consistentlyamess

[consistentlyamess]

a follow-up to Sundays are for Family dinner is coming hopefully this week!!

[consistentlyamess]

“Fuck,” You mumbled, eyes still shut as you admitted something that was definitely way too honest. “I wish you did that.”

“I wish I did too.”

fucking hell, my chest was literally ACHING.

so fucking great as always Jasmine!!!! 🤍🤍🤍

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐔 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟕

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 17.2k words

summary: in which you and steve try to be friends, and it works. but life has a funny (or more so shitty) way of making things complicated 

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption (drunk!reader and drunk!steve moment), some fluff, a lot of angst but with a happy ending<333

author’s note: i truly did not expect this to end up being as long as it is but here we are lmao. also it wasn’t until after i finished this that i realized just how much this is skinny dipping by sabrina carpenter coded lol anyway though enjoy! 🫶🏾

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Malibu, 1997

A week after moving from San Francisco to a small house in Malibu— both you and Tom were sold on the idea that the two bed-two bath home would be the perfect “starter” place— you decided to see Steve. 

It was an impulsive decision that didn’t feel like a particularly bad one until you were driving to the rec center where he worked. 

Nine times out of ten, two estranged people who say that they’re gonna be friends never actually end up being friends; it’s usually just the nice thing to say in the moment. 

It felt equivalent to running into someone that you haven’t seen in forever and saying, “We should definitely get coffee sometime and catch up.” You never actually end up getting coffee with them. 

However, you wanted it to be different with Steve. You didn’t want the amicable note you two ended things on at Levi’s graduation party to be the end of it. You honestly meant it when you said you wanted to be friends, and you hoped he meant it too. 

But that didn’t change how suddenly weird you felt when you ended up in the parking lot of the rec center that held so many memories for you. A part of you wanted to immediately leave, but you decided that you’d make your final decision once you stepped out of your car. If once you started walking up to the entrance, this entire thing felt too weird, you’d get back in your car and drive away and not think about any of this ever again. 

However, you didn’t get the chance to contemplate anything because the second you closed your car door and turned to start heading to the entrance, you saw Steve walking out, and he took notice of you immediately. 

“Hey,” There was a confused look on his face, but he also smiled at you. 

“Hi,” You said, and continued walking to where he stood by the front door. “I just moved here, and I realized that even though we said we should be friends if I did move here, I never got your number or anything.” You started mindlessly playing with the hem of your shirt before finally saying the one thing that you couldn’t get off your mind. “Is it so completely weird for me to be here right now?”

“No,” Steve immediately shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Hearing that managed to ease away your previous worries, and you finally smiled back at him. 

He patted the pockets of the jacket he was wearing and then did the same to his jean pockets. “I don’t have a pen or anything on me to write my number down. Can you come inside for a sec?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You followed him to what you quickly learned was his office, the few pictures on the desk told you so. Two different group shots of him and people you obviously didn’t recognize. It reminded you of how little you knew about him, which initially felt kind of sad, but it made you realize that you wanted to learn. You knew the gist of what changed for him these past five years, but you found yourself wanting to know the little things, and you also wanted to tell him the little things about your life too. 

Steve grabbed a sticky note from his desk and then pulled a pen from a cup, writing his number down on the small yellow paper. He handed it over. “Hey, are you hungry? I was just about to go eat.”

“Oh,” You said as you folded the sticky note and pocketed it in the back of your jeans. You considered what the rest of the day looked like for you; more unpacking and trying to make the house feel like a home. Tom was already spending a lot of time at the art school where he now worked, so it was mainly you doing the majority of the unpacking, and you didn’t really want to be holed up in the house alone for the rest of the day until he got home. “Yeah, food sounds good.” 

You and Steve ended up at the diner that had been your favorite place to go to all those years ago, the place where so many late nights were spent together. You realized that was where Steve was leading you to before you even made it to the parking lot. After only a minute or two of following his car, the route started looking too painstakingly familiar. 

“Was this a bad choice?” Steve asked once you two had your drinks. 

You weren’t sitting at the booth that had become designated as yours five years ago; you both could inwardly recognize that that probably would’ve been too much. 

“Honestly, no,” You answered, hands circling the cold glass in front of you. “I’ve missed the burgers here.”

“They’re still just as good as they were back then,” Steve responded, and you took a sip of your soda as you nodded at his words. “Maybe even more so, actually.”

Somehow, the outward mention of “back then” didn’t feel that weird to you. It actually felt a little nice being reminded of one of the few simple shared memories between you two.

“Okay, I refuse to believe that,” You told Steve, giving him a skeptical look. 

“I’m serious. Carl must’ve spruced up the recipe or something,” He said, and the mention of the main cook at the diner made you smile; it was cool to know that he was still here. 

“Spruce up something that was already perfect? Sounds impossible.”

“Trust me, it’s possible,” Steve told you, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he sounded. 

You shrugged. “Okay, we’ll see.”

“We will see,” He agreed with a nod and then took a quick sip from his own drink. “How was moving?”

“Insanely stressful,” You answered and leaned back in the booth. “Tom found out he got the job the day after Levi’s graduation party, and they asked him to start at the beginning of July, so it was kind of a scramble to find a good place here and then pack up everything— I’m ninety percent sure I accidentally got rid of a bunch of clothes that I actually meant to keep. Anyway, though, we ended up settling on one of the first places we saw, which is really nice, but I don’t know, I also can’t help but think that we maybe could’ve found a better place if we had more time.”

Steve was about to ask you where you lived; he wondered if it was close to the one-bedroom apartment he was currently in, but he didn’t get the chance to because your waitress, Mel, came over to take your orders. You both ordered burgers and decided to share a side of fries because you remembered that one side would always come with so many, so it just made more sense to share. 

“How was it when you moved here?” You asked Steve once Mel walked away. “Isn’t the drive from Indiana almost twenty-four hours long?”

“Over thirty hours, actually. But, I made a weeklong trip out of it, so it didn’t feel too bad,” He answered. “The Grand Canyon is as great as people make it out to be.”

“Oh, the picture on your desk,” You said, remembering one of the frames you had seen; him and some other people smiling with the huge canyon behind them.

Steve laughed a little as he nodded. “Yeah, this group of older couples kinda took me under their wing for the day I was there.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “That sounds adorable.”

“It was honestly really cool to see how long some of them had been together and how they still seemed so in love and happy with each other. And then there was this one couple, Jack and Lottie, who had just gotten married, and they were both in their seventies. Kind of a nice reminder that it’s never too late to find love and the person you wanna spend your life with,” Steve rambled and then shook his head at himself with a laugh when he realized. “Sorry, too sappy?”

“Very much so,” You said and then smiled at him. “But also really sweet.”

He smiled back and proceeded to tell you more about his road trip; the creepy bed and breakfast he stayed at in Missouri, and a cool museum he went to in New Mexico. When the food arrived, it felt as if it had come quickly, but actually, fifteen minutes had passed. And that was how things continued— time passing so easily as you two ate and then leisurely sipped from your refilled sodas, talking the entire time. And you admitted to Steve that, yes, the burgers did somehow get better in five years.

Things felt equivalent to how the end of your conversation was at Levi’s party— easy and somehow entirely uncomplicated— and this time, you tried to think about what that meant. Why did it feel so okay to talk to each other, almost as if nothing bad had ever happened between you two? Maybe it was because, aside from how it all ended, everything else between you and him had been damn near perfect. But, it was also so short-lived that things didn’t get the chance to get hard; you two never moved out of that so-called “honeymoon phase.” Instead, it was all just over so suddenly. 

And now here you two were, moving past that— getting closure a month ago actually had been a good thing to do— and attempting to be friends, and it was somehow going fine; probably more than just fine.

“Do you know what flea markets you’re gonna be at for the summer?” Steve asked, picking a stray fry off the shared plate and pulling you out of your thoughts. “I wanna come check out your stuff.”

“All of the ones close by are completely full for the summer, so I have to wait until the fall to get into those,” You explained. It had been the first thing you looked into just the day after you and Tom moved. “And the ones that do have spots open are too far away, so I think it might just end up being a pretty quiet and boring summer for me.”

“Well, if you ever get too bored and want to be surrounded by four to thirteen-year-olds, you should come by the rec center. We can always use an extra set of hands around, especially during the summer. And I promise, it’s definitely the opposite of boring and quiet.”

You nodded at that and smiled at him. “I just might take you up on that offer, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a week later when you decided to actually take him up on it. You called him the night before, asking when would be the best time to show up in the morning, and he told you to come whenever you wanted to. You ended up going at nine and spending the entire day there, although your initial plan had been to just stay until twelve. 

Instead of a basketball camp with middle schoolers, Steve was doing a tee-ball camp with six and seven-year-olds in the baseball field behind the rec center for the summer— the person who was supposed to do the camp for the six weeks quit at the last second, so Steve stepped in. You helped him out with that, picking up stray baseballs and handing out bats to the kids, and only sometimes tripping over absolutely nothing except your own two feet in the grassy field. 

You figured that going to the rec center would just be a one-time thing for you, but then that quickly turned into helping out a few days a week because you really didn’t have much else to do, and it was actually pretty fun. 

Your clumsiness led to Steve playfully firing you from helping him the next day you showed up— “I think you’re just one stumble away from actually hurting yourself and I really don’t wanna see that happen”— so you instead ended up helping out everywhere else; the art classes, the music classes, and the general summer camp. Hearing about the lighthearted drama among the middle schoolers that was always deemed by them as “the end of the world,” and watching the younger kids play in the gym and getting roped into playing the elaborate but nonsensical games they’d come up with, ended up being the best way to spend the rest of the summer.

At the end of each day, you’d spend time in Steve’s office, and it was in those moments— which were sometimes quiet and sometimes filled with one or both of you telling stories and rehashing the funny things that had happened during the day— your friendship with him only felt further cemented. 

It was what made a call from him on a random Tuesday night in the middle of September feel entirely normal instead of random or weird, like it would’ve felt just a few months ago. 

“Hey, are you busy right now?” Steve asked once you answered the call and said a quick “Hi” in greeting. 

You leaned back against your kitchen counter. “Depends on whatever favor you’re about to ask of me right now.” 

Steve let out a mock-offended scoff. “What makes you think I’m gonna ask you for a favor?”

“Because I know you, Steve,” You told him, index finger starting to twirl around the phone cord. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had a call like this.” 

If he tried to rebut your statement, you were prepared to remind him of last week when he called you asking to borrow your vacuum because his was broken and he needed to clean up his place since he had a date coming over. 

“Okay, yeah, I need your help,” He said instead, though. “I’m a very shitty baker.”

You let out an amused sound. “Care to elaborate?”

“There’s a charity bake sale at the rec center tomorrow, and I decided to do cupcakes,” Steve started to explain. “Somewhere along the way, I guess I fucked up the recipe for this first batch because they taste terrible and they’re also a little burnt. So twelve cupcakes have just gone to waste, and I need to make a hundred.”

“Okay, well, your first mistake was deciding to do cupcakes for a bake sale,” You told him. “You should be doing something easy like brownies. Everyone loves chocolate, and all you have to do is cut them into squares when they’re done. Not wait an hour to frost them and make them look pretty.” 

The phone cord was long enough that you could easily walk to your pantry, opening it up and seeing what ingredients you had. 

“Fuck, you’re right,” Steve mumbled into the phone. “See, and this is why I call you when I’m in crisis.” 

“Are you sure this instance wasn’t because my mom owns a bakery and you were convinced that I’d somehow be good at baking too?”

“Maybe that was kinda part of it…” He responded, which made you playfully roll your eyes. “There is such a thing as a baking gene, right?”

“Shut up,” You said with a laugh. “Just come over here. I have all of the ingredients for brownies, and I’m pretty sure my oven is bigger than yours.” You opened up the fridge and looked at how scarce it was because you hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a few days. “Oh, I don’t have eggs, so pick those up on your way.”

“Got it. Thank you,” Steve said, and you could practically hear him nodding. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

He made it to your place at 5:07pm, just a few minutes shy of thirty. You had done some prep as you waited for him; pre-heating the oven, setting out some bowls and rectangular pans, and pulling out your measuring cups. After years and years of both watching your mom bake and doing it with her— sometimes willingly and sometimes very reluctantly— she instilled so many little rules in your head; according to her, prep was the most important part. 

“Is Tom okay with me taking over your guys’ kitchen for this?” Steve asked, placing the bag with the two cartons of eggs on the counter next to the other ingredients you had pulled out.

You shook your head at Steve’s question. “His last class doesn’t end until seven, and he’s bringing home pizza because I forgot to go grocery shopping, so it’s okay that you’re hijacking our kitchen.”

“What pizza place?”

“Anthony’s.”

Steve nodded at that. “Solid choice.”

“I think when you recommended that place to us, that was when Tom officially became obsessed with you,” You said, remembering a different day Steve had been at your place and he told you both about Anthony’s Pizzeria and how it was the best local spot. “You raved about it so much, and when we finally got around to trying it, Tom immediately fell in love.” 

“Oh, did I not tell you about my side job as the spokesperson for Anthony’s?” Steve asked jokingly. 

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Wow, so cool. Does that job come with good discounts or?”

“Sadly, none that I can share with others,” He answered with an exaggerated solemn shake of his head.  

“Damn, that sucks, but I guess it’s understandable,” You nodded and had to bite your lip to hold back your laughter. You turned away from him and grabbed the big bowl that you had pulled out earlier. “Okay, so you need a hundred brownies, yeah?” 

Steve stepped closer to you and pushed up the sleeves of the yellow crewneck he was wearing. “Yes. Does that seem like too much?”

“It’s definitely a lot, but it makes sense for a bake sale,” You answered, and then gave him a playfully offended look. “Thanks for the invite to that, by the way.”

“Don’t do that,” Steve said, lightly poking your side, which made you laugh. “I know you’re driving to San Diego tomorrow for that big market thing.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Sorry for trying to make you seem like a bad friend.” 

He nodded at that. “I humbly accept your apology.”

You grabbed the half-used bag of flour you had and the measuring cup, scooping out how much flour you needed for this first batch. As if reading your mind about what you needed next, Steve handed over the sugar and cocoa powder. 

“I kinda miss it at the rec center,” You abruptly told him moments later as you opened up one of the cartons of eggs. The summer had been slow for you when it came to your own work, but you were now busy with flea markets and making stuff to sell and even working on a few commissions, a lot of which came from the people that you’d gotten to know at the rec center. “A part of me hates that things are so busy for me now.” 

“Everyone misses you too, especially Sheila,” He responded, and you smiled at the mention of the sweet older woman who worked at the front desk. “If I tell her that you helped me make the brownies, she’ll probably buy ten.”

“You just saying that I ‘helped’ you make these might be a complete lie because I think I’m gonna end up doing everything.” 

Steve let out a playful scoff. “Should I feel offended that you think so little of me?”

You gave him a look. “I’m pretty sure our initial phone call started with you calling yourself a shitty baker.” 

You did end up doing most of the work, but that was only because you wanted to do so— there were many times where Steve protested and tried to actually help, but he eventually gave up after receiving one too many head shakes from you. In your mind, it made things so much easier to just fall into your own routine as you made each batch of brownies, and you put Steve on dishwashing duty, which he was fine with.

“This just reminded me of Sophomore year of high school when I started working at my mom’s bakery,” You said when you finished prepping the last bowl of batter and then set it to the side because your oven could only fit four pans at once. You went over to the kitchen table and sat down. “And I quit that same year.”

“Why?” Steve asked as he sat across from you. 

“Too intense,” You answered honestly. “Her place is really popular in our town, so it’s always so busy, and we’d have to make so much of everything to keep up with the demand.”

“That does sound really intense,” Steve said, and you noticed him take a look at the clock behind you, probably keeping track of how long the brownies had been in the oven; you knew that they still needed fifteen more minutes. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Of course, Steven,” You said and then gave him a smile. “What are friends for if not someone to force to do free labor for you every now and again?”

He gave you a look. “Please tell me you didn’t feel forced to do this.”

You could only smile wider at how serious he sounded. “I promise I didn’t. And you would know if I did because I’d hold this entire thing over you.” 

Steve laughed a little. “Yeah, that sounds true.”

Instead of waiting in the kitchen, you two ended up watching TV in your living room until the first pans of brownies were done. You pulled each one out, setting them on the stove and counter to cool, and Steve put the last two batches in, and then you two went back to watching the random game show.  

An hour later, everything was officially done; brownies out of the oven and cooled down enough to be packed away. A comfortable silence lingered as you and Steve did the simple and repetitive task, putting brownie after brownie in the containers that you had and were fine with lending to Steve for the time being.

You thought back to the graduation party and how you had said that you and Steve should’ve just been friends five years ago during that summer, and never so quickly and easily crossed that line into something more. At first, you weren’t sure how true that really was; you were kind of just saying anything to make everything feel okay because of how much had changed in five years, and you didn’t want to revisit the past too much. Now you were thinking that maybe you were actually right. 

But, it was hard not to think that if the circumstances right now were different, if you both were currently single, would you two have fallen back into what you used to be? What had been so easy to be? 

You pushed those questions away, though; it felt pointless to let your mind fully go down that road. 

“Wow, it smells really good in here,” Tom’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned your head and saw him walking into the kitchen with a pizza box in his hand.  

“I helped Steve make brownies for a bake sale,” You said as you watched him place the pizza on the kitchen table, and then he walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head. “And I’m sorry to say it, but there aren’t any extras, so try to erase this smell from your mind.” 

“Got it. Already forgotten,” He joked, which made you smile, and then he looked at Steve. “Hey, man. Are you staying for pizza?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve nodded as he put the top on the final container. 

The two of them rambled about sports as the three of you ate, which made it easy for you to zone out and let your mind wander elsewhere.

It was nice to you that Steve and Tom were basically friends. And you couldn’t help but wonder if that was only because of how little Tom knew about everything that had happened between you and Steve. 

You never told Tom the extent of your past relationship with Steve. You only said that he was an “old friend” of yours from when you lived here for a summer. It wasn’t until after the half-truth fell from your lips that you wondered if you should’ve told him the full story— the good parts, the heartbreak, all of it. But then the conversation shifted to something else, Tom telling you about how someone he knew from high school was also working at the art school, and your opportunity to tell the full truth dwindled away. And you figured that it was fine because it didn’t really matter anyway. Even if Tom did know everything about your past with Steve, he wouldn’t have been weirded out by the situation because it was so long ago. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A call similar to the baking one happened weeks later, but the roles were switched that time around.

“It’s my turn to ask you for a favor, Harrington,” You immediately said when he answered the call. 

“That sounds ominous.”

“Tom and I are doing this Thanksgiving thing at our place, just for friends, and you have to come,” You told him. 

You avoided explaining how Tom was inviting a handful of people from his art school because he was friends with pretty much everyone, and how the only person you could think of inviting was Steve because he was kind of your only friend here— the only person you spent time with other than Tom, and the only person you wanted to call and randomly catch up with after not seeing for a few days. In the moment, divulging all of that information didn’t feel entirely necessary. You just needed him to say yes to coming over to your house in a month because if not, it would only be you in a room full of artists and art teachers, and it was hard not to feel a little, a lot, out of place at times. 

Steve let out an amused sound. “This invitation sounds a lot like a threat.”

“It’s not a threat or an invitation. It’s a favor, remember?” You reminded him, and you heard him laugh, and then a realization hit you. “Oh, wait, are you going back to Indiana for Thanksgiving? 

“No, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Okay, great, so you’ll come here?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, and inwardly you sighed in relief. “And thanks for making it seem like I had a choice in the matter.”

You could hear the playfulness in his tone, and you immediately matched it. “Oh yeah, no problem. I didn’t want this call to seem too threatening.”

“Can I bring someone?”

“Yeah, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. You silently wondered if he already had someone in mind or if he was asking for “just in case” purposes, but you decided against asking him that in this moment. “As long as they’re not an art person.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, and you could hear the confusion in his tone. 

“Like an art teacher or an artist themself,” You explained. “You and I are already gonna be severely outnumbered at this thing, we can’t afford further unevenness.”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, and you imagined him nodding with an amused smile on his face. “Don’t worry, she’s not an art person.”

So he did already have someone in mind, a month in advance. That felt pretty important, but you still didn’t ask anything further about it. 

“Good to know,” You finally responded after what felt like the longest stint of silence ever, but you honestly had no idea how long you’d been quiet and how long your thoughts had been roaming elsewhere. 

A part of you expected the call to end there; you were close to saying a simple goodbye to him, but then Steve was asking, “Should I bring anything?” 

You considered his words for a moment. Tom was a better cook than you, so he’d be pretty much taking the reins on the menu. “I’ll keep you updated on that, but as of right now, no, you don’t have to bring anything.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Are brownies a Thanksgiving dessert? Shouldn’t we have brought, like, a pie?” 

“No, brownies make sense,” Steve responded to Robin’s questioning words as he rang the doorbell. “It’s kind of an inside thing between me and her.”

At that, Robin smiled. “Aw, that’s cute.” 

Steve quickly shook his head. “Don’t say it like that. We’re friends. She’s engaged.”

Before Robin could say anything in response, the door opened, and there you were. The maroon dress you were wearing cinched at your waist and subtly flared out, and made you look so pretty that it almost felt entirely inappropriate, and un-friendlike, how long Steve looked at you. 

If you noticed his staring, you didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you looked at the container of brownies in his hand.

“I told you not to bring anything.” 

Steve gave you a small smile as he handed the container over. “I didn’t wanna show up empty-handed, and I also wanted to see if I remembered your recipe.” 

He noticed the corner of your mouth quirk upward in the smallest hint of a smile. “How did you do?”

“Surprisingly well.”

“Nice,” You said to him, and then turned your attention to Robin and gave her a full smile. “Hi, you must be Steve’s date.” 

In Steve’s eyes, the mistake made sense; he probably should’ve specified when he asked you if he could bring someone to the dinner. He had known about Robin coming since the end of the summer; she was tired of all of his excuses on why he couldn’t return to Hawkins for a quick visit and decided to take matters into her own hands. Steve missed seeing her too— he would never not call her his best friend, and the distance did suck— but it also felt kind of hard for him to go back home, so Robin planning to make a trip out to California sounded like a win-win to him. Before you had told him about the dinner at your place, the plan for the two of them was simply going to be to order takeout from some place and then spend the holiday watching TV and eating on his couch. 

Robin let out a laugh, which did not surprise Steve in the slightest. “No, no. Definitely not his date.” 

He could already imagine her telling Vickie, her girlfriend, about this moment when she went back to Indiana, and he wondered just how many details she would end up embellishing to make the story sound more insane than it actually was. 

“Robin’s a friend from back home,” Steve explained when your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “She’s visiting for the holiday.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” You immediately said, and then stepped to the side to let him and Robin in. Your eyes met Steve’s when you closed the door behind them. “When you asked if you could bring someone, I figured it would be a date.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry about that,” Steve responded, and you nodded in acknowledgement and then looked at Robin again. 

“It’s really nice to meet you,” You said, and the short-haired girl smiled back at you as she responded with a “You too.” “Okay, you guys make yourselves at home. Everyone else who’s here so far is in the living room. Dinner will be ready soon.” You pointed behind you. “I gotta go help Tom in the kitchen.”

Steve watched you walk away, and he gave you a quick nod and smile before you fully turned your head. 

“Do you know anyone here?” Robin asked him as she pulled off her coat and hung it on an open hook by the door.

Steve shook his head, taking off his jacket as well. “No one.”

“Alright, time to make some new friends, I guess.” 

Steve didn’t really want to talk to anyone here, but he still followed Robin anyway. What he wanted was to talk to you some more, but he instead ended up having a conversation with someone about an art museum that he apparently “really needed to visit.”

Luckily enough, though, Steve ended up sitting across from you at the ten-person dining table half an hour later, and Robin was to his right, falling into a conversation with the person who was next to her. Tom wasn’t sitting with you, instead he was on the complete other end of the table, which confused Steve at first, but then he was hit with a touch of something that could only be deemed as envy— you and your fiance were so settled and happy with each other that you didn’t need to be next to one another at every waking moment. 

Steve couldn’t really imagine that for himself, though. He would want to be by you all the time, engaged or not. Well, not you specifically, of course. Whoever he ended up with was what he meant. And that definitely wouldn’t be you. He knew that. He understood that. 

“I tried one of the brownies back in the kitchen,” You said, breaking Steve out of his scattered thoughts. “They’re really good. Solid work, Harrington.”

“Isn’t it bad luck to eat dessert before dinner?” Steve responded; he wasn’t sure where he heard that from, but it sounded a little familiar. 

“No, I think that’s just a thing moms say to their kids so they don’t ruin their appetite,” You told him, a small smile on your face. “Kind of reminds me of the whole ‘wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming’ thing. Just another random parent rule that kinda means nothing.”

“Wait, so you’re saying my entire life has been a lie?” He joked because he couldn’t help it. 

You laughed and Steve smiled; he loved that sound, and he didn’t realize how much he had missed it over the past five years until he started hearing it again.  

“Sorry to break it to you, but unless you’re about to start doing laps in the pool after eating, I think you’ll be fine if you don’t wait a full thirty minutes.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for this life-changing information.”

Another soft laugh fell from your lips. “I’m glad I could change your life.”

Dinner came and went, everyone getting what they wanted from everything that was set up in the middle of the table, and then there was dessert— Robin was right about brownies not being a Thanksgiving food because most people settled for a slice of the apple pies you made; even Steve chose it. 

Conversations started and ended and continued and lingered until it got late, and people started leaving. Steve offered to stay and help with all the cleanup you and Tom had to do, but you promptly waved him off. You thanked him and Robin for coming and then proceeded to walk them to the door, which he knew you only did because he wouldn’t have left and not helped otherwise. 

“So, you still have feelings for her, right?” Robin asked the moment they were settled in his car. “I noticed the way you were looking at her throughout most of the night.”

Steve let out a long sigh and then turned his head to look at his friend. “Is it that obvious?” 

“No, but I know you, so it makes it pretty obvious for me.” 

“It’s not like I’ve been pining for her these past five years,” Steve started, answering Robin’s previous question. “But being her friend these past few months just made me like her all over again.”

It happened so easily. Probably too easily, Steve thought. Falling for you this time around reminded him of just how effortless it had been five years ago. You two talked about everything and laughed and joked with each other, and hung out so much— it would’ve probably been more surprising if he didn’t start having feelings for you again. 

“Do you think that means they never fully went away?” Robin asked. There was a softness and seriousness to her tone that Steve wasn’t used to seeing too often. 

He considered her words for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly.” Robin's assumption made sense, but things also didn’t feel that simple and clear-cut. “But what I do know is that none of this matters because she’s getting married and Tom is a good guy.” 

“If we had been friends when all of that shit went down five years ago, I would’ve helped you get her back,” Robin told him, and Steve was quick to shake his head. 

“No, I didn’t deserve her forgiveness back then,” He said, and he believed that completely. He had fucked up too badly for you to forgive him so quickly. The moment you told him to never talk to you again, he immediately listened because, after how much he hurt you, he wanted to do at least one thing right. “Sometimes I feel like I barely deserve it now.”

Robin shook her head at all of his sudden melancholy. “Stop beating yourself up over it. She wouldn’t be friends with you if she didn’t forgive you for everything that happened.”

Steve could only nod in response, words evading him in that moment. Even though things between you two now were so okay and right and good, he couldn’t help but still feel terrible about the past sometimes.

“Do you think it’s good for you to be friends with her?” Robin asked, and then continued before Steve could ask her what she meant. “It doesn’t, like… hurt? Seeing her with someone else.”

“It’s okay,” He answered with a brief upturn of his shoulders, and he meant the two simple words entirely. It was okay seeing you happy with Tom because it had to be okay. If Steve admitted to himself how much it sucked, then what you and he had would be ruined. 

He liked being in your life, and he liked you being in his; you made it better. He thought he was really happy with his life since his move to California and since he started full-time at the rec center, but that feeling had only increased tenfold because of you. And he couldn’t imagine things being different. 

He didn’t want to lose you again. Not to some inadvertent feelings that he really wished he could make disappear. And the handful of dates he’d been on these past few months did nothing to help. 

Instead, they kind of made it worse. It made him long for something real and so irrevocably good; something like what those older couples from the Grand Canyon had, something like what you two had all those years ago before things went downhill so fast. 

At one point, Steve thought he almost had it; back in Hawkins, just a few months before he left. But the timing was shit and his head wasn’t fully in it, anyway. 

He couldn’t help but wonder when it would actually happen; it was hard to completely ignore the hopeless romantic in him, and he also wondered who it would be with, since it couldn’t be you. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a few days after Thanksgiving when you showed up at Steve’s place completely unannounced, but he didn’t mind at all. 

Robin had left yesterday, but not before making Steve promise to come home during Christmas; she knew his schedule and knew that the timing was good. 

You and Steve never surprise visited each other. Mainly because it wouldn’t make sense to do so. You two were adults with busy lives and schedules, so a call beforehand was the established thing to do. Therefore, as much as he didn’t mind seeing you in this moment, the suddenness of it all did slightly worry him. 

And then when he looked at you, that feeling was only further cemented. You looked so sad; not like you’d been crying, your eyes weren’t red or puffy, but just so dejected and melancholic. Your face was blank and your mouth was set in a straight line, instead of turned upward in the smile he would normally see that always reached your eyes. 

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice immediately becoming soft and concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, as if you were figuring out what you wanted to say to him, where to start. Ultimately, you shook your head at yourself and looked down at your sneakers. 

“I’m sorry for just showing up here,” You said quietly. “You probably have plans or something, it’s a Friday night. This was really stupid of me.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I promise,” Steve told you, and your eyes met his again. “I’m actually a complete loser and have no plans tonight.”

That got a small smile out of you; it was barely there, but Steve still noticed. 

“Are you okay?” He asked again; he wasn’t used to seeing this sadder side of you. 

“Not really, no,” You admitted, voice still quiet. “And everything isn’t okay either, but, um, is it alright if I don’t talk about it right now?”

“Yes, sure, that’s completely okay,” He answered as he stepped to the side to let you in. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

You breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded. “That would be great.”

