?”
“same as always.” he said, tearing off a piece of bread. “the team is getting better. i think..."
you laugh.
steve’s eyes flicked to you instantly.
there was something annoyingly pleased about the way he looked at you, like he’d just scored a small victory.
“glad you think that’s funny.” steve muttered, reaching for the potatoes.
your dad kept talking, oblivious.
“didn´t you go to one of his games just a few weeks ago, honey?" your dad asks.
“um, yeah...” you admit slowly. "marie had to drive her brother there so we stayed."
steve leaned slightly toward you.
just enough that you could hear him over the conversation.
“you were watching my game?” he said quietly.
you stabbed a green bean.
“i was...”
“and you didn´t talk to me there?”
“i had nothing to say, steve.”
“you absolutely did.”
you finally turned your head to glare at him.
“stop, steve.”
steve raised his eyebrows. “didn´t even congratulate me on the win...”
"you lost that day, steve." you roll your eyes.
steve blinked once.
then he leaned back in his chair, slow and dramatic, one hand pressing to his chest like you’d personally wounded him.
“wow,” he said. “okay. first of all, that was unnecessary.”
you gave him a flat look.
your dad frowned slightly. “you lost that game?”
steve pointed his fork at you without looking away.
“technically? yes.” he said. “emotionally? i was doing great until about ten seconds ago.”
your mom tried to hide a smile behind her glass.
you scoffed and went back to pushing food around your plate.
steve didn’t, he was still looking at you.
you could feel it. that steady, familiar stare that used to make you forget whatever you’d been trying to say.
“so,” he said after a moment, voice thoughtful. “you were there the whole time?”
you didn’t answer.
your dad did.
“she came home talking about the game.” he said casually.
you choked on your drink. “dad.”
steve’s head snapped toward him. “she did?”
your dad nodded, cutting into his steak like this was normal dinner conversation. “said it was loud. that the other team kept fouling.”
you closed your eyes briefly. great. steve was smiling now.
you didn’t even have to look to know it.
“huh.” he said slowly. “that’s funny.”
you sighed. “what?”
“because i don’t remember seeing you.”
“i was in the stands.”
“yeah.” he said. “i checked the stands.”
“what...?” you froze, your fork hovered mid-air.
he shrugged, very casually. “habit.”
your mom glanced between you two. “steve always looks for you at his games.”
your heart skipped in a very inconvenient way.
you turned toward him slowly. “you… checked?”
steve seemed to realize he’d said something revealing.
he cleared his throat and focused on cutting his food.
“i mean. not like… obsessively or anything.”
you raised an eyebrow.
he kept going. “just, you know. out of curiosity.”
“curiosity.” you repeated flatly.
“don’t make it weird.” he stabbed a piece of potato.
“you’re the one who was apparently scanning the bleachers.”
“i glance up sometimes.” he says.
“you said you checked.”
he finally looked at you again. that little teasing smirk that meant he’d decided to double down instead of backtracking.
“well,” he said lightly, “i used to have a pretty good reason to.”
you hated how warm your face suddenly felt.
your dad, completely unaware of the tension, leaned back in his chair. “you were a hell of a player in high school, steve.”
“yeah, well. that was high school.” steve laughed under his breath.
“still got the moves.” your dad said.
steve tilted his head slightly toward you. “apparently not impressive enough for some people.”
you rolled your eyes.
under the table, his knee nudged yours again.
you shot him a look. he didn’t move it. instead he reached across the table for the salt.
“pass the pepper?” he asked casually.
you slid it toward him.
your fingers brushed briefly when he took it, steve didn’t pull his hand away right away. neither did you.
your mom noticed immediately.
you could tell by the way her eyes lit up.
“you know,” she said thoughtfully, “steve used to come over after every one of his basketball games.”
you groaned.
“mom, i know... i was here. no need to mention.”
“what?” she said innocently. “it’s true.”
your dad chuckled.
“covered in sweat and complaining about that boy, billy.”
steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “okay.”
your mom continued like she’d been waiting for this moment.
“and you would sit right there,” she pointed to steve’s chair, “and eat half the food in the fridge.”
steve nodded solemnly. “i was a growing athlete.”
“you were a terrible at basketball, steve.” you corrected.
he grinned.
then he glanced sideways at you again.
“well, someone used to bring me ice packs.”
your stomach flipped.
you stared down at your plate. “i was being nice.”
“you were worried about me.” he says.
“i was worried you’d bleed on the carpet.”
steve laughed softly. “sure.”
“you two were always attached at the hip.” your dad took a sip of his drink.
there was a small pause at the table.
steve’s smile faded just slightly.
he glanced at you.
you kept your eyes on your plate.
then he nudged your foot gently under the table.
not teasing this time, just a soft little bump to get your attention.
you looked at him.
“hey.” his voice was quieter when he spoke.
you frowned. “what?”
he nodded toward your plate. “you still haven’t eaten.”
