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the world’s only golden line fan lj | 24 | she/her loves all things kiwi

[conleches]

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

body language masterlist

a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

550 words to say instead of fuckin said

638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

some more body language help 

[bellero]

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[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[russianblush]

no ai usage over here. you’re gonna get my shitty authentic writing whether you like it or not

[c4tluver02]

new neighbor

wc: 5.3k

summary: Dustin's new neighbor is really helpful. And once Steve sees you in a bathing suit he starts to wonder if you could be helpful in other ways.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of female anatomy, reader wears a bikini, steves a boob guy (canon), barely there perv!steve (if you squint/wanna call it that), strangers to enemies(?) to lovers, semi-public sex, smut!!, boob sucking, robin almost catching them, lmk if i missed anything!

part 2!!

Being Dustin's neighbor had its pros and cons. 

For example a pro would be his mom making too much food for dinner. Like for some reason her meals were made for a whole family despite it just being her and Dustin. Still, she generously gives you any extra food her and her growing boy hadn't gone through. And who were you to let good food go bad? 

A con would be her talking up a storm while you try to get mail. Or when she knocks on your door with the freshest baked cookies asking if you could babysit her son for the night while she works. Dsutin doesn't really need a babysitter, so smart he could easily spend a night alone. But still he’s a kid and the warm cookies don't hurt. 

So you deal with the more than necessary neighborly duties. And in all honesty, if she didn't knock on your door your night would be spent sitting in front of your tv screen. Which if you put it side by side to your night taking care of Dustin there's not much of a difference. Sure the things you’ll watch on the tv might be different, but at least you have someone to talk to. Living all alone comes with things like that. Nights spent alone, days where you don't talk to anyone at all, and befriending your neighbor who's like 14. 

Days go on all the same. Last week you went to his to babysit and then the day after to cool down since your heater decided to break mid June. It was a whole thing but it was that moment you decided you were thankful that things turned out the way they did. To have a welcoming space you feel safe in when something in your own home goes wrong isn't something to take for granted. 

As far as this week you have nothing to do, but you won't say it outloud, too afraid of jinxing it. And plus it’s important to take things day by day. Today is a tanning day, despite the weather being horrifically warm you've found a loop hole. 

The grass in your front porch has two sprinklers, allowing water to circulate and give the grass some well needed hydration as the sun soaks it all up. The water goes off every thirty minutes, giving you– if you time it right– thirty minutes to get too hot, then have some water splash on you, and with a few rounds of each you will have perfected a day out tanning without dying of heat stroke. Yes it does mean tanning out where people can see you but the street you live on is filled with people just like Dustin's mom, they're either too busy working, or too old to spy on you through the window. 

It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, just laying in the grass letting the sun soak through your skin. Hopefully getting bronze instead of burnt but you try to be consistent with sunscreen. 

By the end of the week you've been out a couple times tanning. Last time Dustin's friends saw you and said hi which was nice. What you didn't see was Max hitting Lucas’ arm when he was staring for a second too long. 

“You do realize your hot neighbor is half naked out here right?” Lucas poorly whispers, like it's a new fact. And to him it is, not that he should be saying it in front of Max. 

“Y’know I somehow missed that, thanks for letting me know.” Dustin says, shutting the door behind his friend who's being forced inside by his girlfriend. “Of course I know it! And she’s not hot, she's actually really weird and annoying.” He finishes his small rant with crossed arms, like he can't believe his friend even said that about you. His lonely neighbor who has nothing better to do than make costumes for their D&D game nights.  

It wasn't till a few days later when Steve came around. One of Dustin's friends you somehow consistently missed. Either you were working when he was there or busy doing chores with music blasting when his red car honked to get Dustin's attention. Your paths just haven't crossed yet. But that didn't mean Steve hadn't heard of you. 

At first it was Dustin no longer needing to be taken to the arcade, or being picked up for that matter. Next it was not needing to be babysat, which Steve didn't mind that payless job being taken off his hands. But lastly– the one that broke the camels back– was the little kid no longer going to big brave Steve for help or advice. The kid who he had fought monsters next to, the one who begged him for girl help, suddenly didn't need him anymore. 

It hurt Steve more than he’d like to admit. Chalking it up to just liking the attention, the feeling of being needed in that big brother way. Definitely not missing his friend, never that. Although he didn't even need to beg for info as to why Dustin had changed up on him, his loud mouth friends told him with ease. Muttering things about his new neighbor who was too hot to hang out with some dork like Dustin. It had Steve looking at them in the car mirror as he drove Mike, Lucas, Will in the back seat and lucky Max in the passenger seat. Taking the kids to their respective houses. 

“Whos this girl you guys keep talking about?” He tries to say it in a ‘I couldn't care less’ type of tone but the kids know him too well for his own good. Normally his ears are turned off to any conversation the kids have so the fact that he’s paying attention shows he cares. 

“God, keep it in your pants Harrington.” Mike says with an eye roll. 

“Dustins new neighbor.” Max says over Mike's sentence. 

Steve doesn't miss either of their words. Somehow he has become extremely skilled at understanding the kids as they talk over each other. Maybe it’s his brain trying to make peace with the fact that he has to listen to high pitched kids scream all the time. Still he gives Mike a squinted eye look in the rear view mirror. 

He doesn't ask more questions than that about you. Deciding he’ll be at Dustin's house soon enough he can see it with his own two eyes. Better that than letting the kids make their own judgments based off of his one simple question. 

And he was right. 

Dustin ended up needing him to help get ready for a school dance. Apparently a job only good ol’ Steve Harrington could handle. It’s not like you knew how to tame a lion's mane or hype up a nervous kid, trying to give all the right advice. For Steve however, it’s what he did on the daily. 

But what he didn't know– and what his friend failed to tell him– was it was your prime tanning time. With a bikini that would give you a barely there tan line you laid out on your grass. A small radio sat near your front door. Loud enough that you could hear it behind you but not too loud that people would complain. A hat covered your eyes and nose, hiding the sun that was shining down directly on you. Your body glistened easily in the light, already a little bit darker from this new routine. 

When he pulled up into the driveway he almost hit the curb, too busy looking at how your legs looked. Toned in a way only oil and the sun could produce. And as you let them fall back onto the grass he saw the way the straps to your top looked like they could snap in two, and the bottoms allowed him to see just enough to get his brain working. 

It was sick is what it was. Something Steve hoped no one saw, specifically the kids. A little moment he let himself divulge in despite knowing he shouldn't. When he knocks on Henderson's door he’s quick to act like it never even happened. 

Luckily for Steve he was able to have a nice conversation with the kid. Asking about what he’s been up to, why the older friend was no longer needed, and how helpful his new neighbor has been. It took a second for Steve not to let himself get smothered in jealousy, but he was here for a reason right? There was still a use for him in Dustin's life. He wasn't completely exiled just yet, and because of that Steve will be able to sleep at night. 

By the time he was done helping Dustin, ready to drive him to the dance you were gone. Inside, getting cool, he thinks to himself. Maybe showering and washing off the creams you put on to get so shiny and smooth looking. He feels his heart starting to beat wildly in his chest from just thinking about it. You all soapy in the shower, maybe humming a song you heard while outside, afterwards checking yourself out in the mirror to see if the tan lines you’d been working on were starting to come through. And if he bothered to walk up to you and ask, he would've found out you fell asleep. The hat you wore doing wonders on blocking any light, letting you sleep through the reapplication of the sunscreen, allowing the sun to get you in a way that would later lead to a small burn atop your shoulders and chest. 