He thought about what he had, the new stuff he’d just rented a week ago, and then he mentally kicked himself when he remembered that he had actually returned them on time for once. 

“Okay, I actually don’t have anything here. But we can go to Blockbuster and grab some stuff. Or if you wanna stay here, I can go get something.”

“No, I’ll go with you. I still don’t know if I fully trust you to pick out movies.”

Steve only smiled at your playful insult. You were making a joke, and he saw that as a good sign. 

“Ouch, that hurts,” He responded, holding an over-dramatic hand to his heart.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, but it’s true. One of the last times I was here, you had us watch The Godfather.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Yeah, but also not the most fun movie to watch on a random Tuesday.” 

Steve nodded, laughing a little. “Okay, yeah, I see what you mean.” 

He left you standing by the door for a quick second as he went to grab a hoodie and put on his sneakers, and then you and he were heading to his car. 

When you two made it to the Blockbuster that was only ten minutes away from his place, Steve let you take the reins. He didn’t know what he expected you to choose, but apparently, you were in more of an action mood. You settled on Back to the Future for nostalgic purposes, and the Jurassic Park sequel because it was a new release.

The drive back to his place was as quiet as the one going. The radio softly played the so-called “top hits of the week,” and you stared out your window throughout most of the ride. 

You didn’t seem as sad as you were when Steve first saw you, but there was something still obviously on your mind, making you quiet and a bit guarded. And although Steve did really want to know what it was, he wasn’t going to push you on it. If you wanted to watch Back to the Future ten times in a row and not talk about anything serious or whatever was bothering you, he'd force himself to be okay with that. 

Once Steve was parked in his typical parking spot, he took a quick glance at you and then unbuckled his seatbelt. He expected you to follow suit, but you didn’t make any move to unbuckle your own seatbelt and grab the Blockbuster bag that sat at your feet, though. 

“Do you remember Olivia from Thanksgiving dinner?” You abruptly asked. “I don’t know if you got a chance to meet her.” 

It was the most random question ever, but Steve pretended as if it wasn’t. He thought about the people he had met and talked to at your house barely a week ago, trying to jog his memory on the names and faces and what random anecdotes they talked about, and then he remembered a brunette girl. 

“Yeah, I remember meeting her. She talked to me and Robin about the art installation she got commissioned to do at this local park,” He said, turning to look at you, but your eyes were fixed on your lap. Things became quiet, and he decided to fill the confusing silence. “She seemed nice.” 

Steve was only met with more silence from you, and he didn’t know what to fill it with that time, so he let it linger. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she does,” You ultimately said, fingers playing with the hem of the sweater you were wearing. “Tom thinks so too.” 

Steve didn’t want to jump to conclusions and make assumptions about what he thought you were telling him right then, but it was hard not to. He quickly shut down all of those immediate thoughts, though, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“He, um…” You trailed off with a quiet sigh, and Steve was going to tell you that it was okay if you didn’t want to talk about it, but then you kept going. “He thinks she’s nice. Well, more than nice, actually. He… He loves her, apparently.”

Out of all the things that Steve thought you’d potentially tell him when he first saw how sad you looked standing at his front door, he didn’t think it would be that. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was expecting you to tell him, but that still felt so entirely out of left field that he was damn near speechless. 

“Holy shit,” It was the only thing that came to his mind right then, and he didn’t even mean to say it because he knew that those weren’t the words that would help you feel better about what you just told him. 

You let out a sad, quiet laugh that felt terrible hearing from you. “That just may be the understatement of the century.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault my fiancé fell in love with someone else,” You responded. “God, that feels so fucking embarrassing to say.” Your head softly fell back against the headrest, and you shut your eyes. “All of this is just so… I don’t know…” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna,” Steve assured you. It felt like the only right thing he could do for you in this moment. 

“I do want to talk about it, I think. The conversation me and him had has been playing on loop in my head, and, I don’t know, maybe if I finally talk about it, it’ll make things feel at least a little better.”

Steve nodded at your words. “Okay.”

“She was one of the first people he met at the school when he started his job, and they hit it off immediately. He said that he tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening, though, and he kept pushing away how he felt about her. But, for some reason, after Thanksgiving, he couldn’t avoid it any longer. Or, more specifically, he didn’t want to avoid it any longer. He told me that what me and him have feels entirely different from the way he feels about her. He didn’t think it was possible to feel so deeply for someone, and that’s why he couldn’t run away from it any longer,” Your words were soft and quiet, a little sad, but also like you were just rehashing a simple story. “He told me all of this in a much nicer way than how I’m saying it right now, by the way. I’m just kind of cutting out all of the politeness and ‘I’m sorry’s.’”

“Sorry doesn’t matter, that’s all still a really fucked up thing to say to you,” Steve told you, keeping his words a lot nicer than what he wanted to say. 

Your shoulders upturned in the briefest shrug. “The worst part is it feels like I can’t hate him, and I don’t even think I want to? I don’t know… He technically didn’t do anything wrong, it’s not like he cheated on me— he really wanted to make sure I knew that.”

“Falling for someone else when you’re engaged is wrong,” Steve told you, and yes, he did realize exactly how ironic that sounded. 

“I never told him the full story about you and me,” You admitted softly. Steve had a feeling that was the case, but he wasn’t entirely sure, and he hadn’t wanted to ask you about it. “And at first I told myself that I didn’t need to tell him everything because our past didn’t really matter, but I finally realized that I didn’t tell him because I was embarrassed. I honestly never told anyone the full story.” You kept speaking before Steve could even think about saying anything. “The last thing Tom said was that we both deserve to feel so strongly about someone, and deep down, we both know that we don’t feel that way for each other. And in the moment, my immediate reaction was to think, 'Fuck you,' but now I’m thinking that maybe he was right. Like, how could I wanna be with someone forever and be so ‘deeply in love’ with them, but at the same time feel embarrassed to tell them things about my life?”

“You’re not in love,” Steve’s voice was soft. That was pretty much the only thing your question could mean. 

You didn’t love Tom, and Steve hated that the first thing he felt upon realizing that was relief, and he immediately considered his own question— what could this mean for him and you? Now was definitely not the time to ponder that question, and he felt like an asshole for even thinking it in this moment when you were talking about your breakup. 

“Yeah, exactly,” You responded and finally looked at Steve. “And now I feel so fucking stupid about everything. We got engaged. I moved here for him. I fully believed that everything was perfect, and I’m such an idiot for that.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Steve immediately told you.  

He thought about his last relationship and how he could’ve forced it to work if he really wanted to; he could’ve pushed away the uncertain feelings he had and pretended that his head was in it a thousand percent if he wanted to just make her “the one.”

“I’m sorry for springing all of this on you.” 

He shook his head at your words. “Don’t be sorry. You can always talk to me.” 

“Thank you,” You said and gave him a small smile. “And the feeling’s completely mutual. If there’s any sad life stuff you wanna divulge to me right now, I’ll happily listen.”

“I don’t have any sad stories ready to go, but I’ll keep that in mind,” He said, and you nodded understandingly, still smiling at him. “You probably haven’t fully thought about this yet, but do you think you’re gonna move back to San Francisco?”

Steve knew exactly what he hoped your answer would be, but he also inwardly told himself that he’d force himself to support whatever decision you made. Because he could recognize that it would make sense if you wanted to leave Malibu, you hadn’t even wanted to come here in the first place. 

“Honestly, no,” Was what you answered, though, and the inward sigh of relief Steve let out was immediate. “I’ve kind of built a life here these past few months, and I don’t wanna leave. I really like it here.” You looked away from him again, gaze back to being focused on your lap. “And a lot of that is because of you, honestly. You’re a great friend, definitely my best friend here, and it would really suck leaving you.” 

Steve could practically feel his heart squeeze in his chest upon hearing your words. They genuinely meant a lot to him, so much so that he actually couldn’t figure out how to respond to you. The only thing he could think about was how much he loved you, the three words suddenly started playing on what felt like a constant loop in his head right then. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t admit that to you in this moment, but fuck, he really did want to. 

“Sorry, too sappy?” You said, filling the quiet and mimicking his words from back at the diner months ago, the day you two officially became friends. When he talked about the older couples at the Grand Canyon and how they made him realize that it would never be too late to find “the one,” so there was no point in rushing or trying to force things that didn’t feel entirely right. 

“Very much so, but also really sweet,” Steve finally responded, also mimicking the words you had said to him back then. “Still in the mood to watch a movie?” 

“Yes, definitely,” You answered, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching down to grab the bag at your feet. “Do you actually approve of my choices, or did you just agree with them because I’m sad?”

“Both,” Steve admitted. “I like Back to the Future and I’ve been wanting to see the new Jurassic Park movie, but I definitely would’ve said yes to anything you wanted to get.”

You smiled at that. “Thank you for your honesty.”

When you and Steve stepped back into his apartment, you settled on his couch, and he joined you after he went to put the movie in. He decided to start you two off with Back to the Future, and you fell asleep halfway through it with your head against his shoulder. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was nothing you had to do, and you absolutely hated that. 

You had made an impossible list a few weeks ago that you figured would keep you happily busy for at least a month; the hope was that it would push you through the holiday season so you wouldn’t have to think about this specific time of the year too much. You took on commission after commission and started making a bunch of new things to sell at the flea markets you were a part of, so that your days would never not be full with something to do. However, with how much you were pushing yourself, you finished everything on your list, even the random little things, much sooner than you expected. 

The second you finished painting the small bookshelf you’d been working on and you realized that you were officially done with everything, your head didn’t waste a moment to start reminding you of the thoughts that you were trying to avoid. 

The more you thought about everything post-breakup, the more you realized that it was so obvious that things weren’t right between you and Tom. You loved him, that much was true, but you weren’t in love with him. And things between you two had been good, but it wasn’t great, and it never had been; not even during the typical early stages, “honeymoon phase,” where everything is supposed to feel like rainbows and butterflies and pure giddiness. 

And you honestly couldn’t believe how much you had lied to yourself throughout pretty much the entirety of your relationship; that you never even let yourself consider that something could be wrong. Instead, you had pushed all doubts to the side. Steve had told you that you weren’t an idiot, but god did you feel like one. You were really angry with yourself, and you almost felt like you couldn’t even trust yourself anymore. 

That was why you pushed yourself into working and making yourself so busy— so that you couldn’t think about how shitty and sad everything else in your life was. Doing that definitely wasn’t healthy, but for the time being, it worked really well. However, now you were done with everything you had to do, and you needed to figure out something new to occupy your mind with before you spiraled further down a very depressing thought path. 

You headed to your kitchen and picked up your phone, calling the only person you wanted to talk to. 

“Hi, Merry Christmas,” You said when the call connected and Steve had answered with a simple, “Hello?” 

“You’re a few hours early, but thanks. Merry Christmas to you too,” Steve said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It feels like we haven’t talked in forever.”

“I know. The last few weeks have been really busy for me.”

“Yeah, same here,” He responded, and things got quiet just for a second. “Are you planning on going home for the holidays?” 

“Oh, no, definitely not,” You answered immediately, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “If I went home, I’d be surrounded by pitying faces about my failed engagement and everyone saying sad 'Sorry’s' and walking on eggshells around me, and I don’t think I can take that. I’m trying to avoid that for as long as possible, actually.” 

Things got quiet again, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you’d admitted too much. You thought about your mom practically begging you to come back to San Francisco for at least a week or two during the holidays, but you kept telling her that you were fine staying in Malibu and that you couldn’t come home because of all the work you had to do anyway. She eventually conceded when you lied and told her about the various deadlines you had, and it wasn’t like you could bring a half-finished side table on an airplane to finish it in your childhood bedroom. 

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, and you could tell how much he meant the question, like he really cared about hearing your honest answer. 

You almost wanted to lie and tell him “Good,” but the simple word wouldn’t form on your lips. Instead, the truth was falling out before you could censor it. 

“Lonely, I think,” You admitted softly as you shut your eyes and leaned back against the wall closest to you. “And I’ve been trying to pretend that I’m not, but this house used to feel really fucking small and now it feels so huge and empty with Tom gone. And it’s not like I want him to still be here— I don’t at all, honestly— but that doesn’t change that this place feels way too big for just one person to be here. ”

“I can come over, if you want,” Steve said, and that was the response you should’ve expected from him at this point in your friendship, but him being so damn nice to you still made you smile.

It also made you think about all of the questions that you’d avoided ever since you two became friends. Questions about what a reconciliation could’ve looked like between you two if you both had been single when you talked for that first time in a long time at Levi’s party— would you two have fallen back into what you used to be? What had been so easy to be?

You had put a wall up and pushed those questions to the side because it felt pointless to ponder them since things had been the way they were— you hadn’t been single and were instead in a relationship that you convinced yourself was great. Now, though, there was no need for a wall to be up and for you to actively avoid the thoughts those questions brought up because things were so completely different, and yet you still didn't want to think about them. And the reasoning behind why was what you also actively avoided.

“Can I come to you, actually?” You asked. “I’d rather just not be here right now.”

“Of course.” 

After taking a shower to get the paint off of you, you headed to Steve’s place in a simple sweater and a pair of leggings, but not before stopping at the video store. You toed off your sneakers by the door when he let you in and then smiled when he pointed to the bag in your hand and said a slightly confused, “What’s that?”

“I come bearing gifts,” You told him as you two headed to his living room. “Rented gifts. But, gifts nonetheless.” 

“What movies did you get?”

“A bunch of Christmas ones because it felt fitting.” 

Steve smiled amusingly at that and nodded. “Makes sense.” 

“I was also thinking that we could make a drinking game out of it,” You said, pulling the movies you got out of the bag and setting them on his coffee table. 

“Getting drunk on Christmas,” Steve started. “There’s gotta be some sad country song about that.”

You let out a laugh. “Oh, yeah, definitely. But, what we’re doing isn’t sad, though, because it’s Christmas Eve.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a huge difference,” He responded before heading into his kitchen. “Is tequila good?”

“Perfect,” You answered as you grabbed the movie that sat at the top of the pile and put it in. 

The rules of the makeshift drinking game were simple— each of you would have to take a swig from the bottle whenever a character said “Christmas,” when there was a mention of gifts or snow, or when there was a Christmas tree in frame. And then, when you two realized that with those rules in place, you were drinking at an almost too concerning pace, you decided to change the rules to only drink when “Christmas” was said. 

The entire thing was stupid and childish, but so fun, which was another way it felt hilariously childish. You two would let out an excited “Woo!” when a character said the word, but then in the moments where it was said almost back to back, there was a collective groan as you and Steve took consecutive sips. 

As fun as it was, it was also another not-so-healthy way to deal with everything going on in your life, but you really wanted to avoid wallowing for as long as you could. 

You and Steve shifted closer and closer to one another as the movie played on. That closeness made it easier to pass the bottle back and forth to each other— that was what you told yourself when you had initially softly pulled at his arm to silently get him to move even closer to you. With an already slightly cloudy mind, you placed your legs in his lap and your back pressed against the arm of the couch. 

When the movie ended and the credits for Home Alone started to play, neither of you made any move to get up and put on the next thing; which, of course, would have to be the second Home Alone movie, and the silly drinking game would continue. 

“You know you can always talk to me about stuff, right?” Steve abruptly said, and you pulled your eyes away from the rolling credits. 

You smiled at him and nodded— your silent way of telling him that yes, you did know that— but you still questioned him. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Earlier on the phone, when I asked you how you were doing and you said you’d been feeling lonely, it made me wonder how long you’ve been feeling that way, and I just wanted to make sure that you know that you can always talk to me.”

Steve was definitely drunk, probably just as far gone as you, but you also knew that he was being entirely truthful with his words right then. You never pegged Steve for a sentimental drunk. 

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to talk to you about everything, I just haven’t really wanted to talk to anyone about it.”

“Why not?”

This quickly became another moment where you actually found yourself wanting to be honest with Steve about everything going on with you, and you were certain that it wasn’t your inebriation that made you want to answer his question instead of not so subtly changing the subject. 

“Because I just feel so stupid and embarrassed. And I know the night it happened, you told me not to feel that way, but it’s really hard not to. I just feel so mad at myself and like I can’t even trust myself anymore.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion then. “Why can’t you trust yourself?”

“Because I let myself do all of that bullshit,” You answered and then sighed, leaning further into the arm of the couch. “Tom was the first person I actually really liked after you, and I think I tried to make him more perfect than he actually was. I think I just wanted to be done— done wondering when I’d find something really good again— so I settled for the first thing that made me feel at least a little good and safe and comfortable, and I convinced myself that was really good when it wasn’t.”

You had a feeling that you probably weren’t making a lot of sense because you had never verbalized this feeling out loud before, you had barely let yourself think about it. All of these sudden emotions were just coming out like a string of word vomit, and Steve was on the receiving end and staring at you with a look you couldn’t fully decipher. 

“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to fully trust how I’m feeling anymore. I wonder if I’ll always just be lying to myself in some way,” You continued, and then finally looked away from him. You got the abrupt urge to take a long sip from the tequila bottle to settle the lump growing in your throat, so you did. 

Your fingers brushed Steve’s for a brief moment as you slowly pulled the bottle from his loose grasp. The burning sensation that hit the back of your throat didn’t hurt that much this time around. 

“I think when you really know someone is the right one, it’ll just click. There won’t even be a chance for your brain to second-guess it because it’ll just immediately feel so… Right, I guess. This is gonna sound so goddamn cheesy, but I think that you’ll just feel it in your heart, and your heart won’t lie to you. It can’t lie to you, y’know?” Steve said as you were putting the cap back on the bottle, and your eyes lifted to meet his. He gave you a brief shrug. “Um, at least, that’s the feeling I’m hoping for.”

“I’ll be a thousand percent honest right now,” You started and didn’t let your gaze drop from his as you said your next words, which could’ve so easily felt embarrassing, but your drunkenness didn’t allow that feeling to hit you. “The last time I felt any sort of ‘click’ was five years ago with you.”

Steve nodded, giving you a small, almost shy smile, but he didn’t look away either. “And I’ll second your honesty by saying me too.”

You let out a soft laugh at his words and closed your eyes as you shifted so that you could lean more comfortably against the arm of the couch, which pushed you a bit further into Steve’s lap. 

One of his hands settled on your knee, and the other went to hold the bottle again. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric of your leggings, or maybe that was just in your head. 

“Did you ever…” Your voice was quiet. You were perhaps becoming almost too stupidly honest and vulnerable. Maybe you were a sentimental drunk too. “Did you ever think about what would’ve happened with us once the summer ended if everything had stayed as good as it was?”

If Steve was surprised by your question, he didn’t admit it. 

“As everything was happening, I didn’t think about it. I kinda just stay focused on every moment we had together,” He answered, and you almost told him that it had been the same way for you too. That you had simply, and probably stupidly, just lived in the moment back then, but he continued before you could say anything. “But, after it all ended, the only thing I could think about was what a future with you would’ve looked like.” 

You wanted to ask him what he thought— you suddenly found yourself almost aching to have him paint a vivid picture of what it all would’ve been like. However, you refrained from saying anything because you had a feeling that the answer would only hurt; it would make you wish that things had ended up differently.  

Things could be different now. 

Your traitorous and inebriated mind reminded you of this newfound fact. Things between you and him could so easily be different now if you just let yourself fall again, fall back into what once was. 

But then at the same time, you now saw what you and Steve had five years ago as some sweet little fairytale that could never realistically be attained again. It was a short-lived thing that was too good, too happy, too perfect. How could anything ever be like that again? And after everything that happened with Tom, the almost too obvious answer was that it couldn’t. 

And then in this new situation with Steve, there was the added fact that he didn’t want anything romantic with you again. He was actively dating and had been on some good ones here and there that you had actually managed to get him to tell you about. You were certain that in his mind, all you were to him was his friend. 

“After everything happened and I went back home to Indiana, I thought a lot about you and I thought a lot about how I could fix everything that I fucked up between us,” Steve told you. With your head reminding you that all you two had was a really good friendship, you’d almost forgotten about this “what if” conversation that you two were having at this moment. “I had no idea how exactly I could’ve done it; it felt impossible to fix, and you said that you never wanted to see me again, so I listened. But I did really want to try, and I just really wanted to talk to you again. I really missed talking to you.”

“Fuck,” You mumbled, eyes still shut as you admitted something that was definitely way too honest. “I wish you did that.”

“I wish I did too.”

Those were the last words of his that you heard before you drifted off to sleep on the couch with your thoughts only full of him and that summer. 

It could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours when you were woken up by the sound of Steve’s voice and his hand softly shaking your shoulder. 

“Don’t fall asleep here,” He told you quietly. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You were too tired, so you simply nodded at him and stood up instead of arguing and telling him that you could stay on the couch and he could have his bed since it was his. The last time you were here, pretty much that exact thing happened; you two went back and forth for a good five minutes before you finally conceded and just slept in his bed and let him take the couch. 

You realized how drunk you still were when you took your first step toward Steve’s bedroom and immediately felt a little wobbly. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself as Steve also stood up from the couch and grabbed your hand to keep you steady. 

“Do you want anything to change into?” He asked when you two made it to his dimly lit room, the moonlight and streetlights streaming in through the curtainless window were what brought minimal light to the space, and you immediately plopped down on his bed. 

“I’m okay with this,” You answered. The leggings and sweater you were wearing were genuinely very comfortable. You noticed that Steve was swaying a bit, a little drunk wobble of his own, and you almost told him to sit down with you for a second, but then you noticed the suitcase sitting by the door. “Were you supposed to go somewhere?”

“Oh, yeah. The rec center is closed until the new year, so I was gonna spend the week in my hometown. Robin’s forcing it,” Steve explained, and he was still drunkenly swaying, so you waved him over to come sit next to you at the foot of the bed, which he did. “My flight was supposed to be tomorrow— or, well, today, I guess. It’s crazy cheap to fly on Christmas day.”

“You’re still going, right?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s whatever now. I’d rather stay here with you.”

“You have to go,” You said, and when he only shook his head in response, you continued. “Do I need to pull the ‘I just got broken up with, so you must pity me and do whatever I want’ card?”

He let out a laugh at that. “That’s a really good card.”

“I know, and I can only use it once, and I’m choosing to use it on this moment right now,” You told him. “Don’t let me stop you from going home.”

He shook his head again. “It’s fine. Really.”

You looked right into his eyes as you pouted at him. “Please.”

You didn’t want your loneliness to deter him from the plans he already had in place. You could figure out a different way to cope for the rest of the year with Steve not around; it would only be a week.  

“Okay,” He finally conceded. He shifted slightly on the bed, causing his leg to briefly brush against yours. “But, you should come too.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at hearing him say that. “What?”

“You should come,” Steve repeated, giving you a smile. “Like I said, flying on Christmas is cheap because barely anyone is doing it. I could probably get you on the same flight as me.”

“Are you just saying this because you’re drunk right now?” You asked, still looking at him with the same confused expression on your face. “Do you actually want me to come with you to your hometown?”

“I mean it. I want you to come,” He immediately told you. “And I don’t have any cards to pull, but you should still say yes.”

You considered his words for a second, and then you thought of another question. “And this isn’t because you feel sad for me?”

“No, it’s because you’re my friend and I like spending time with you.”

That made you smile, and it also confirmed that you were right— he only saw you as a friend now. And honestly, you felt okay with that. 

Ultimately, you nodded at him, lightly bumping your shoulder with his. “Okay, yeah, I’ll come.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The sun was setting behind the trees, and it made the lake look so pretty that you started to wonder if that was the reason why Steve wanted to show you this place last. 

The day after you two made it to his hometown, he borrowed Robin’s car for the day so that he could give you the “not-so-grand tour of Hawkins.” It was meant to happen on the first day because your flight landed early in the afternoon, but enduring hangovers on an airplane was terrible and only made them worse, so you two ended up sleeping in Robin and Vickie’s guest room throughout the rest of the day. The fact that you two had to share the queen-sized bed didn’t even faze either of you because you both were just so tired. 

On the second day, things were a thousand times better, and Steve wanted to show you around his hometown. After visiting an old record store, a bakery that had the sweetest older woman working behind the counter, and the parking lots of Steve’s middle and high school, the final stop was Lover’s Lake; a name that you couldn’t help but laugh at when he told you about it. 

“Is this the place where all of the teenagers come to make out?” You asked as you stepped out of the car, immediately getting hit by the cold evening air, so you zipped up your jacket that wasn’t doing much to keep you warm.  

Steve nodded as he got out of the car too. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“I bet high school Steve was a part of many makeouts here, huh?”

“No comment.”

You smiled at his sudden shyness and turned to look out at the lake again, leaning back against the hood of the car. “Tell me more about high school you.”

“He was a bit of an asshole.”

“Really?” You asked. There was no judgment in your tone; you were just genuinely curious. 

“He was good at sports, and everyone liked him, and he definitely let all of that shit get to his head,” Steve briefly explained and then gave the question back to you. “What about high school you? What was she like?”

“She was so scared of the future, but pretended that she wasn’t. Pretty much had a ‘fake it till you make it’ mentality,” You admitted softly. “I’m still kind of surprised that no one saw through it. Maybe acting should’ve been my chosen career.”  

“I don’t know, I remember you telling me about the play you were in in fourth grade, and you only had two lines, but you still threw up because of how nervous you were. So, maybe, you should stay away from the stage,” Steve said, reminding you of the story you told him five years ago. You even remembered the exact moment you had told him that entirely embarrassing story; you two were in his bed, and you were laughing as you talked about the Wizard of Oz incident. 

You looked at him again now, a laugh falling from your lips in this moment too. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”

“I think I remember all of the stuff we talked about back then.”

You almost told him that it was the exact same way for you too. You hadn’t forgotten anything he told you, not even when you tried really hard to do so after everything had ended. Back when you didn’t want your thoughts to be consumed by him, but it was so difficult to not have him on your mind. 

Your chilling hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket. “I feel like it’s a crime that you didn’t accurately warn me about how cold it would be in Indiana.”

“I didn’t wanna scare you off,” Steve said, which made you laugh a little. “You could’ve borrowed a coat from Robin or Vickie. I’m sure neither of them would’ve cared.”

You shook your head. “I already feel so bad about how nice they’re being with letting me stay with them too.”

“Don’t feel bad. They like you,” He told you, and you opened your mouth to rebut his words, but he continued before you could. “And it’s not because they feel sad for you about what happened with Tom. I promise they like you for non-pitying reasons.”

“Okay,” You said instead of arguing his words. “Next time, I’ll borrow a coat.”

That next time ended up being a lot sooner than expected— that same night, actually. You woke up around one in the morning to use the bathroom, and when you made it back to the guest room, you noticed that it was snowing out the window. 

You walked over to Steve’s side of the bed, both of you had been good so far at keeping to your separate sides, and then whispered his name as you poked his back. “Steve.”

His eyes didn’t open, but he did move a little, shifting his head that was pressed against the pillow. “Mhm, yeah?”

“It’s snowing.”  

“Oh, that’s cool,” He mumbled, eyes still not opening. 

You continued lightly poking his back and moved up to his shoulder until his eyes slowly opened. “Let’s go outside.”

“It’s one in the morning,” Steve responded, and you wondered how he was able to be so accurate with the time. He then looked at you as if realizing something. “Wait, is this the first time you’re seeing snow?” 

“Technically no, I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never gotten to watch it actually happen.”

“Really?”

You nodded at the one-word question. “Really.”

Upon hearing that, Steve got out of bed. “Okay, let’s go outside.” 

You smiled at him before going to your suitcase to put on sweatpants and a sweater, and Steve did the same. He also grabbed a coat for you to wear since he knew exactly where the coat closet was, and he pulled out a big, dark green one for you to put on. 

“Thank you,” You said as you slipped it on and pulled the hood over your head.

You two ended up sitting on the steps of the back porch that led out to the small backyard as you watched the snow come down. 

“This is really nice,” You said. The grass was already completely covered in a blanket of snow, and it made you wonder how long it had been coming down before you woke up. You and Steve were sitting so close to one another on these steps that your sides were touching, but you felt nothing through the thick jacket. 

Steve didn’t say anything in response to your words, so you turned your head to look at him, and there was a smile on his face that you couldn’t read.

“What?” You asked, bumping your shoulder with his.

He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just cute to see how happy this makes you.” 

You gave him a playful look. “I feel like I should feel a little offended by that.” 

“I meant it in a nice way,” He responded, still smiling at you.

You only nodded at that and went back to watching the snow again; it seemed as if it was only coming down heavier and heavier. 

“Can I tell you something that’s really stupid?” You asked, even though you were pretty certain what Steve’s answer would be.

He didn’t hesitate to nod at your question. “Yeah, of course.”

“When I was a kid, definitely no older than seven or eight, I watched this movie, or maybe it was a TV show, I can't fully remember that part, but this guy proposed to his girlfriend outside when it was snowing. There was some snowstorm, and their car got stuck, and he had this entirely different thing planned, but he still wanted to do it, so he did— on the side of this random road as the snow was coming down. And I thought it was the most romantic thing ever, and for pretty much the entirety of my childhood, I wanted that to be the way it happened to me. Which was kind of comical for me to say as a girl from California, but I had big dreams, I guess.”

You didn’t really know why you were telling Steve that silly story, but it felt fitting with the current snowy circumstances.  

“That’s not stupid. It’s sweet,” He told you, voice soft. “Can I ask how Tom did it?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it didn’t involve snow at all, and instead it was at his place. He made me dinner, and we watched a movie, and he did it when the credits started rolling. It definitely wasn’t terrible, it was honestly really sweet, but it also wasn’t as ‘rainbows and butterflies’ as eight-year-old me thought it would end up being.”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“We’d been together for a year and a half at that point, so it felt like the obvious next step,” You answered and then let out a scoff of a laugh at yourself. “Super romantic, I know.”

Steve laughed at your sarcastic words. “I’ll make sure the next guy gets it right this time around.” 

It was hard not to smile at that, even as you shook your head disbelievingly.

The thought of simply getting into a good relationship seemed so far-fetched at this point that the thought of being proposed to seemed even more improbable. It felt like something that would be years and years down the road. Would you and Steve even still be friends by then? How drastically different would your lives end up being?

“I don’t know how many inches we’re supposed to get, but if there’s a lot, we can come out in the morning and make stuff,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I’m really good at building a snowman.”