“why are you monitoring my dinner?” you blinked.
“because you’ve moved the same green bean around like six times.” he shrugged one shoulder.
you stared at him.
your mom laughed softly. “he’s right.”
you looked between them, betrayed.
steve slid the bread basket a little closer to you.
“eat.” he said, voice gentle but teasing at the edges. “or your mom’s gonna think i stressed you out.”
“you do stress me out.”
“yeah, but not about dinner.” he smiles.
you tore off a piece of bread just to prove a point.
steve watched you take a bite.
then he leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
you glared at him while chewing. “don’t look so proud of yourself.”
he lifted his hands in mock surrender, but the smile stayed.
“hey, i’m just making sure you survive dinner.”
“i was surviving just fine before you started monitoring my vegetables.”
your dad shook his head with a quiet laugh, cutting into another piece of meat. “you two pick at each other like this everywhere or just in my house?”
“oh, everywhere. she loves me.” steve answered immediately.
you kicked his shin under the table.
he winced.
“wow,” he muttered. “violent tonight.”
“you deserve it.”
your mom was watching the whole thing with a suspiciously delighted expression.
after a moment she set her napkin down and looked straight at you.
“why don’t you two go upstairs for a bit after dinner?”
you blinked. “what...?”
she waved her hand casually. “you haven’t caught up in months.”
steve coughed into his drink.
your dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t look particularly bothered.
“yeah,” he said. “go talk.”
you stared at both of them like they’d lost their minds.
steve leaned closer to you slightly. “your parents are very confident in me.” he murmured.
“don’t flatter yourself.” you shot him a look but your face was warm again.
dinner wrapped up not long after that, and before you could even think of an excuse, your mom was already waving the two of you toward the hallway.
“go on!” she said. “i’ll handle the dishes.”
you looked back once. she was smiling too knowingly.
steve noticed.
“she definitely thinks something’s happening.” he whispered as you walked toward the stairs.
“nothing is happening.” you muttered.
he didn’t answer which somehow made it worse.
you reached your bedroom door first.
for a second you hesitated with your hand on the knob.
steve was right behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back.
“you gonna make me wait out here?” he asked softly.
you rolled your eyes and pushed the door open. “don’t get used to this.”
steve stepped inside like he’d been there yesterday instead of months ago.
his gaze moved slowly around the room, the same posters, same desk, same bed tucked under the window.
“wow.” he let out a quiet breath.
you leaned against the door. “what?”
“nothing. it just… looks exactly the same.” he shook his head, smiling faintly.
“it’s my room, steve. i didn’t redecorate because we broke up.”
“yeah, i know.”
he walked a little farther in, running his fingers along the edge of your desk absentmindedly.
then he looked back at you. “feels weird, though.”
“why?”
“last time i was in here,” he said slowly, “you were yelling at me.”
“i wasn’t yelling.” you winced slightly.
he raised an eyebrow. “you definitely were.”
“you were being annoying.” you crossed your arms.
“i usually am.”
you huffed out a breath.
for a moment neither of you spoke.
the quiet felt different up here.
closer.
more dangerous.
steve leaned back against your dresser, watching you carefully.
“you didn’t talk to me at the game.” he said.
“we’re still on that?” you groaned softly.
“yeah.” he said simply. “kinda.”
you looked at the floor. “i didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“why wouldn’t i?” he asks.
“because,” you said slowly, “i’m the one who broke up with you.”
steve studied your face for a long moment then he pushed away from the dresser.
one step closer.
“that doesn’t mean i stopped wanting to see you.”
your chest tightened.
“steve-”
“you think this has been easy?” he asked quietly.
another step.
now he was right in front of you.
you could feel your heartbeat climbing.
“seeing you around town and pretending it doesn’t mess with my head?”
“you’re the one who keeps coming over.” you swallowed.
“yeah...” he said softly.
his hand lifted slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.
the touch was gentle like he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore.
“because staying away was worse.” he finishes.
your breath caught.
his thumb lingered briefly near your temple.
then slid down lightly along your cheek.
“i miss you.” he murmured.
“steve…” your eyes dropped to the floor.
“no,” he said softly. “look at me.”
you did and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip.
he’d been holding something in for months.
“you still came to my game.” he said quietly.
“i told you-”
“and you sat there the whole time.”
his hand slid down to your wrist.
not gripping, just holding it loosely.
“that means something.” he whispers.
“not necessarily.”
another small step closer.
now there was barely any space between you.
“it does.” steve says.
your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it.
“i miss you so much.” he said again, softer this time.
his thumb brushed slowly over your wrist.
“i miss this.” he continued. “talking to you. you glaring at me every five minutes. being in here with you.”
despite yourself, your lips twitched.
he noticed immediately. “there it is.”
“don’t.” you sigh.