It was defeating how easily you took over his mind. What would've been a whole car ride of Steve boosting his friend's confidence turned into Dustin snapping his fingers just to get his attention. It’s not like you’d talked to him, or even looked at him for that matter. There was absolutely no reason for Steve to be acting or feeling this way about you. Some girl who he didn't even have a name for. 

Soon enough June became July and Steve was back at Dustin's for a small get together. This time all the kids were there and he offered to come and supervise before anyone even got a chance to ask you about it. 

It was almost humorous how Steve almost ran over that same curb after he spotted you back outside. The bikini you had on this time had little bows on the side of your bottoms, tied to perfection. Instead of a hat covering your face you wore sunglasses. The frame shaped your face well, the lenses were so dark he couldn't even tell what you looked like behind them. 

As he turned into the drive way he quickly dogged your view. You were interested in this red car that kept popping up recently, wanting to see the person getting out of it. Thank goodness for your dark lenses because with them you look like you're just resting, laying with your arms holding your upper body up. In reality your eyes were stuck on the guy getting out of the expensive car with gorgeous hair. 

Steve makes a point to walk to the door with a confident ease. Not wanting to run even though he's 10 minutes late just in case your eyes, that he is convinced he feels on him, watch as he goes into the house. But you should certainly look away when Dustin opens the door and immediately starts yelling at him. Letting him know the importance of being on time ‘at his grown age’ as the kids say. 

The small get together is fun for about two hours, if that. Everyone is relatively nice to each other, he doesn't have to step in too much when one of them gets out of line. Makes him wonder if you yell at them the same way he does. You probably don't, that's why you get invited more than he does. But it doesn't take long for Mike to blame Will for cheating even though Will would never cheat, and Lucas to get too busy kissing on Max that he's practically forfeiting the game. 

With all the yelling and fingers being pointed Steve allows himself a few minutes of quiet time outside. Completely forgetting you're out there until he hears your music. It would be wrong of him to step away from his duties of babysitting to talk to a girl. But you’re only a few steps away and the kids have handled worse than anything from this dimension can bring. He lets himself make his way to you, only then thinking of what he’s even going to say to you. His heart beats so loudly he can hear it in his ears, a consistent noise telling him he's pathetic for getting this worked up over someone he doesn't even know. 

You hear someone near you before you see them, head too busy trying to focus on the music and how annoying it is that the sun breaks through your glasses. 

Still his words scare the ever living shit out of you. 

“Hey.” Steve says with a wave you don't even catch. 

Your yelp is loud, a sound that the kids might've even heard. The hands pressed to your quickly rising chest doesn't make him feel any better. 

“Holy shit I didn't know you were coming over to me.” You mutter, breath still uneven as you pull your sunglasses to rest on your head. One of your eyes is on him and the other is shut tightly, trying to balance out the new amount of sun coming to your vision. 

“M’sorry I scared you, just um, wanted to check on you.” 

“You wanted to check on me?” Your eyes are squinted from the sun being in your face but if it wasn't your features would show how much you don't believe him. 

“Yeah, y’know you were out here when I drove up and then I stepped out and you're still here.” He’s nice enough to move around, trying to get that one spot that will block the sun from you completely. Could be written off as being a gentleman or wanting a good view of your pretty face.

“And you’re worried I’m what? Melting?” Your head cocks with the last word like you know you’re making fun of him to his face but he doesn't back down. 

A quick laugh comes out from him, trying to show you he gets your humor. “Maybe melting, maybe getting a heat stroke, both have similar outcomes.” His back is starting to get really hot from trying to block the sun. 

“I’m fine, you should go back to Dustins.” You respond, putting the shades back down to rest on the bridge of your nose. 

“Hey wait, you’re the one who's been taking over my babysitting duties aren't you?” It’s a cheap shot at trying to continue the conversation despite you trying to end it. It’s easy to get the hint when he solidifies his stance with crossed arms. 

“His mom is really nice so I do favors for her sometimes. No need to get all defensive, Dustin loves hanging with his 30 year old friend.” 

“So I’m actually no where near 30-”

“Arent you supposed to be watching him anyways? Not over here literally stealing the sun away from me.” Now that you aren't looking at him, hands behind your head as a makeshift pillow to resume your tanning, him blocking the sun isn't as helpful as it was 30 seconds ago. 

It’s almost as if you have a special power for pushing him away. Directly after you said it the kids are at the front door screaming for Steve to come back even though a simple yell from one of them across the street would do the trick. With a look to the kids and a look back to you he can see the smirk that rests on your face. Finding it funny how nothing is working out for him. 

“Later, Steve.” You loosely wave. 

And Steve thinks that's it. It's official. You’re evil. Because if you would've cut him loose maybe he could've gotten over it. Lived out the rest of the day without the sound of your voice saying his name stuck in his head. Could've wrangled all the kids together, showing them who's the adult– despite knowing they don't take him seriously – saying how they can't just yell after him like that. But instead he has you saying his name in the most flirtatious manner bouncing around the walls of his brain. Like a song stuck in his head he can't stop replaying over and over. 

His body turns, ready to give in to whatever the kids are yelling at him for but his brain runs a million miles per minute, not letting the things he’s hearing fully move him. It feels like a whole minute of thinking but in reality only seconds pass before you hear his feet shuffle a few steps closer to you then his voice. 

“I’m having a small fourth of July get together tomorrow if you want to come. It’s a pool party so you can bring one of these if you want.” He points to your bikini. 

You have to give it to him. Being practically turned down twice and still going for it is brave. Maybe that's why you give in a little.

Without moving, without looking at him, or pushing the frames away, you decide to bite. “What time?” 

“Party starts at 4, you could even be helpful and bring Dustin with you.” The tone he’s giving you matches the one you gave him earlier perfectly. Sarcastic and a little mean with a slight tease. 

“Hm, maybe.” Because you’re not gonna let him think you're that easy. That you’ll listen to whatever he says, especially with that tone. 

With that he finally makes his way back to the kids, satisfied with the work he’s done. Once he steps into Dustin's house the kids are all over him asking brand new questions they didn't have a moment ago, before he deliberately ignored them just to talk to you more. 

“So what was that all about? Were you trying to make her stop coming over?” Dustin shouts, knowing Steve had to have messed something up.

“The only man to ever think with anything but his heart.” Mike tsks with a simple shake of his head and a hand to his own heart. As if he's the old and wise one. 

“We know what he was thinking with.” Lucas quips back, giving Mike a big grin. Fist bump ready at his own joke that he shouldn't understand in the first place. 

“His brain?” El questions.

“Exactly El.” Will pitifully smiles at her with a hand on her shoulder. Saddened by the fact that these are the people she has to deal with. 

Steve puts a finger up in the air ready to point at them with the other hand on his hip, a mom pose for sure. “Listen losers, she’s coming over tomorrow for the party. If you say, actually no, if you even mutter a single thing to make me look bad, your ass is grass. You’re dead, you got me?” His thick brows raise and his big eyes get bigger, trying to really seal the deal that he’s serious about this. 

The kids however, they just roll their eyes and grumble yes’s and nod along. Like they would ever make a whole plan over him and some girl coming over. Or better yet, actually listen to him. It’s almost comical how quickly they get over what Steve was doing with the neighbor and focus back on the real reason he was called after in the first place. With your voice stuck in his head and the kids voices coming through his ears he feels ready to go back outside for a well needed break all over again. 