You smiled at his playful words and nodded immediately. “That sounds perfect.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The week came to an end much quicker than expected. Days passed by in a blink, and before you could even fully process how much of a great time you were having, it was New Year’s Eve, which marked your and Steve’s last night in Hawkins. 

Robin and Vickie were having a party, and the house quickly became packed with people you barely knew; you’d briefly met some people throughout the week of you being in Steve’s hometown, but it was kind of nice not really knowing anyone. There were no expectations to make random small talk with people, like what it would’ve felt like if you were at a party with family.

You had been by Steve’s side throughout most of the night, watching as he fell into conversations with old friends, and you silently stood by, happy to just hear old stories be traded and niceties be shared. Until you wondered if that was a bad thing. 

“Okay, be completely honest right now. Is it annoying that I’ve just been hanging by your side all night?” You asked Steve when he finished talking to someone from high school. “I can go fend for myself if you want me to.”

Steve quickly shook his head at your words and gave you a small smile. “No, it’s not annoying, and I don’t want you to go fend for yourself. I like having you by my side.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s kind of hard for me being here in Hawkins, but you’ve made it feel better.”

You tilted your head at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Hard how?”

“Things have probably always felt really confusing and weird for me here, but coming back after that summer you and I had kind of just increased that feeling, like, tenfold— stuff with my parents got really shitty after things ended with me and Nancy, and I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life. I started working at the video store again, and that’s when I met Robin. And that was great, but it still just felt like there was nothing really for me here, and that was the main reason why it felt so good to leave and do something that actually felt really good for once. And once I left, I realized I don’t really like coming back.” 

“Oh,” You said, voice softer than you expected it to be, and your one word probably got lost in the sound of the music. “But, it’s been okay this time around?” 

Steve nodded. “You’ve made this entire week feel a thousand times better.”

Before you got the chance to process what his words meant and how exactly they made you feel, Robin was coming over to where you two were standing in a corner of the living room. 

“Hey, just a heads up, Michelle’s here,” She told Steve. “Vickie invited her and didn’t tell me until literally two seconds ago.”

“Oh,” He said and then nodded. “Okay.” 

Robin was walking away before Steve could potentially say anything else; she cited that she had to go “grab two champagne bottles that had been left in the car.”

“Who’s Michelle?” You asked Steve, once it was just you two again. 

“We dated for a bit right before I moved to California. She’s Vickie’s friend that Robin set me up with a couple of months before I moved,” Steve explained, and then laughed a little. “I think it was one of Robin’s last-ditch efforts to try to get me to stay here and not move, but she would never admit that.”

You’d barely known Robin for a full week, but even with what little you knew of her, that did sound pretty accurate. She was a great friend to Steve, and it was really nice to see. 

“How did it end? Good terms or bad?”

“Good, for the most part,” Steve answered with a quick shrug. “I still wanted to move, though, so we ended things. We both thought it would be a bad idea to try and do long distance.” 

That was the most amicable kind of ending, you thought. And it seemed like the easiest kind of ending that was also so hard because it usually meant that there were still feelings left. Because things weren’t ending because the feelings were gone, they were ending because of the circumstances.

You noticed Steve looking around the party, and you knew that he was trying to see if he could spot her. You ignored the weird ache in your chest and instead pushed up the sleeves of the long sleeve you were wearing— you were in a simple pair of jeans and a sweater because you hadn’t packed anything nice enough for a party. Suddenly, it felt way too hot for your sweater, though. 

“I think I made a bad decision with this sweater,” You told Steve, and his eyes landed on you instead of continuing to scan the crowd of people. “I’m gonna change into a different shirt.”

“I’ll come with,” He responded, and it was a bit of an odd suggestion that you almost shook your head at, but maybe he needed to be by your side just as much as you had needed to be by his.

You two walked down the hall to the guest room, the music fading away as you got farther from it. You started rummaging through your suitcase in search of a simple enough shirt, and the small lamp in the corner of the room did what it could to bring some light to the space. Steve turned around as you pulled off your dark red sweater and put on a white shirt, which was luckily not too wrinkled, instead. 

The quietness in this moment made you think about something that was maybe entirely stupid and completely off base, but you felt the need to say it. 

“You should say something if you still have feelings for her,” You told Steve, and that made him turn around. He looked at you as if he was completely confused by what you meant. 

“Michelle,” You continued. “If you still feel something for her, you should tell her. Don’t let something stupid like distance get in the way of something that could be really good.”

Steve was quiet for a lot longer than you expected, and maybe that meant that you had read the situation completely wrong. However, there was something about the way he’d been for the past few minutes that made you think that she was on his mind. 

“Do you believe that in all cases?” He finally asked, and then it was your turn for your eyebrows to furrow in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you have feelings for someone, you should tell them?” 

“Oh,” You said, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, I guess. Honesty is the best policy, right?”

You meant it somewhat jokingly, and you expected Steve to smile at that, but he didn’t.

“It’s you,” He said, eyes locked firmly on yours. “I have feelings for you.”

All you could do was blink at him at first. And then there was a feeling that settled in your stomach and spread from there, a feeling that was completely foreign and unfamiliar, but at the same time, you were reminded of something that you had only felt once before with Steve. And you loved that feeling. It was like finally coming home after years of being somewhere else entirely. 

There was no time for your brain to second-guess it or find something wrong with it all because your heart was immediately telling you exactly how you felt. 

“Did I just completely fuck things up?” Steve asked, breaking your thoughts, and you noticed him push an awkward hand through his hair. 

“You’re right,” You blurted out, voice soft and quiet. 

He looked at you, confused. “Right about what?”

“It does… It really does feel like a click. Everything just clicks,” You said, only admitting somewhat of what was running through your mind right then. 

You then closed the final bit of distance between you two and kissed him before he could say anything in response to your words. One hand finding his cheek and the other settling on his shoulder as you pushed yourself up and slotted your lips against his. 

Perhaps it should’ve said something that there was absolutely nothing about this moment that felt any hint of wrong or like it was a mistake that you’d quickly come to regret. It was just another thing that made everything feel like it was simply clicking into place. Steve didn’t waste a second to kiss you back, and his hands found your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him. 

The last time you two had done this was years ago, but with how effortless and seamless this was, it didn’t feel like it. You still seemed to know each other so well in this way, and it was almost like you two were singing along to a song that only you and he knew the words to. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Steve whispered against your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

You were humming in agreement and nodding as much as you could without fully breaking away from him.

Mixed in with the pure happiness you were feeling in this moment were feelings of regret— not for what was currently happening, but because it hadn’t happened sooner. If you had just let yourself consider Steve’s question back at Levi’s graduation party— the question of “Do you still love me?” that you immediately shook your head at without giving it a real thought— you could’ve had this moment sooner, and no time would’ve been wasted. 

You didn’t realize that you were crying until the salt hit your lips. 

Steve pulled away, concern written all over his face as one hand found your wet cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I don't know… I just can’t help but wish that I had done things differently,” You answered, voice quiet because of how close you two were. Before he could ask what exactly you meant by your words, you continued. “When you asked if I still loved you at Levi's party, I should’ve let myself truly think about it. Because I know the answer now. If I were a thousand percent honest with myself back then, we could’ve avoided so much…” 

You couldn’t figure out how exactly to end your statement— nonsense, confusion, heartache, yearning? All of those options felt fitting. 

“No, that was a fucked up question to ask you. It was selfish and stupid and didn’t take into account everything that happened and changed in five years,” He said, thumb softly rubbing your cheek. “It was good to actually be friends first. I think we needed to be. And I would’ve understood if all you ever wanted to be was friends. Everything that happened with us that summer, everything I did wrong, was so fucked, and sometimes I feel like I don't even deserve to have your forgiveness now.”

It became rare that your mind traveled back to that summer and thought about how it all blew up. Instead, your mind got stuck on the good stuff, the happy moments that were shared between you and Steve, because in your head, that was all that really mattered, especially after you forgave him. 

One mistake, even as big as it was, wasn’t enough to negate all of the good, and it didn’t change how you felt about him now. It was a feeling that seemed stronger than what it felt like five years ago— it was more firm, more cemented now. And maybe Steve was right, maybe it was because of the friendship that you two had built over the past few months. 

“What happened doesn’t affect how I see you now,” You told him softly, and your arms came up to pull him in for a hug. You pushed up on your toes and your face buried into his neck as you squeezed him tight. “I trust you, Steve. I love you.”

He returned the embrace immediately, arms circling your waist. “I love you too.”

You felt so at ease in Steve’s arms that it made you forget about the party happening right outside the door. It also made you realize that there was actually nothing that you wanted to change about this moment. There was no point in wishing that you’d gotten here sooner or in dwelling on the rough parts of the past that were just that, in the past. This was what you two were given, and it felt so perfect that all you wanted to do was look forward; forward to a future with Steve. Where your lives became even more intertwined than they were now, and everything was simply good and right.

When you pulled out of the embrace, he was the one to slot his lips against yours that time around. The party became the last thing on either of your minds as you kissed in the middle of the bedroom, hands traveling and teasing in different places, and eventually, when you could hear everyone out in the living room counting down, you and Steve looked at each other. As they got to one, and the clock struck officially midnight, you both smiled. 

“We don’t have anything to toast with, but happy new year,” You said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against his cheek as if you two hadn’t just been making out like teenagers.

“Happy new year,” Steve responded and then returned the action, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks and then your forehead and then your nose, which made you softly laugh.

There was a knock on the door before you could say anything, and then you heard Robin’s voice. “You two in there?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked. “Yes.”

“No.”

That time, your responses that were spoken at the same time were different, and you immediately gave Steve a look upon hearing his answer of “Yes.”

You both could hear Robin’s laugh through the door. “Okay, I’ll give you two some time to get your story straight.”

“What?” Steve said when you gave his arm a playful whack. “I was just telling the truth.”

“I don’t want her to think that we’re fucking in here.”

He smiled at you. “Honesty is the best policy, remember?”

“We’re not gonna have sex in here,” You told him, and when he immediately pouted at you, you continued. “Our flight is early, and also, last I remember, you’re really bad at being quiet.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s all you,” Steve responded with a small smirk, which made your cheeks warm because you knew he was right.

“Either way, it would be messed up to have sex in here with them right down the hall,” You said, and then your hands came up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “And besides, I’d much rather wait until we’re alone at your place and we both can be as loud as we want. Your neighbors might end up hating you, though.”

Steve immediately shook his head as if he didn’t care, which made you smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

You gave him a quick kiss before finally leading you two back out into the party. 

Robin spotted you both almost immediately. “So, what’s the story you guys came up with?”

“We were just talking in there,” Steve answered. 

She eyed your close proximity; Steve’s arm around your shoulders, and how you were practically tucked into his side. “Looks like it was a good conversation.”

“It was really good,” Steve responded with a nod before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, which made your heart constrict in your chest, and it was hard not to smile.  

“Congrats, you two are already so disgustingly cute,” Robin said with a playful roll of her eyes, but she did look like she was really happy for you both. She started heading toward the kitchen before either of you could say anything. “I need to walk away before you two start making out in front of me.”

Steve let out a laugh at her words, and his arm dropped from your shoulder so that he could find your hand instead. Your intertwined hands stayed practically glued to each other as the party came to its end, and it was a little after two when you and he finally got into bed. 

You turned on your side to face him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Should I put a pillow wall between us to make sure you keep your hands to yourself tonight, Harrington?”

“It would be very evil if you did that,” He said as an arm reached out to find your waist and pull you toward him. “What’s wrong with a, y’know, strictly PG late-night cuddle?”

You put up absolutely no fight or argument and instead shifted around so that you two were spooning. You contentedly sighed as you leaned into his touch, back pressing into his chest, and one of his arms slung around your middle. “Okay, I’ll allow it.”

Steve’s lips pressed against the top of your ear. “Love you.” He kissed your ear again. “And here’s your warning that I will never stop saying that. I’ll probably say it an annoying number of times just today.”

The thought of that sounded perfect to you, and you told him exactly that and then followed up with a softly spoken, “I love you too.”

You two fell asleep moments later, just like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and it was the best sleep you had in forever. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

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[consistentlyamess]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter nineteen

⭐︎ When you’re lying between my legs, it doesn’t matter

Warnings: 18+, mdni! jealousy, possessive!Steve, mentions of Aaron, smut, a very very starved Steve, for you filthy fuckers

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Jealousy and possessiveness overcomes Steve when he realizes that there is more to your night with Aaron, and he can't help but want to prove himself to you and show you who you belong to.

Word count: 12k+

Author's note: My apologies for the unusual long wait for this chapter! I promise it is worth it though! I honestly only wrote the angsty parts in this chapter, all the smut and what came after is written by @hellfire--cult LETS ALL SAY THANK YOU TO ROE CASUE SHE CAME THROUGH

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

Chocolate brown eyes follow your every movement, softness lingering in them. A sweet but guilty smile rested on his face. The small scar on his upper lip spreads every time his mouth curls upwards. Leaning against the doorway of the RV, he twists the rings on his fingers as he watches your concentrated face and the way you are so focused on rearranging the supply shelf in the tiny kitchen.

The happiness glimmers in your eyes and lingers on your entire face. You are humming again, probably your favorite song, it sounds like ‘Take My Breath Away’. Your energy is intoxicating, lifting him up again as well. 

But something stirs in his chest, something unpleasant—the guilt of how he treated you, of how he made you feel eating at him now. You aren’t angry at him; he knows you aren’t. But he is furious at himself for hurting you, for making you feel like he didn’t want you around anymore, like you aren’t one of his closest, best friends, like you aren’t the closest thing that will come to a sister. 

Eddie clears his throat, announcing his presence behind you – you haven’t noticed him until now, but when you turn and look over your shoulder, a smile appears on your face, “hey!”

Eddie uncrosses his arms and steps further inside the RV, smiling at you. 

“Hi, what are you doing?” 

You hold up a can of corn, “checking the expiration dates. So far it all looks good, we gotta eat some of this corn though, it expires before the tuna and the beans.”

Eddie nods and takes a look outside. Steve is cleaning your weapons while Nancy is scrubbing away at her dirty boots, sitting across from him. 

He turns back around and walks closer to you, eying all the cans you have collected. He kneels down beside you, reaching for the corn. His eyes scan the writing on the can, but his mind doesn’t really follow what he is reading. He clears his throat, almost feeling a bit awkward when he looks at you. 

“What do you think about it?”

“About what?” You ask without missing a beat, raising your brow at him. 

“About corn, do you like it?” 

An amused look crosses your face, and you smile at him, shrugging. “It’s good, I guess, don’t have much of a choice.” You laugh. 

Eddie nods and looks back down with furrowed eyebrows. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. 

Your smile fades a little when you notice his expression. His lips quirk up, but he doesn’t look amused in the slightest. 

Worry rushes through you as you eye him. You place the can you are holding down and move closer to him, “hey…” you whisper, placing your hand on his shoulder, “are you okay, Eddie?”

When Eddie looks back at you, the guilt inside of him grows even bigger, becoming more intense than before. Here you are, worrying about him even after he treated you so badly. Your eyes are soft yet saddened as you take in his expression, scanning him like you fear that he might be in pain – and if he were, then you would, without a doubt, jump up and try to find a solution to try and make him feel better. And that makes him feel worse. 

Eddie takes in a sharp breath before he shakes his head. He puts the can down and runs his hand down his face as he turns around and sits down, leaning his back against the counter. He takes a moment, and you give him the time to find the right words. 

You settle down beside him, waiting for him to be ready. 

When he finally looks at you again, you notice the look in his eyes – the guilt and the regret. Genuine remorse. 

“I am so sorry, Sunshine.” 

When you furrow your eyebrows and you purse your lips, staring at him like you are confused. The guilt only spreads. He wonders how many times people – ‘friends’ have failed you in your life for you to feel confused now when it should be so clear what he apologized for. 

“I said some things I didn’t mean, and I treated you so badly you believed I didn’t want you around anymore. Nancy had every reason to be there for you, to defend you. I failed you. You are… You are the closest thing I have to a sister, and I made you feel like I changed my mind about you.” 

His voice is filled with sadness, and his eyes are too. You know his words are genuine. Your eyes soften, and your heart swells in your chest. This means a lot to you, more than he could know. A sliver of happiness flashes in your eyes at the word ‘sister’. 

But there is also guilt inside of you as well – the one you almost forgot, caused by the happiness Steve had given you these past few days. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You whisper, sighing as you look down. “But I know I shouldn’t have gone with Aaron.” You admit, showing him your own guilt. 

Eddie shakes his head and reaches out to squeeze your knee. 

“It wasn’t fair that I encouraged it and then took it back when I saw how hurt Steve was. I was trying to look out for both of you and ended up playing with your emotions too, which was wrong, and I got mean. I’m sorry.” 

You look down at his hand, and you place yours on top of his. You look back up at him, giving him a kind smile that shows him that you aren’t angry at him. 

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m just glad that Steve had you.” 

Eddie can tell that it isn’t all you want to say, but just like you gave him the time that he needed, he gives it to you as well, waiting for you. He can see that it isn’t easy for you, especially when your eyes dart back and forth, and the regret basically takes over your whole face. 

“I really shouldn’t have gone with Aaron… I feel bad, and I felt awful when Steve confessed to me…” You admit in deep regret. 

“You shouldn’t. I think we all feel guilty about how we acted the past few weeks, but it seems like it all worked out for the best now.” Eddie nods his head towards Steve, who finally doesn’t look angry or like a kicked puppy. And Nancy doesn’t look like she wants to kill him anymore. 

A smile spreads on your face when your eyes stay on your boyfriend a little longer. Heat creeps up to your cheeks, and you can’t help but blush the longer you look at him. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, happily. 

Eddie’s eyes light up when he sees your smile. He nudges your shoulder and laughs when you start blushing. 

“You’re cute, Sunshine.” He grins and wraps his arm around you. “You know I’m still keeping you right?” He says with a serious tone in his voice. 

His words take you back to your very first interaction with him, when Steve wanted nothing more than for you to leave Hawkins while Eddie was set on making you stay, and ‘keeping’ you. 

You wonder if he remembers Steve’s reaction. 

“She’s not a fucking puppy!” You mimic Steve’s angry voice from back then. 

Eddie’s laughter shows you that he still remembers, and it makes you smile. 

“No.” Eddie shakes his head with a grin as he looks down at you, tapping your shoulder. “Not a puppy. A goddamn wolf.” 

You giggle in amusement and lean your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are still glued to him. Your heart flutters every time you think of your first kiss, his confession, his touch, his desperation, and how he needs and wants you just as much as you do with him. He matches your neediness, your feelings, and the deep want inside of you. 

“Hey Eddie?” 

Eddie hums, raising his eyebrows at you, but your eyes never stray from Steve. 

“Tell me more about your Sweetheart.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a smile spreads on his lips, and he clears his throat. 

“Oh, gladly!” 

-

“Hey Nance?” 

The girl lifts her head, looking at the brunette with raised eyebrows. Steve is not even looking at her, his eyes are glued on you, looking through the open door of the RV where you are sitting on the ground with Eddie, giggling at something the metalhead had said to you. 

“Yeah?” 

A soft smile lingers on his face when your laughter echoes. He looks away after a long moment and turns to face Nancy. He clears his throat as he locks eyes with her. 

“Thank you.”

A line appears between her eyebrows, and she shakes her head a little, “what for?”

“For being there for her.” Steve tilts his head in your direction. “For being a good friend to her. For having her back when I– you know…” He trails off, not wanting to say it out loud. 

Nancy’s blue eyes soften when she glances at you. 

“Correction; she is my best friend.” Nancy murmurs with a small smile on her face. The word ‘best friend’ feels so foreign rolling off her tongue after not having used it since Barb. 

Steve swallows the growing lump in his throat. He knows how much she struggled after losing her only best friend before you, how closed off she was. He remembers how she was around Robin, kind but… distant – if only he knew the real reason for that back then. 

He can see how you not only sneaked your way into his heart but also into hers and Eddie’s. And he knows that if Robin was around, you’d be so loved by her as well. 

“I’ll always have her back.” Nancy promises as she looks back at Steve, now with a hint of guilt in her eyes. “But… I need to tell you something too.” 

Now it’s his turn to raise his eyebrows and tilt his head to the side – a little habit he picked up from you. 

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment with a huff. If there is one thing that Nancy Wheeler doesn’t like, then it’s too apologize and admit that she was wrong, but that is needed. 

“I’m sorry.” She mutters under her breath and opens her eyes again. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, it wasn’t fair of me to be so… rude.”

Steve’s face relaxes again, and he nods in understanding. He isn’t angry at her, he also wasn’t hurt, not the way you were by Eddie’s cold shoulder at least. He waves his hand at her, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, Nance.” He mumbles, unable to hold back his chuckle when he sees the way the guilt slowly vanishes in her eyes. “Honestly, it’s fine. I kinda deserved that–”

“You didn’t. I thought you led her on, but you didn’t. You were scared of your feelings, and that’s why you pushed her away. I didn’t know that. If I did… I would have been less… of an asshole.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Less? But you would have still been an asshole, right?” Steve asks, smiling at her in amusement. 

“I can’t help that when it comes to men… especially men who hurt my best friend.” She shrugs, giving him an unapologetic smile. 

He cringes a little at her words, not the asshole part, the part in which she reminded him of the hurt he put you through. 

“Yeah…” Steve whispers and looks back at you. “I-I was an asshole.”

Nancy sees the remorse; she can practically feel it radiating off of him. 

“You’re not one anymore, that’s what matters.” She reminds him as she leans back in her chair, dropping her sponge and boots on the ground. “And still… I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

Steve turns back to her, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“Seriously, it’s fine, Nance.” He promises. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. He clears his throat and looks around.

Nancy can tell that he wants to say more, but he needs a moment to find the right words. When she sees the way his cheeks heat up and he grows a little flustered, she grows a little curious. She leans forward again and brings both her hands together. 

“You can make it up to me, though…” He whispers and glances at the RV to make sure you aren’t coming out. 

“How?” Nancy asks, getting a little amused by the embarrassment suddenly taking over his face. 

“I– Sunshine.” Steve whispers softly. “We haven’t… you know?” 

Nancy needs a second to grasp what he is trying to say, but when he waves around with his hand and his eyes narrow and widen a little, her face dawns in realization, and she can’t help but giggle. 

“Oh!” 

Steve rolls his eyes at her teasing expression, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing this conversation. 

“We were close to it, but… I didn’t want it to be here.” He mutters and gestures to the RV. “She deserves something better than this.”

Nancy is pretty sure that anything could be special when you are with the right person, but she knows that Steve is set on making it extraordinary for someone like you. 

“But you could make it special too, you know?” She speaks softly so you won’t hear, as she also gestures to the RV. “You could find some candles and new bedsheets, maybe a few string lights to make it… look cute.”

Steve shakes his head with a sigh. 

“No, I want it to be a real date.” He mumbles as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I want it to be just us, nobody around.”

“Oh, you’re scared that we’re gonna hear something you don’t want us to hear.” Nancy giggles and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Are you scared we’re gonna like her moans?” 

Steve looks at her a little bewildered. He frowns at her, huffing, “you– you and Munson, I swear to god. He is rubbing off on you, Nance.” 

“Okay, okay.” She clears her throat. “I’ll stop, I’m sorry!” 

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head again. He falls quiet for a second. 

“I just– I need her first time to be perfect, she… she hasn’t experienced anything. I can’t just do it out of nowhere in a night we are horny.” He exclaims with a blush on his cheeks. He continued his ramble, not realizing that Nancy had completely zoned out and frozen. 

“It’s never gotten further than a makeout for her– like she… is basically at zero when it comes to sex… And I don't–”

Only when her teasing smile fades and awkwardness takes over her face does he realize. She is frowning and sitting with a straight back all a sudden. 

“Are you listening–”

She nods as she snaps out of her thoughts, “um yeah…! I just think that you are making a big deal out of it.” She stands up and scratches the back of her neck, looking at anything but him. 

He frowns at her words and her behaviour. A weird feeling settles in his chest, knowing at what point of his ramble she froze. There is a knowing look on her face, but a guilty one in her eyes, and it makes him frown. 

She looks like she knows something that he doesn’t, and it suddenly makes him feel… irritated. He straightens his back and squints his eyes at her. 

“Nancy…”

The tone in his voice makes her anxious, and she feels the sudden urge to run off and not look at him anymore, which she chooses to do. She picks up her gun and her dirty boots. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go wash my boots… by the lake.” She stutters, which only gives away that he is in the shadows about something that she isn’t. She never stutters, she never gets nervous, and she never bolts in the middle of a conversation, least of all during one where he asked for advice. 

Before he can ask another question, she rushes away and makes her way down the little hill, leaving him confused. There is a small part in him that has an idea of what made her react that way, and it makes him feel an anger he only felt back in the community in Wyoming. 

Steve takes a deep breath, eyes still following Nancy. The only time he remembers her acting that way was when she came back from patrolling with Robin – he only recently found out that Robin kissed her that night and Nancy didn’t know how to process that, considering her breakup with Jonathan was very fresh and her feelings for Robin were intense. 

He slowly looks towards the RV where you’re in, and the pit in his stomach grows when he thinks of all the possibilities for Nancy’s weird behaviour and silence about whatever had caused her to feel that way once your sexual experience was mentioned. 

Unlike before, he wastes no time getting up in search of confrontation. He makes his way to the RV with a heavy feeling in his chest, and every playfulness and light feeling vanish in only a few seconds. 

Eddie is just stepping out when he is about to walk inside. The metalhead grins at him, eyes searching for his best friend, who fled to the lake. 

“Where’s Nance–”

“Lake.” Is all that Steve says before he brushes past Eddie and slams the door once he is out.

Eddie blinks a few times, staring at the door in confusion, “okay…?”

Despite the sudden slam of the door, you don’t flinch, you don’t even notice the angry look on Steve’s face. You just turn around and get up after putting the last can of corn away. 

“Hey! I’m gonna make some tuna ‘salad’ tonight, with mostly corn cause it’s about to expire and–”

“Can I ask you something?” Steve cuts you off, not even listening to what you were saying. His mind is focused on one thing, and one thing only. 

You press your lips together and furrow your eyebrows. Realizing your boyfriend’s irritated expression, you frown in worry. 

“Um… yeah?”

Steve takes a step closer to you. His hazel eyes were missing their usual softness. His eyebrows are pulled together, and his lips are curled downwards. Something is on his mind, something that’s not leaving him any rest. You know it won’t take long to find out what it is, not when he looks at you like this. 

“When you said you and Aaron haven’t… what did you mean by that?”

Your lips part in surprise at the question, not having expected this topic at all. It’s something you have wanted to approach yourself, but couldn’t find the right time to yet, not when everything was so good and… happy. 

Nervousness seeps inside of you, and embarrassment flashes over your face. Your heartbeat picks up, and you bring your hands together. 

“Well… that I’m… still you know…” You stutter as your ears start burning. 

Steve licks the insides of his cheeks, and he clenches his jaw. Your reactions give you away, and he can’t help but feel jealousy sink back in. He starts walking closer to you. 

You quickly notice that Steve isn’t in a playful, lovely mood at all, and it strikes fear inside of you. 

“Mhm.” He hums, nodding. “But does that mean you haven’t done… anything?” 

You look up at him wide-eyed, and his heart melts at that sight – yet the irritation is still strong. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach when you see just how angry he looks. The fear was growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. You are not gonna hide the truth from him, but you are afraid to say those words out loud. 

“I– I didn’t think you would… that you would give us a chance and so…. I-I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, but I couldn’t fully commit–” 

“Sunshine.” Steve says sternly as he stops right in front of you, pushing you up against the counter behind you. “What did you two do?” 

The tone in his voice is serious and angry, almost hateful – and in this moment, you aren’t sure if that is directed towards you or Aaron. Your eyes start burning, and your vision blurs. 

His hands grip the counter on each side, caging you in and not giving you the chance to run away. Your heart starts pounding stronger. You aren’t scared of him. You are scared of his reaction. 

Is it over just before it really started? 

You look up at him with teary eyes. He can tell that you are afraid, and he wants to take that fear away so badly, but he needs you to tell him what you’ve done first. 

“I– It doesn’t matter now, does it? I– We weren’t–”

“What did you two do?” Steve asks again, not wanting you to talk around that topic anymore. 

Your bottom lip quivers and your shoulders slump as you give up, accepting that he might not want you anymore after this. Suddenly, it feels like your feelings mean nothing to him anymore, and he is only set on that one thing. 

You hang your head low and look down at the ground, trying to blink away the tears. You take a deep breath as you think back to that night. 

“He… He touched me…” You admit with a shaky voice. “And went down…” You bite your bottom lip roughly, waiting for the blow of Steve’s words. 

Steve takes in sharp breath. The jealousy inside of him now burned stronger than ever, knowing what Aaron did that night. He is livid. He clenches his jaw as he stares down at you. He tries to think rational, he tries to stay calm, he tries, he really does, but his feelings win in the end, and before he can dwell on it, he turns on his heel and rushes out the RV, slamming the door just the way he did when he walked in. 

And you stand there, frozen in place as your heart sinks deeper and deeper, and the tears threaten to fall. You grip the edges of the counter and stare at the ground, not knowing what to do. 

This is it? This… is it? 

You blink a few times, not knowing what to think, not knowing what to feel. Should you go after him and explain the situation? But then again, what is there to explain? Should you go after him to fix it? Is there any way to fix it? Is what you did wrong?? Is it wrong of him to–

Your head snaps up when the door opens again, and your eyes lock with his hazel ones that are burning with jealousy and an intensity that almost makes your knees buckle. He slams the door loudly, and he moves quickly to the front, quickly turning the knob of the dial, rising the music up. Not that loud, but certainly louder than the dim sounds coming from before.

The look on his face, the rising up and down of his chest, the angry look in his eyes – he intimidates you in this moment, and your body seems to like it. Heat pools in your belly, and goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Steve–”

He takes two steps towards you, taking you by surprise when he cradles your face and smashes his lips against yours, kissing you roughly. 

Your eyes widen as you feel his lips moving urgently against yours. You were confused. You were completely certain that he looked angry, that he didn’t like what you told him. Now, he was kissing you like a man starved, like his life depended on it. You could feel his fingertips digging into the sides of your head, deep into your scalp.