“that little smile you try to hide.”
you pushed lightly at his chest. “you’re insufferable, steve.”
he didn’t move back. instead his hand came up to catch yours.
your breath hitched.
for a moment the room was very quiet.
then steve leaned in, slow enough that you could’ve stopped him.
but you didn’t.
his lips met yours, firm, and the second it happened something in your chest unraveled.
the kiss deepened quickly.
months of tension snapping tight all at once.
his hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling gently in your hair as he pulled you closer.
you grabbed the front of his shirt without thinking.
steve made a quiet sound against your mouth.
“god.” he murmured between kisses, voice rough. “i missed this.”
his forehead rested briefly against yours.
your breathing was uneven.
so was his.
his thumb brushed lightly along your jaw.
“you have no idea how hard it’s been not doing that.”
you tried to steady yourself. “steve…”
but he kissed you again before you could finish.
softer this time.
slower.
like he was savoring it.
his voice was low when he spoke again.
“tell me to stop if you want me to.”
you didn’t.
instead your fingers travelled to his chest.
and steve smiled faintly against your lips like that answer was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
note: this was supposed to be a smut but it felt better to end it like this, BUT i’ll be posting a smut soon 😭
it's constant late night phone calls & drawn out kisses, it's the both of you being so romantically inclined that you drive everyone around you crazy, it's him wanting to take you out just so that he can take you home, it's the way he needs to keep his hand on your knee while he's driving and knowing damn well that before he pulls up to your house, his fingers will be tracing patterns on your upper thigh, it's him just having to have you close to him because there's something about the scent of your perfume that makes him want to hide his face and your neck and never stop, it's knowing that you're 'it' for him because of how obvious he is about making it known, it's the way he says your name like it's his favourite word and how he gets all nervous when you sleepily say his in the middle of the night, it's terrible jokes, rib aching smiles & that boy-ish grim of his
it's fingers in jean loops & kisses that catch you off guard, it's feeling safe with him, being able to tell him anything and know it's in trusted hands, it's calling him after a bad day and just listening to him softly tell you over the phone that it'll be okay, that you'll be okay, it's playing with his hair when he gets tense, dragging your nails down his neck just to help him relax a little, it's leaving your things in the backseat of his car or in his bedroom, it's hiding in his side when you watch scary movies, it's messy love confessions in the middle of the street when you first fall for each other, his hands were freezing against your face but kissing him felt so good that you didn't care, it's stealing all his t-shirts because they smell like him and you sleep better in them anyway, it's him writing his name across your back before you wake up, it's sticky lip gloss kisses & your tall brunette boyfriend in your blush pink bedroom
it's wearing your heart on your sleeve because you know he won't break it & keeping his name on your lips forever, it's the way he has to drag your feet onto his lap whenever you're sitting in his living room, it's daydreaming about him when he's not around, it's the way you can cloud his judgement with one pouty look that makes his head spin, he's wrapped around your little finger and he loves it, it's promise rings in placement of future engagement rings because when you know, you know, it's spending summer's together tangled up in bedsheets as you hide out from the heat, it's knowing each others phone numbers off by heart and driving your parents insane over long calls, it's his hand slipping into yours when you're nervous, squeezing just to silently let you know that he's there for you, it's 'can't you just stay the night?' & 'one more kiss?' conversations
summary: soft launching your relationship with joe on instagram throughout the seasons.
smau & masterlist
SEASON ONE:
liked by nattyiceofficial, djotime and others
yourusername our new show stranger things is out now and u should definitely give it a watch (joe looks like this the whole season btw)
view comments?
djotime No I don't ignore her
⤿ djotime But watch the show still
user loooovee this show will there be a season 2?
user why's joe responding to his own comment😭😭
⤿ yourusername he's a strange one isn't he?
⤿ djotime ?
nattyiceofficial my favorite scene partner❤️
⤿ yourusername my walk 'em down wheeler💕💕
user who else was lowkey rooting for steve and her character to get together more than stancy lol
⤿ user ME OMG I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE
⤿ user djotime and yourusername's chemistry was INSANEEEE
⤿ user duffer brothers what do we think about a slow burn / yearning / enemies to lovers / rain kiss...
⤿ user you need to write the damn script at this point😭😭
charlie.r.heaton Core Four!
⤿ yourusername CORE FOURRRR
SEASON TWO:
liked by sadiesink_, finnwolfhardoffical and others
yourusername we're so back. season two of stranger things is out now and everyone be nice to snoopy, he's new on set🤍
view comments?
noahschnapp SNOOPYYYY
⤿ milliebobbybrown i loved seeing him in the corner of my eye during every scene
⤿ yourusername snoopy said he loves this season and that everyone should watch it (100% true i promise)
user the cast having a mascot is so cute🥺🥺
user who are the parents of snoopy?
⤿ finnwolfhardofficial djotime is mom and yourusername is dad
djotime Maybe next season you'll post a nice picture of me
⤿ yourusername unless u die next season idk
sadiesink_ i'm in a yourusername photo dump i've made it😭
user season 2 out of ? with joe being featured
nattyiceofficial why is joe in time out
⤿ yourusername because he made my character cry this season
⤿ djotime That was literally in the script what else was I supposed to say
⤿ nattyiceofficial oh sit back in timeout.