The party comes quickly. Steve starts his day making sure the house is spotless. Even though it always is, thanks to the absence of his parents, the house barely looks lived in but he still cleans what he can anyways. By afternoon he calls it good enough and starts setting up for the party, lazily putting streamers and balloons in corners or where there's empty space. His calling isn't for decorative design that's for sure but the vibes are all there nonetheless.  About 20 minutes before the party is set to start Robin comes allowing Steve to get himself ready while she sets the food up. They work as a pretty good team to get everything situated, Robin calls off things that should be out and Steve checks them off by pointing to where they are.

Half of the group comes first, filling in the home with ease due to how often they come by. Mike, El, Will, Nancy, and Jonathan come together since they all live closer to each other. Plus wherever Nance goes Jonathan follows. Minutes later Lucas follows hand in hand with Max, not even knocking on the door simply letting themselves in. 

4;15pm comes too quickly and you and Dustin still weren't there. The fact that Dustin wasn't present gave Steve a sick amount of hope that you were coming. Fashionably late maybe but still you’d show up. But there was also a part of him that knew it could just be his mom taking her sweet time bringing him over. He tries to busy himself with getting everyone drinks, opening up the back door so the kids could start getting in the pool. 

Right before he goes out the door himself– trying to district himself by sitting at the edge of the pool– he hears Dustin's voice, loud and clear in an upset tone. 

“Have you ever heard of hurrying up? Time management? Being somewhere when you need to be there?” 

“We get it, you don't go to any parties. So here's a tip, no one ever arrives exactly when it starts.” You bend down slightly bumping your shoulder with his as you roll your eyes. 

The kid makes his way through Steve's house with ease and you try to stay close enough behind, not familiar with the layout. It’s like he forgets you’re even there because he stops right where the hallway meets the kitchen, making you basically flat tire him. Within a second you push him aside, derailing from your horrible leader. 

“Well look who decided to show up.” Steve is missing a t- shirt, only wearing swimtrunks and it would be a lie to say you didn't feel your cheeks slightly warm up at the sight. 

“I never said no.” You shrug. 

“Never said yes.” 

“Guess you should count yourself lucky I'm here then huh?” You give his bare shoulder a squeeze before moving past him to look at the food the kids have already mauled through. 

Steve can't tell if his shoulder is burning from his few seconds out in the sun or from your simple touch, more so a gesture to get him to move but still. The skin on skin contact was enough to set fire in his shoulder, spreading to the rest of his body. 

Your back is turned to him as you pick at some of the fruit. “You want me to get you a drink?” He asks from behind you. A little too close due to the fact that you just met him yesterday but the tension is strong enough that it almost doesn't feel close enough. 

You simply nod at him, cheeks stuffed with sweet strawberries. The slight movement makes your shirt slip down your shoulder, the fabric there long since cut away. Bare skin shows along with a bathing suit he hasn't seen on you yet. It’s a nice red color that works well with your skin tone, could match the hint of your cheeks that you hope isn't showing as bad as it feels. 

A cold beer is handed to you, as he starts to open his own. It takes only a few seconds till he clinks his beer to yours before he gestures his hand forward, wanting you to go in front of him. Again could be a nice well taught manner or an excuse to see your ass in the small shorts you have on. Instinctively you do as he says, walking ahead of him and waving to the kids you’ve already met before. 

Steve even goes as far as to put his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the older teens that are there with their own respective drinks. The heat of the moment hits you, wanting to look good for the new people you're meeting, not expecting him to touch you like this, and being unable to give him a surprised look. So you greet them and introduce yourself like you can't still feel the warmth of his large hand resting on your back. When he moves to grab you a chair he even puts his hands slightly above your hips to move you away. All touchy and handsy for someone who only had the balls to invite you to this party just yesterday. 

If these weren't Steve's closest friends it could almost be read as you two being a couple. Your chair being directly next to his, him waiting for you to sit in it before he even lets himself sit in his, continuously asking if you're okay when you get quiet. It’s all a lot. Plus the heat beaming down on you mixed with the fact that he’s shirtless adds tremendously to it. His chest hair paired with his tan skin that's littered with moles could have you drooling, shutting your thighs together. 

Although he’s not the only one playing with fire. When you need another drink you squeeze his bicep to get his attention, and your voice is sugary sweet as you ask him to get you one. And when he comes back with it you put your hand high up on his thigh as a thank you, even leaving it there for a few painful seconds too long. To then press the cool drink to your neck and give a soft moan of relief. 

What completely does it for Steve is when you take your shirt off, complaining of the heat and he sees your bathing suit. Still a two piece bathing suit, one that's got more coverage than the last few he’s seen you in. Knowing kids and people you don't know will be present but the red bra still fits you like a dream. Boobs cupped in fabric and wire for support that does just enough for the boy next to you. And it doesn't take a genius to notice he's eyeing them either. You can feel it. 

As he tries to pull his eyes away needing to look at something else– anything else– he goes for your face, or your eyes rather. Except yours are already set right on him. Catching him in what he was doing, going from boobs to your lips to your eyes. Like a snake slithering and traveling up your body. 

Before he knows it one second your hand interlocks with his and the next you’re pulling him into his own house. 

The older teens are too busy talking already a few drinks deep and the kids have tired eyes, burning from trying to look under water even though Steve has repeatedly told them not to do it because the pool has chlorine in it. Leaving you two to be able to slip away almost too easily. 

“Jesus what– what’re you doing?” He’s already out of breath, first from being dragged away and second from how thick the tension has become. Built in the last few hours you've been here. 

“I saw you.” You’re practically backing him into the wall by the kitchen. It’s hidden from anyone if they tried to peek inside but the two of you aren't locked away from anyone. 

Steve knows what you mean but he feels sick at the fact that you caught him so easily. That his need was written so clearly on his face. “You were practically shoving them in my face. What was I supposed to do?” 

“Funny, acting like that’s not all you've been doing since the first time you saw me. You’re not as slick as you think.” With each back and forth comment you both make the closer you become. One more word and your chest he’s been stuck on will touch his. 

“Yeah well when you wear stuff like that things happen.” 

You should hit him. Tell him how awful he is to say something like that, especially if he wants something out of you. But instead the space between you closes and your lips meet his. There’s a millisecond of shock from Steve before he's kissing you back. All teeth and spit, messy and quick like he’s scared it might not last. His hands are quick to reach your hips, slowly but surely making his way round to your ass where you still have those stupid, barely there, little shorts on. 

Before anything happens Steve flips your position. His tongue presses against your lips, begging asking to be let in, you grab his hands to pull them to your boobs. Your back arches off the wall, body trying to find some satisfaction in all this touching he's doing. Focusing on your tongue fighting with his and trying to pull your top down so he can finally have his way. Right hand grasping onto you and lightly pulling as the other pinches your nipple, making you squeal and momentarily disconnect your lips from his.

 Your breaths merge, becoming one from how close you two are before he moves his head down. Moans slip past your lips with ease as he takes his time to kiss below your jaw, to your neck, lips finding their way to your collar bone, before reaching where he’s been so desperately looking. Sucking gently on your nipple as he massages the other one. 

His knee forces your legs apart, and you let your knees bend to fully sit on his thigh. Trapped between his grip, mouth, and knee. Your brain feels empty, creating zero thoughts besides how good what he’s doing to you feels. Instead of thoughts your body reacts, trying to grind and make friction on his thigh you were touching up on earlier. It gets a groan out of him as well, letting go of your boobs to wrap his hands around your jaw to properly kiss you. When he pulls away a string of saliva stretched between both of your lips before breaking. The sound of the door is loud and Robin's voice follows after it. 