Your hands were gripping his sides, the warm sweater clinging to him, and you were feeling the RV become warmer and warmer. You were slowly melting into the kiss, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to lick your bottom one, requesting access, or more like demanding it. 

You let him in without question, without doubts, without hesitation, even if you were confused at the whiplash of emotions. The music dimmed and dimmed in your ears as they started to ring, also hearing the rushing of blood going to your brain. Your brain that was becoming mush with each second that his tongue danced with yours. Your knees were almost giving up on you, and your core was warming up more and more. The anticipation built inside of you, your heart quickening at an alarming rate, as your stomach turned with butterflies.

You felt the counter dig into the small of your back as he slammed you into it. His hips rubbed against yours, and his kiss never softened. He was still rough, demanding, and you loved it. You never had someone be this possessive over you. You wondered if it had anything to do with what you just told him. If it did, was it wrong for you to feel happy? Someone was jealous over you. Someone got jealous of what you did with someone else.

You never experienced that. You never experienced this. He was licking your mouth as if he were tasting his favorite dessert. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his bulge harden against your belly, and you heard him groan, almost aggressively. You felt him sucking your breath from your lungs almost, consuming you. 

He pulled away, and a string of saliva connected your lips for a short moment, your tongue almost lolling out in search of him again. He huffed, his glare permanent on his eyes as his chest rose up and down from his heavy breathing. You closed your mouth, gulping, trying to get your head together.

“What– What happened?” You asked, and his jaw clenched, his tongue licking the inside of his cheek for a second before his hands let go of your face. You felt his hands grab at your waist, pulling you away from the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. He was not answering you. The only thing you were hearing was his harsh breaths as you felt him moving you, making you walk backwards.

“Steve– What’s going on–” You were ignored once again, your heart beating into your ears as you frowned up at him. Then, you felt the back of your knees hit the bed and then, in a quick movement, his hands got underneath your armpits, lifting you up just a bit from the floor, but enough to throw you onto the bed. You bounced with a gasp, stunned at the sudden manhandling.

He stood at the end of the bed, his hand moving behind him, his eyes still glued to you as he slid the blinds that separate the bedroom from the rest of the RV. This reminded you of the other night when you two got a little too carried away with one another. But didn’t he say he didn’t want it to happen in the RV? You didn’t mind if he backed off from that. You already knew it would be special just because it was going to be him.

But his eyes were still burning with anger. Jealousy. 

And he was. Seeing you on the bed like this, now knowing what Aaron had done to you, he couldn’t help but feel a fire inside of him, burning him inside out. The fact that… that man had you like this. On his bed. Probably naked. Touching you for the first time, tasting you for the first time. He got to see you before he did. He got to hear you before he did. He got to have you before he did.

Not entirely, but that little bit was enough to make him want to break something. He couldn’t erase what had happened with Aaron. It was his own fault, and you were in your whole right to live your life. He had rejected you after all… He cannot erase it. 

But he can overwrite it.

He wants to be the one you remember when you think about it. He wants to be the one who causes the butterflies in your stomach when you imagine it. He wants to be the one who makes you flush and burn each time you remember it. He wants to make your experience with him better than the experience you had with Aaron. It would not be forgotten, but he wants that memory to be dismissed. Not remembered, lacking importance. 

His eyes never left you as he ripped the sweater off him, revealing the tight navy blue long-sleeved shirt underneath. Your eyes were wide as you saw him like that, feeling your mouth water. A thin chain hung around his neck, one you hadn’t noticed before, but now it glistened, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

His knee pressed onto the bed, making his way to get on top of you. His knee nudged in between your legs, making you spread them so he could settle between them. You felt your entire face burn, and his hips lay on yours, making you grunt, jerk at the sensation. You could hear your blood rushing to your ears, making them burn. His eyes clashed with yours, and that sweet demeanor he always had with you, was gone. It was the first time you’ve seen this look on his face.

No, it wasn’t. 

It’s the same face he had when he confronted you before confessing. Though this time looked different. Last time, he looked angry, but he confessed he was hurt. Now, he looks angry, but there’s a darker tone to it. Something possessive, animalistic, feral, and it made you tremble underneath him. It was the first time someone gave you this kind of look, this kind of attention, where they are clearly showing they will devour you whole.

“S–Stevie… what’s wrong?” You asked, your voice a little small because of your nerves. His hips pressed harder against you, both of his hands caging your head against the mattress. He was staring down at you, locks of his hair falling down on his face. He saw your hair splayed, looking embarrassed, shy, and that made his blood boil even more, because he got to see you like that first. 

“I’m angry.” Was his short response, and you couldn’t help but frown. Worry etched into your heart again, only for your attention to be taken away from it, a moan escaping your lips when he rolled his hips against you one more time. He felt himself twitch in his pants, a harsh breath leaving his lungs. 

“W-Why? With me?” His eyebrow twitched at your question. How could you even think that he was angry with you? No. He was angry at himself. He was angry for being an idiot. For being scared. You weren’t to blame for anything that happened between the two of you. His jaw clenched, his head lowering to place a kiss onto the pulse point in your neck, making you sigh.

“With me.” You shook your head a bit, opening your mouth to try to talk, but you whimpered when he nibbled against your skin. Your belly turned with anticipation, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders. He pressed his body against yours, his arms coming to wrap around your body. His hands were between your back and the mattress, holding you tightly against him as his teeth ran over your skin.

He wanted to bite down. He wanted to mark you permanently. He never felt like this before, not even with Nancy. When she had been with Jonathan, he just let it happen. But now, the thought of you being with another man, even when you had been rejected, was making him feel like he had to break something. He felt like he needed to punch someone. Like he needed to make you moan his name. 

Like he needed you to scream his name.

His lips separated from your neck and instantly crashed into yours. You sighed into the kiss, your hands already disappearing into his hair like they always did. He groaned at the sensation, his lips smacking against yours in desperate motions, harsh, rough. His mind was clouding more and more, hazed by the thought of you and–

He had to stop. He had to focus before he lost complete control, and he forgot to be a gentleman. To be the nice and caring boyfriend you deserve. Because he was your boyfriend, not Aaron. He was. And you were staying with him, you said so. You said you were coming with him to California, not going back to Wyoming. He won, Aaron lost.

But fuck, Aaron still fucking had you first.

His tongue immediately plunged into your mouth, his hands coming up to grasp your head, keeping you still as his hips rolled into yours. You felt your cheeks being squished almost harshly. He was desperately holding onto you, making sure you would let him do whatever he wanted with you, and you were delighted by it. You moaned as your tongue danced with his, or tried your best to do so. 

His fingertips dug into your skin, part of your scalp, behind your ears. Just everywhere. Your hands came down to hold onto his wrists, trying to keep his rhythm, trying to follow him. You were still confused at the turn of events, confused as to why he got so angry. His right hand left your face, and in a quick movement, his left one came to grip your chin, keeping you still once again. You couldn’t help how turned on this made you. You couldn’t deny it. You were already becoming wet by how he was dominating the situation.

But then you felt his right hand moving downwards, brushing over your covered breast, groping it over your thin sweater. Your back arched and you moaned into his tongue. He breathed heavily through the kiss, and his hand kept moving down, reaching the hem of your sweater and shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss, noticing how you were panting underneath him. Your eyes half lidded, already gone. He could turn you into this mess with just a simple kiss and a roll of his hips. He should feel good about himself; the anger should be gone, but it wasn’t. He licked the inside of his mouth, his hand slowly creeping underneath your clothes, your body trembling at the touch of his fingers. 

Your skin grew goosebumps the more he inched up towards your breast. His hand never stopped gripping your chin, keeping your eyes on his face as his hand finally cupped you, over your bra. He groaned at the sensation, his hips giving an involuntary roll. You moaned at the friction of it all. He was hard, pressing against you, and you wanted more, needed more. 

You could see his eyes staring down at you as he kept moving his hand, roughly kneeding your breast, and then you gasped when his fingertips pulled the cup down, freeing your nipple. Your eyes widened, and he growled as he flicked your nipple with his index finger, his lips crashing back down on yours. His hand left your chin, moving slowly down towards your throat. He pressed his hand around it, not putting much pressure, but enough to keep you down and still.

You felt yourself flush from the arousal, the embarrassment, the nervousness, the anticipation, the excitement, the thrill. His lips immediately started moving desperately against yours, as his index finger and thumb pinched your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, your back arching against him. He tugged at it, desiring to see it, desiring to make you melt underneath his body. 

Your legs spread even more as your belly coiled slightly, and you wanted to ask him now what made him do this. Not that you were complaining, but you were still in the dark about the reason. You jerked again as he rolled your nipple in between his fingers, moaning against his lips.

“Steve– Stevie, what has gotten into you?” And fuck, if he had to answer truthfully to you, he wondered if you would get scared. What if he told you he is fucking livid? That he is desperate to see you moan and cum? That he is insanely fucking jealous and angry that he wants to ruin you for everything and everyone else?

He pulled away from the kiss, just enough to keep his lips brushing against yours. You looked so delectable. Fuck, if you weren’t… If you just weren’t… He would do things to you right now that would not let you walk the next day. But he had to be patient with that one. He had to make that moment perfect… But this one– This one, he can be a little rough with.

“I’m fucking jealous.” Him admitting that sent a shockwave throughout your body. Him saying it for the first time to you made your heart skip a beat. Even if he was being a little harsh, it was just his way of trying to put a claim on you. You gulped and licked your lips, your eyes finding his as his fingers ran over your nipple, making you shiver from the sensation.

“I’m– I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–” 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, got that, Sunshine?” His voice was imperative, his hold on your throat giving a soft press that made you nod as you sighed. His jaw clenched, and he squinted a bit towards you, “But I’m going to make you forget about him.”

Before you could even process what he had just said, he kneeled up, grabbing the hem of your sweater and shirt, pulling it all the way up, just above your breasts. You gasped, a strong heat covering your face and ears as you realized one of your cups had been pulled down. Your hands moved to cover yourself, only for his hands to grab your wrists, making you look at him. 

He slowed his movements down, just a bit, not wanting to scare you. That was the last thing he wanted you to feel. He wanted you to feel secure around him, to feel safe no matter what happened, and that you could tell him to stop, and he would. But he wanted to ease you into it, relax you. Even as he stared at your breasts and all he wanted was to dive in, his dick twitching in his pants, he took a deep breath to contain himself and closed his eyes.

He leaned down, his lips coming in contact with your stomach, making your breath stutter. His lips brushed against your skin as he moved, kissing another part, then your sides, then moving upwards, and your body writhed underneath his. You sighed deeply the more goosebumps he created on your skin. He looked up at you as he kept kissing his way up, seeing you close your eyes as you let yourself relax under his touch. He licked his lips as he kissed the round of your breast, then the top, and finally he engulfed your nipple with his lips.

Your eyes widened, his hands still grabbing your wrists, pressing them against the mattress as he sucked on your left nipple, sending jolts of electricity towards your belly, making you clench around nothing at all. Steve was trying not to lose himself in your taste, finally having you on his lips in a way that he had been wanting for so long. His brain was short-circuiting at each roll of his tongue, at each tug he gave, and you moaned.

Your eyes then closed as you dove in the sensation, and he noticed, finally seeing you were relaxing into his touch. He took this time to let go of your right hand, guiding it towards your right breast, his fingers gliding over the cup of your bra. He pulled it down slowly, freeing your nipple from its confines. When his index fingers brushed over it, followed by a soft nip of his teeth on your left nipple, your body jerked underneath him at the stimulation.

You had been touched like this, but it felt so different. This feels so good. This feels so right. It feels so much more pleasurable than that one time. You couldn’t help but compare, because it baffled you how much it changed, how you felt when Steve was the one doing it. Instead of thinking about him when someone else did it, you now don’t have to imagine it. You were experiencing it. And you loved it. 

“Steve…” You mewled and Steve moaned into your skin, his cock twitching against his pants, his hips jerking into yours involuntarily. That only prompted you to moan his name again, and he realized he had to keep his composure, or he was going to lose complete control over himself, and that was not the goal. Not today.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, his lips moving down, kissing your chest, then your stomach, causing a tickling sensation that made you tremble. You looked down at him, his eyes looking up at you as he kissed around your belly button. His hand left your breast as he slowly kneeled up, his jaw clenching as he looked down at your pants.

He cracked his neck a bit, thinking to himself to keep it cool. To make this about you and just you. But fuck, his dick was screaming at him to do something. It felt as if all the blood of his body was rushing towards it, making him lightheaded. His eyes looked at yours again, and he noticed the nervousness behind them, despite the arousal and the willingness. 

“Trust me.” He repeated those words he once said to you back when you barely talked to one another. When you had to undress in order to warm each other up in the confines of a car. You felt your heart warm up at the memory of it, and you gave him a slow nod. Happy with your response, he stood up and started taking your boots off.

You were trying really hard not to cover yourself. The nervousness and embarrassment were still present, and much bigger than before, because one obviously wants to be liked by the person they are dating. You want him to like what he sees, but you are still self-conscious because it wasn’t dark in the room. The small night light in the corner, above the bed, was still on. 

But Steve was enjoying every single inch of your body. He could dip down and kiss you all over if he had the time to do so. He had to remember that Eddie and Nancy could not stay out for long, and they had to get moving, but he was having a hard time doing so. After he took your socks off, his hands went to unbutton your pants. He couldn’t help the gulp happening in his throat, how his mouth started to salivate at the thought of seeing you. 

You felt the button being popped off, then heard the zipper slowly move, and you realized just how hard you were breathing, how your stomach was in a turmoil of nerves, and how your heart was trying to break free from your chest. Would he like what he sees? You washed yourself today, but what if it wasn’t enough? With Aaron, you weren’t even thinking about these things, but you couldn’t help but do so with Steve.

And Steve was in a whole battle with himself, because the moment he had a glimpse of your white panties, he was about to moan out your name, just by the mere sight of you in your underwear. He knew you had him wrapped around your finger, but never to this extent. He wished he wasn’t in a time limit, that he had time to do this slowly for you, to take your clothes off one by one, but there wasn’t time.

His fingers dipped into the hem of your pants and your underwear, slowly taking them both off together. Your mouth opened as you gulped a breath in. Your hands came to cover your chest as you realized you had to help him. He tapped your hip once, and you raised them so he would take everything off.

He took a deep breath in, sliding the pants and panties away from you. He tried not to look until you were freed completely. You felt the coldness hitting your legs, and you flushed at how cool your center felt, noting you were wet. Really wet. Your face started burning, as well as your ears, not knowing where to look as he left you bare from your waist down.

He dropped them to the floor, and when he turned to look at you, you had closed your legs slightly. He was having none of that. He knew he had to be gentle with you, but would you notice just how bad he wants you if he were? Would you realize just how much he wants to engrave himself into your mind? Would you realize that all he wants right now is to have you?

“Open your legs, Sunshine.” He asked, trying to be nice, trying to keep himself calm. You gulped, hesitating for a bit due to your embarrassment, even if you wanted it. His hands came to grab onto your knees, his eyes searching for yours. “Sunshine.”

When you turned to look at him, his eyes were intense, determined, yet desperate. You clenched around nothing again just by the sight of him. You took a deep breath in, letting him guide your legs open, spreading yourself for him. You have never felt this exposed. You have never felt like this. It wasn’t shame, it wasn’t that you didn’t want it at all. But the guy you liked was guiding his eyes towards your core, and you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Steve could see the glistening of your wetness even, seeing how you had reacted to him. Seeing how much you wanted him, wanted this. And he could only take a deep breath in, grabbing the back of your right knee and lifting it up a bit, his lips finding purchase on the top of it. His other hand brushed over your other thigh, gently, trying to relax you. You looked so beautiful, even better than what he had imagined or even dreamed of.

Your breath hitched as his kisses started moving downwards, lips on your thighs now, softly pecking you. You melted under them, closing your eyes as shivers ran all over your body, feeling yourself feel your belly tense up because even on just your thigh, it felt so good. He eyed you, his hands now gripping the back of your thighs, spreading your legs even more so he could start lowering his body, the further his kisses went.

The gears inside his brain were trying to stop working as his lips found your inner thigh. He felt you tremble underneath him, making his fingertips dig in your skin, holding you still. He wasn’t going to let go of you, not now. He might be selfish, he might be harsh or rough, but he couldn’t hold himself back. Not anymore. Not after what he found out. 

His teeth nipped on the soft, sensitive flesh and then sucked on it. A gasp ripped out of your mouth, eyes widening at the sensation. His lips kept latched onto your skin, marking you, claiming this private part of yours. Skin no one would ever see but him. Skin that belonged to him now, and even if it sounded possessive, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

After a few seconds, he let go of your inner thigh with a pop! only to quickly move onto the other one, immediately repeating the same actions he did with your right one. One of your hands left your chest to grip the sheet below you, tightly. You needed to hold onto something, your breathing heavy as it anticipated what he was about to do. 

Steve pulled away to see his masterpiece, his breaths coming out rough and needy. A purple mark now evident on each of your inner thighs. Good. But now, came the main course. His self-doubt kicked in for a second. He never had any complaints about how he performed orally, but he couldn’t help but think about not being able to be better than Aaron. He was older, and he looked experienced; Steve’s self-consciousness kicked in.

But then his eyes found your face, eyes half lidded, half gone, your chest moving up and down with your bra pulled down, and you were looking at him with a neediness that he could have been able to detect a mile away. And that was enough for him to lie on his belly, in between your legs.

He should go slow. He should be gentle with you. He shouldn’t let his possessiveness get the best of him. He should kiss the top of your belly, ease you into it. He should be perfect. But then again, this wasn’t your first time with this. This wasn’t the first time you were touched like this.

And he dove in with a growl.

Your eyes widened, your back arched as your nails dug into the fabric below you. His lips circled your clit, his tongue starting to press onto it and move it side to side. A gasp escaped you, the hand on your chest now coming to cover your own mouth. Your belly instantly flipped at the feeling, his hands moving in between your ass and the mattress, gripping you tightly to keep you in place. 

At your taste, Steve moaned, not being able to help himself and rut his hips into the mattress. He felt you twitch and jerk with each flick of his tongue on your clit. His eyes looked up, over the hair that was falling over his face, seeing you had your knuckles over your mouth to keep your noises in. He groaned at that, wanting to hear you, leaving your clit with a pop. His tongue lolled out, licking a stripe of your wetness from in between your folds, a whimper leaving you as your hips bucked into him.

Shit, you were delicious. You were a perfectly aged wine that made him drunk with just one sip. He felt light-headed, driven only by his lust, by how amazing you feel underneath his touch. By how hot you sound, how good you look, how beautiful you are. And now, he had to find out you were delicious too? Even if there were a rehabilitation center to cure him from the growing addiction he was having over you, he wouldn’t go. Fuck that.

He dove his tongue in between, pointedly licking upwards and towards your clit again. Your head felt like it was in the clouds, your body starting to burn a thousand degrees, not even feeling the cold in the RV. You were sure there was still music going on, but all you could hear was Steve’s licks, the soft groans escaping him, and the blood that was rushing towards your head.

“Steve–” You whispered, and he moaned into your clit as he flicked it again, his hips circling against the bed, needing friction at his hard-on. It was involuntary. He should focus on you, but he couldn’t stop his body from reacting. He pulled away, licking his glistening lips as his eyes never left your center.

“You taste so good, Sunshine… So perfect for me, such a good girl.” He purred, and your mouth fell open at the words that just came out of his lips, only for your thought to be interrupted by his lips latching onto your clit again as his tongue licked and licked. A moan escaped you, louder now, not being able to cover your mouth anymore.

It felt amazing. He felt amazing, fantastic even. He slurped, eating you like a man starved. Both of your hands were now gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching off the bed as a specific lick felt a little too good. You gasped, followed by a sigh of delight. Were you too needy to want more? To want to feel more of him?

But you didn’t even need to say anything, because he wanted to taste you further, feel you further, pleasure you further. He unlatched from your clit, only to dip in between your folds with his tongue, and push in. He moaned, thrusting into the mattress at feeling your warmth. 

“St– Steve!” You whispered-yelled at him, your eyes clenching at the feeling, body trembling at feeling him inside of you. He couldn’t help himself anymore; the bulge in his pants was now painful. He needed to free himself, at least a bit. One of his hands left your ass, his hips rising slightly so he could get in between and pop his button open and pull the zipper down. He sighed a bit in relief, now his hard-on not having a thick denim constricting it.

But then his eyes opened to see your hands gripping the sheets, and he was having none of that. That same hand moved to grab onto your right hand, making you open your eyes through your pleasure and look down.

His eyes were fierce, determined, sharp, and he moved your hand towards the top of his head. He was signaling you that you could grip his head, his hair. He would love it if you did so. His hand went back to gripping your ass, pulling you deeper into him, his tongue now swirling inside of you, and your hand closed on his hair, a moan leaving your lips without any shame.

Fuck it. Fuck it. It felt too good to hold back. You couldn’t handle it anymore, much less when Steve was clearly enjoying himself, letting you know by the moans he was letting out. You knew his fingertips were going to mark your flesh from how tightly he was holding onto you, but why the fuck would you even care about that? It even made you happy to know that. It made you happy that he marked you all over. 

His tongue left you, his heavy breath hitting you, making your skin grow goosebumps because of the coldness you felt from it. From how wet you were. His lips kissed your clit gently, one, two times, his right hand leaving your behind, slowly moving it towards your pussy, and you flinched from the surprise at the feeling of his middle finger running over your slit, covering it in your juices.

“Relax, baby…” He cooed at you, gently, and you let a sigh escape you as you shook your head, rubbing his head with the hand that was still gripping it. 

“I am, I was– Just surprised…” He hummed in approval at your response, glad you were being talkative and not shying away from him, or not telling him how you truly felt. His lips circled your clit again, and then his finger started to slowly push in. 

A long gasp broke from your lips, choking a bit in your throat as you felt him go in. Your fingers dug into his scalp, making him growl against your clit, your warmth engulfing his middle finger, sucking him in completely. He didn’t move for a second, flicking your clit to check your reactions. 

You moaned again when you felt the tip of it wiggling a bit, making an electric shock travel all over your spine. 

“Stevie, please–” It was the first time you had begged all night, asked for more, asked for him to keep going. And fuck, was he going to comply. He started thrusting his finger in and out of you. It was slow at first, letting you get used to the feeling of it, giving your clit a few kisses so you could melt even more into his touch.

His hips rutted into the mattress below him at the same tempo that he was thrusting his finger inside of you. He was like an animal right now, not even realizing or thinking through what he was doing. He heard your soft moans, some you were trying to hold in, some were leaving your mouth without restraint.

He felt your nails digging into his scalp, pulling onto his hair at each flick of his tongue on your clit, while his finger curled upwards inside of you. You felt your chest heaving at the feeling, your head rolling onto the pillow, feeling sweat all over your body. Steve knew you were feeling good, but his possessiveness kicked in again, the memory of this not being the first time you were experiencing this coming right back.

He pulled away from your clit, his teeth tugging it as he moved, making you jerk underneath him, whimpering his name. His finger moved faster now, his left hand moving from your ass towards your waist, pulling you into his other hand as if urging you to ride his finger.

“You feeling good, Sunshine?” He also wanted to know you weren’t in any discomfort. That you weren’t in any pain at all. You nodded enthusiastically, making him chuckle, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips as he shook his head. His jaw clenched as he pulled his finger out, making your eyes widen and look down at him. He tapped it slowly against your clit, making you clench around nothing. “I need words, baby.”

“Yes– Yes, it feels good, Stevie, please–” You gulped, not being able to feel embarrassed any longer. He nodded, now his middle and ring fingers gliding in between your folds again, gathering more of your slick. Then he pressed them against your clit, doing short and quick movements, side to side. Your other hand immediately grabbed onto his hair too, your head falling back onto the pillow as multiple shocks made your body spasm underneath him. 

Your mouth was open, letting your moans fill the RV, hopefully drowned by the music inside of it. You and Steve were really not paying attention to that anymore. Not when his fingers started to push in again, now his ring finger joining his middle one. He moaned as he felt you clench a bit around them, fluttering as your name fell off his lips almost in a prayer.

You felt tight, you felt so warm, and he had to clench his eyes as a thrust of his hips sent a jolt of electricity all over his body. Eddie’s words rang in his ears, taunting him, wanting him to cave in. He didn’t need to think of where the condoms were, not right now, not today. He clenched his eyes tightly as he breathed shakily, concentrating once again when he felt your nails scratch his head, pulling on his hair slightly.

He started going slow, his tongue lapping at your clit as his fingers went in and out of you, the squelching starting to be heard, even over the music. His left hand was still gripping your waist, pushing you against his fingers, guiding you. Your body trembled at the feeling of him, at the brush of his fingers and knuckles inside of you. 

Your legs were spread and bent around his head, letting him have the full access he required, that he needed, that he craved. You were being so good for him. So perfect, just like he always knew you’d be. His fingers picked up a pace, curling his fingers upward, feeling your fingers pull on his hair when you felt your insides turning. Your belly was starting to cramp, and you were overwhelmed at how good all of it felt.

His eyes opened to look up at your expressions, at your movements, his mouth leaving your clit so he could concentrate on your sounds. He could now feel you moving underneath him, jerking your hips every now and then. Your head was thrown back on the pillow, your back arching and your chest heaving as moans and whines escaped your lips. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He felt you fluttering around his fingers, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as he felt you getting wetter and wetter. You rubbed his head, urging him to put his mouth back on you again, but he was not moving. You whimpered, forcing yourself to look down at him with pleading eyes. Big, begging, and he almost, just almost, caved in.

“Stevie–”

“Did you cum?” His question threw you off, breathing heavily, about to answer only for your words to die on your tongue when a particular drag of his fingers sent a jolt to your belly, your head falling against the pillow again.

“Steve–” You sighed and he groaned, his fingers slowing down again, keeping them curled, but moving at a pace that was not satisfying you. You frowned, looking down at him once more, your mind in need for him to keep moving. “Don’t stop–”

“Did he make you cum?” You stuttered, closing your eyes as his thumb brushed against your clit. “I won’t keep going if you don’t–”

“I didn’t! I– faked it– I faked it–!” Happy with your answer, his fingers started moving again, and you sighed in content, your head back on the pillow as you felt yourself start to flutter again. Your climax was so close, you could feel it, and you knew he could too.

“Why?” He growled out, and you were not answering again, making him slow down again, his teeth coming to tug at your clit rather harshly, making your entire body jerk against him. Your hands were still on his head, and he fought against every tug and push of yours. “I am asking you questions, Sunshine.”

“Fuck– Stevie– I’m gonna cum, I–” 

“Focus.” He wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it. It was already a win that Aaron hadn’t gotten an orgasm out of you, but he had a feeling that he was going to love the reason as to why you did what you did even better. You took sharp breaths in as you felt your entire body start to cramp, trying not to rip your boyfriend’s scalp off.

“I couldn’t– I couldn’t stop thinking about you– And I just wanted it to be you– OH god–!” Your right hand left his hair as your back started to arch when he picked up a pace again, desperately so. It went to grip the pillow underneath your head while the other tugged at his hair.

His hips started to rut into the mattress at your answer furiously. He was so drunk on you. He was so hypnotized. You had thought of him the whole time you were with the other man. Steve had definitely won it all. Despite this not being your first experience, he now knew you would consider it your real one. The one that made a difference. 

His lips came to desperately take your clit again, sucking on it as his fingers moved rapidly inside of you, abusing your g-spot over and over again. Your mind was blank; you weren’t measuring your moans anymore, nor the number of times you were sighing Steve’s name out of your lips. 

All you knew was that you started to see stars, your entire body setting on fire as you started to pulse around his digits. You were breathing heavily, your head thrashing around the pillow, trying to survive whatever tidal wave Steve was about to unleash on you. 

“Cum, baby. Cum for me.” 

And you listened. Your insides clenched around him, tightly, and your legs closed around his head as your belly exploded, your climax crashing over you instantly. It was big, it was intense, it was something you’ve never felt before in your life. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, yet it was cool, and your toes cramped as they curled into themselves. 

Your mouth was open as you tried to breathe in, and then, a loud cry escaped you as you trembled fiercely underneath him. He moaned into your clit as he rode your orgasm out, feeling your legs around his head, almost about to crush him, but he didn’t care. Holy shit, he couldn’t care fucking less because you felt so tight. You felt so fucking good, and his cock wasn’t even inside of you. 

You heard him groan loudly, or maybe it was your imagination. You didn’t know what was real and not anymore. Your mind was gone as your orgasm started subsiding. You felt your walls unclench slowly from around him, fluttering every now and then as his tongue licked at your clit with kitten licks. 

Once he felt you completely let go of his fingers, he started to slowly take them out of you, and you whimpered as you felt the loss of them. He then saw your cunt, glistening, almost dripping down towards the sheets. He couldn’t help himself when he lolled his tongue out and licked the stripe of your wetness, tasting you even more than before. He groaned into you as he lapped at you.

You whined, your body jerking at the overstimulation. Your hand gripped his scalp, trying to rip him away from you, legs spreading again to let go of his head. You were panting, catching your breath as you felt yourself a little lightheaded. You were in complete and utter bliss, all out of your boyfriend becoming jealous and possessive. 

He pulled away from your cunt finally, licking his fingers clean. Now, he felt so sweaty. He should have gotten his shirt off at least. He was breathing heavily, wiping his chin with the back of his sleeve, knowing he would have to wash it now anyway. He felt you spasming a bit, and he let go of your waist, looking up at you as you lay spent on the bed. Good.

He crawled slowly over you, kissing your hip and then your stomach as he went. He could feel now how hot you were running, and he was so happy that he was the reason for all of these reactions of yours. He sighed as he kissed your jaw and then your cheek, trying to center you back in the present.

“Sunshine? You okay?” He asked, wanting to really know that you were alright. Wanting to know he didn’t overdo it. He is now slowly realizing just how rough he had been with you. A side of him he never got to meet before. When he saw those romance movies where the man got overly jealous always seemed exaggerated to him. He was so wrong. Those feelings existed with the right person, and the right person for him, was you.