⤿ yourusername stay there until next season joe.
⤿ calebmclaughlin Looks like Snoopy's staying with dad tonight...
SEASON THREE:
liked by maya_hawke, gatenmatarazzo and others
yourusername i was stuck in the fuckass scoops ahoy outfit all season so i might as well make a post about it... oh, well. if u wanna watch joe get beat up for a third season in a row, u know the drill😉
view comments?
user i can't tell if the writers are trying to get their characters together or that's just djotime and yourusername breaking character😭
⤿ user LITERALLY they have such chemistry i'll feel robbed if they don't kiss by next season
gatenmatarazzo Scoops Troop gather around!
⤿ yourusername yes sir!
⤿ djotime ✋
⤿ maya_hawke Here! (For yourusername)
⤿ djotime ...
⤿ priahferguson yessssss💜
user i'm SO obsessed with them
user "fuckass outfit" as if she didn't manage to pull it off for 8 episodes
user i demand we have this group together again next season (...with more steve and her character scenes... i'm not asking for much...)
djotime I've been promoted to 2 pictures in the dump this year
⤿ user and the photos are nicer, yourusername we're losing credibility...
⤿ yourusername i'm sorry it's hard to catch that pretty face off guard💔
yourusername deleted this comment!
⤿ yourusername i'm sorry, i'll take my job more seriously next season💔
⤿ user HELLO?
user so we're acting as if me and 3 other people didn't see her comment before she deleted it
SEASON FOUR:
liked by calebmclaughlin, josephquinn and others
yourusername what a whirlwind of a season! couldn't have done it without all my beautiful castmates, i love u all endlessly. one last ride together🤍
view comments?
user oh so she wants to make me cry on a random friday night
user wdym we have one season left... come back...
sadiesink_ the cutest
⤿ yourusername u get ittttt
user WHO IS THAT ON THE SECOND SLIDE
⤿ user her character literally wears that in the show so it HAS to be someone on set
⤿ user ...ever heard of people visiting their partners while they're filming
⤿ user god forbid a girl pretends yourusername and joe keery are dating
djotime Cool
⤿ yourusername cool
⤿ user OMG KISS
⤿ user ur so funny for this😭😭😭
finnwolfhardofficial yourusername Why are you taking pictures of Joe shirtless?
⤿ yourusername omg i'll literally block u
maya_hawke My favorite couple
⤿ maya_hawke Of friends
⤿ maya_hawke On set
⤿ yourusername maya my love i think it's best if we delete comments instead of trying to save face by adding more fuel to the fire😭😭
maya_hawke deleted this comment!
yourusername deleted this comment!
user maya tell us what we don't know!!!
SEASON FIVE:
liked by charlie.r.heaton, milliebobbybrown and others
yourusername and it's all over just like that. i can't thank u enough for the support u have given us over the decade and it breaks my heart that this is the final photo dump. oh, my beloved stranger things, u are so special to me.
so long, hawkins, u were terrifying don't get me wrong (!!!) but u were home.🤍🤍🤍
view comments?
milliebobbybrown just when i thought i was done crying
maya_hawke ❤️❤️❤️
user who else screamed when steve and her character kissed this seaosn
⤿ user i felt like i was intruding
⤿ user it was so ...intimate?
noahschnapp Love you :(((((
nellfisher_ thank you for making this experience the best year of my life❤️
⤿ yourusername oh nell ur so talented endlessly proud of u🥺🥺🥺
user DROP THE HARD LAUNCH
user get you a man who brings you flowers
nattyiceofficial memories to last a lifetime
⤿ yourusername i miss u already natty
djotime A beautiful performance from the most beautiful person❤️
⤿ yourusername oh, my joe🤍
⤿ user MY ?????
⤿ user WHY'S NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS
user not her hiding her boyfriend in the final stranger things post so we all forget to talk about it
yourusername steve harrington i miss u, u were so sexy
⤿ yourusername fuck wrong account
yourusername deleted this comment!
calebmclaughlin How did you get away with that comment yourusername?😭😭
⤿ yourusername i've never deleted something so quick in my life
⤿ user another day another yourusername comment we missed💔
POST-SEASON FIVE:
liked by djotime, noahschnapp and others
yourusername i take method acting very seriously
view comments?
user YOU'RE DJOKING.
user FUCK OFF
user HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY
sadiesink_ the nonchalant post as if you didn't break millions of people's hearts
⤿ yourusername the first post of many i love my boyfriend
⤿ user HER. BOYFRIEND.
user am i dreaming or is that you harrington?
carabuono Such a beautiful couple. So lucky to watch you two fall in love.🤍
finnwolfhardofficial When can I come over
⤿ gatenmatarazzo Let them finish their hard launch and ask them later
⤿ gatenmatarazzo And ask them if I can join
⤿ calebmclaughlin Same
⤿ yourusername ??????