“Steve hurry up, we need your help, the kids won't stop splashing us!” She shouts quickly, like there's a race against time that is not on her side. The door shuts loudly following silence, letting you know she's left. 

With heavy breaths he brings the straps of your top back onto your shoulders, fixing it so it doesn't look like he was anywhere near you. Following that he presses a few gentle kisses to your lips, not wanting to leave you thinking this was just some casual mistake. 

“Guess duty calls huh?” A small squeeze is given to your hip before he grabs your hand to go back outside, dropping it just before anyone would notice. 

“Hey! What’d I say about splashing the water outta the pool? Huh?” 

You almost don't have the brain power to change the look of shock on your face. So close to getting exactly what you wanted before getting completely stopped. Not just by Robin but Steve as well. Dropping it like it never happened. Like a tease to show you just what you could be missing. Well, two could play at that game. 

[supercutz]

LOVE THIS CONCEPT! steve having one sided beef without knowing her is so on character for him. the writing is so immersive, i was hooked the whole time. the chemistry is amazing!!!

[ohwell-al]

Falling

part 1 part 2 here steve harrington x reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: your relationship with steve is tested when insecurities, jealousy, misunderstanding, and miscommunication rear their ugly heads. it felt like you were screaming through static. steve felt like he was falling from the heights you built together.

content/warnings: hurt/comfort (eventually), ANGST, insecurities, insecurity about weight, lowkey bullying, self-conscious reader, minimal amount of fluff (sorry, there will be some next part), not beta read, no upside down au, set in 1990, no y/n, baseball coach/teacher!steve, art teacher!reader, reader has hair, no detailed physical descriptions of reader, small jancy mention, small mention of blood, crying, SUPER dumb steve, let's say steve never worked at WSQK and was working at family video then :P, let me know if i missed anything

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first ever FINISHED fic!!!! i had the idea when i listened to the new leaked 5sos song "falling" and was filled with angst inspo. i had a lot of fun writing this but i did not get it proofread so i hope y'all enjoy it still! there will be a part 2 also so don't worry, i didn't leave y'all on a cliffhanger! I'm hoping to get it out by next week! let me know what y'all think! also follow me on twitter @ DJOS0S (with a zero between the s)

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Steve was left in the wake of an empty wasteland. Atleast, that’s what you and Steve’s use-to-be-shared home felt like. He was left with a single note from you laying on the kitchen counter.

Dear Steve,

I don’t know how to go about this but I’m going to stay with Nancy and Jonathan for a couple of days. I need to figure some things out. I feel lost in this relationship, so lost.

I love you so much, more than words can say. I just need time to think.

He knew this was coming, but he told himself he was thinking too far into things. That you wouldn’t actually leave him. That you would just talk it out. He didn’t know when you were going to be back or if you’re ever going to come back. He hoped you would.

The two of you had a fight two days before you left. Your first real fight. It was big and explosive and spilling out, soaking in every crack, with the both of you not knowing how to clean it up. You both said some things, things you both wish you could take back. Insecurities and misunderstandings seeping out with nowhere to go.

You were staying with Nancy and Jonathan until you figured out an actual gameplan. You still didn’t know what you were doing. You packed up what clothes and other personal belongings you could fit in a dusty duffel bag that used to be stuffed in the far back of your shared closet. It had been taunting you for weeks. You would see it every time you searched for clothes, its black-and-white striped pattern and lumpy shape waiting for you to grab it and do what you’ve been contemplating.

You didn’t want to leave. It was thought over in your mind daily. When you woke up and before you drifted off to sleep- with Steve sleeping soundly next to you- the thought plagued your mind. The anxiety wasn’t letting up but neither was the wide open space that was hollowing out your heart. The fight was your switch.

But you loved him.

Correction: you love him. 

But he was hurting you, and you don’t even know if he knew the pain he was causing. You were constantly doubting his intention, his reasoning. If he even knew his intentions. If he even knew that he was slowly carving out a void in your body, a heavy heart plummeting deeper and deeper inside.

It started a couple months ago.

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Two Months Ago

You were standing in the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get extra close to the mirror, attempting to perfect your mascara.

You and Steve’s five-year high school reunion was tonight. Part of you wanted your former classmates to think you had a “glow up” but another part told yourself you didn’t need their approval nor opinions. Your long-term boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was the only validation you needed. 

What more could a girl ask for when you had someone like him, loving you for everything that you are, throughout the ups and downs?

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though. You were nervous. You weren’t exactly the talk-of-the-town in high school. You thought of yourself as a background character, while everyone else was the main one in their story. You didn’t know where you fit in life.

Maybe it was the teenage angst flowing through your body at the time, but the insecurities still appear now and then when you run into old classmates at the grocery store- the ones who still live in Hawkins. You weren’t one of the lucky ones to make their great escape from the small town, but being with Steve made up for it.

You were both in this together.

As you were giving yourself one last swipe of mascara and a pat of tissue on your lips to tame your cherry red lipstick, Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he says, placing his chin on your right shoulder.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror, a shy smile appearing on your face. The only way to describe Steve’s expression was pure love. 

You’ve never been looked at by someone the way Steve looks at you. At that moment, you couldn’t deny his love for you. You were his everything.

“You almost ready yet, honey,” Steve asked, his eyes attached to you in the mirror.

You reached behind his head, raking your fingers through his hair, smiling. Steve closed his eyes softly, a soft hum releasing from his lips at the feeling.

“I’m ready.”

Steve, arms still wrapped around your waist, turned you around to face him. He planted a kiss to your cherry lips, soliciting an annoyed, but loving, whine from you.

“Steve,” you pout, “I just put that on.”

You looked at him, a giggle escaping your lips, as you saw his stained with the same cherry-color.

“You look pretty,” you giggled.

Steve glanced behind you at the mirror to see the masterpiece left on his lips, puckering his lips to humor you. You gently attempted to wipe the excess off with the leftover tissue you previously used, amused by his appearance.

He stood back a few steps, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your beauty. Your face immediately got hot, feeling like you’re under a microscope.

“What,” you questioned, not able to make eye contact.

“I just can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Okay, you cornball, we got somewhere to be,” rolling your eyes, trying to laugh off his compliment.

You were never good at taking compliments. Your body always had an immediate reaction, especially with Steve. He just had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world worth his time but you had a way of responding to his loving comments with humor, trying to take away the seriousness.

Making your way out of the house, Steve locked the front door, the two of you settling into his maroon beemer. You took a deep breath as he pulled out of his parking space, making the short distance trip to Hawkins High School.

Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the front entrance. Looking around the lot, you observed the dozen other cars present.

Your nerves got the best of you at the sight, realizing that you’re going to be seen by classmates who never gave you the time of day.

You grabbed at the visor above you, looking through the tiny mirror hastily inspecting all the possible flaws you could find on your face.

“Maybe the lipstick was too much,” you said, biting at your bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching with shame.

Steve gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You look perfect, honey. None of these people have anything on you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful woman by my side.”

You gave him a chaste peck on the lips, not wanting to smudge your lipstick and make more of a mess.

“I love you,” you said, pulling back from his lips, resisting the urge to further it into more.

“I love you more, honey.”

You and Steve exited his car, making your way to the front doors of the high school. The hallway was sprinkled with bright, white fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The entrance of the gym was covered with black and gold balloons framing the doorway, with a big banner hanging above:

WELCOME CLASS OF 1985

Steve took hold of your hand, squeezing it once, then guiding you inside the gaudy decorated gym.