“Y–Yeah…” You sighed, giving a slow nod, your eyes finally opening again. You found him looking down at you and he looked so disheveled. He looked so gone. He looked so good. A smirk appeared on his panting lips.

“Felt good?” You nodded quickly at his question, almost making him sigh out of relief. You gulped, licking your lips. You were tired, but you wanted to return the favor to him. You wanted to make Steve feel good too. You wanted to at least try.

“I– Can I return the favor?” His eyes widened at your request. He licked his lips nervously as he felt his heart skipping a beat.

“You don’t need to force yourself to do it. I wanted to do that to make you feel good, not expecting anything in return–”

“I want to give something in return. I want to taste you too… I want to touch you too, Steve…” And he trembled on top of you, his breathing becoming steady again. He gulped, shaking his head slowly.

“There’s… No need for that…” You frowned, a bit of your self-consciousness kicking in again as you looked up at him.

“I– I know I never did that, but you can teach me… I can learn as I go… You just have to show me what you like best, Stevie…” He wanted to shoot something at your words. He wanted to cave a hole into the RV’s ceiling with his fist to get some cold air in because he felt suffocated. How can you say something like that to him? Do you even know what kind of power you had over him?

“Thank you, baby, but I really– don’t have the need for it, right now…” His eyes were hopeful, wanting to save himself from shame, but you only looked at him with confused eyes.

“I… Are you sure–?”

And before you could doubt yourself anymore, he decided to rip the truth out like a Band-Aid.

“Jesus chri– I came in my pants while eating you out, Sunshine.”

You blinked a few times, his words starting to process in your head. He was blushing a furious red, his hair falling over his forehead as he looked everywhere but your face. He came just by touching you. Just touching you. You didn’t even know that was a thing.

“O– Oh!” You couldn’t help the giggle that came out of your lips, feeling the entire situation funny, yet endearing, yet… so sexy. So erotic. His eyes went down to look at your laughing face, feeling embarrassed, but despite that, he smiled, digging his face into your neck to hide himself.

“Don’t laugh, you menace.” You felt him kiss your pulse point, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders as your giggles kept going. 

“It’s hot though.” He let go of your neck, moving to face you again and you were looking at him with an innocent look in your eyes. 

“Definitely a menace.” His heart felt like bursting while staring down at you when another smile broke on your lips. He leaned down to take them into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your body as you kissed back. He was content, he was happy, and he was proud he had made you feel that good. 

You let him cuddle you and kiss you after. Steve left for the bathroom to wash himself and change, while you changed in the bedroom. When you were left by yourself, you couldn’t help but remember every single touch he gave you. Every single sensation you felt, and just remembering that his tongue was on you, was enough to make your entire face burn up and melt away.

When he returned, he was wearing his sweatpants and a white loose shirt on. His hair was wet, and he shook his head like a dog, trying to dry it a bit more. You bit your lip while looking at him as you sat in the bed, inside the covers, waiting for him. He felt his heart skip a beat, and he opened his mouth, only for you to cover your mouth, alarming him.

“Eddie and Nancy! They– They definitely heard me!” You gasped with terror, and he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, uh… I should turn the music down…” He blushed and you frowned, confused, tilting your head like you always did. Then, you finally realized how loud the music was compared to other times. He had dialed the volume up on purpose, with the pure intent of doing what he did to you.

Before you could say anything to him, feeling shame invade him, he closed the blinds and he rushed out towards the front, reaching out to the radio to turn it off. He gulped as he took a deep breath in, walking towards the cupboards to grab one of the water bottles. He opened it and took a big gulp, trying to quench his thirst. He closed the cap, and then he started hearing murmuring outside the RV.

The door opened slowly, Eddie and Nancy walking in. They were talking about possible towns to visit, the map and journal in their hands, and Steve sighed with relief as they didn’t question anything, nor spared him a single look as they went to the front to take their seats. Steve grabbed the water bottle, turning to go to the back again, his hand grabbing the handle of the sliding door.

“Steve.” Nancy’s voice cut his thoughts short, turning his head over his shoulder, and he found two pairs of cheeky eyes looking at him, a smirk on each of their face, making Steve nervous.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to change the sheets.” His mouth opened in shock, the two friends turning to look at the road again, and their talking resumed as if Nancy hadn’t said anything at all.

He gulped, opening the blinds and stepping back in. He looked up at you, and he noticed your horrified face. He winced, frowning almost in pain as the embarrassment kicked in for both of you.

“They definitely heard me.”

“I– Yeah.”

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington @btskzfav@hawkeyeharrington

[consistentlyamess]

this is the best any fic i've written has ever done 🥹🥹🥹🥹 and it got me thinking some mre thoughts 👀 so if you have any requests, blurb ideas, specific things you'd like to see PLEASEEEEEEEEE let me know!!!!!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

and thank you for reading and enjoying it!!

Sundays are for family dinner

[4.6K]

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve met you at the lowest point of his life and it still surprises him sometimes how quickly you see through him and seem to have the exact right words for everything

warnings: 18+ , MDNI, tiny bit smutty, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, mentions of weight loss, mentions of scars, swearing, brief stancy, lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: unbelievable how many times you can stop yorurself from witing "soft". i'm so strong. but truly, i love soft!steve so much, it makes me weirdly emotional. i literally wrote the whole things for that last scene.

Everytime you and Steve had the kids over it was mayhem. Familiar, lovely, lively but mayhem nonetheless.

‘Dustin, you’re turning 23, I should not be the one still telling you to not run with a knife, dude!’ you hear Steve’s voice from behind you while putting out some snacks at the kitchen counter.

‘Sorry, dad!’

‘Jesus Christ.’ He murmurs in an exaspereted voice and you can practically see the way he pinches the bridge of his nose.

‘Some people’s kids, huh?’ you murmur with a smirk.

‘It’s dangerous! One of these days he’ll slip on the tiles and cut himself if he keeps doing that.’

‘You should be careful, you sound more and more like an old man with every passing day H.’

He’s always hit by a little wave of nostalgia when you call him that. Walking into his life, all cocky and snappy at a point when he thought he was over this. Over the all-consuming crushes and thinking someone is the love of your life.

After defeating the Upside down, after the dust settled, after burying their dead they stuck together. Losing Jonathan did a number on everyone. Everyone thought they should’ve done more. Will felt guilt and sadness, so Mike was devastated, Dustin seemed inconsolable, Nancy was weighed down with all the unsaid words, with the final memories of distance and uncertainty. And he was left to pick up the pieces once again. He was lonely. Robin was leaving for college soon, and he knew she had to go, there were no two ways about it but it did make him anxious and very sad and he didn’t show it. In the midst of all of that he was desperate for some familiarity, something to comfort, something that felt safe. So, they briefly found their way back to each other, for exactly that. Warmth, ease, uncomplicated. But it’s never that, is it? Uncomplicated, that is. They quickly figured out that it was not gonna work. It wasn’t dramatic, or loud or anything like that. It was a quiet understanding, slow, shared tears, ‘I’m sorry’s’ whispered into the dark, although they both knew it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just was what it was.

He walked into a bar in Indiana while visiting Robin not too long after that. She had to study, he was feeling particularly sorry for himself. You were pouring beer and laughing with someone who seemed to be a regular. Wearing a band T-shirt with the sleeves cut off in a way that your bra was peaking out the sides as you moved, hair tied into a bun with no care, chipped black nail polish, a dangerous smile and something even more dangerous glinting in your eyes as you threw your head back giggling. Not his type but still very much his type. He was at rock bottom and he knew you were trouble but he still couldn’t stop himself from walking over to the bar. Like a moth to the flame. I’m so fucking pathetic - he thought to himself.

As he sat down at the bar your eyes flicked at him. You knew that look. Being a bartender you see a guy like him at least three times a night. Six on the weekends. They’re sad, they lost something, or they never found it. Whatever it is, you smile, you listen if needed, flirt a little and they tip nice. This wasn’t even the first time you thought you could kiss it better, fix him, as it were.

‘Hey, what can I get you?’

‘Uh, hi, just a beer please.’

‘Just a beer coming up.’

You were pouring the beer from the tap and you couldn’t help but stare a little. The dark circles and bags under his eyes, little scruff, he obviously hasn’t shaved in at least in a couple of days, cheeks a little too bony. He lost weight, you thought, he’s not sleeping. Wonderful material for your unshakeable need to save everyone. You were quick to learn that that’s something you shared.

‘You new in town?’ you asked.

‘Uhm, yes and no.’

‘Oh, mysterious.’

Were you flirting with him?

‘Not that mysterious.’ You almost missed the tiniest little upturn in the corner of his lips. ‘My best friend goes to college here, just visiting. First time in town though.’

‘Well, you’re at the right place then’ you said, continuing in that slightly teasing tone that started to raise a little bit of heat at the back of his neck. The first time you made him feel something he thought he couldn’t anymore. ‘Most good stories and bad decisions start right here.’

Before he could answer a guy came up beside him.

‘Hey, sweetheart.’ There was something about the nickname and the way he said it that made him pull a cringing frown, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Oh, boy.

‘Hi, Vinnie.’ All the warmth and playfulness was drained from your voice so fast. He took his beer and took a sip, sending you a thankful look.

‘I would love a whisky, neat, with your number on the side.’ He was really trying to control himself but this dick was making it very hard. He could see the way you tensed. You knew this guy. You didn’t like it.

‘We’ve been over this Vinnie. The whisky I can do, nothing else, just drop it bud.’

‘Oh, come on now sweetheart.’ That fucking nickname again. ‘Smile for me a little, that’s the least you can do, promise to leave a big tip.

‘Jesus Christ’ He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, he didn’t want trouble - well maybe a little, in the form of that giggle he heard earlier but nothing else. But it still slipped out, he couldn’t help it.

‘Is there a problem here buddy?’ He knew that tone too. Trouble. Not the good kind.

‘Easy does it, Vinnie! He’s new, don’t scare him away.’ You send him a wink but he senses the tension. You’ve seen this before. You don’t want this. He doesn’t need to be a knight in shining armour for you.

‘No problem at all, man. Just drinking my beer. Although, if you keep harassing her, we might have one.’ Again, it just slipped out. Old habits and all that.

‘Harassing? Jesus, you young people get so easily worked up over nothing. I’m just flirting a little, no harm.’

‘Well, she’s clearly not into it, so you can just say thank you and we can all drink our beers in silence and peace.’

There are a couple things happening at the same time. You shout something (the bodyguard at the place, he later learns), the chair under Vinnie sliding backwards and his fists grabbing onto his shirt near his collar.

‘Listen, little boy-’

But he can’t finish the sentence, because the guard pulls him off. They can’t keep him out, but they can definitely kick him out when he acts up.

He was glad, if he wanted to be honest. He could still pull some punches probably, if need be, but he was nowhere near his prime anymore. There was no way he was gonna win that one. It was a hard pill to swallow but he needed to be smarter about these things. Bloody knuckles weren’t that cute anymore, now he was pushing thirty.

‘You make a habit of protecting bartenders?’ you asked after the guy was thrown out.

‘Only the ones that wink at me.’

‘Huh, I should do it more often then.’

‘Maybe you should.’ It’s teasing, the way his voice drops half on octave as he says it. Your lips twitch. He’s still got some of it left, he thinks to himself, good to know.

‘Your next beer is on me then, hero boy.’

‘What makes you think I want another beer? And Steve’s fine.’

‘If you must know, Steve, I get off in about an hour and thought you might wanna stick around.’

‘Do you have a phone back there?’

‘Gotta let your girlfriend know, you’re not coming home tonight?’

‘Like I said, my best friend, no girlfriend. She gets worried easily, that’s all.’

‘Wife? A couple kids back home?’

‘No wife, no kids’ he said, holding his left hand up, wiggling his fingers. ‘Well, not mine, anyway.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at that and tilted your head to the side, which made your throat stretch in a way that had him thinking some thoughts. Inappropriate, even lewd thoughts. The second time you made him feel something he thought evaporated from him.

‘There’s this group of kids - well, they’re not even kids anymore really - I used to sort of babysit back in the day. Not my kids, but kinda my kids.’

You hum, narrow your eyes and he feels his stomach drop a little. You’re looking at him, studying. He didn’t really say anything and still you know there’s something to look for behind it. You’re reading him, looking for that closed up, hidden place inside of him that has been dormant for so long. And he almost felt like he wanted you to find it. Shit.

‘The phone’s on the wall to the right.’ you said eventually when you saw someone walk up to the bar.

By the time you’re clocking out, he’s a little tipsy, leaning against the wall of the divebar.

‘You waited.’

‘You got me a free beer, only fair.’

‘You have some more time to spare? Maybe you could extend your protector hours a little, walk me home?’

It was the game, he knew it. Why else would you have suggested he stay, if you didn’t want to take him home? But it’s a game he loves, he’s a little rusty, that’s a given but he does love it and is happy to play along. It’s like flexing a sore muscle. It’s not exactly comfortable just yet, but it does feel good.

‘Uh, you see, that might just cost you another beer.’

‘You’ll have to come back for that, pretty boy.’

‘Was planning on it anyway, free beer or no free beer.’

‘That’s a good answer.’

‘Lead the way.’

The conversation is a little fractured. A question here and there, where are you from and what do you do, have you ever been to this place, you must try that. He told you how he found a new calling in being the town handyman while he helped rebuild it after the earthquakes and shit. You remembered the news, the front pages, how it didn’t seem to add up. You tell him you dropped out of college, only recently reapplying, studying to be a counselor during the day, picking up shifts at the library and the bar anytime you could. It’s nice. It feels easy, despite the fact that you can both feel the yet untold sadness and pain behind those stories. The beer and conversation are loosening him up in a way he hasn’t felt with a stranger in a long time. He even made you giggle a couple of times and it warms him even more than the beer.

’You wanna come in?’ You ask when reaching the door. There’s no bashfulness, no shyness lingering there. He’s kinda known, more hoped, this would happen but the lack of those things still catches him a little off guard. You keep surprising him, tilting the axis of the world around him a little and he finds that he likes it. And he’s really glad, he sobered up on the walk home.

He nods with a lazy, crooked smile and it makes you huff out a little laugh as you open the door.

After you switch on the fairy lights, he’s studying your place, making your insecurities rise a little. It was small, a little messy, you weren’t expecting anyone. Books scattered on the small table and the couch, a highlighter, a few empty mugs and a soup bowl, a couple plants, a throw blanket crumpled up - the fairy lights make everything look warm, cozy. Just like you - he thinks.

‘You have a nice place.’

‘Thank you.’ Your voice comes from closer behind him than he anticipated, it makes him flinch a little.

‘Sorry’ you murmur, even closer now, your breath hitting him through his shirt. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’ You place a barely there kiss on his shoulder, your gentle hand coming up on the opposite shoulder with a reassuring, light squeeze. Those two things alone are enough to send his head into a tailspin and make him want to cry at how sweet you are. How receptive you were to his sudden… shyness. Tenseness? He didn’t really know what was going on with him.

‘It’s okay, sorry for being jumpy,’ he said, bringing a hand up to yours that was now snaked around his chest, a little too close to his heart.

‘Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t really planning on having company.’

He shook his head with a tiny, breathy laugh.

‘It’s okay.’ He turned around, keeping your hand in his, brushing your knuckles a little.

Your were silent, looking up to him with wide eyes, the fairy lights and that dangerous something twinkling in them in a way that made him fear he was already well and truly fucked.

You could both feel the air shift, tension getting thick, and he was really glad you took charge, tangling your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, brushing the apples of his cheek with your thumb, gently pushing him into the direction of the couch, slowly but deliberately, giving him time to stop but making clear what you want. You pushed him down softly, questioning look in your eyes, before he nodded and you lowered yourself onto his lap.

‘Hi’ you breathed when you were nose to nose again.

‘Hi’ he breathed back.

‘You nervous pretty boy?’

‘I-‘ his breath hitched a little when you pressed into him with a little more intent. ‘Yeah, shit, yeah, a little. Been a while.’

‘We can stop, if you want.’

He shook his head, placing his hands on either side of your hips. Not grabbing yet, just anchoring himself maybe.

‘I need you to say it, pretty boy.’ You whispered. Your thumb brushed over his eyebrow and it took every single scrap of self control left in him to not let out a whine.

‘No.’ It came out croaked, like he had to clear his throat. ‘No, I don’t wanna stop. I’ve been wondering what you taste like all night. Just, maybe go slow?’

‘I can do slow. Don’t have anywhere to be.’ You kept caressing his face with sincere finger tips, brushing away his fears one stroke at a time.

When you finally leaned in to kiss him he thought he might pass out. Your lips were so fucking soft, your every movement tender and affectionate and he had to try really hard to not let the thought about how he’s undeserving, unworthy of these things seep into the forefront of his mind. Lucky, you kind of occupied every single one of his senses. You smelled like deodorant and detergent, a little worn out from your shift at the bar. He didn’t mind. It made you feel real. When your hand dipped beneath his shirt you felt him tense up, so you paused. He squeezed his eyes shut when you looked up at him, eyes all doey, questioning, a little worried.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered. He let his forehead fall against your shoulder.

‘Can you look at me, please?’ You were trying to coax him out of whatever this state was with soft and steady touches ‘Please, baby.’

And how the fuck do you say no to that? It was almost unbearable, the honesty, the concern in your eyes.

‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No.’

‘Want me to turn off the lights?’

‘No. Wanna see you.’

The grin you give him makes his heart skip.

‘Smooth.’

‘Still have some moves left, it turns out.’

‘Let me guess: high school heartthrob?’

‘I don’t know how to answer that without sounding like a jackass.’

‘So, yes.’

‘You wanna keep being a smartass or you wanna use your pretty mouth for something else, maybe?’

‘Oh, look at that! Here I am, trying to make you relax and you go straight to suggesting I suck your dick.’

‘What?! No, wait that’s n-‘

He couldn’t finish the sentence because you stopped his rambling with a kiss. Little more force in it now. You’re holding his face like he is something precious and he thinks he might want to believe that he is someday. He kissed back with more fervor, his hands started moving up your back and you could feel him relax again a little bit against your touch. Coming up for a little air, you looked at him.

‘Wanna go to the bedroom?’

‘Yes.’ It was eager, hungry even and it made you chuckle.

‘Come on, pretty boy.’

You led him into the bedroom where you realized why he was so tense. He took his shirt off with a sigh, and that’s when you saw the scars. Healed and scabbed, probably a couple years old.

He thinks back to that night often when things get tough. The way you traced them with delicate fingers, the way you kissed along them. It was the first time he felt remotely like a normal person in years. Like someone who can have nice things. Like someone who deserved this. He was on the verge of tears but he wanted it so bad. And so he kept himself together, kissed you like he meant it, kissed down your body, spent his sweet time with his head between your thighs, until they shook, until tears were prickling in the corner of eyes, which he also kissed away. He was nervous, about being scrawny, about the bones showing, poking his skin, about the scars but you didn’t bet an eye. He only saw hunger, want, felt it in the way you tangled your fingers in his hair. And you made it look easy. Wanting him looked easy when you did it and it made him a little crazy. You made him relax, laughing with him when he fumbled with the condom packet and again when you hit your head on the headboard at a particularly hard thrust. You wore each other out that night, he also remembers that. You fell asleep tracing patterns onto his chest and while he struggled a little, like most nights, he also fell into a deep slumber next to you and didn’t wake until the early afternoon. He almost started to panic when he didn’t see you next to him in the bed but that quickly calmed down when he heard your humming from outside and something cluttering in the kitchen. He got dressed and quietly joined you.

‘Hey’ you greeted him with a smile and he thought that maybe he likes this even more than the band t-shirt. You were still a little sleep mussed but you clearly had a shower, flowery smell lingering on you now. Hair now let down, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, making breakfast. He could get used to this, he thinks, immediately followed by the thought that maybe he should pace himself. Maybe it was just sex. You didn’t seem like that but he has been wrong before.

‘Hi.’

‘Your timing is great, I’m almost ready with breakfast.’

‘Hm, that sounds amazing but I have to go. Robin is probably freaking out already and I promised we’d go out for lunch today, which I’m also kind of already late for.’

‘Well, I’m sad now, but I understand. Do you want a cup of coffee at least?'

‘Yeah, coffee would be great’ he says with a smile.

You made him coffee, you put your feet in his lap at the table, you caressed his cheeks, you whispered so, last night was fun, in a cheeky, flirty tone. And he knew he wanted more of this, more of you. So, he asked for a pen and paper, jotted his number down and said you should do it again, you still owe him a beer after all. You gave him your number as well, just in case.

‘Steve H., huh? I don’t get a full last name?’

‘Call me and maybe I’ll tell you.’

He left and he called you that same day. Robin was elated when she found out her best friend “fucking finally got laid”. Which he took some offence to. He just wanted you to know that he meant it, that he wanted to see you again, and he was really really close to thanking you but he controlled himself.

That was three years ago now and he still had days when he woke up and couldn't believe how lucky he was. You fit into his life so perfectly. The kids loved you, everyone loved you, it was easy. You kept your apartment in the city but moved in with him not too long after that first time. You wanted to be close, all the time and it made his heart sore because he didn’t have to feel shame for being clingy, you were just the same.

That’s also how Sundays became a time for what you called family dinners. Sometimes your friends, sometimes his, sometimes both, always some good food, some chaos and a lot of life.

The first time you suggested was before the anniversary of Jonathan’s death. You made an unbearable day almost nice and he felt like he never could thank you for that.

‘H, huh? I don’t even get a full last name?’ He asked as he came up behind you in the kitchen.

‘Hmm, help get these out and I’ll think about it.’

‘You drive a hard bargain. You’re lucky, you’re pretty.’

‘Alright lover boy, you can show me later, how about that?’

‘Can’t wait.’

The conversation was lively, everyone talking over each other in the living room that was a little too small for that many people but no one ever cared about that.

‘Hey, I meant to ask,’ Robin started ‘have you heard that Mr. Reynolds is retiring?’

‘The old basketball coach?’ Lucas inquired, looking for an answer you were as well.

‘Uh-huh. Says his knees are giving out.’ Nancy chimed in.

‘Yeah, so now they’re looking for a new one to coach for the team.’

‘Huh, wonder who’ll take over.’

Max and Dustin rolled their eyes, the latter murmured something that sounded like I swear to god, which was surprisingly mild for him.

‘Coach Harrington has a nice ring to it.’ Will chimed in.

You smiled down into your glass. ‘It does’ You offered while squeezing his thigh under the table.

‘He would have to get back into shape first.’ Dustin quipped and you knew he’d hit a nerve. You had to buy a new shirt for him last week, a size up, and it was already messing with his head.

‘Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!’ Steve exclaimed.

‘I’m just saying, you’re not exactly in athlete shape, no shame in that!’

‘I think you look great.’ El said quietly and Mike frowned.

‘Alright children, everyone settle down!’ you geared into mom-mode, which was required sometimes. ‘How about everyone shutting up and I bring out some dessert?'

You gave Steve’s shoulder a little squeeze before leaving for the kitchen.

***

The kids left later and you had to admit, it was nice to just have the two of you. But you can see that Steve’s still upset. You can see that he’s in his head, he barely said a word, his touches, kisses being on autopilot. You were doing the dishes, you washing, him drying, a domestic, familiar routine.

‘Are you just not going to talk to me anymore?’

‘Hm?’

‘Come on, I can tell you’re still upset about what Dustin said, baby.’

‘Wha- Of course I’m upset about it! I used to be the top athlete and now I’m turning into-’

‘Stop that! Right now!’ You raise your pointer finger in warning. ‘First of all, we’re not in high school anymore. I’m not in love with you because you’re captain of the football team.’

‘Basketball and swim team actually.’ He corrected you quietly with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

‘I know’ you glare at him with a deadpan look. ‘I was trying to make a point about how much I don’t care. I don’t love you because of how many pushups you can do or homeruns you hit’ he knows that at this point you’re doing it on purpose but he still winces a little. ‘I love you because you’re kind and you take care of the people you love.’ You take a step closer to him. He’s still staring at the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘Second of all, it's happy-weight.’ you smirk at him.

‘What?’

‘Happy-weight. People who are happy and feel safe in their relationships, tend to put on some weight.’

‘Really?’ He can’t help but smile at that a little.

‘Really. I gained a couple of pounds too since we’ve been together.’

‘No, you didn’t’ he seems sincere enough but you still have your suspicions that maybe he’s just saying it in case it’s a trap.

‘I absolutely did! I haven’t been able to go out for dinner without having to unbutton my jeans at the end in months.’ He finally chuckles at that. ‘Have you noticed?’

‘This feels like a trap’ You snort out a laugh.

‘It’s not a trap, I absolutely did! Do you care?’

‘Of course I don’t! I haven’t even noticed, I swear!’

‘Well, then there you go! Then why do you think I would care?’

He shrugs.

‘And third’ you take another step, bigger this time, reaching out for his jaw, lifting his head so you can look him in the eyes. ‘I like you softer’ you say quietly and he swears he melts under your touch and gaze. ‘Softer means no more getting beat up’ you say as you trace his forehead, watching as his eyes close for a second. ‘Softer means no more running away from creatures from another dimension that want to kill you.’

‘No more trying to save someone’s life because they were stupid enough to risk it so they can save us’ he says.

A pang of hurt goes straight to your heart. You know he still feels guilty about that sometimes.

‘Steve Harrington, I would risk my life for you any day of the week, but yes, no more of that either. I will love you with a little tummy because we eat so much good food, and I will love you with wrinkles in the corner of your eyes because we laugh so much and I will love when you start to have gray hairs because you worry about me all the time. It’s just life, and it’s good.’

Steve’s eyes start to well up and he doesn’t know what to say. He probably couldn’t say anything at this point, because holy shit, how on earth did he get so lucky? So, he doesn’t say anything, he just starts kissing you all over your face, and then your lips and continues down you jawline and neck and hopes to god you can’t feel the rogue teardrops that manage to escape. You do, but you don’t say anything. You can’t say it out loud but you can feel it. You can feel the weight of being loved so much, so openly, because it’s the exact same way you feel, when you notice that every time you catch his eyes on the other side of the room, he’s already staring at you.

It’s been a long road and it hasn’t always been easy. You both had to peel back so many layers of hurt, of pain, of fear and in the beginning you both had your own attempts to run.

But he’s so glad that neither of you were successful because this was the best thing he ever had. And he finally believed that he’s good enough for it. Basketball coach or not.

[consistentlyamess]

Sundays are for family dinner

[4.6K]

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve met you at the lowest point of his life and it still surprises him sometimes how quickly you see through him and seem to have the exact right words for everything

warnings: 18+ , MDNI, tiny bit smutty, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, mentions of weight loss, mentions of scars, swearing, brief stancy, lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: unbelievable how many times you can stop yorurself from witing "soft". i'm so strong. but truly, i love soft!steve so much, it makes me weirdly emotional. i literally wrote the whole things for that last scene.

Everytime you and Steve had the kids over it was mayhem. Familiar, lovely, lively but mayhem nonetheless.

‘Dustin, you’re turning 23, I should not be the one still telling you to not run with a knife, dude!’ you hear Steve’s voice from behind you while putting out some snacks at the kitchen counter.

‘Sorry, dad!’

‘Jesus Christ.’ He murmurs in an exaspereted voice and you can practically see the way he pinches the bridge of his nose.

‘Some people’s kids, huh?’ you murmur with a smirk.

‘It’s dangerous! One of these days he’ll slip on the tiles and cut himself if he keeps doing that.’

‘You should be careful, you sound more and more like an old man with every passing day H.’

He’s always hit by a little wave of nostalgia when you call him that. Walking into his life, all cocky and snappy at a point when he thought he was over this. Over the all-consuming crushes and thinking someone is the love of your life.

After defeating the Upside down, after the dust settled, after burying their dead they stuck together. Losing Jonathan did a number on everyone. Everyone thought they should’ve done more. Will felt guilt and sadness, so Mike was devastated, Dustin seemed inconsolable, Nancy was weighed down with all the unsaid words, with the final memories of distance and uncertainty. And he was left to pick up the pieces once again. He was lonely. Robin was leaving for college soon, and he knew she had to go, there were no two ways about it but it did make him anxious and very sad and he didn’t show it. In the midst of all of that he was desperate for some familiarity, something to comfort, something that felt safe. So, they briefly found their way back to each other, for exactly that. Warmth, ease, uncomplicated. But it’s never that, is it? Uncomplicated, that is. They quickly figured out that it was not gonna work. It wasn’t dramatic, or loud or anything like that. It was a quiet understanding, slow, shared tears, ‘I’m sorry’s’ whispered into the dark, although they both knew it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just was what it was.

He walked into a bar in Indiana while visiting Robin not too long after that. She had to study, he was feeling particularly sorry for himself. You were pouring beer and laughing with someone who seemed to be a regular. Wearing a band T-shirt with the sleeves cut off in a way that your bra was peaking out the sides as you moved, hair tied into a bun with no care, chipped black nail polish, a dangerous smile and something even more dangerous glinting in your eyes as you threw your head back giggling. Not his type but still very much his type. He was at rock bottom and he knew you were trouble but he still couldn’t stop himself from walking over to the bar. Like a moth to the flame. I’m so fucking pathetic - he thought to himself.

As he sat down at the bar your eyes flicked at him. You knew that look. Being a bartender you see a guy like him at least three times a night. Six on the weekends. They’re sad, they lost something, or they never found it. Whatever it is, you smile, you listen if needed, flirt a little and they tip nice. This wasn’t even the first time you thought you could kiss it better, fix him, as it were.

‘Hey, what can I get you?’

‘Uh, hi, just a beer please.’

‘Just a beer coming up.’

You were pouring the beer from the tap and you couldn’t help but stare a little. The dark circles and bags under his eyes, little scruff, he obviously hasn’t shaved in at least in a couple of days, cheeks a little too bony. He lost weight, you thought, he’s not sleeping. Wonderful material for your unshakeable need to save everyone. You were quick to learn that that’s something you shared.

‘You new in town?’ you asked.

‘Uhm, yes and no.’

‘Oh, mysterious.’

Were you flirting with him?

‘Not that mysterious.’ You almost missed the tiniest little upturn in the corner of his lips. ‘My best friend goes to college here, just visiting. First time in town though.’