nattyiceofficial i've never seen you happier❤️
user i haven't recovered from their characters ending up together in the epilogue LET ALONE them dating irl😭😭😭
djotime I love you
⤿ yourusername i love u too
⤿ user KMS
⤿ user I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS
gatenmatarazzo When can I tell people that you two improvised the kiss this season
⤿ djotime I think you just did
⤿ yourusername hell yeah tell them i have no shame
⤿ user "improvised" as if it hasn't been named the best tv kiss on tiktok
liked by yourusername, carabuono and others
djotime I fell in love on set 10 years ago. Figured it was time to tell you all about her.
view comments?
user AND NOW HE POSTS ABOUT HER
user fell to my knees at the caption i'll settle for no less
user get married
maya_hawke You two keep getting cuter!!!
nattyiceofficial why's snoopy being squished
⤿ user FUCK OFF THEY DID NOT NAME THEIR CAT SNOOPY
⤿ user from naming their teddy snoopy to their shared cat i feel sick
⤿ user omg they're perfect😩😩😩
finnwolfhardofficial When can I come over
⤿ yourusername i know u didn't comment the same question u asked me on joe's account
⤿ finnwolfhardofficial Now that I know you're online can you answer me
⤿ yourusername idk tomorrow if u want
⤿ calebmclaughlin I'll be there then
⤿ yourusername U DIDN'T EVEN ASK THE QUESTION ????
⤿ gatenmatarazzo Ok I'll see you guys there
⤿ yourusername ur djoking
user reminder that we watched them fall in love with each season
milliebobbybrown this is the most adorable thing ever
yourusername joe i'm so in love with u
⤿ djotime I'm so so in love with you too
⤿ charlie.r.heaton But Stonathan is better
⤿ djotime Yeah definitely
⤿ yourusername oh
let me know if u liked this sort of post and i can do more bc it is so much funnnnn
also who wants a mike wheeler fic based of sabrina's 'my man on willpower' ?????
imagine his girlfriend filming him while doing a trend and him so being so clueless.
HE'S JUST KEN !
i.
You told Joe to stand with a cushion in front of the camera and though he had no idea why, he did. Because you told him to.
"What's going on?" he asked, watching as you set up the camera.
You were backstage of a show he was prepping for, hour or so before he was set to take the stage. As he liked to, he relaxed with cups of tea to ease his voice, not a big crew around him, just you. His only person.
Typically you sat together, talked or read or he ran through some song choices he was thinking about and other things he was working on.
Today, you changed it up.
You stood next to him, with a cushion in your own hand.
Joe looked around, confused but with a smile. "What?"
"Just listen."
Joe squinted at the camera, regretting his glasses left on the side.
"Who was interested first?"
Before Joe could even register the question your pillow hit him in the chest with a soft whack.
He stumbled back at the force un-accounted for and looked back to you as you laughed. His jaw was agape even as your knees buckled from your force of laughter. "What the he-"
"Who said I love you first?"
Joe at least had a second to prepare, holing up his pillow before yours hit him again. He heard the question, he got the gist of what was going on and wasn't going to deny it. He remembered the picnic in central park he took you on when he first said I love you.
"Who is more protective?"
Both of your cushions went up and hit into each other, the force stumbling you both.
"You so are!" you argued.
"Yeah but so are you!" he said.
You hit him with the cushion again as he cowered in laughter.
"Who cleans more?"
Joe hit you.
"Who eats the most?"
Joe was ready before the question even ended he. He spun and whacked you in the ass with the pillow, throwing you back onto the sofa. "Oh shit!" he laughed.
The both of you were in fits of laughter. The camera picking up on you lying on the sofa, arm over your stomach with laughter while Joe loomed over you, laughing.
"Who spends the most money?"
Joe ignored the question, laying a hand on your back.
You tried to lift the pillow to hit him but he grabbed your wrist and put it down.
"No I don't!"
"Who is most likely to start an argument?"
Joe straight up dropped the cushion. He held his hands up in surrender, not willing to take the hit or make it. Maybe it was the two years you'd been together but neither of you started arguments. Who wanted to get into arguments?
Your own cushion was clutched to your chest as you were still laughing, trying to get up but Joe not letting it happen.
"Who falls aslee-"
The audio kept going and the last shot the camera got was Joe falling on top of you on the sofa in his dressing room, throwing the cushion at the camera and plunging the tikok into to darkness.
View all comments:
the way he dropped the cushion so fast
he really said we do not argue in this house
may this love attack me
y/n feeding us with joe content
JOE SAID I LOVE YOU FIRST
ii.
When you started posting Joe, you should've expected the fallout. The comments of 'hard launch of the century' or people aghast you were even together even if you hadn't been trying to keep it a secret. You also weren't trying to make it public-public.
But Joe liked it.