White lights scattered the ceilings, gold tinsel and garland were arranged on tables decorated with frilly centerpieces mixed with food and refreshments. A DJ was set up at the back of the gym facing the entrance- some random, old faculty member who was most likely trained to use the equipment that afternoon. The sound of “Out of Touch” by Hall and Oates echoes throughout, transitioning to “Take On Me” by a-ha. You quickly realized the setlist was old hits from 1985.

You giggled to yourself, the whole thing being extremely cheesy, easing your anxiety.

Steve perked up at the sound of “Take On Me.” You quickly remember how much he overplayed this song, still listening to it now and then on a mixtape you made for him of his favorite songs. He still loves to tell you that it’s his favorite gift he has ever gotten. You tell him he’s exaggerating every time.

Another table was set up to the left of the entrance with dozens of nametags scattered across. Each one had an old yearbook from ‘85 next to the name and you wonder if you look any different from your teenage self. Could you have changed that much?

Obviously you were going to be a little different from when you were a teenager but is it in a bad way? You didn’t really remember what you looked like then. You kind of blocked off the entire memory of high school on purpose, forgetting yourself along the way. 

You found your name tag, staring at your picture incredulously. You grabbed it quickly, not wanting Steve to see it, slightly embarrassed. It sat in your palm, wrinkling.

You spotted Steve’s name tag. Evidence of the legendary “King Steve” was staring right back at you and you began to wonder how you managed to catch his attention. You never really talked to each other in school besides the occasional class discussion in the classes you shared. 

Steve didn’t ask you out until 3 years ago, when you became a regular at Family Video. You made a New Year’s resolution to yourself that year to watch at least one movie you have never seen a week, thus making your weekly appearances catch Steve’s eye.

He remembered you from school, of course, but ever since he fell from grace and realized he really did peak in high school, he was different, changed. 

The casual (and a little awkward) flirting eventually transitioned into him asking you out on a date to daily phone calls and seeing each other almost everyday to eventually being the only person he had eyes for. 

Grabbing his nametag, you promptly removed the paper backing and stuck it onto the right side of his chest, giving it gentle pat.

“You were so cute in school,” a soft smile gracing your lips as you stared at the 5-year old picture. 

“Were?”

You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes, smirking.

“You’re handsome now.”

A blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, trying to bite back a smile.

“You flatter me. Where’s yours?”

You groaned, opening your palm where the treacherous nametag laid.

“I’ve always hated this picture. I forgot it was picture day that day so I wasn’t fixed up for it. I almost skipped out on it but I know my mom would have flipped if she didn’t get any senior photos,” you said, grimacing at 17-year old you. 

You were so naive then. You wonder what changed or if you’re still the same you. 

Steve looked at the picture like it was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. He took it between his fingers, really staring at it as if he'd discovered the most valuable gemstone in the world. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, what are you talking about? My girl was stunning then,” he said as he slowly looked up from the picture to your face, “and even more now.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the name tag from his hand and plastered it to your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, reaching for your left hand, his thumb smoothing the back of it up and down.

You examined the small details of the decorations around you, wondering how long it took everyone to put it together, and if your old history, Mrs. Click, was the one who pitched the idea to make it such an eyesore.

Distracted by your microscopic examination of a singular flickering light hanging from a string of fairy lights, you didn’t notice two former classmates approaching you and Steve. You felt his hand leave yours, making you look towards the new arrivals. You recognized the couple- you’re assuming- as Todd Michaels and Laurie Sullivan. You never had any classes with Todd but he was a part of the basketball team with Steve. And Laurie…

Laurie was one of Steve’s ex-girlfriends. Or flings? 

You never really knew what their title was. But you do know they were together for a couple of months in high school. Steve had a reputation of getting around. That was King Steve. But you had the real Steve. The Steve who loved you.

You watched as Steve gave the two quick side hugs, making small talk. Steve’s interest in the conversation seemed little to none, only wanting to be respectful. Laurie then acknowledged you, turning the conversation over. You suddenly felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you, not really preparing for a lot of social interaction. It was Steve’s idea to come to the reunion at first. You were reluctant but wanted to make him happy. 

Laurie began to ask simple questions, wanting to know how life has been for the past five years, what jobs we have, what Hawkins is like, etc..

“How long have you two been together? I don’t recall you guys really interacting with each other in school,” Laurie questioned. Her tone seemed off, degrading, demeaning- like the idea of Steve being with you was an unfathomable concept. She played it off as an innocent question, a sly smirk gracing her face that was caked with too much setting powder. 

Steve butt in fast.

“We met when I used to work at the Family Video in town,” he looked down towards you, a smile slowly appearing as he recalled the fond memory. He always said that he fell in love with you at first sight.

You liked to tell him it’s impossible for him to have done that since it wouldn’t have technically been at first sight. You had known each other since middle school.

He liked to tease that was when he really saw you. In your own light. He was “stunned by your beauty” he says. Whatever that meant..

Steve gave a quick rundown of your “meet-cute.” Laurie then asked the one question that could make or break a couple.

“So, do you two have any kids yet? Me and Todd are planning kid number two but wanted to wait another year until Max is a bit older.”

Todd didn’t seem interested in the topic, almost like it was a touchy subject for him, too. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad for a guy who was such a major douchebag in school.

Your heart started beating rapidly. You and Steve have mentioned the possibility of kids. He’s always made it clear he wanted a big family. You would like one or two, but maybe not six, like he’s mentioned before. You told him three is your max. Steve says he’s okay with any amount, as long as he gets to have them with you. But the idea is still scary. You’ve always worried that you wouldn’t do a good job as a mother. What if you’re not cut out for it? What if the stress gets to you? What if Steve suddenly changes his mind about wanting kids? What if you change your mind about wanting kids?

The list went on and on in your head.

Steve felt your hand gripping his tighter, a cue that you didn’t know how to interject into the conversation.

“We want kids, for sure. In the future, maybe,” Steve replied, squeezing your hand back- a way for him to tell you that it’s okay.

Laurie’s face morphed into shock.

“Wait, you don’t have any already?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. It’s just the two of us for now.”

Steve looked like he was slowly checking out of the conversation. Ways to make his great escape from the couple and make your rounds around the gym scattered through his head. But you didn’t see that. You started zoning out, letting him take control of the conversation. These were people you never spoke to in school and they never spoke to you. You were on the opposite side of the popularity spectrum. You don’t even know if they remember you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You heard a sly giggle escape Laurie’s mouth. It made  you look towards her, your focus now on lock. You could hear Todd say something under his breath, though you’re not able to clearly make out what it was. He looks annoyed at Laurie. 

“Oh, I just assumed that you’ve already had a baby because, I mean,” she paused, trying to bite back a smirk but failing. You saw her eyes looking you up and down, but not in a good way. She’s looking at you like you’re a foreign specimen.

“Laurie,” you heard Todd grumble beside her, a way for him to tell her to stop before she started something.

“I just assumed you’ve already carried a baby.” Laurie turned her focus away from you towards Todd and Steve, talking as if you weren’t there anymore, “She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.”

Your blood ran cold. Heart stilling for just a second.

Of course you’re not the same weight as you were when you were 17 but you didn’t think you changed that much.

Steve interjected, though your focus was on the back wall behind the couple, not paying attention to Steve’s affect or the fact that he was barely listening to what Laurie was saying. Your eyes glazed over with Laurie’s words bouncing off of your ears.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you guys. We’ll see you around.”