‘Well, you’re at the right place then’ you said, continuing in that slightly teasing tone that started to raise a little bit of heat at the back of his neck. The first time you made him feel something he thought he couldn’t anymore. ‘Most good stories and bad decisions start right here.’

Before he could answer a guy came up beside him.

‘Hey, sweetheart.’ There was something about the nickname and the way he said it that made him pull a cringing frown, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Oh, boy.

‘Hi, Vinnie.’ All the warmth and playfulness was drained from your voice so fast. He took his beer and took a sip, sending you a thankful look.

‘I would love a whisky, neat, with your number on the side.’ He was really trying to control himself but this dick was making it very hard. He could see the way you tensed. You knew this guy. You didn’t like it.

‘We’ve been over this Vinnie. The whisky I can do, nothing else, just drop it bud.’

‘Oh, come on now sweetheart.’ That fucking nickname again. ‘Smile for me a little, that’s the least you can do, promise to leave a big tip.

‘Jesus Christ’ He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, he didn’t want trouble - well maybe a little, in the form of that giggle he heard earlier but nothing else. But it still slipped out, he couldn’t help it.

‘Is there a problem here buddy?’ He knew that tone too. Trouble. Not the good kind.

‘Easy does it, Vinnie! He’s new, don’t scare him away.’ You send him a wink but he senses the tension. You’ve seen this before. You don’t want this. He doesn’t need to be a knight in shining armour for you.

‘No problem at all, man. Just drinking my beer. Although, if you keep harassing her, we might have one.’ Again, it just slipped out. Old habits and all that.

‘Harassing? Jesus, you young people get so easily worked up over nothing. I’m just flirting a little, no harm.’

‘Well, she’s clearly not into it, so you can just say thank you and we can all drink our beers in silence and peace.’

There are a couple things happening at the same time. You shout something (the bodyguard at the place, he later learns), the chair under Vinnie sliding backwards and his fists grabbing onto his shirt near his collar.

‘Listen, little boy-’

But he can’t finish the sentence, because the guard pulls him off. They can’t keep him out, but they can definitely kick him out when he acts up.

He was glad, if he wanted to be honest. He could still pull some punches probably, if need be, but he was nowhere near his prime anymore. There was no way he was gonna win that one. It was a hard pill to swallow but he needed to be smarter about these things. Bloody knuckles weren’t that cute anymore, now he was pushing thirty.

‘You make a habit of protecting bartenders?’ you asked after the guy was thrown out.

‘Only the ones that wink at me.’

‘Huh, I should do it more often then.’

‘Maybe you should.’ It’s teasing, the way his voice drops half on octave as he says it. Your lips twitch. He’s still got some of it left, he thinks to himself, good to know.

‘Your next beer is on me then, hero boy.’

‘What makes you think I want another beer? And Steve’s fine.’

‘If you must know, Steve, I get off in about an hour and thought you might wanna stick around.’

‘Do you have a phone back there?’

‘Gotta let your girlfriend know, you’re not coming home tonight?’

‘Like I said, my best friend, no girlfriend. She gets worried easily, that’s all.’

‘Wife? A couple kids back home?’

‘No wife, no kids’ he said, holding his left hand up, wiggling his fingers. ‘Well, not mine, anyway.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at that and tilted your head to the side, which made your throat stretch in a way that had him thinking some thoughts. Inappropriate, even lewd thoughts. The second time you made him feel something he thought evaporated from him.

‘There’s this group of kids - well, they’re not even kids anymore really - I used to sort of babysit back in the day. Not my kids, but kinda my kids.’

You hum, narrow your eyes and he feels his stomach drop a little. You’re looking at him, studying. He didn’t really say anything and still you know there’s something to look for behind it. You’re reading him, looking for that closed up, hidden place inside of him that has been dormant for so long. And he almost felt like he wanted you to find it. Shit.

‘The phone’s on the wall to the right.’ you said eventually when you saw someone walk up to the bar.

By the time you’re clocking out, he’s a little tipsy, leaning against the wall of the divebar.

‘You waited.’

‘You got me a free beer, only fair.’

‘You have some more time to spare? Maybe you could extend your protector hours a little, walk me home?’

It was the game, he knew it. Why else would you have suggested he stay, if you didn’t want to take him home? But it’s a game he loves, he’s a little rusty, that’s a given but he does love it and is happy to play along. It’s like flexing a sore muscle. It’s not exactly comfortable just yet, but it does feel good.

‘Uh, you see, that might just cost you another beer.’

‘You’ll have to come back for that, pretty boy.’

‘Was planning on it anyway, free beer or no free beer.’

‘That’s a good answer.’

‘Lead the way.’

The conversation is a little fractured. A question here and there, where are you from and what do you do, have you ever been to this place, you must try that. He told you how he found a new calling in being the town handyman while he helped rebuild it after the earthquakes and shit. You remembered the news, the front pages, how it didn’t seem to add up. You tell him you dropped out of college, only recently reapplying, studying to be a counselor during the day, picking up shifts at the library and the bar anytime you could. It’s nice. It feels easy, despite the fact that you can both feel the yet untold sadness and pain behind those stories. The beer and conversation are loosening him up in a way he hasn’t felt with a stranger in a long time. He even made you giggle a couple of times and it warms him even more than the beer.

’You wanna come in?’ You ask when reaching the door. There’s no bashfulness, no shyness lingering there. He’s kinda known, more hoped, this would happen but the lack of those things still catches him a little off guard. You keep surprising him, tilting the axis of the world around him a little and he finds that he likes it. And he’s really glad, he sobered up on the walk home.

He nods with a lazy, crooked smile and it makes you huff out a little laugh as you open the door.

After you switch on the fairy lights, he’s studying your place, making your insecurities rise a little. It was small, a little messy, you weren’t expecting anyone. Books scattered on the small table and the couch, a highlighter, a few empty mugs and a soup bowl, a couple plants, a throw blanket crumpled up - the fairy lights make everything look warm, cozy. Just like you - he thinks.

‘You have a nice place.’

‘Thank you.’ Your voice comes from closer behind him than he anticipated, it makes him flinch a little.

‘Sorry’ you murmur, even closer now, your breath hitting him through his shirt. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’ You place a barely there kiss on his shoulder, your gentle hand coming up on the opposite shoulder with a reassuring, light squeeze. Those two things alone are enough to send his head into a tailspin and make him want to cry at how sweet you are. How receptive you were to his sudden… shyness. Tenseness? He didn’t really know what was going on with him.

‘It’s okay, sorry for being jumpy,’ he said, bringing a hand up to yours that was now snaked around his chest, a little too close to his heart.

‘Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t really planning on having company.’

He shook his head with a tiny, breathy laugh.

‘It’s okay.’ He turned around, keeping your hand in his, brushing your knuckles a little.

Your were silent, looking up to him with wide eyes, the fairy lights and that dangerous something twinkling in them in a way that made him fear he was already well and truly fucked.

You could both feel the air shift, tension getting thick, and he was really glad you took charge, tangling your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, brushing the apples of his cheek with your thumb, gently pushing him into the direction of the couch, slowly but deliberately, giving him time to stop but making clear what you want. You pushed him down softly, questioning look in your eyes, before he nodded and you lowered yourself onto his lap.

‘Hi’ you breathed when you were nose to nose again.

‘Hi’ he breathed back.

‘You nervous pretty boy?’

‘I-‘ his breath hitched a little when you pressed into him with a little more intent. ‘Yeah, shit, yeah, a little. Been a while.’

‘We can stop, if you want.’

He shook his head, placing his hands on either side of your hips. Not grabbing yet, just anchoring himself maybe.

‘I need you to say it, pretty boy.’ You whispered. Your thumb brushed over his eyebrow and it took every single scrap of self control left in him to not let out a whine.

‘No.’ It came out croaked, like he had to clear his throat. ‘No, I don’t wanna stop. I’ve been wondering what you taste like all night. Just, maybe go slow?’

‘I can do slow. Don’t have anywhere to be.’ You kept caressing his face with sincere finger tips, brushing away his fears one stroke at a time.

When you finally leaned in to kiss him he thought he might pass out. Your lips were so fucking soft, your every movement tender and affectionate and he had to try really hard to not let the thought about how he’s undeserving, unworthy of these things seep into the forefront of his mind. Lucky, you kind of occupied every single one of his senses. You smelled like deodorant and detergent, a little worn out from your shift at the bar. He didn’t mind. It made you feel real. When your hand dipped beneath his shirt you felt him tense up, so you paused. He squeezed his eyes shut when you looked up at him, eyes all doey, questioning, a little worried.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered. He let his forehead fall against your shoulder.

‘Can you look at me, please?’ You were trying to coax him out of whatever this state was with soft and steady touches ‘Please, baby.’

And how the fuck do you say no to that? It was almost unbearable, the honesty, the concern in your eyes.

‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No.’

‘Want me to turn off the lights?’

‘No. Wanna see you.’

The grin you give him makes his heart skip.

‘Smooth.’

‘Still have some moves left, it turns out.’

‘Let me guess: high school heartthrob?’

‘I don’t know how to answer that without sounding like a jackass.’

‘So, yes.’

‘You wanna keep being a smartass or you wanna use your pretty mouth for something else, maybe?’

‘Oh, look at that! Here I am, trying to make you relax and you go straight to suggesting I suck your dick.’

‘What?! No, wait that’s n-‘

He couldn’t finish the sentence because you stopped his rambling with a kiss. Little more force in it now. You’re holding his face like he is something precious and he thinks he might want to believe that he is someday. He kissed back with more fervor, his hands started moving up your back and you could feel him relax again a little bit against your touch. Coming up for a little air, you looked at him.

‘Wanna go to the bedroom?’

‘Yes.’ It was eager, hungry even and it made you chuckle.

‘Come on, pretty boy.’

You led him into the bedroom where you realized why he was so tense. He took his shirt off with a sigh, and that’s when you saw the scars. Healed and scabbed, probably a couple years old.

He thinks back to that night often when things get tough. The way you traced them with delicate fingers, the way you kissed along them. It was the first time he felt remotely like a normal person in years. Like someone who can have nice things. Like someone who deserved this. He was on the verge of tears but he wanted it so bad. And so he kept himself together, kissed you like he meant it, kissed down your body, spent his sweet time with his head between your thighs, until they shook, until tears were prickling in the corner of eyes, which he also kissed away. He was nervous, about being scrawny, about the bones showing, poking his skin, about the scars but you didn’t bet an eye. He only saw hunger, want, felt it in the way you tangled your fingers in his hair. And you made it look easy. Wanting him looked easy when you did it and it made him a little crazy. You made him relax, laughing with him when he fumbled with the condom packet and again when you hit your head on the headboard at a particularly hard thrust. You wore each other out that night, he also remembers that. You fell asleep tracing patterns onto his chest and while he struggled a little, like most nights, he also fell into a deep slumber next to you and didn’t wake until the early afternoon. He almost started to panic when he didn’t see you next to him in the bed but that quickly calmed down when he heard your humming from outside and something cluttering in the kitchen. He got dressed and quietly joined you.

‘Hey’ you greeted him with a smile and he thought that maybe he likes this even more than the band t-shirt. You were still a little sleep mussed but you clearly had a shower, flowery smell lingering on you now. Hair now let down, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, making breakfast. He could get used to this, he thinks, immediately followed by the thought that maybe he should pace himself. Maybe it was just sex. You didn’t seem like that but he has been wrong before.

‘Hi.’

‘Your timing is great, I’m almost ready with breakfast.’

‘Hm, that sounds amazing but I have to go. Robin is probably freaking out already and I promised we’d go out for lunch today, which I’m also kind of already late for.’

‘Well, I’m sad now, but I understand. Do you want a cup of coffee at least?'

‘Yeah, coffee would be great’ he says with a smile.

You made him coffee, you put your feet in his lap at the table, you caressed his cheeks, you whispered so, last night was fun, in a cheeky, flirty tone. And he knew he wanted more of this, more of you. So, he asked for a pen and paper, jotted his number down and said you should do it again, you still owe him a beer after all. You gave him your number as well, just in case.

‘Steve H., huh? I don’t get a full last name?’

‘Call me and maybe I’ll tell you.’

He left and he called you that same day. Robin was elated when she found out her best friend “fucking finally got laid”. Which he took some offence to. He just wanted you to know that he meant it, that he wanted to see you again, and he was really really close to thanking you but he controlled himself.

That was three years ago now and he still had days when he woke up and couldn't believe how lucky he was. You fit into his life so perfectly. The kids loved you, everyone loved you, it was easy. You kept your apartment in the city but moved in with him not too long after that first time. You wanted to be close, all the time and it made his heart sore because he didn’t have to feel shame for being clingy, you were just the same.

That’s also how Sundays became a time for what you called family dinners. Sometimes your friends, sometimes his, sometimes both, always some good food, some chaos and a lot of life.

The first time you suggested was before the anniversary of Jonathan’s death. You made an unbearable day almost nice and he felt like he never could thank you for that.

‘H, huh? I don’t even get a full last name?’ He asked as he came up behind you in the kitchen.

‘Hmm, help get these out and I’ll think about it.’

‘You drive a hard bargain. You’re lucky, you’re pretty.’

‘Alright lover boy, you can show me later, how about that?’

‘Can’t wait.’

The conversation was lively, everyone talking over each other in the living room that was a little too small for that many people but no one ever cared about that.

‘Hey, I meant to ask,’ Robin started ‘have you heard that Mr. Reynolds is retiring?’

‘The old basketball coach?’ Lucas inquired, looking for an answer you were as well.

‘Uh-huh. Says his knees are giving out.’ Nancy chimed in.

‘Yeah, so now they’re looking for a new one to coach for the team.’

‘Huh, wonder who’ll take over.’

Max and Dustin rolled their eyes, the latter murmured something that sounded like I swear to god, which was surprisingly mild for him.

‘Coach Harrington has a nice ring to it.’ Will chimed in.

You smiled down into your glass. ‘It does’ You offered while squeezing his thigh under the table.

‘He would have to get back into shape first.’ Dustin quipped and you knew he’d hit a nerve. You had to buy a new shirt for him last week, a size up, and it was already messing with his head.

‘Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!’ Steve exclaimed.

‘I’m just saying, you’re not exactly in athlete shape, no shame in that!’

‘I think you look great.’ El said quietly and Mike frowned.

‘Alright children, everyone settle down!’ you geared into mom-mode, which was required sometimes. ‘How about everyone shutting up and I bring out some dessert?'

You gave Steve’s shoulder a little squeeze before leaving for the kitchen.

***

The kids left later and you had to admit, it was nice to just have the two of you. But you can see that Steve’s still upset. You can see that he’s in his head, he barely said a word, his touches, kisses being on autopilot. You were doing the dishes, you washing, him drying, a domestic, familiar routine.

‘Are you just not going to talk to me anymore?’

‘Hm?’

‘Come on, I can tell you’re still upset about what Dustin said, baby.’

‘Wha- Of course I’m upset about it! I used to be the top athlete and now I’m turning into-’

‘Stop that! Right now!’ You raise your pointer finger in warning. ‘First of all, we’re not in high school anymore. I’m not in love with you because you’re captain of the football team.’

‘Basketball and swim team actually.’ He corrected you quietly with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

‘I know’ you glare at him with a deadpan look. ‘I was trying to make a point about how much I don’t care. I don’t love you because of how many pushups you can do or homeruns you hit’ he knows that at this point you’re doing it on purpose but he still winces a little. ‘I love you because you’re kind and you take care of the people you love.’ You take a step closer to him. He’s still staring at the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘Second of all, it's happy-weight.’ you smirk at him.

‘What?’

‘Happy-weight. People who are happy and feel safe in their relationships, tend to put on some weight.’

‘Really?’ He can’t help but smile at that a little.

‘Really. I gained a couple of pounds too since we’ve been together.’

‘No, you didn’t’ he seems sincere enough but you still have your suspicions that maybe he’s just saying it in case it’s a trap.

‘I absolutely did! I haven’t been able to go out for dinner without having to unbutton my jeans at the end in months.’ He finally chuckles at that. ‘Have you noticed?’

‘This feels like a trap’ You snort out a laugh.

‘It’s not a trap, I absolutely did! Do you care?’

‘Of course I don’t! I haven’t even noticed, I swear!’

‘Well, then there you go! Then why do you think I would care?’

He shrugs.

‘And third’ you take another step, bigger this time, reaching out for his jaw, lifting his head so you can look him in the eyes. ‘I like you softer’ you say quietly and he swears he melts under your touch and gaze. ‘Softer means no more getting beat up’ you say as you trace his forehead, watching as his eyes close for a second. ‘Softer means no more running away from creatures from another dimension that want to kill you.’

‘No more trying to save someone’s life because they were stupid enough to risk it so they can save us’ he says.

A pang of hurt goes straight to your heart. You know he still feels guilty about that sometimes.

‘Steve Harrington, I would risk my life for you any day of the week, but yes, no more of that either. I will love you with a little tummy because we eat so much good food, and I will love you with wrinkles in the corner of your eyes because we laugh so much and I will love when you start to have gray hairs because you worry about me all the time. It’s just life, and it’s good.’

Steve’s eyes start to well up and he doesn’t know what to say. He probably couldn’t say anything at this point, because holy shit, how on earth did he get so lucky? So, he doesn’t say anything, he just starts kissing you all over your face, and then your lips and continues down you jawline and neck and hopes to god you can’t feel the rogue teardrops that manage to escape. You do, but you don’t say anything. You can’t say it out loud but you can feel it. You can feel the weight of being loved so much, so openly, because it’s the exact same way you feel, when you notice that every time you catch his eyes on the other side of the room, he’s already staring at you.

It’s been a long road and it hasn’t always been easy. You both had to peel back so many layers of hurt, of pain, of fear and in the beginning you both had your own attempts to run.

But he’s so glad that neither of you were successful because this was the best thing he ever had. And he finally believed that he’s good enough for it. Basketball coach or not.

[consistentlyamess]

Sundays are for family dinner

[4.6K]

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve met you at the lowest point of his life and it still surprises him sometimes how quickly you see through him and seem to have the exact right words for everything

warnings: 18+ , MDNI, tiny bit smutty, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, mentions of weight loss, mentions of scars, swearing, brief stancy, lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: unbelievable how many times you can stop yorurself from witing "soft". i'm so strong. but truly, i love soft!steve so much, it makes me weirdly emotional. i literally wrote the whole things for that last scene.

Everytime you and Steve had the kids over it was mayhem. Familiar, lovely, lively but mayhem nonetheless.

‘Dustin, you’re turning 23, I should not be the one still telling you to not run with a knife, dude!’ you hear Steve’s voice from behind you while putting out some snacks at the kitchen counter.

‘Sorry, dad!’

‘Jesus Christ.’ He murmurs in an exaspereted voice and you can practically see the way he pinches the bridge of his nose.

‘Some people’s kids, huh?’ you murmur with a smirk.

‘It’s dangerous! One of these days he’ll slip on the tiles and cut himself if he keeps doing that.’

‘You should be careful, you sound more and more like an old man with every passing day H.’

He’s always hit by a little wave of nostalgia when you call him that. Walking into his life, all cocky and snappy at a point when he thought he was over this. Over the all-consuming crushes and thinking someone is the love of your life.

After defeating the Upside down, after the dust settled, after burying their dead they stuck together. Losing Jonathan did a number on everyone. Everyone thought they should’ve done more. Will felt guilt and sadness, so Mike was devastated, Dustin seemed inconsolable, Nancy was weighed down with all the unsaid words, with the final memories of distance and uncertainty. And he was left to pick up the pieces once again. He was lonely. Robin was leaving for college soon, and he knew she had to go, there were no two ways about it but it did make him anxious and very sad and he didn’t show it. In the midst of all of that he was desperate for some familiarity, something to comfort, something that felt safe. So, they briefly found their way back to each other, for exactly that. Warmth, ease, uncomplicated. But it’s never that, is it? Uncomplicated, that is. They quickly figured out that it was not gonna work. It wasn’t dramatic, or loud or anything like that. It was a quiet understanding, slow, shared tears, ‘I’m sorry’s’ whispered into the dark, although they both knew it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just was what it was.

He walked into a bar in Indiana while visiting Robin not too long after that. She had to study, he was feeling particularly sorry for himself. You were pouring beer and laughing with someone who seemed to be a regular. Wearing a band T-shirt with the sleeves cut off in a way that your bra was peaking out the sides as you moved, hair tied into a bun with no care, chipped black nail polish, a dangerous smile and something even more dangerous glinting in your eyes as you threw your head back giggling. Not his type but still very much his type. He was at rock bottom and he knew you were trouble but he still couldn’t stop himself from walking over to the bar. Like a moth to the flame. I’m so fucking pathetic - he thought to himself.

As he sat down at the bar your eyes flicked at him. You knew that look. Being a bartender you see a guy like him at least three times a night. Six on the weekends. They’re sad, they lost something, or they never found it. Whatever it is, you smile, you listen if needed, flirt a little and they tip nice. This wasn’t even the first time you thought you could kiss it better, fix him, as it were.

‘Hey, what can I get you?’

‘Uh, hi, just a beer please.’

‘Just a beer coming up.’

You were pouring the beer from the tap and you couldn’t help but stare a little. The dark circles and bags under his eyes, little scruff, he obviously hasn’t shaved in at least in a couple of days, cheeks a little too bony. He lost weight, you thought, he’s not sleeping. Wonderful material for your unshakeable need to save everyone. You were quick to learn that that’s something you shared.

‘You new in town?’ you asked.

‘Uhm, yes and no.’

‘Oh, mysterious.’

Were you flirting with him?

‘Not that mysterious.’ You almost missed the tiniest little upturn in the corner of his lips. ‘My best friend goes to college here, just visiting. First time in town though.’

‘Well, you’re at the right place then’ you said, continuing in that slightly teasing tone that started to raise a little bit of heat at the back of his neck. The first time you made him feel something he thought he couldn’t anymore. ‘Most good stories and bad decisions start right here.’

Before he could answer a guy came up beside him.

‘Hey, sweetheart.’ There was something about the nickname and the way he said it that made him pull a cringing frown, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Oh, boy.

‘Hi, Vinnie.’ All the warmth and playfulness was drained from your voice so fast. He took his beer and took a sip, sending you a thankful look.

‘I would love a whisky, neat, with your number on the side.’ He was really trying to control himself but this dick was making it very hard. He could see the way you tensed. You knew this guy. You didn’t like it.

‘We’ve been over this Vinnie. The whisky I can do, nothing else, just drop it bud.’

‘Oh, come on now sweetheart.’ That fucking nickname again. ‘Smile for me a little, that’s the least you can do, promise to leave a big tip.

‘Jesus Christ’ He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, he didn’t want trouble - well maybe a little, in the form of that giggle he heard earlier but nothing else. But it still slipped out, he couldn’t help it.

‘Is there a problem here buddy?’ He knew that tone too. Trouble. Not the good kind.

‘Easy does it, Vinnie! He’s new, don’t scare him away.’ You send him a wink but he senses the tension. You’ve seen this before. You don’t want this. He doesn’t need to be a knight in shining armour for you.

‘No problem at all, man. Just drinking my beer. Although, if you keep harassing her, we might have one.’ Again, it just slipped out. Old habits and all that.

‘Harassing? Jesus, you young people get so easily worked up over nothing. I’m just flirting a little, no harm.’

‘Well, she’s clearly not into it, so you can just say thank you and we can all drink our beers in silence and peace.’

There are a couple things happening at the same time. You shout something (the bodyguard at the place, he later learns), the chair under Vinnie sliding backwards and his fists grabbing onto his shirt near his collar.

‘Listen, little boy-’

But he can’t finish the sentence, because the guard pulls him off. They can’t keep him out, but they can definitely kick him out when he acts up.

He was glad, if he wanted to be honest. He could still pull some punches probably, if need be, but he was nowhere near his prime anymore. There was no way he was gonna win that one. It was a hard pill to swallow but he needed to be smarter about these things. Bloody knuckles weren’t that cute anymore, now he was pushing thirty.

‘You make a habit of protecting bartenders?’ you asked after the guy was thrown out.

‘Only the ones that wink at me.’

‘Huh, I should do it more often then.’

‘Maybe you should.’ It’s teasing, the way his voice drops half on octave as he says it. Your lips twitch. He’s still got some of it left, he thinks to himself, good to know.

‘Your next beer is on me then, hero boy.’

‘What makes you think I want another beer? And Steve’s fine.’

‘If you must know, Steve, I get off in about an hour and thought you might wanna stick around.’

‘Do you have a phone back there?’

‘Gotta let your girlfriend know, you’re not coming home tonight?’

‘Like I said, my best friend, no girlfriend. She gets worried easily, that’s all.’

‘Wife? A couple kids back home?’

‘No wife, no kids’ he said, holding his left hand up, wiggling his fingers. ‘Well, not mine, anyway.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at that and tilted your head to the side, which made your throat stretch in a way that had him thinking some thoughts. Inappropriate, even lewd thoughts. The second time you made him feel something he thought evaporated from him.

‘There’s this group of kids - well, they’re not even kids anymore really - I used to sort of babysit back in the day. Not my kids, but kinda my kids.’

You hum, narrow your eyes and he feels his stomach drop a little. You’re looking at him, studying. He didn’t really say anything and still you know there’s something to look for behind it. You’re reading him, looking for that closed up, hidden place inside of him that has been dormant for so long. And he almost felt like he wanted you to find it. Shit.

‘The phone’s on the wall to the right.’ you said eventually when you saw someone walk up to the bar.

By the time you’re clocking out, he’s a little tipsy, leaning against the wall of the divebar.

‘You waited.’

‘You got me a free beer, only fair.’

‘You have some more time to spare? Maybe you could extend your protector hours a little, walk me home?’

It was the game, he knew it. Why else would you have suggested he stay, if you didn’t want to take him home? But it’s a game he loves, he’s a little rusty, that’s a given but he does love it and is happy to play along. It’s like flexing a sore muscle. It’s not exactly comfortable just yet, but it does feel good.

‘Uh, you see, that might just cost you another beer.’

‘You’ll have to come back for that, pretty boy.’

‘Was planning on it anyway, free beer or no free beer.’

‘That’s a good answer.’

‘Lead the way.’

The conversation is a little fractured. A question here and there, where are you from and what do you do, have you ever been to this place, you must try that. He told you how he found a new calling in being the town handyman while he helped rebuild it after the earthquakes and shit. You remembered the news, the front pages, how it didn’t seem to add up. You tell him you dropped out of college, only recently reapplying, studying to be a counselor during the day, picking up shifts at the library and the bar anytime you could. It’s nice. It feels easy, despite the fact that you can both feel the yet untold sadness and pain behind those stories. The beer and conversation are loosening him up in a way he hasn’t felt with a stranger in a long time. He even made you giggle a couple of times and it warms him even more than the beer.

’You wanna come in?’ You ask when reaching the door. There’s no bashfulness, no shyness lingering there. He’s kinda known, more hoped, this would happen but the lack of those things still catches him a little off guard. You keep surprising him, tilting the axis of the world around him a little and he finds that he likes it. And he’s really glad, he sobered up on the walk home.

He nods with a lazy, crooked smile and it makes you huff out a little laugh as you open the door.

After you switch on the fairy lights, he’s studying your place, making your insecurities rise a little. It was small, a little messy, you weren’t expecting anyone. Books scattered on the small table and the couch, a highlighter, a few empty mugs and a soup bowl, a couple plants, a throw blanket crumpled up - the fairy lights make everything look warm, cozy. Just like you - he thinks.

‘You have a nice place.’

‘Thank you.’ Your voice comes from closer behind him than he anticipated, it makes him flinch a little.

‘Sorry’ you murmur, even closer now, your breath hitting him through his shirt. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’ You place a barely there kiss on his shoulder, your gentle hand coming up on the opposite shoulder with a reassuring, light squeeze. Those two things alone are enough to send his head into a tailspin and make him want to cry at how sweet you are. How receptive you were to his sudden… shyness. Tenseness? He didn’t really know what was going on with him.

‘It’s okay, sorry for being jumpy,’ he said, bringing a hand up to yours that was now snaked around his chest, a little too close to his heart.

‘Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t really planning on having company.’

He shook his head with a tiny, breathy laugh.

‘It’s okay.’ He turned around, keeping your hand in his, brushing your knuckles a little.

Your were silent, looking up to him with wide eyes, the fairy lights and that dangerous something twinkling in them in a way that made him fear he was already well and truly fucked.

You could both feel the air shift, tension getting thick, and he was really glad you took charge, tangling your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, brushing the apples of his cheek with your thumb, gently pushing him into the direction of the couch, slowly but deliberately, giving him time to stop but making clear what you want. You pushed him down softly, questioning look in your eyes, before he nodded and you lowered yourself onto his lap.

‘Hi’ you breathed when you were nose to nose again.

‘Hi’ he breathed back.

‘You nervous pretty boy?’

‘I-‘ his breath hitched a little when you pressed into him with a little more intent. ‘Yeah, shit, yeah, a little. Been a while.’

‘We can stop, if you want.’

He shook his head, placing his hands on either side of your hips. Not grabbing yet, just anchoring himself maybe.

‘I need you to say it, pretty boy.’ You whispered. Your thumb brushed over his eyebrow and it took every single scrap of self control left in him to not let out a whine.

‘No.’ It came out croaked, like he had to clear his throat. ‘No, I don’t wanna stop. I’ve been wondering what you taste like all night. Just, maybe go slow?’

‘I can do slow. Don’t have anywhere to be.’ You kept caressing his face with sincere finger tips, brushing away his fears one stroke at a time.

When you finally leaned in to kiss him he thought he might pass out. Your lips were so fucking soft, your every movement tender and affectionate and he had to try really hard to not let the thought about how he’s undeserving, unworthy of these things seep into the forefront of his mind. Lucky, you kind of occupied every single one of his senses. You smelled like deodorant and detergent, a little worn out from your shift at the bar. He didn’t mind. It made you feel real. When your hand dipped beneath his shirt you felt him tense up, so you paused. He squeezed his eyes shut when you looked up at him, eyes all doey, questioning, a little worried.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered. He let his forehead fall against your shoulder.