He liked boasting. His friends knew that. A hand always on each other when hanging out, if you were going out he liked to give you a hat of his to wear. And if nobody could see that love they could hear it in his songs.
So, you went again. A harmless little prank.
Your phone was in hand, the record button hit as you flopped next to your boyfriend on your sofa in your NYC apartment. On instinct, Joe's arm went around your shoulder.
You started with casual chat.
Then: "Oh my god, I forgot to tell you."
The camera picks up on the immediate interest in his face.
"Tell me, tell me," he said, abandoning his own task on his phone.
"I found Joe Quinn on Raya."
Joe didn't even think. He laughed, pushing back his hair. He leant closer toward you. "Did you? Did you really?"
"Yeah," you said with your own amused grin.
"But wasn't he- I thought he was dating-" Joe began, his head leant in hand as he dug his elbow into the sofa, watching you.
You shook your head, trying to keep back your laughter. You didn't want any other names to be involved in a Tiktok that would be posted online. You'd just picked Joe because he was yours and Joe's friend and you knew he was recently single. "No."
You watched your boyfriend think about it and for a second, you thought you were caught out.
"Did you see the picture released of him as George Harrison?" he asked instead.
You laughed but nodded. "Yes."
Joe was momentarily confused why it was so funny but moved past it. "Wait can I see the photo's he-" the camera picked up on the very moment he realised. "Wait, Raya?"
You pitched forward with a laugh, as Joe laughed too, though more confused.
Joe chuckled. "Why are you on Raya?"
"I'm not."
"You're not?"
You picked your phone up and showed him the Tikok you were filming.
Joe rolled his eyes playfully and tugged you in closer. "Oh my god-"
View all comments:
Joe was so ready for the gossip
Never have I ever wanted to gossip with joe more
The panic and then he realised
Isn't this so distasteful, his ex literally cheated on him
It was a prank
I just know at the end of the day he's so ready to gossip
They're so cute together stfu
iii.
When you saw how much the people liked to see it, or some who hated to see the two of you in love and happy, you didn't want to stop.
Just like your boyfriend with his film camera you were there with your phone, taking pictures or videos of him at any time of day.
The two of you couldn't get enough.
So when your fans got a notification- you'd posted another Tiktok- they were excited to see what it could have been.
They found you, in the lap of Joe's. It was clearly Joe. His arms were around you with drumsticks in hand as he played the drums, tapping around, with you in his lap. Your chest to his.
It got over a million like in twenty-four hours and everyone was obsessed.
View all comments:
Is it in?
I don't know who I want to be more
I feel like I shouldn't be watching
This is what I pay wifi for
GET IT! GET IT!
iv.
Or another harmless little prank here and there. One where you wiped off a kiss he gave you when you were recording a Vogue get ready with me. It was clipped from the Youtube video and did the rounds on Tiktok.
Your 'prank' didn't work however as he only plunged the camera into darkness by blocking the both of you out of view to give you a kiss you couldn't so easily rub off.
Or another where you were cooking and dragged Joe into view, naming him your 'current boyfriend' to which he only shrugged and corrected you with one word.
"Husband, but sure."
Which then sparked a huge marriage rumour. You were not married. (Or at least not yet)
But you tried again, all for your own enjoyment. Where some didn't understand if Joe wanted to be on Tiktok or not, it was clear all he wanted was to be with you. Around you. Involved with you and your life however that presented itself.
You had your phone set up, acting as if you were using it as a mirror while you got yourself ready for the day.
Joe was pottering around behind you, throwing on different hats till he found the one he wanted for the day, getting a bag and his guitar to go to the studio. "Okay baby, I love you, I'll see you later," he said, pressing his lips atop your head so he didn't ruin the makeup you were doing.
He was on his way out the door when you called back.
"See you soon!"
The camera could just see Joe half way out the door, hands till holding it open as he looked back.
"Okay, love you," he said, trying it as casual as he could again.
"Bye!"
Joe waited a second, wondering if maybe there was a delay. "Babe?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I know, i'll see you tonight."
Joe looked back and saw the camera. He stared at it blankly as he understood what you were doing. He flexed his muscles, showing his biceps to the camera before he went back to being 'serious.'
You watched him through the camera as he leant his guitar on the wall and headed over to you. He leant over you and gently and playfully cupped your chin, getting you to look at him.
"Say it," he said through his teeth playfully with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"I love you," you chuckled.
Joe's face lit up in a grin. "Love you too, I'll see you tonight." He took his time, his lips against yours sweetly before he left for the day.
Nobody could ever doubt the love you had was anything other than true.
hi !! today is actually my birthday 😭 so i decided to write a little birthday one shot because i was in the mood for something soft and nostalgic <3 english isn’t my first language so sorry if there are mistakes or weird sentences !! requests are open btw :)
summary: after years of growing up around each other and accidentally ending up in the same chicago circles, you and joe finally stop pretending you’re “just friends” during her twentieth birthday party.
word count: 1.6k
warnings: fluff, alcohol mention, kissing, friends to lovers, party setting, slight smoking mention, drunk conversations, no use of y/n
The first thing Joe saw when he walked into your apartment was an aggressively large photo of you at thirteen years old wearing sparkly braces and holding a dead fish.