Your ears perked up at Steve’s comment.

Yeah, yeah.

The word hammered into your brain.

Yeah

Your ears started ringing. Your insecurities getting the best of you. You’ve always felt a little subconscious about your physical appearance, constantly having to tell yourself that bodies are always changing. But that never helped calm the nagging voice in your head that despite it all, Steve might not want you anymore one day.

Yeah, sure, you could also tell yourself you should never care what a man thinks about you, but it’s Steve, your Steve. If there’s anyone out there that you cared what they think about you, it’s him. So the idea of him agreeing with Laurie Sullivan, a girl who he used to date. A girl he used to be attracted to. A girl he could still be attracted to. The thought made you nauseous.

Lost in thought, you blindly followed Steve’s lead hand-in-hand as he walked towards a table with drinks and snacks. He grabbed two cups, filling them with some kind of punch. He tried to hand a drink towards you but your mind was elsewhere. Your face was stoic, eyes glazed over. He took notice quickly.

 “Hey, are you okay,” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He bent down slightly so the two of you were face-to-face, catching your eyes.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, giving him a quick but small smile.

“Yes,” grabbing the drink from his hand, “I’m okay. Just distracted by all of the decorations.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, like he didn’t fully believe you, but nevertheless he didn’t press on.

The rest of the night went by in a haze, quickly dissociating the rest of the event. Steve made small talk with former classmates and friends, while you nodded your head to pretend like you were paying attention to what was said. Simple yes’s and no’s were all that would come out of you, too distracted with your own thoughts. Every now and then, Steve would make quick glances at you, worry slowly etching his face. You’re more quiet than usual. He thought to himself that it might just be your nerves getting to you. You were never the best at large events. It took time for you to come out of your shell with him before fully expressing how loud your laugh can be and how wide your smile is.

You were quiet the entire drive back home, Steve’s right hand resting on your thigh, making small circles with his thumb. The ride was short, but every now and then he would look over at you. You were staring at the window, trying to distract yourself from your mind with the bland scenery of Hawkins.

Once settled inside the house, you kicked off your heels by the front door, walking towards the bathroom. Steve grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

He softly brushed a few strands of hair out of face, cradling your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? You got quiet on me back there.”

You hesitated for a second, deciding between telling him the truth or stuffing it into the back of your mind, not wanting to confront him and start an issue. You and Steve rarely actually fought. You would bicker back and forth sometimes about minuscule things like who’s turn it is to wash the dishes or his bad habit of hogging the covers at night. But never an actual fight. That’s why you loved him so much. He made everything feel so easy. He made it seem so easy for him to love you.

Deep down, you were battling with yourself. 

You decided to leave it alone.

“I’m fine. It was just a lot of socializing. I think my social battery died fast,” you said, giving him a fake smile, hoping it seemed genuine enough for him not to press on. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, wash all this makeup off, okay?”

“Want me to join you,” Steve asks, his eyebrows quirking up, smirking.

You replied a little too quickly, almost showing your reserve.

“No! I mean, I need to shave my legs and you know how small the shower is with two people in there. I’ll be quick, promise.”

His cheeky face slowly dropped, confusion at your demeanor.

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be here when you get out.”

You did not take a quick shower. It almost felt cliché, like some teen high school movie where the female main character sits at the bottom of the bathtub, letting the shower rain over her. But that’s exactly what you were doing. It was better than standing up and having a full view of your body.

She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.

Yeah.

It felt like nails in your head. You tried to rationalize Steve’s response. Maybe he misheard her? No, the shrill of her voice was pretty clear, even through the sound of “Careless Whisper” piercing and echoing throughout the gym. Maybe he didn’t care about your weight? Still, it didn’t need to be pointed out and agreed on. You felt shameful, like you were back in middle school getting picked on.

You didn’t know how long you were in there. You usually took long showers anyway, so it gave you a good excuse.

You quickly got changed, having brought a pair of pajamas in the bathroom with you.

Steve was already settled into bed when you emerged from the bathroom, watching a rerun of Family Matters. He turned his head towards you, patting your spot on the bed beckoning you over. You laid on the bed, trying to quickly go to sleep, hoping you wake up realizing it was all just a nightmare. That nothing that happened tonight actually happened. Steve cuddled up behind you, his arm draping over your body, pulling you close to his chest. This was how the two of you usually ended up. But this time, having him touching your body, your stomach, it made your stomach churn, your heart race. You hoped he didn’t notice. But another part hoped he did. 

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The following weeks didn’t help settle your doubts, it only made them worse. You began to question things you hadn’t before, things catching your attention that you’ve never noticed until now. Things part of you wished you stayed oblivious to. An angry ball of jealousy building up inside of you.

You were the art teacher at Hawkins Middle School, so you had many students who were a part of the little league baseball team that Steve coached for. The field was set outside of the school, giving you ample opportunity to watch their games after work.

However, you began to notice things. Flirting.

The constant flirting.

Not done by Steve directly, of course. By the mothers. But the fact that he wouldn’t stop them made it worse. He’s allowing it. Each game you’ve gone to for the past month, you’ve had to listen to what they say about him. What they say about you. How they talk to him, and he lets them. You don’t know how much longer you could swallow the lump that grew in your throat each time.

But every time you tried to hold your tears back in front of him, you ended up spilling them in the bathroom at home. You’ve resorted to crying in the shower, hoping the sound of the water muffles you. There has only been one time that you think Steve heard you.

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Letting the shower fall over your back, crouched down in the bottom of the bath tub. The sound of sniffling and subtle sobs were interrupted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door. It slowly creaked open, Steve peaking his head through the crack.

“Honey, are you okay? I thought I heard crying,” concern lacing his voice.

You sniffled, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused, contemplating telling the truth and dealing with the confrontation, even if it confirmed your doubts.

“Yes, Steve, I’m okay. I-,” you stutter, “I promise.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be here when you’re done. I love you.”

He waited for your response.

“I love you, too,” you sniffled.

Steve closed the door, leaving you to let the tears that were building up escape your eyes.

Steve was confused. He knew you were crying. He heard you, he just didn’t know why. You weren’t talking to him. 

He felt like he was missing something. What weren’t you telling him?

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That was two weeks ago.

After a grueling day of class and putting up the rest of the clay creations on a rack to dry that your students have been working on for two weeks now, you took a peek out of one of your classroom windows. You had a perfect view of the baseball field, seeing Steve round up the kids in the dugout and parents slowly gathering into the stands.

A smile slowly graced your face, forgetting for a second. You’ve been slowly trying to get yourself to get over what’s happened, playing it off that it isn’t that big of a deal.

Laurie.

The moms.

It’s fine, you tell yourself.

You can get over it.

You can totally get over it.

Maybe if you kept telling yourself that, you eventually would.

You grabbed your bag from your desk, locking up your classroom. You began making the short trek to the baseball field, catching the sun slowly beginning to set. It was spring but Indiana weather made it seem like it was still the edge of winter. A crisp breeze sprayed your hair to the side, your fingers quickly reaching up to tame it. You would have brought a thicker sweater if you knew it was going to be so windy, but nevertheless bundled up with what you had.

You reached the gates of the field, eyeing for a spot in the stands. Spotting a free row at the top of the bleachers, you made your way up the metal steps. You were at the seats closer to the dugout, giving you a good view of Steve.

He was in his usual baby blue coaching uniform, giving a motivational pep talk to the boys. As the boys took their positions, Steve and another coach stood outside of the dugout, making sure the kids were in their correct spots.