‘Can you look at me, please?’ You were trying to coax him out of whatever this state was with soft and steady touches ‘Please, baby.’

And how the fuck do you say no to that? It was almost unbearable, the honesty, the concern in your eyes.

‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No.’

‘Want me to turn off the lights?’

‘No. Wanna see you.’

The grin you give him makes his heart skip.

‘Smooth.’

‘Still have some moves left, it turns out.’

‘Let me guess: high school heartthrob?’

‘I don’t know how to answer that without sounding like a jackass.’

‘So, yes.’

‘You wanna keep being a smartass or you wanna use your pretty mouth for something else, maybe?’

‘Oh, look at that! Here I am, trying to make you relax and you go straight to suggesting I suck your dick.’

‘What?! No, wait that’s n-‘

He couldn’t finish the sentence because you stopped his rambling with a kiss. Little more force in it now. You’re holding his face like he is something precious and he thinks he might want to believe that he is someday. He kissed back with more fervor, his hands started moving up your back and you could feel him relax again a little bit against your touch. Coming up for a little air, you looked at him.

‘Wanna go to the bedroom?’

‘Yes.’ It was eager, hungry even and it made you chuckle.

‘Come on, pretty boy.’

You led him into the bedroom where you realized why he was so tense. He took his shirt off with a sigh, and that’s when you saw the scars. Healed and scabbed, probably a couple years old.

He thinks back to that night often when things get tough. The way you traced them with delicate fingers, the way you kissed along them. It was the first time he felt remotely like a normal person in years. Like someone who can have nice things. Like someone who deserved this. He was on the verge of tears but he wanted it so bad. And so he kept himself together, kissed you like he meant it, kissed down your body, spent his sweet time with his head between your thighs, until they shook, until tears were prickling in the corner of eyes, which he also kissed away. He was nervous, about being scrawny, about the bones showing, poking his skin, about the scars but you didn’t bet an eye. He only saw hunger, want, felt it in the way you tangled your fingers in his hair. And you made it look easy. Wanting him looked easy when you did it and it made him a little crazy. You made him relax, laughing with him when he fumbled with the condom packet and again when you hit your head on the headboard at a particularly hard thrust. You wore each other out that night, he also remembers that. You fell asleep tracing patterns onto his chest and while he struggled a little, like most nights, he also fell into a deep slumber next to you and didn’t wake until the early afternoon. He almost started to panic when he didn’t see you next to him in the bed but that quickly calmed down when he heard your humming from outside and something cluttering in the kitchen. He got dressed and quietly joined you.

‘Hey’ you greeted him with a smile and he thought that maybe he likes this even more than the band t-shirt. You were still a little sleep mussed but you clearly had a shower, flowery smell lingering on you now. Hair now let down, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, making breakfast. He could get used to this, he thinks, immediately followed by the thought that maybe he should pace himself. Maybe it was just sex. You didn’t seem like that but he has been wrong before.

‘Hi.’

‘Your timing is great, I’m almost ready with breakfast.’

‘Hm, that sounds amazing but I have to go. Robin is probably freaking out already and I promised we’d go out for lunch today, which I’m also kind of already late for.’

‘Well, I’m sad now, but I understand. Do you want a cup of coffee at least?'

‘Yeah, coffee would be great’ he says with a smile.

You made him coffee, you put your feet in his lap at the table, you caressed his cheeks, you whispered so, last night was fun, in a cheeky, flirty tone. And he knew he wanted more of this, more of you. So, he asked for a pen and paper, jotted his number down and said you should do it again, you still owe him a beer after all. You gave him your number as well, just in case.

‘Steve H., huh? I don’t get a full last name?’

‘Call me and maybe I’ll tell you.’

He left and he called you that same day. Robin was elated when she found out her best friend “fucking finally got laid”. Which he took some offence to. He just wanted you to know that he meant it, that he wanted to see you again, and he was really really close to thanking you but he controlled himself.

That was three years ago now and he still had days when he woke up and couldn't believe how lucky he was. You fit into his life so perfectly. The kids loved you, everyone loved you, it was easy. You kept your apartment in the city but moved in with him not too long after that first time. You wanted to be close, all the time and it made his heart sore because he didn’t have to feel shame for being clingy, you were just the same.

That’s also how Sundays became a time for what you called family dinners. Sometimes your friends, sometimes his, sometimes both, always some good food, some chaos and a lot of life.

The first time you suggested was before the anniversary of Jonathan’s death. You made an unbearable day almost nice and he felt like he never could thank you for that.

‘H, huh? I don’t even get a full last name?’ He asked as he came up behind you in the kitchen.

‘Hmm, help get these out and I’ll think about it.’

‘You drive a hard bargain. You’re lucky, you’re pretty.’

‘Alright lover boy, you can show me later, how about that?’

‘Can’t wait.’

The conversation was lively, everyone talking over each other in the living room that was a little too small for that many people but no one ever cared about that.

‘Hey, I meant to ask,’ Robin started ‘have you heard that Mr. Reynolds is retiring?’

‘The old basketball coach?’ Lucas inquired, looking for an answer you were as well.

‘Uh-huh. Says his knees are giving out.’ Nancy chimed in.

‘Yeah, so now they’re looking for a new one to coach for the team.’

‘Huh, wonder who’ll take over.’

Max and Dustin rolled their eyes, the latter murmured something that sounded like I swear to god, which was surprisingly mild for him.

‘Coach Harrington has a nice ring to it.’ Will chimed in.

You smiled down into your glass. ‘It does’ You offered while squeezing his thigh under the table.

‘He would have to get back into shape first.’ Dustin quipped and you knew he’d hit a nerve. You had to buy a new shirt for him last week, a size up, and it was already messing with his head.

‘Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!’ Steve exclaimed.

‘I’m just saying, you’re not exactly in athlete shape, no shame in that!’

‘I think you look great.’ El said quietly and Mike frowned.

‘Alright children, everyone settle down!’ you geared into mom-mode, which was required sometimes. ‘How about everyone shutting up and I bring out some dessert?'

You gave Steve’s shoulder a little squeeze before leaving for the kitchen.

***

The kids left later and you had to admit, it was nice to just have the two of you. But you can see that Steve’s still upset. You can see that he’s in his head, he barely said a word, his touches, kisses being on autopilot. You were doing the dishes, you washing, him drying, a domestic, familiar routine.

‘Are you just not going to talk to me anymore?’

‘Hm?’

‘Come on, I can tell you’re still upset about what Dustin said, baby.’

‘Wha- Of course I’m upset about it! I used to be the top athlete and now I’m turning into-’

‘Stop that! Right now!’ You raise your pointer finger in warning. ‘First of all, we’re not in high school anymore. I’m not in love with you because you’re captain of the football team.’

‘Basketball and swim team actually.’ He corrected you quietly with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

‘I know’ you glare at him with a deadpan look. ‘I was trying to make a point about how much I don’t care. I don’t love you because of how many pushups you can do or homeruns you hit’ he knows that at this point you’re doing it on purpose but he still winces a little. ‘I love you because you’re kind and you take care of the people you love.’ You take a step closer to him. He’s still staring at the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘Second of all, it's happy-weight.’ you smirk at him.

‘What?’

‘Happy-weight. People who are happy and feel safe in their relationships, tend to put on some weight.’

‘Really?’ He can’t help but smile at that a little.

‘Really. I gained a couple of pounds too since we’ve been together.’

‘No, you didn’t’ he seems sincere enough but you still have your suspicions that maybe he’s just saying it in case it’s a trap.

‘I absolutely did! I haven’t been able to go out for dinner without having to unbutton my jeans at the end in months.’ He finally chuckles at that. ‘Have you noticed?’

‘This feels like a trap’ You snort out a laugh.

‘It’s not a trap, I absolutely did! Do you care?’

‘Of course I don’t! I haven’t even noticed, I swear!’

‘Well, then there you go! Then why do you think I would care?’

He shrugs.

‘And third’ you take another step, bigger this time, reaching out for his jaw, lifting his head so you can look him in the eyes. ‘I like you softer’ you say quietly and he swears he melts under your touch and gaze. ‘Softer means no more getting beat up’ you say as you trace his forehead, watching as his eyes close for a second. ‘Softer means no more running away from creatures from another dimension that want to kill you.’

‘No more trying to save someone’s life because they were stupid enough to risk it so they can save us’ he says.

A pang of hurt goes straight to your heart. You know he still feels guilty about that sometimes.

‘Steve Harrington, I would risk my life for you any day of the week, but yes, no more of that either. I will love you with a little tummy because we eat so much good food, and I will love you with wrinkles in the corner of your eyes because we laugh so much and I will love when you start to have gray hairs because you worry about me all the time. It’s just life, and it’s good.’

Steve’s eyes start to well up and he doesn’t know what to say. He probably couldn’t say anything at this point, because holy shit, how on earth did he get so lucky? So, he doesn’t say anything, he just starts kissing you all over your face, and then your lips and continues down you jawline and neck and hopes to god you can’t feel the rogue teardrops that manage to escape. You do, but you don’t say anything. You can’t say it out loud but you can feel it. You can feel the weight of being loved so much, so openly, because it’s the exact same way you feel, when you notice that every time you catch his eyes on the other side of the room, he’s already staring at you.

It’s been a long road and it hasn’t always been easy. You both had to peel back so many layers of hurt, of pain, of fear and in the beginning you both had your own attempts to run.

But he’s so glad that neither of you were successful because this was the best thing he ever had. And he finally believed that he’s good enough for it. Basketball coach or not.

[consistentlyamess]

affirmations for writers: i know how to write. i have seen sentences before, and i know how to make one. i can identify up to several words and their meanings. i am not afraid of semicolons.

[consistentlyamess]

"for you, i would" is such a gentle and sweet love language like no maybe i wouldn't usually do this but i would love to do it if it would make you happy.

[consistentlyamess]

[consistentlyamess]

accident prone

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato

Summary: After surviving the hell on earth that is Hawkins, Indiana, years of traumatic injuries and PTSD have left a permanent impact on Steve and his health. He’s sought out professional help time and time again, yet 5 years after leaving home, he’s still in constant pain, feeling isolated and misunderstood— until someone as sick as him comes along, renewing his hope on the future.

accident prone - jawbreaker

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“A near miss or a close call? / I keep a room at the hospital / I scratch my accidents into the wall / I couldn't wait to breathe your breath / I cut in line, I bled to death / I got to you, there was nothing left”

tags, A/N, and additional information under the cut:

series playlist ♡ bio/moodboard for Frankie

Series is finished as of 7/31/24! Thank you so much for the support and love on this one! 🥹💖

part one - cold-blooded and drifting away

part two - I laugh often, so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine

part three - young and bold with a heart of gold

part four - hold me in the dark

part five - a stormy kind of love

part six - a world I can call mine

Accident Prone - the blurb sides: a collection of blurbs and one shots surrounding Frankie and Steve’s lives intertwined. These take place AFTER the series, so be warned there will be spoilers!

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort, ableism, language, PTSD, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, discussions of comorbidities, mentions of medical gaslighting, various medical treatments, fluff, eventual smut, etc. 

What this fic will not include: inspiration “porn” of disabled folks, professional advice (I’ve done as much research as I can, and also using my firsthand experience as someone who is disabled/chronically ill, but don’t hesitate to correct me if necessary!), romanticized illness, forced positivity/optimism, etc.

A/N: This is a HC I’ve had for years now, probably since S3. IMO, there’s no way anyone, especially Steve, would survive all those close calls without lasting chronic pain. It’s also fibromyalgia awareness month, so I feel now’s a good time to share this. I’m anticipating 3 parts total jk more like 4 or 5, and even with the OC and relationship it’ll be more Steve centric, since I wanted to focus on his trauma and the way his body would react to it in my HC. I edited this more than I wanted to, going back and forth between making this with an OC or reader. Ultimately, it was much easier to write with an OC than reader, so I hope y’all will still give this one a chance despite that. I know OCs aren’t really popular among this fandom (which sucks, bc y’all miss out on a lot of great fics with them!) but this fic is more focused on Steve anyway. Honestly, there’s not enough disability/chronic pain rep in fics, and it bums me out how often us disabled/chronically ill babes are left out of the conversation of representation in fics. We matter, too. so, if you’re able bodied and read this, I hope it enlightens you on the journey of a disabled person (not one size fits all of course— every single body is different). and for the fellow sick babes, this one’s for you. ♡

[consistentlyamess]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: 18+ mdni! post apocalypse, character death, angst, mean!steve, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, blood, wounds -- all the gory stuff, smut in the future chapters, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Pairing: Grumpy!Steve Harrington x sunshine(fem)!reader

⭐︎ Summary: Everything he once knew, is gone, dead and buried, burned to the ground and turned into ash. All he has known is loss, death and pain, he despised this world, until it brought you to him -- the sunshine he had long forgotten. Light he will follow till the very end.

⭐︎

Prologue ☀︎ When the sun hits, she'll be waiting

Chapter one ☀︎ Welcome and Goodbye

Chapter two ☀︎ Can you see right through me?

Chapter three ☀︎ You’re the greatest thing we’ve lost

Chapter four ☀︎ While I'm alone and blue as can be

Chapter five ☀︎ Watching cityscapes turn to dust

Chapter six ☀︎ The killing time. Unwillingly mine.

Chapter seven ☀︎ Fall back into place. Fall back...

Chapter eight ☀︎ Dead-eyed. Dead weight.

Chapter nine ☀︎ Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met

Chapter ten ☀︎ Turn me into something tragic, just for you, I let it happen

Chapter eleven ☀︎ And I'll fear no evil because I'm blind to it all

Chapter twelve ☀︎ You’re a bandit like me. Eyes full of stars

Chapter thirteen ☀︎ Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far

Chapter fourteen ☀︎ The devil in your eyes, won't deny the lies you've sold

Chapter fifteen ☀︎ Every print I left upon the track has led me here

Chapter sixteen ☀︎ One day I am gonna grow wings...

Chapter seventeen ☀︎ Now I'm racing for what to do, all roads lead me right back to you

Chapter eighteen ☀︎ I'll give you all that I can, as long as you'll wait for me there

[consistentlyamess]

Refire (Part One)

When Luca left four years ago, he took your heart with him and left you with a decision that changed your entire life. When he finally returns, rebuilding what you had is a little harder when you have a daughter he doesn't know about. A daughter who belongs to him.

▸ PAIRING: Chef Luca x F!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ mostly due to making out (no explicit sex scenes), hurt/comfort, reader is a big scaredy cat, some angst, amelia's personality inspired by morgan stark (marvel) but race is neutral/ambiguous <3 ▸ WORD COUNT: 9.7K ▸ A/N: told myself i wanted to write something small in honor of the bear s4 and luca's sexy return (esp him holding that baby!!) but i clearly have zero self-control. second part which is slightly longer than this one coming in a week :)

—

You always knew your past would come back to haunt you. All the secrets and vague responses. Deflecting questions like it’s your full-time job. The first year was the roughest. You practically wrote the book on how to avoid FaceTime calls with your best friend. 

With Luca, you can imagine how difficult that would be. The man was too kind, too thoughtful, always making time for you despite the timezone difference and the fact that he was being ground down to the bone across the Atlantic. 

Now you’re staring at the consequences of your actions. 

Luca: Heading to Chicago in two weeks. Do you have time to catch up?

Every expletive you could think of leaves your lips. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s been four years since you saw him last. Four years since he left Chicago and never looked back. Maybe he’s only here for a few days. What’s a few days of hiding the biggest secret of your life from a very observant man who cares way too much about you?

“Shit,” you groan as you stare at the blinking line where your reply should be.

“Shit.”

The echo has you jerking up. Amelia stands in the doorway, grinning cheekily up at you.

“You can’t say that word. It’s a bad word.”

“But you said it.”

“Yes, but I’m an adult.”

“So just because you’re older, you can say it but I can’t? That’s not fair. Kids can do anything adults can too.” Her r’s aren’t even fully formed yet so her challenge just sounds endearing. You have a smart kid. Too smart. 

Sighing, you scoop her up, which earns you giggles. She knows she’s won the battle. “Maybe when kids start paying taxes, we’ll talk. Ask me again in a few years. I don’t want you getting in trouble with Miss Glinda.” 

Amelia grins down at you with those big green eyes. An exact replica of her father’s. She also picked up a lot of his kindness and patience, his tenacity. Thank goodness, because if she picked up any of those from you, you don’t think she would have made any friends. God knows your stubbornness has gotten you into more messes than your parents would like.

Said father is the man whose text you still haven’t responded to. Whose text led you to curse in front of your daughter. Your daughter who said father has zero awareness of.

This is going to be fantastic.

When you tuck Amelia back into bed, she peers up at you curiously. Sometimes, it’s like staring right at Luca. Her inquisitive eyes. The ones that could see right through you.

“Why were you saying a bad word, Mommy?” 

You tug the blanket up to her chin as she sinks back into the mattress. “Sometimes, when I feel really strongly about something, I say a bad word. It’s not really a bad thing, but it might not be a good thing either. It’s just when I feel so emotional that I have to use a word that you’re not supposed to use.”

Amelia quietly considers this. You can see the gears turning in her head. “So was it a good thing or a bad thing that made you say it?”

Honestly, you’re still not sure. While you’re more than thrilled at the idea of reconnecting with a good friend and a former co-worker, his arrival in Chicago means that your current situation – in other words, you having a daughter – complicates things. For the duration of time that he is here in the city, you have to figure out how to ensure he never finds out about Amelia. It would be difficult to explain. Even harder now that she’s four. 

Plus, it’s not like you have to. He has a life of his own in Copenhagen now, working for the best of the best. He hasn’t been back in Chicago since he left and he likely will leave again to never return. He doesn’t need to know about her. You’ve been just fine on your own. 

“A little bit of both,” you smile. “Now, sleep. This is the second time I’m putting you to bed. If I reach a third time, the ogre underneath your bed is going to wake up and eat you.”

She frowns, “There’s no ogre under my bed. You told me this last year.”

Curse your good parenting. “It’s the ogre’s other friend.”

Amelia offers you a sympathetic smile. It’s a sad day when your daughter begins to pity you and your weak attempt to be stern. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Sleep tight.”

God knows you won’t be doing that tonight.

–

Perhaps the situation merits some context. For starters, Amelia is your four-year-old. She’s bright and optimistic, but she’s also quick and snappy. She’s the type to challenge teachers at school as evidenced by the number of times she – and you – have been summoned to the principal’s office due to a teacher’s bruised ego. However, she’s a good student and she makes friends. She’s never been too much of a handful. 

Raising her has been relatively easy, particularly with the help of your parents and Rebecca, your other and current best friend, who adore her. 

When you had gotten pregnant, your parents were unsurprisingly upset. They weren’t happy that their only child was knocked up without the father around. No matter how many times they asked who it was, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them. You dodged the question multiple times, claiming that the father had nothing to do with the baby because it was your call. 

It wasn’t Luca’s responsibility. He didn’t know. 

Still, Amelia has been winning hearts left and right since the day she was born. With her bright green eyes and mischievous nature, she quickly captured your parents’ love. 

With regards to Luca, she does ask about it from time to time. The father she never knew. 

It isn’t as if you and Luca ended on bad terms; you clearly didn’t given that you still consider him one of your closest friends. Close friends with a massive secret between you. 

It was just – there was nothing between you to begin with. 

A drunken one-night stand. That’s all it was. The two of you were tight at Ever, the entire staff knew that. He had been the one to pull you out of your cold shell, introduce you to the rest, and ensured you fit in with the group. Ever wouldn’t have been the same without him. 

So after a particularly tough day and a particularly long night of downing two bottles of wine, it happened. The next morning is something your wine-addled brain had really thought about. 

“Last night…” he starts.

“I know,” you clear your throat, covering your naked chest with your duvet. The last thing you want is to lose your friendship with him. No matter how much you love this man. “We don’t have to— I mean, I get it. We had both been drinking.”

Luca nods slowly. “Yeah, of course.” He’s still shirtless from waist up as far as you could see. His broad shoulders even more prominent in the daylight. Golden skin through and through. You can see why your brain thought it was a good idea last night. 

You’re not blind. You’ve always known your best friend is attractive. You’ve seen the looks some of the servers give him, and even the customers when he takes the occasional step out of the kitchen and into the limelight.

But you can’t lose him. Not to this.

You look up at him. “We’re good right?”

“We’re good.”

And the two of you never spoke of it again. A couple of weeks later, Luca hears that he received the opportunity to stage at Noma. No chef would pass that up. So within a week, he packs his bag and, with tearful goodbyes to the rest of the Ever crew, he is on a flight to Denmark. What was supposed to be a two-month stint turned into four then a full-time gig. Before long, he was bouncing around every fine dining establishment in Copenhagen and making a name for himself as a pastry chef. He eventually returned to Noma to take over pastry work there. 

A week after his departure, you land with your face in your toilet to hurl your guts out. Then came the nausea and the odd food cravings. Working at Ever became unbearable with the mix of smells and your constant fatigue. When all the symptoms finally sink in, you decide to take a pregnancy test.

Lo and behold, two pink lines.

The shock electrocutes you. You’re slumped against your bathroom dresser when Rebecca finds you the first time, panicking since you weren’t exactly moving. Or breathing. It took a lot of crying and ginger ale (no more wine for you) on the floor before she managed to help you move to the bed where you proceeded to repeat the cycle. 

Telling your parents was the easy part. Getting through the pregnancy was rough. Late nights of being sore all over, the constant trips to the bathroom, fielding concerned calls from your parents. 

Some of the worst parts were Luca reaching out. Between calling you at times most convenient for you (he would be up until dawn trying to call you) and sending you check-in texts, you were consumed with guilt. You constantly skipped his calls, claiming you were too busy even as you stared at his name lighting up your phone in the quiet of your room. You told people at Ever that you were leaving to pursue another career path. When your body started to change, you took video calls with him with only the top half of your face visible. 

You never told him. You knew what he would’ve done. He would’ve given up his dream and, knowing him, he wouldn’t have even resented you for it. He would have taken responsibility. But that’s not what you wanted for him. Luca was – is – meant to do great things. 

His career so far is proof of it. 

So you sucked it up. You had the chance to get rid of this unborn, nameless, faceless baby, but it didn’t feel right. You could feel her growing inside you and, once you had that first ultrasound with your mom by your side, it was decided. You were keeping her. 

Amelia came in wailing, kicking, and screaming at three in the morning. 

The greatest gift you could ever imagine. 

She’s been the lighthouse of your life ever since. She is the reason you get up in the morning. 

That’s the gist of it. Now, here you are at the age of thirty, staring at your phone dreading typing a mere response. 

You look down at yourself. Despite the frumpy clothes being all you find comfortable these days outside of work, you don’t look that much different than you did before, so you could definitely pass as a woman who has never gone through pregnancy. You can do this. One meeting. Then he’ll be back on a plane and gone again for good. No big. 

You: Coffee? I could do weekdays afternoon

Luca: Sounds good. I’ll lock in a time with you closer to the date. Looking forward to seeing you again :) 

The urge to bang your head against a wall grows stronger by the moment. 

Two weeks to prepare for his visit. Two weeks to come up with a believable story for how your life has been going for the past four years as if you never had your beautiful, smart, amazing daughter. You could do that. 

Your only concern is whether you’re able to lie to Luca. He’s always been good at making an honest woman out of you. Keeping the truth from him when he’s thousands of miles from you is easy. But when you’re looking into those earnest green eyes, your integrity and skills will be tested.

This will be fun. 

—

The café is busy particularly this time of day. You’ve got office workers making their late afternoon coffee runs, tourists popping in for a midday snack, and regulars trying to shoulder past people to get through to the exit. You manage to put in your order – and his, hoping it’s still the same – and snag a seat in the back corner of the shop. Work is relatively slow today so you called in a half day, which your manager only waves off unconcerned. It also works out because you can pick up Amelia right after this.

You can’t help the way your fingers wring together fearfully. It’s a nervous tic. Your espresso sits steaming across from Luca’s mocha latte. You could use the extra dose of caffeine to get through this conversation.

Hey, how’s it going? What’s new with you? Me? Nothing much, just raising the daughter I’ve been keeping from you and I’m working in a boring office now. How’s the life of your dreams? 

A groan escapes your lips. You need to stop throwing this pathetic pity party for yourself. Now that Amelia is four, there’s really no excuse. You could go back to the kitchen and chase that lifelong dream again. There’s nothing stopping you. Your parents are fully retired and would be more than happy to take her off your hands on long days. 

But you’re not entirely sure you’re ready. You’re much older than when you left. The stamina of these new and rising chefs is stronger than yours. Then again, you’ve been through hell and back with Amelia’s toddler years – god knows you barely got any sleep and became an expert on multi-tasking. 

With Amelia, you also don’t know if being a chef is even your dream anymore. You still cook at home, it gives you a chance to experiment and be creative. There’s no one breathing down your neck on how to properly prepare a plate – aside from your mom who makes sure Amelia gets her main food groups every day. 

It’s not as if you spite him for it. It’s not his fault. You just need to hold yourself accountable for your decisions. That includes having your wonderful daughter and keeping her a secret from her father. 

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue is all too familiar. It’s almost like a caress. A ghost of a touch. You resist the shiver that snakes up your spine and look up to see him. 

Fuck.

All those video calls did not do him justice. It’s been a couple of days since he landed in Chicago and clearly vacation suits him. There is a slight dusting of stubble along his jaw and his hair is a little unruly, far from the poised and elegant styling he usually has in the kitchen. He looks older. Better. You didn’t think it was possible for Luca to grow more into himself but he proves you wrong. 

“Luca.” You stand, bumping into the table slightly. Curse your lack of cool. 

The smile that spreads across his face is blinding. Familiar. Warm. “God, it’s so good to see you,” he says first, voice dripping with honey. He wraps you in a tight hug. It’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him, since you’ve been able to smell his cologne mixed with that unceasing scent of pastries. “You look… wow. You look amazing.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” you laugh. “Look at you. All grown up. You weren’t scrawny the last time I saw you, but I didn’t think you’d be so… big?”

Something flickers across his eyes, but it’s gone the moment you blink. “Well, all that dough kneading had to go somewhere. Thankfully, that means I don’t really have to hit the gym as much.”

“Life isn’t fair,” you tease. “What are you doing back in Chicago? I thought someone would have to drag you here kicking and screaming.”

While Chicago had been home for Luca for a while, you knew it wasn’t entirely easy. There is a lot of history in the city that he wants to let go, people he chooses to eschew if he can. 

Luca looks a little confused by your question. “Ever is closing. Funeral dinner is tomorrow.”

It’s been years since you’ve been involved in the restaurant scene in the city. Admittedly, it’s too painful to be reminded of the past that had once been your dream. So you nod slowly. “Right, of course.”

“Are you not going?”

You hadn’t been invited, which also isn’t surprising. You weren’t a star like Luca or Carmy. You had been a line cook at the time and blended into the other chefs doing menial work in the kitchen. “No, I don’t really talk to anyone there anymore.”

“Oh, where are you working now? You’ve never told me that actually.”

You’re still not entirely sure how you managed to do it but, in the four years since he left, you did not tell him how you pivoted from cooking to an office job. It was more stable, better pay, and the hours were better. God bless company-sponsored healthcare. It was more conducive to raising a child. 

“I work a finance role now. Boutique tech firm in the city.”

If anyone else knew Luca as well as you did, they would see the metaphorical jaw drop. “What? Since when?”

“Two, three years.” Four. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You mean since I left? What happened? Why did you switch?”

The lump in your throat refuses to go down. “I couldn’t handle the hours anymore. I wanted to get home at a good time, make more money.” It isn’t a lie per se. You just had bigger responsibilities that had you prioritizing reality over idealism. 

Luca leans back, seeming to appraise you carefully. There are certainly more lines on your face now, weariness clinging to your skin. While life hasn’t been too tough on you, it hasn’t been particularly kind either. 

“I didn’t know that,” he mutters, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Your lips quirk up in a small smile. “I didn’t want you to worry. Knowing you, you’d be on the first flight back here to drag me back into a kitchen.”

A charming snort escapes him. You didn’t know snorts could be charming until him. God, it’s stupid how fast your heart still races with him. “You’re not wrong. I just never thought this would happen. I heard that you left Ever but since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to touch on a sore subject.”

“Not too sore, I promise. It’s been good. I like it. It’s straightforward and nobody’s constantly yelling at me. There is functioning air conditioning instead of constantly sweating by grills,” you grin. 

“That’s definitely appealing.” 

“Enough about me. Tell me all about Copenhagen.”

And that gets Luca going. While you’ve heard bits and pieces on your short calls with him, it’s another thing entirely to have him narrate this live in front of you. His hands gesture wildly to describe the chaos of the kitchens he’s been in. He swipes through photographs of menu items he worked on recently. Each piece is more impressive than the next. You truly understand how much he’s grown then. How talented he is. 

Somehow, his being here and all these stories reassure you in your decision not to tell him about your pregnancy. This is Luca’s dream. This is what he is meant to do. 

“So when are you heading back? Seems like you have a lot in the works,” you ask as you take a sip of your now-cold coffee. 

“I’m actually here for a few months.”

Your blood runs cold. If this were a movie, you would do a spit-take. “W-why are you here for a few months? What about Noma? Are you taking a sabbatical? Do they even let you take sabbaticals?”

“I left.”

He says it so simply. Like a thing he does so casually. Leaving Noma of all places – arguably the best restaurant in the world and every chef’s dream. His dream. “You’re going to have to elaborate here. What do you mean you left?”

Luca takes a deep breath and looks at you. Really looks at you. He looks contemplative, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve learned a lot there but I think I’m ready to move on.”

One doesn’t just move on. “So what’s your plan now? Are you starting your own place?”

“Someday. I still want to learn. There are a lot of great places here that I can bring my experience to. I’ve started asking around.”

Fuck. Here. “So you’re staying in Chicago?” Your voice comes out as a squeak.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I’m excited. I mean, there’s a lot I have to do still. I have to find a place to live. And my sister…”

Luca’s relationship with his sister is rocky at best. With his parents divorced – not amicably at that, the two barely interacted. Even when the two were living in the same city, Luca buried himself in his pursuit of becoming a chef. You hear slices of her from him, but you know it’s a painful topic, so you don’t try to push. 