He stopped in the doorway immediately.
“Oh my god,” he laughed.
The entire hallway walls were covered in printed photos taped together into messy banners your friends had apparently spent hours making. Baby pictures, school photos, blurry beach pictures from high school summers, screenshots from old Facebook albums people should probably have deleted years ago.
Somebody had even printed a photo of you half asleep during senior year wearing sunglasses indoors and holding an iced coffee like it was life support.
“Oh, this is evil,” Joe muttered, staring at the walls.
From somewhere inside the apartment, your voice yelled back immediately.
“I told them not to use that one!”
“That’s literally the worst one!”
“THERE’S A WORSE ONE IN THE KITCHEN.”
Joe laughed under his breath while kicking the door shut behind him.
The apartment already felt overheated from too many people inside, warm spring air drifting through the open windows while music echoed through every room loud enough to shake the floor slightly beneath his shoes.
Somebody nearly crashed into him holding a bottle of vodka before yelling hello and disappearing again toward the living room.
Typical.
By twenty, everybody from home had somehow settled into Chicago enough that nights like this stopped feeling unusual.
Not everybody, obviously.
Some people stayed in Boston after graduation, some transferred somewhere else entirely, some moved back home after one semester because they missed their families too much or ran out of money too quickly.
But enough people from Newburyport ended up there that eventually it started feeling like everybody knew everybody again anyway.
Especially in circles like yours.
Fashion students, photographers, musicians, film kids, people working café jobs while pretending they weren’t exhausted all the time.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, there was always you.
Joe spotted you near the kitchen island almost immediately.
You were standing on your tiptoes trying to tape another photo banner to the ceiling while two of your friends argued loudly beside you about whether the playlist needed more Lorde.
Your birthday tiara sat crookedly on your head already.
Honestly, you looked exactly like yourself.
The second you noticed Joe standing near the doorway, your entire face lit up automatically.
Not in a dramatic movie way.
Just familiar.
Warm.
“There you are,” you said, climbing down carefully from the chair. “You’re late.”
Joe held up the case of beer in his hand defensively. “I come bearing gifts.”
“That’s not a gift. That’s a contribution.”
“You’re impossible.”
You grinned while walking over to him, immediately fist-bumping him out of habit before stealing one of the beers from the box.
That was the thing about you and Joe.
You never really acted differently around each other.
Even after years.
Especially after years.
Your younger sister had grown up doing sports with Joe’s younger sisters, so your families crossed paths constantly growing up. Over time, you became one of those people who just existed around the Keery house naturally.
Joe would come downstairs before school and find you sitting at the kitchen counter talking to one of his sisters while stealing food from their fridge like you lived there too.
Then high school happened, and somehow the two of you ended up at every same party for years straight.
Not attached at the hip.
Just always nearby.
Talking in kitchens while everybody else got drunk in basements.
Arguing about music.
Making fun of each other’s movie opinions.
You were one of the only girls Joe talked to without sounding remotely nervous or performative, mostly because you never treated him like somebody to impress in the first place.
And now, years later, Chicago somehow kept throwing you together again.
Joe doing rehearsals and small shows with Post Animal while balancing auditions and random jobs.
You studying fashion while working at a café downtown and slowly collecting groups of friends from every corner of the city.
Eventually all those groups started overlapping until nights like this happened naturally.
The apartment smelled like tequila, birthday candles, perfume, pizza boxes, and somebody’s strawberry vape all mixed together.
One of your classmates from fashion school had hung silver streamers across the ceiling fan even though everybody agreed it looked dangerous.
The kitchen counters were already covered in bottles and half-eaten chips by ten o’clock.
And somehow you were still trying to host despite it technically being your own birthday.
Joe watched you move around the apartment for almost an hour before you finally sat down properly.
You kept introducing people to each other, fixing drinks, yelling hello every time somebody walked through the door, stopping every five minutes because another friend wanted a photo with you beneath the birthday banners.
At one point, one of your friends dragged Joe into the kitchen forcefully.
“Tell her she’s not allowed to clean tonight.”
Joe looked over to where you were wiping spilled alcohol off the counter immediately.
“You’re cleaning at your own birthday party?”
“I spilled it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You sound exactly like Hannah.”
“Because Hannah’s right.”
You rolled your eyes dramatically before throwing the dish towel at him.
Joe caught it easily, laughing under his breath.
The thing he never admitted out loud was that you looked happiest during moments like this.
Not when people sang to you.
Not when everybody paid attention to you directly.
But during the in-between parts.
Standing in kitchens laughing too hard.
Fixing somebody’s eyeliner in bathroom mirrors.