Steve was glancing around the stands, almost like he was looking for someone specific.

When he spotted you, a wide grin grew on his face, giving you a quick wink. You gave him a quick wave, before his attention moved back to the game.

As the game progresses, your attention began to be skewed by the comments being made by a few women sitting below you.

“I love Timmy but I can’t help but find some of these games to be so boring. The only thing keeping me entertained is Coach Steve over there.”

“Oh, yes, I know right! He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

“You think he’s single?”

“There’s no way! Someone as good looking as him?”

“I don’t see a ring on his finger, so he can’t be that committed.”

“Isn’t he dating the middle school art teacher? What’s her name…”

“Is he?! I mean I’m sure he’s a nice guy but is he that nice?”

“Seems like charity work to me. Maybe they’re just really close friends.”

The ladies began snickering, trying to muffle their obnoxious laughter at their poor taste in jokes. It’s clear they didn’t see you, or else they wouldn’t be so blatant about their opinion of you. If Laurie Sullivvan’s comment didn’t make you feel like an eyesore, the women sitting before you made sure to.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want them to make you feel like this. Steve is with you. He loves you. 

Right?

You shook your head, trying to shake the negative thoughts flying through your mind, doubt that was building up inside you, adding to the doubt that’s been slowly making your brain their home. The lump in your throat was slowly growing bigger and bigger, wanting to make its escape. You told yourself you’re lucky it was spring. You could blame your watery, red eyes on allergies.

By the end of the game, all the parents and family members began gathering out of their seats, making their way to the field to find their kids. You waited a bit until the main crowd had left their seats, using the time to collect yourself before you met up with Steve.

Making your way down the steps, you reached the gate entry by the dugout. Before you made your way onto the field, you spotted Steve talking to one of the moms. One of the moms who had a lot of opinions about you just a couple of hours ago.

This was the usual routine, though you’ve started to believe the moms have been taking turns to talk to him after the Friday night games.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in a tight knot at the sight of the woman obviously flirting with Steve. You couldn’t quite hear every word they were saying, only glimpses.

The woman wasn’t ugly. You had to admit to yourself that she was awfully pretty. Maybe too pretty. Her skin was sunkissed perfectly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like she came off of the cover of Vogue.

Steve was smiling, laughing off whatever the mother was saying. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he’s enjoying it or if he was just trying to appease her. Either way, the thought made  you sick.

That is, until the woman reached up and slowly rubbed up and down Steve’s upper arm. But it didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before the loud creak of the gate door you began to lean on- your ears buzzing- sounded off. The two quickly looked towards you, Steve’s face lighting up. The woman dropped her hand, staring daggers as Steve walked towards you.

“Hi, honey.”

Steve approached you with open arms, pulling you into a suffocating hug. He pulled back just enough to see your face, not able to help the smile creeping up despite what you had to witness seconds before.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

The woman was still standing near, flicking her eyes back and forth between you and Steve. You couldn’t seem to decipher her face but you assumed she wasn’t pleased.

Your eyes flicked towards her, clearing your throat before turning back to Steve. Your smile never quite reached your eyes. You hoped he noticed.

You also hoped he didn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” feigning excitement, “you guys did really good! It was such a close game.”

The woman next to you rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and walked away.

Steve paid no mind to it. His focus was on you.

Your focus was on the dirt, the edges of your sneakers stained red from it.

You looked back up at him, faking a tight-lipped smile.

“You ready to head home? I was thinking we do takeout tonight if that’s okay with you, honey.”

“Takeout sounds good.”

“Lemme go grab my stuff and I’ll meet you in the car.”

You and Steve always carpool to work together. It only makes sense since you both work at the same school.

Steve got the coaching job (and sex-ed teaching job) a year after you started working at the middle school. It came at a surprise for the both of you, but it also seemed fitting. Steve has always been so good with kids and it was evident by his relationship with the younger half of the group, especially Dustin.

As soon as Steve turned around, your smile dropped. You walked towards his car in the staff parking lot, fiddling with your fingers. It’s always been an anxious tic of yours, but it’s better than you biting your nails so far down, your skin begins to bleed. Steve helped you fight that habit, forcing you to put bandaids on all ten of your fingers so you can’t chew on them when your anxiety spikes.

However, you couldn’t stop the repetitive voices in your mind telling you he deserved better. Someone prettier, someone more outgoing, someone who could bring him the ultimate happiness. Someone others wouldn’t doubt that he could really want to be with.

I mean, there has to be something wrong with me if there are so many people who don’t see me as good enough for him.

You’ve always felt a little insecure about yourself, you think. The “normal” amount of insecure that people felt. But you were starting to feel it in heavier doses now. You felt like you were going insane. Were the moms always like this with him? Have you just been missing it, not thinking to notice it? Why wouldn’t he tell them he has you? Does he even mention you? Does he mention you to anyone?

You didn’t notice your fingers starting to bleed as you started to chew on the nails, on the skin around them. You looked up to Steve’s voice approaching you.

“Sorry I took so lo- honey, your fingers.”

You removed your pointer finger from your mouth, looking down at the red, torn up mess you made, your hands slightly trembling- though it could be from both the anxiety blooming through you and the pain you were now starting to feel in the aftermath. 

“Shit,” you muttered

“Baby, I thought you stopped doing this months ago,” Steve said softly, taking hold of your shaking hand. 

“I didn’t even realize. I-,” you paused, watching him as he grabs a rag from his duffle bag, wrapping it around your fingers, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve just had a weird day.”

“We can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Steve grabbed the sides of your head before planting a kiss to the top of it. He grabbed your good hand, leading you to his car.

The drive home was silent. Your drives home have been silent a lot lately, especially after the baseball games. You didn’t know if Steve had noticed this change. If he has, he hasn’t bothered to bring it up.

Entering the house, Steve made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pack of bandaids and ointment. Walking back out, he gestured to you to come towards him in the kitchen, sitting at a small dining table only fit for two.

He slowly began to put healing ointment on your chewed-on fingers. Your eyes stayed focused on his gentle movements, too anxious to look up at him. You didn’t want to deal with the confrontation. The confrontation that he’s going to ask about when you started back up on the bad habit. You didn’t want to admit that it started after the class reunion incident.

The Laurie incident.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You felt like a little kid, letting others’ actions hurt you as much as they did.

The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes but to you, it feels like hours. The awkward air, the obvious tension, words left unsaid.

“So,” Steve started, “are you going to let me know when you started doing this again or?”

You doubt he meant it to sound condescending, but you felt like you were a little girl who just got caught sneaking into your mom’s makeup.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before opening and closing your mouth, your brain telling you to speak and your anxiety shutting you up. You tried again.

“She was flirting with you,” you muttered under your breath, voice barely above a whisper. You refused to look at Steve, maintaining eye contact with your hand as it’s being held in his, pausing his movement and setting down the ointment onto the table with his other.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded confused, like he didn’t know who “she” was or what you were talking about in general.

You exhaled through your nose, closing your eyes for a second and slowly removing your hand from his. You laid your hands in your lap, your good hand slowly being picked at by your bad hand, the greasy ointment transferring in process. Steve’s eyes locked on your hands.

“Nothing, nevermind.” You sounded defeated. It felt pointless. It was just jealousy speaking. Right?

You got up from the chair, making your way to the bedroom.

“Wait,” Steve said getting up from the chair, “honey, I’m just confused.”

You paused by the doorway.

“Confused by what?”

 “You just said ‘she was flirting with you’? Who are you talking about?”