“I’m trying to rebuild the relationship there. It’s going to take a while.”

“Right, yeah. I’m glad to hear. I’m sure it’s not easy so I’m proud of you for taking that step.”

“Right,” he clears his throat, eyes dropping to his hand on the table where he fiddles with his napkin. “And you’re here.”

His eyes flick back up to you. Sharp green. Your breath hitches in your throat. 

Fuck. 

You cannot do this. All that hope that you’ve quashed from your years knowing him, it’s coming back up. It’s engulfing you in this warm, tingly feeling that should definitely not be there. The you that he knows, she’s gone. She has changed so much that you can’t even see her in your reflection anymore. 

So no, you can’t start this with Luca. Not when he doesn’t know you. Not anymore, at least. “So Ever funeral, are you excited to see everyone again?”

A brief look of disappointment blankets his features for a moment and you refuse to succumb to the urge to smooth out the creases on his face. “Yes, Carm’s going to be there too so I’m excited to see him. All the greats, of course. Chef Terry is still a legend.”

You hadn’t even thought about Carmy Berzatto in years. The man terrified you back at Ever, and he still terrifies you today. Last you heard, he started his own place. He’s always been intense, so you can imagine that he runs that place with an iron fist. 

“Have you been to his new spot, The Bear?”

“No, I haven’t.” You haven’t been anywhere fancy in a while. It’s been a mix of Chuck E. Cheese’s, Cheesecake Factory, and anywhere that has mozzarella sticks. Amelia is a big fan of cheese, apparently. 

“We should go,” Luca beams. “I’d love to take you there.”

On a date? You cannot even begin to hope that’s what he meant. Again, you deflect. “What kind of cuisine is it?”

Luca doesn’t miss that attempt, but smartly chooses not to address it. “Contemporary American, I suppose, but you can imagine the Italian and French influences just given where Carmy has been.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Yeah, shall we go maybe next week? I’m seeing Carm and his CDC Sydney tomorrow, I can ask them for a reservation spot. I heard it’s tough to get. What time works for you?”

Luca is moving incredibly fast for someone who just arrived, and who plans to be there for a long time. 

“We don’t have to rush it,” you laugh awkwardly, “you’re going to be here for a while right?”

“Yes, but I have a feeling you’ll try and get out of this dinner with me if I didn’t get you to agree today,” he says, his voice tinged with humor, but the arrow still sticks painfully in you.

He isn’t wrong. You probably would use work as an excuse, despite talking about the better hours. But you have other responsibilities like picking up Amelia from school, feeding her dinner, and making sure she does her homework: 

None of which he knows about.

“Weekdays can be a bit tricky with my schedule.”

“The weekend perhaps? How about Saturday?”

Amelia has French lessons in the morning (her request, not yours) and then Rebecca is coming over so the three of you can do a quick painting session. Rebecca is insistent on nurturing her artistic skills from an early age. 

The Bear is only open for dinner service which you can’t escape without Amelia asking questions; the girl is too smart for her own good and you haven’t been out with plans that she doesn’t know about. Ever. 

The dating scene changes a little for single moms. You haven’t been on a date in a very long time. It’s tough to get into a committed relationship with a child when you've just completed your twenties. 

“Let me think about it?”

He studies you for a moment. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You make the mistake of taking a swig of your coffee when you cough, sputtering embarrassingly. Luca flails before offering you a napkin. 

“Sorry, shite, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you wheeze, “it just caught me off guard.” 

“Sorry,” he repeats awkwardly, “is that a bad question to ask?”

You shake your head, urging your skyrocketing heart rate to let up. “No, um, it’s fine. I’m not— I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Right, cool.”

The faint pink painted on his cheeks is noticeable but it’s better not to comment. 

“I’m not either,” he adds, “seeing anyone, that is.” 

You fight the amused smile on your lips. He’s already scratching his cheek, a nervous habit that he hasn’t lost. “Cool.” 

“Cool,” Luca echoes in a chuckle.

For a minute, the two of you sit there in silence. All those years apart seem to evaporate, vanishing into the crowd. The comfort that you’ve always felt around him sinks into your bones. 

“I should get back to work, can’t have my boss thinking I’ve disappeared on her.” 

“Right, of course. No rest for the weary.” Luca smiles. When the two of you are outside, Luca turns to you and immediately pulls you in for another embrace. “It was really good seeing you.”

It’s too easy to burrow your face into his broad chest. That nostalgic ache persists inside your heart. You don’t feel like you’re thirty. You’re twenty-two again in that kitchen, standing next to Luca. Both of you are young and carefree. The aroma of freshly baked goods that clings onto his skin and the sweat that dots his brows. 

But when a car honks in the distance, reality settles back into your gut. 

“You too,” is all you can muster. “See you around.”

–

By the look on Rebecca’s face, you can’t exactly pinpoint what emotion she’s feeling. It started off with surprise and then confusion and more surprise. “So he’s just back now?”

“Uh-huh,” you say from your spot in the kitchen as you’re preparing dinner. Mushroom risotto, one of Amelia’s favorites. This one is a labor of love but it’s always rewarding when you see the look on her face when it’s plated in front of her. 

Thankfully, she had fallen asleep right after she and Rebecca spent the afternoon playing a game of water tag in the backyard so now it’s just you and Rebecca in the kitchen as you recount The Meeting with Luca. 

Rebecca pops another olive into her mouth. “So are you going to hook up with him again?”

“Bec!” You gasp. “Absolutely not.”

“Clearly he was good enough the first time to give you a child.”

An exasperated sigh of disbelief leaves your lips, which only amuses her more than anything. “I will not be hooking up with him again. It was one time. We’re friends now.”

“Honey, friends don’t fuck.”

“Friends can fuck once.”

“If you finish twice in one night, does that count as once still?”

You wave a hand in front of her. “I’m not debating the technicality of this. Point is, I’ve seen him once and I will not be seeing him again.”

“Why not? He’s clearly interested. He asked you if you were single.”

“So?”

“And then he tells you – unprompted – that he’s single too.”

“I get it, maybe he’s interested. But I’m not.”

Even your words sound unconvincing in your ears.

“I’m—” fuck. “—not. I’m not. Anyways, I didn’t make plans and I hope he doesn’t follow up—”

As if on cue, your phone begins vibrating on the table. Both your eyes drop to it as Luca’s face and name pop up on screen. Rebecca’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Superpowers. Good in bed and reading minds.”

“I’m not going to deal with that.”

“You have to.” 

“I won’t.”

“Are you five? Why are you avoiding him? You claim he’s your best friend – which I take full offense to by the way – but you can’t even talk to him.”

Groaning, you stare at the device still circling the surface of your counter. “I don’t want to risk him meeting Amelia, especially if he’s going to be here a while.”

“He’s definitely going to meet her eventually. It’s a matter of when. Are you never going to invite him over?”

“What possible reason would I have to invite him over?” Rebecca opens her mouth and you quickly interject, “Don’t answer that.”

Her gaze falls back to the device, then flicks up to you, then back to the device. Before you can stop her, she’s swiping to pick up the call and putting it on speaker. You want to slap the proud grin off her face. 

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Luca’s gravelly voice carries over the speakers. 

“No, no. Just making dinner,” you respond, ignoring the way Rebecca keeps mouthing at you about his British accent. 

“What’s on the menu?”

“Mushroom risotto,” you say as you look over the boiling pan again. 

“I remember that one. One of my favorites of yours.” You can practically hear his smile. Your heart skips a little too fast at the thought. “If you’re willing, I’d love to have that again sometime.”

Rebecca mutes it quickly just to say, “Fucking Jesus, he wants in your pants again.” Then unmutes. 

With a glare her way, you direct your attention back to Luca. “Yes, maybe.” Noncommittal. Safe. 

“Listen, I was with Carm and Syd at Ever and they invited us to come for dinner at The Bear. Wondering what your schedule looks like next week and if you’d be interested.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s a little— oh fuck.”

“You okay?”

You shoot Rebecca a dirty look after she launched a fucking olive at your head. “Yeah, fine, sorry.”

“Go,” she whispers. 

“Um, I’m not sure about my schedule next week.”

“I can be flexible. I know you said weekdays are a little tough but what about after work? Thursday night?”

Fuck. If Luca is one thing, he’s persistent. And he knows how your bad tendency to avoid things you’re scared of – which in this case is dinner with him, so he’s not letting this one go. “It’s a school night so I’m not sure.”

He chuckles. The sound reverberates straight through your core. “And you can’t go out on school nights, can you?”

Crap. His voice is like a siren’s, luring you in to confess your secrets. The way he says it too – Jesus, the delivery of that question has sparks blowing up inside you. More importantly, you almost let it slip that school nights are usually a no-go because you need to get Amelia ready for the next day. “Still have to work the next day,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Friday then?”

“Friday is better…”

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment. You know he’s still there but he’s in deep thought. This happens sometimes. You’ve grown attuned to notice these moments even without seeing his face on the call. 

“I just want to say there’s no pressure. If you’re not interested, please feel free to say no. I don’t want to force you to spend time with me if you don’t want to. You’ve got your own life, I completely understand. I apologize, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

Fuck. Of course, he would be a complete gentleman in this situation. It’s not that you don’t want to. Everything is just complicated. Pushing aside those worrying thoughts, you say, “No, I’d love to. Sorry. I just have a lot on my plate right now so I don’t want to make plans I can’t commit to.”

“Do it,” Rebecca mouths. For someone who’s supposed to be a fly on the wall, she is oddly intrusive. “I’ll take Amelia.” You hesitate for a second and she gives you another look before she mutes the call again. “Honey, do it. You deserve to do something nice for yourself okay. And if it’s a nice dinner with a hot British chef, then so be it.”

Sighing, you unmute the call and talk to Luca again. “Friday works. I’ll be coming from work.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Text me the address. I’ll book for 7:30 to be safe.”

“Alright, sounds good,” you reply weakly. 

“See you then.”

When the line goes cold, you look up to find Rebecca with a shit-eating grin on her face. “I’m so proud of you,” she exhales dreamily. “It’s like seeing a teenage daughter grow up and plan her first date.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the stove. Your cheeks are flushed with warmth. 

This is a date. Luca probably considers this a date. Right? It would be embarrassing if he didn’t and you did. Maybe he’s just being nice and taking out an old friend to a restaurant he has been meaning to try. 

“I can hear you spiraling,” Rebecca singsongs. 

“Why did you let me say yes?”

It is then that Rebecca physically gets up, rounds the counter, and grabs hold of both your arms. “I need to shake some sense into you. You are still a person. You are allowed to go out and have fun. There are people around you who can help you with Amelia. You’re not alone.”

“I know this,” you grumble under your breath.

“But I think sometimes you need a good reminder of it. You’ll have fun at dinner, I just know it. You spent so long pushing away that part of you because you think you’ll never have it again, but – you know what – I think you can. You’ve always loved food and cooking. I can see it in the meals you make for Amelia. Maybe it’s just time for you to go out and explore again.”

Smiling softly, you always knew that Rebecca was your better half. She took you under her wing in college, stood up for you, and gave you the confidence to pursue your dreams. You had graduated with a degree in finance but worried for your life when you had to tell your parents that you were going to be a chef instead. She stood by you through it all. 

“Thanks, Bec.”

“Where would you be without me?”

With a laugh, you nudge her away as you turn off the fire. Right on time, Amelia wanders into the room, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Hungry.”

Classic. She truly is your daughter. 

–

When seven rolls around, you’ve already spent the last thirty minutes fretting over your hair and the state of your makeup. The office has cleared out for the day, but you spent the last working hour playing catch-up. It’s been a busy week for Amelia at Pre-K – who knew they could have so much homework even before reaching kindergarten?

You smooth out the wrinkles on your pale blue dress – work appropriate with the blazer, and chic dinner fit without. Since Amelia, you’ve foregone wearing heels, opting instead for flats or sneakers since you’re constantly on your feet. But you pull out your white, open-toed pumps from your closet for this dinner.

Yes, you can readily admit that you are at least trying to look nice for this dinner non-date. 

When you told Amelia earlier this week that you had plans on Friday night to go out for dinner and that she would be staying home with Rebecca, she didn’t blink twice. She only asked what Aunt Rebecca had planned. When she saw you this morning dressed up with a little more blush on your cheeks, she didn’t question it. Instead, she just smiled quietly and complimented you on your dress. 

You can’t believe you’re at a stage where she is making space for you. You nearly get teary just thinking about how quickly she’s growing up. 

A black sedan pulls up in front of you and Luca is immediately out the door. You’re so used to seeing him in t-shirts, aprons, and sweatshirts that you forgot how delectable he can look when he cleans up. His blonde hair is neatly coiffed and he’s shaved his face clean. You find yourself almost missing that rugged stubble on his face. His navy shirt is freshly pressed with sleeves rolled up close to his elbows to reveal all his tattoos. 

God, he looks good. Too good. Tempting even.

“You look fantastic,” Luca beats you to the punch, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. His eyes peruse you shamelessly, dragging from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. 

It’s a European thing, you remind yourself. “You do too. Almost didn’t recognize you out of your stained tees.”

His mouth curls into a smirk. “Believe it or not, I do have clean laundry these days.” He swings open the door for you and offers a hand to help you slide inside. 

Once the two of you are settled in, Luca pulls up the restaurant on the navigation system. He fills the silence with small talk, asking you how your day went and how work is going. 

When you finally arrive at The Bear, Luca drops you off at the front and goes to park around the corner. Ever the gentleman. Stepping inside, you’re immediately impressed by how elegant the entire place is. It’s neat with that fine dining touch, but there’s a certain coziness in the air that makes it more welcoming. Luca joins you shortly after, stating his name for the reservation.

A tall man dressed sharply in a black suit comes up and greets Luca first. “Glad you could make it!”

“Thanks for having me,” Luca beams back. He introduces the two of you quickly and you learn that his name is Richie and he is Carmy’s cousin.

“Not real cousin but his brother was my best friend,” Richie corrects easily. “Let me take you to your table.”

The service is impeccable and the ambiance even more so. You’re marveling at how polished everything is. The window strip into the kitchen gives a sneak peek into the work behind the scenes, but your focus is on the main dining room. Beautiful booths against the wall, tables spaced just enough apart. You can’t imagine that this place had been a casual fast food joint just months ago. They’ve truly outdone themselves with the transformation. 

“Impressive bunch,” Luca notes your expression. “Not to mention it’s most of their first time working in fine dining. While there have been some inconsistent reviews, the menu is generally delicious overall.”

“Yeah, I don’t recognize it anymore. I remember visiting this shop back then and it was holding on to its last hinges. Now look at this place.” 

The tasting menu is even more stunning. The bread is crisp on the outside, fluffy and warm on the inside, paired perfectly well with the option of freshly made butter. Appetizers were light, perfect to get you warmed up for the series of main courses. Desserts – don’t even get you started on the desserts. You’re pretty sure you let out an inappropriate moan at some point. 

Your diet these past few years has consisted of whatever is microwavable, preparable with hot water, or whichever dish Amelia is craving. So you’ve had your fair share of ramen, mac and cheese (Amelia’s three-year-old phase), and lunchables (ongoing, on-and-off phase). 

It’s been a while since you’ve had a proper sit-down meal at a fancy restaurant. It’s hard to believe that you used to work in these kitchens. You used to be the person creating these meals. While your parents and Amelia let you take your own spin with the dishes you prepare for them, most of the time you’re too exhausted to do anything experimental and stick to what you know – and have in your cupboards. 

It’s nice to enjoy this kind of meal again. 

You and Luca discuss dinner throughout, talking about the flavor profiles and the potential inspirations, the influences of each dish. Each item was made meticulously with careful thought placed into the flavor. It didn’t feel extremely polished, but that just meant there’s still a lot of heart that went into it. 

“That was just… wow.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Luca chuckles as he wipes with a napkin. “I was already expecting to be blown away but that was out of this world. As expected from Carmy. And Syd.”

Richie comes back around and the two of you gush over how wonderful everything is. “Great to hear it, team. Love the enthusiasm. Carmy and Syd have some time right now by the way, if you wanted to go say hi.”

“That would be perfect. Let me just close out and not walk out on my tab.”

“I can definitely get you that.”

When the bill arrives, Luca is quick to swipe it off the table. “Luc—”

Luca immediately shakes his head, dropping his card on top of the receipt and hands it back to the waiter. “My treat. For putting up with me all these years.”

A frown forms on your face as you watch his hands fold on top of the table. “What are you talking about? Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll split. It’s an expensive dinner.”

“Let me do this one thing for you, love,” Luca says. “I wanted to try this place and I invited you so it’s only fair that I cover the bill.”

“Luca, that’s not— come on. I’ll send you the money. This isn’t a—” you bite your tongue, stopping yourself before you can say the word date. 

He catches on anyway, lips tugging into a smile. “If I told you this is a date, would you let me pay for it then?”

Warmth creeps up your cheeks again as you wring your fingers on the napkin on your lap. 

“Folks, are we ready to meet the chefs?” Richie returns, clapping his hands together. 

“Yes, we are.” Luca answers. He’s giving you yet another out. Still the gentleman, he offers a hand to help you to your feet. 

Richie leads you towards the kitchen door, drawing curious eyes from surrounding guests over this special treatment you’re getting. When you step in, your senses are immediately overwhelmed. 

The kitchen is alive. Not just loud. Alive. A symphony of sizzles rises from the skillets as flames dance around the pans, blues and oranges glowing bright. Metal against metal as hot pans hit the stovetop, the scraping of spatulas against the surface. Another chef yells corner as they appear carrying trays of baked meringues. The chef at expo is reading out orders from her list, her voice slicing steady and clear across the cacophony of sounds. 

The light overhead is cold and clinical, sharp fluorescents that bleach the space in blue. But the kitchen burns bright. The heat in this room is significantly higher than the carefully controlled temperature of the dining room. 

It’s nostalgic. It reminds you of all those years working alongside Luca. Your fingers wrapped around a cool piping bag, swirling icing on top of tarts. The aroma of pastries baking — golden crusts, caramelized sugars, berries roasting – was consistent in the air. There is a quiet in the chaos. Controlled chaos. 

A comfort that you’ve longed for. Your kitchen isn’t the same. The people aren’t the same, but there’s a beauty in the newness. In the challenge. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Richie yells, “Yo! Cousin! Chef Syd! Luca’s here.” The brunette woman at expo give him a warning look, which withers him only slightly. 

There is a chorus of greetings when people spot Luca. Clearly he’s a fan favorite. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back at you. A gentleness to his gaze that catches you off guard. 

Before you can attempt to decipher that look, two chefs make their way over to you. One you recognize as Carmy. His intensity is palpable, obvious. If there’s anyone who could put these chefs on edge, it would be him. The other woman is calmer. A friendly face but an equally controlled presence. The two make a terrifying pair. 

Carmy’s eyeing you with interest, eyes flicking between you and Luca. “I’ve met you before,” he says simply. 

You laugh and Luca rubs his face. “Mate, you guys worked together.”

“We did?” He asks the same time Syd asks, “You did?”

“Yeah, she was my second for pastry.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Syd laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. Carmy still looks completely befuddled, but also distracted by the stream of activity going on behind him. He mutters to give him a second as he deals with the searing steak. “I mean Luca’s great but forgive Carmy, he’s not best at… remembering anything. Or math. Or picking up the phone.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Carm calls out, hands still moving quickly and efficiently to turn the steak and then quickly plate it for service. You can’t help but marvel at how speedy he is. He’s always been good but he’s only gotten better. It’s terrifying knowledge. “Hands!” Then he’s back in front of the two of you. 

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t there for very long—”

Luca chuckles. “You were there for at least two years. You definitely overlapped for a while.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m just bad with – well, like Syd said – most things. But yeah, good to meet you again.”

“You too, the food was delicious. As expected,” you shrug with a smile. “Out of this world.” Luca smiles quietly at the echo of his words.  

“Thanks, it took a while to get the menu to this place,” Syd nods. 

Carmy’s still looking at the two of you. “This is a mess, though. Don’t let us ruin your date.” You see Syd elbow him, leaving him with another look of confusion. 

Before you can correct him, Luca is already responding, “No, this is great, mate. I’ve missed the Chicago food scene a lot. Ever was clean, but this feels very lively.”

“Yeah, it’s been great. Budget’s fucking fucked but it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Luca looks at him in concern but the two chefs wave him off. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt too long. I’m just going to say hi to Marcus and head out.” A hand settles on the small of your back and suddenly you’re being directed towards the back corner of the kitchen where a man who is even taller than Luca stands (you note that there are many tall men in this establishment), his hands working away at these delicate little desserts. 

“Luca, my man,” the man who you assume to be Marcus grins wide, dapping Luca. You’re more bewildered that Luca knows how to dap than anything. “Heard you were on this side of the pond.”

“Yeah, for a little bit actually.”

“Nice,” he nods slow then looks at you. “Marcus.”

You introduce yourself too and add, “Desserts were perfection by the way. Sundae was inspired, love the olive oil.”

“Thank you. I have to give this man right here his flowers. Learned a lot from my time there.”

Luca laughs, scratching his cheek. “No, it was all you, man. Echoing that desserts were superb.”

“Thanks, man. I actually wanted to run some ideas by you if you’ve got time.”

“Time is all I have.”

Marcus grins. “Perfect, I’ll text you.” He turns to you. “Good to meet you. Never thought Luca would have time for a girlfriend.”

This time, you do jump in. Perhaps a little too fast. “I’m not his girlfriend,” you blurt out, “I’m a… friend.”

Marcus’ gaze darts between Luca and you. Shame sinks quickly into you. The defensiveness in your voice was maybe unnecessary. You can’t see Luca’s face but you can feel his hand shift slightly away from your body. The lack of touch leaves you feeling a little cold in the warm kitchen. “Right, my bad. Anyway, good seeing you both.”

“You too, talk soon,” Luca says. 

With a flurry of goodbyes, the two of you are finally out of the restaurant, standing in the slightly brisk evening air. A wind whips by, leaving you shivering slightly. “Are you cold?” Luca asks. “You can wait inside and I’ll pull the car around.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll just grab an Uber from here.”

“Nonsense, I have a car. I’m happy to drop you off at home.”

“Luca, you’ve done more than enough. Dinner was wonderful. I can get myself home.”

Luca hesitates, gaze drifting into the street. 

“There’s no meaning behind it. I really just don’t want to trouble you any more than I already have.”

“You could never trouble me,” he says. It’s almost a promise. You blame the heat on your cheeks on the touch of wind outside. “It’ll make me feel better knowing that you’re getting home safely.”

You don’t think he would drop this. Not to mention, it would save you the money on a long drive back home. Finally, you nod in agreement and he tells you to stay put as he grabs the car. 

On the ride home, you quickly shoot a text to Rebecca.

You: Luca’s dropping me off. Can you make sure Amelia’s in bed? Thanks :)

“So you liked dinner?”

You snort, “That’s an understatement. I don’t think I’ve had a meal like that in a long time.”

“I’m surprised. You’ve always been the first to try new restaurants, especially ones by reputable chefs. As intense as Carmy is, he is a fantastic chef. So is Syd, she’s brilliant.”

A weak smile settles on your face as you turn to look out the window. The sparse traffic blurs before you in streaks of red. “Just haven’t had the time, I suppose.”

Luca clears his throat and your glance flies back to him. His grip is tight on the steering wheel, his neck flushed pink. “Well, if you’re interested in exploring more places, I have a lot of catching up to do. We could go together?”

You’ve never been able to tell him no. Not when you want it for yourself as well. “That sounds nice.”

When you get to your home, Luca pulls up along the curb. Just as you’re about to thank him again, he’s already stepping out to get your door. Fuck. “Thank you,” you whisper, slipping your hand into his for the nth time that night. You’re getting used to the feeling. “Thank you again for dinner. I had a great time.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Hopefully the first of many.”

“I’ll get the bill next time.”

Luca shrugs. “We’ll see.”

When he makes no move to leave, you tilt your head. “Shouldn’t you get going? It’s late.”

“Let me walk you to your door.”

Your heart drops to the ground. You haven’t gotten a response yet from Rebecca which is hopefully a good thing. Maybe they’re both fast asleep, it wouldn’t be the first time. The energy-exerting activities work as well on Rebecca as it does on Amelia. 

“You really don’t have to.”

“I insist. It’s the Brit side of me. I want to make sure you get in okay.”

All you can do is nod and walk up the pathway to your door. Your knees feel a little weak. If it’s the nerves or the proximity to Luca, especially since his hand has returned to your lower back, you’re not entirely sure. 

When you reach for your keys, Luca shoves his hands into his pants pockets. His hair is a touch mussed up now, a strand falling attractively across his forehead. He’s looking at you with that calm gaze, one that has your body all too aware of his presence. 

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“Pretty sure you already said I looked fantastic earlier, beautiful feels like a downgrade.”

Luca laughs, the sound low and familiar. Your chest warms as you look at him. 

“Thanks again, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just grateful you agreed to go with me.”

“We’re friends, Luca. We can hang out.”

He hums, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Something about the act has your heart rate picking up. “Didn’t seem like you really wanted to.”

“It’s just been a while since I’ve been… out.”

“Well, if you’re not opposed, then I’d be honored to take you out again.”

Oh boy. This is venturing into dangerous territory. 

“I should head in,” you say, teeth catching your bottom lip before you can say something stupid like would you like to come in? 

However, before Luca can respond, the front door swings open and you hear—

“Mommy!” 

Shit.

Amelia stands in the doorway in her purple unicorn pajamas. She’s looking up at you with bright eyes but then her curious gaze wanders over to the blonde man in front of you. 

Double shit. 

Her hair isn’t an exact replica of Luca’s, but the eyes are unmistakable. All three of you seem to freeze in time. 

Amelia is staring at Luca, Luca is staring at Amelia, and you’re trying to figure out how to dig yourself out of this hole. First things first, you crouch down to Amelia’s height. “Baby, why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Aunt Rebecca fell asleep but I wasn’t tired yet.”

You purse your lips. “Let’s get you inside, it’s chilly out.”

“Who’s that?” Amelia peeks around you to look at Luca again. 

The thought of even looking at him right now is terrifying. “He is my friend.”

“You’re not going to introduce me?” Amelia asks, eyes widening. You know exactly what she’s doing. Manipulative. The guilt-trip, puppy-dog eyes. 

So you grit your teeth and plaster on a smile as you straighten back up and turn to Luca. He’s still rooted to your porch, mouth pressed into a thin line and his brows puckered in confusion. “Luca, this is Amelia. Amelia, Luca.”

“Hi, Uncle Luca.”

Polite, you taught her well. 

It is then that Luca seems to snap out of it, clearing his throat awkwardly as he crouches to her level. He sticks out a hand, which she immediately accepts. “Hi, Amelia. It’s very nice to meet you. Though, it seems like it’s way past your bedtime.”

Amelia disregards his comment and instead responds with “You have a cool accent. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in London but I’ve lived here in Chicago and also spent the last few years in Copenhagen. In Denmark.”

“That’s so cool, I’ve never been,” Amelia beams, eyes sparkling in delight. 

“Well, if you ever decide to go, I could take you around.”

“Do you live there now?”

His eyes snap up to you briefly, the movement surprising you, before they return to the little girl before him. “No, I’m moving back here to Chicago.”

“Why?”

Luca is quiet as he pulls together his words. “Because there are a lot of people I care about here.”

“Is my mommy one of them?”

The lump in your throat has only grown. The word mommy usually warms your heart but you can feel it stuttering instead. Your mind is running awry, wondering if he’s connected the dots yet, what answers you should give him if he asks. He doesn’t need to know, you remind yourself. He’ll be here a few months and then he’ll be gone again – and you and Amelia can go back to the life you’ve always lived. Just the two of you. 

“Yes, your mum is definitely one of them,” Luca softly says, “Speaking of, she’s very sleepy. Maybe it’s best that you tuck her in for the night.”

Amelia giggles, “That’s a great idea. She always tucks me in so it’s my turn.”

“Mhmm, then you can go to sleep knowing your mum’s tucked away safely in bed.” Luca reaches out to ruffle her hair, which pleases her as she preens to the touch. His eyes widen for a second before they melt again and he strokes her head. “Have a good night, Amelia.”

Amelia remains by the door when he finally turns to you. There’s a storm clouding his usually bright eyes as he looks at you. You’re not even sure what words are caught on the tip of your tongue, but they never come out. 

“Have a good night, love,” Luca murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes slide shut. God, you’ve missed this intimacy with someone. Nothing could compare to his touch. The loneliness that has ebbed and flowed over the years seeps back into your lungs. 

But your heart is still rattled by what just happened. You can barely move, let alone respond. 

Then he’s gone, the roar of his engine echoing down the quiet street as he drives away. 

Your mind is numb as you prepare Amelia for bed. She’s chattering about how nice Luca seems to be and how she’s excited to see you making friends again. The only thing you can offer her is a weak smile as you press a kiss to her temple. She slides under the covers and is out cold in minutes. You leave her room quietly to drape a blanket over Rebecca, who’s sleeping on the couch. 

Only then do you head to your own room, weary from a long day.

The last thing you see before sleep pulls you under is your phone lighting up.

Luca: We need to talk.

[consistentlyamess]

you guys don't even know how fucking perfectly Luca's reappearence ties into my plans for wild sweetness goddamn

[consistentlyamess]

dude i'm trying so fucking hard to get psyched for this whole final season of stranger things stuff but ffs.

you make us wait 4 FUCKING YEARS for it and then you have the audacity to split it into 3 parts with this weak fucking excuse of a teaser trailer which is basically just a compilation of scenes from previous seasons????

nah brah. both the duffers and netflix can eat me for this. diabolical.

and i know that probaby somehow this is part of the netflix deal but still. they're most likely one of the biggest cash cows there, i refuse to believe they don't have any negotiating power. have some integrity my dudes. you're already millionaires, you've been losing the plot since season 3, just jesus christ. it's so annoying.

[consistentlyamess]

yknow if romeo had just Cried on juliets corpse for a couple hours instead of drinking poison Right Then they would have been Fine

[consistentlyamess]

Oliver Baez Bendorf, “Everything All at Once”