Sitting cross-legged on counters listening to three conversations at once.
You liked making people feel included.
Joe noticed that years ago.
Around midnight, somebody finally forced everyone into the living room for cake.
The lights dimmed while people crowded together yelling over each other trying to light candles without burning the icing.
You sat on the floor surrounded by your friends while the giant photo banners behind you swayed every time somebody walked past too hard.
Joe sat on the couch beside his friends watching the entire thing.
Your face looked flushed from alcohol and laughing too much, tiara sliding further sideways every ten minutes while you covered your face in embarrassment the second everybody started singing.
You hated this part every single year.
Joe knew that too.
“You’re twenty!” somebody screamed dramatically.
“She’s old!”
“Shut up!”
Another friend immediately held up one of the printed childhood photos beside your face while everybody lost their minds laughing.
“Oh my god, wait,” Joe interrupted suddenly from the corner of the couch. “That literally still looks exactly like her.”
You looked up immediately. “What?”
“The expression.” He pointed toward the photo. “You still make that exact face when you’re annoyed.”
The room exploded with agreement instantly.
“You DO.”
“Oh my god, she actually does.”
You buried your face in your hands while everybody laughed louder.
Joe smiled into his drink watching you.
Not because you looked embarrassed.
Because you looked comfortable.
Like yourself.
By two in the morning, the apartment finally started emptying out slowly.
People disappeared in groups toward late-night diners or other parties while abandoned jackets piled near the doorway.
The music got quieter after that.
Softer.
Warm air drifted through the windows carrying sounds of traffic and distant voices from the street below.
You eventually ended up sitting on the kitchen counter slightly drunk beside Joe while the last few people cleaned up around the apartment lazily.
One of the birthday banners had partially fallen behind you already.
Joe glanced toward a photo taped beside your shoulder.
“You looked mean at fifteen.”
“I was mean at fifteen.”
“I believe that.”
You laughed softly before taking another sip from your drink.
For a while, neither of you really talked.
The comfortable kind of silence.
The kind you only get after knowing somebody for years.
Then Joe looked toward you again.
“You had fun tonight?” he asked.
You nodded immediately.
“Yeah.”
And you meant it.
Not because everything was perfect.
Not because the party was especially glamorous.
The floor was sticky. Somebody broke a lamp earlier. Your kitchen smelled like spilled tequila.
But everybody you loved existed together in the same place for a few hours.
That always felt important to you.
Joe studied your face quietly for another second.
Then he smiled slightly to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
He looked down at the bottle in his hands briefly before speaking again.
“I just think you’re the exact same person you were at sixteen.”
You frowned. “That sounds insulting.”
“No.” Joe shook his head immediately. “I mean it in a good way.”
The apartment felt strangely quiet around you suddenly.
Warm.
Blurry around the edges from alcohol and exhaustion.
“You still care about people the same way,” he said softly. “Most people lose that eventually.”
Your chest tightened a little at that.
Because Joe always said things like he’d been thinking about them privately for years before finally deciding to let them out.
You looked at him carefully.
“You notice weird things.”
Joe laughed quietly.
“You have no idea.”
Then his eyes flicked briefly toward your mouth before immediately away again.
And suddenly the space between you felt different.
Not dramatic.
Just obvious now.
Like both of you had finally stopped pretending not to notice something that had probably been there for years.
“This is probably a terrible idea drunk,” Joe said softly, smiling a little.
“Probably,” you agreed.
Neither of you moved away.
The apartment had gone quieter by then, music humming faintly from the living room while warm spring air drifted through the open windows. One of the photo banners behind you swayed slightly every time the breeze came through, childhood pictures fluttering against the wall.
Joe stepped closer slowly, standing between your knees where you sat on the counter.
“You look really pretty tonight,” he admitted quietly.
You smiled instantly. “You’re acting weird.”
“I know.”
That only made you laugh softly.
And something about seeing Joe — calm, sarcastic, impossible-to-read Joe — suddenly looking nervous around you made your chest ache a little.
Because this wasn’t random.
It was years of almosts finally catching up to both of you.
You reached out absentmindedly and brushed your thumb lightly against the side of his jaw, feeling the roughness there from not shaving properly.
Joe went completely still beneath your hand.
“You’re staring,” you whispered teasingly.
“I know.”
The honesty in his voice made your stomach flip again.
Then you kissed him first.
Joe kissed you back immediately, one hand settling carefully against your waist while he smiled softly into it like he couldn’t fully believe it was happening.
The kiss felt warm and slow and familiar somehow, like something the two of you had almost done a hundred times before and were only now finally getting right.
When he pulled away, he stayed close enough that your noses still brushed.
“Took us long enough,” he murmured quietly.
And the way he looked at you afterward made your stomach flip harder than the kiss itself.
anywayyy thank u for reading this 😭 writing this weirdly put me in such a good mood tonight. i love this version of joe so bad and i’m really happy with how this came out honestly. hope you liked it too <3