You turned around to face him, still keeping your distance. A look of pure confusion was etched on Steve’s face. You didn’t know whether to be more upset about the actual situation or the fact that he was acting clueless about it. It was so obvious what that mother’s intentions were. You’re not dumb.

“That woman. At the game. She was flirting with you,” you spoke in broken sentences, hoping to make your point clear and maybe jog his memory of the incident that happened not even an hour ago.

“What woma-,” Steve’s face morphed like he finally understood what you meant, “oh, honey.”

He was smiling.

Why was he smiling? Did he think this was amusing to you? You hadn’t gotten the joke yet.

“Baby, she was harmless,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “we were talking about how good her kid is getting at pitching. You know Michael. He’s in your art class right?”

“She was rubbing your arm, Steve,” your voice evident with annoyance. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t see what was wrong.

“She was just being friendly, okay? You know how the moms are, honey. I can’t be rude to them.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his words.

You know how the moms are, honey.

What is that supposed to mean?

“No, Steve, I actually don’t know ‘how the moms are’,” you made air quotes with your fingers before crossing your arms, “enlighten me.”

Steve’s feet shifted, standing up straight, clearing his throat.

“They’re just…like that, you know?”

He’s clearly dodging the question. You’re staring daggers at him.

Steve sighed  hard, rubbing a hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands.

“Okay, yes, they can get flirty sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything, honey. I’m not doing anything back.”

You could feel heat rising inside of you, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“You’re not really stopping them, either, Steve. All I’m getting from this is that this isn’t a new thing and you’re just letting these random women flirt with you, and you what? Expect me to tolerate that? Because you can’t ‘be rude to them’, is that it?”

You could hear your voice rising, your patience wearing so thin, you could feel it cracking.

Steve looked like a child being scolded. You felt like a mother scolding her child. It shouldn’t feel like this.

The fact that he was well aware of this behavior and he wouldn’t stop it, angered you more. It felt like he wanted the attention, like he craved it. Your mind went directly to how he was when he was in high school, receiving attention from girls left and right. Did he want to go back to that? Did he miss the attention? Is your’s not enough for him anymore?

The only sound you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You refused to look at Steve, your head hanging low.. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Your voice was shaking. You had to force the words out. Your eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to pity you, you just wanted him to listen.

Steve was shocked at your words. His eyes looked bugged out. He could hear your voice shaking, your chest unevenly moving up and down.

“Baby, what are you talking about? What is going on?”

Steve took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Am I not good enough for you, Steve?” You looked up at him, your lips turned downward, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re in pain.

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me,” Steve stutters, “I don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I feel like I’m dating King Steve.”

That nickname leaving your lips stopped Steve in his tracks. You continued.

“I’m having to hear and watch these women throw themselves at you and you don’t do anything about it. You just-,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “you let them. You’re not setting any boundaries despite being with me.” You pointed towards yourself.

“You’re with me,” your lips trembling, a tear falling down your cheek. “It doesn’t feel like I fully have you. It feels like I’m having to compete for you and prove that I’m even worthy of your time. That it’s a shock that you would want to be with me. In here, I have you, I have you all to myself. But out there,” you pointed outwards, “I feel like I have to share you.”

Steve looked shattered. He was at a loss for words, feeling like no matter what he could say, it wouldn’t fix the pain that he caused.

He took a step forward, arms reaching out for you. 

“Honey, I-I love you,” his voice cracking.

You wiped the tears falling down your cheeks, hands shaking.

“Do you?”

Steve was taken aback by your question, his feet glued to the floor. He couldn’t believe you would question that, question something that he was so sure of himself. It felt like the floor was falling apart underneath him, crumbling to the ground.

“Of course I do,” he gasped, breathless. He could see your body softly shaking, quiet hiccups and sobs coursing through you. 

“Am I not pretty to you anymore? Or was I ever? I just- I feel like I’m competing with women who are on a different level than me, Steve. I’m not them, I-I’m average and you can do so much better than average.” You start rambling on, Steve trying to butt in between your short pauses, taking a few steps closer to you, but not wanting to go over a boundary you have clearly placed between you.

“Baby-”

“-I mean, I supposedly also gained a noticeable amount of weight that I had to hear stupid Laurie Sullivan point out-”

“Baby, can you please just let me-”

“-and you had to agree with her!”

Steve’s mouth was agape, shock written all over his face. Your breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down rapidly like you just finished running a marathon. Your face was soaked with tears, red and blotchy. But you were angry. You were so incredibly angry. 

Angry about Laurie, angry about it ruining that night, angry that it cut you so deep, you began to watch what you ate. You were also angry about those mothers flirting with Steve so callously, even though they knew he was with you. However, you were really angry at Steve. Angry that he just let them. He let them, and expected you to tolerate it.

The house was silent. The only noise that could be heard were your own heartbeat and a neighbor’s dog barking outside. You didn’t want to speak first. You were so tired of speaking first. You let everything out of you, all of the thoughts that have been brewing and marinating inside of you. You felt like a deflated balloon and you didn’t know how to get the air back in. It felt suffocating.

But deep down inside, Steve genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. He would have never pointed out your weight like that. Hell, he would never point out anyone’s flaws, and definitely not yours. He thought you were flawless. He was rummaging his brain to recall the events of that night to see if he could remember exactly the conversation between him and Laurie.

You broke eye contact with Steve, looking at your feet, defeated. You took a shaky deep breath.

“I’m going to go to bed, Steve,” you sighed, wanting this to be done with for now. You began to turn around until you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You refused to look at him. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your face.

“Wait, please, I don’t want you going to bed upset. Especially because of me.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” you said quietly, though you knew you were lying to him.

Steve always had Saturday morning practice with the kids. You decided then and there, you were going to pack a small bag and stay at Nancy and Jonathan’s for a couple of days after he left- just enough time to cool down and collect your thoughts and maybe, just maybe,  figure out what’s going to happen with your relationship. The thought made you nauseous but you knew it was needed. This would be the first time in two years that you and Steve would spend apart. You’ve been attached to the hip ever since he asked if you’d like to live together.

He let go of your arm, watching as you went inside the bedroom. He stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank wall. As the night went on and the sound of crickets chirping and the neighbor’s dog still barking, Steve headed for bed himself. He walked into the dark room, seeing your figure curled into bed. He stood in the doorway admiring you. But as quick as his admiration came, so did the feeling of his now heavy heart. 

Steve tucked in next to you, wanting to reach out to bring you closer to him, but knowing he should give you some space. He watched as your chest rose with each breath you took, before falling asleep himself. You were awake, though, hoping he didn’t notice. You could feel his eyes in the back of your head, could feel his self-conscious movements.

When the sun rose, you could feel Steve slowly getting out of bed. Every morning, he would reach over and kiss you on top of your head. You felt his lips meet your temple, your eyes squeezing shut, pretending to be asleep. He stayed there for a few seconds longer than usual, like he sensed what was to come, almost savoring the moment. 

His presence emanated through the house as he got ready- the shower running, his clothes rustling as he put them on, his steps throughout the house that you could recognize as his without seeing him, the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of a spoon as he stirred the cup of coffee (a splash of heavy cream with 4 packets of sugar, he liked it sweet), and finally, the front door closing with a lock and the sound of the gravel driveway crunching as he pulled away.

That was your cue. You walked to the phone hanging off of the kitchen wall, dialing Nancy’s home phone, hoping at least her or Jonathan were home to pick up.

“Please pick up, pick up-,” you muttered to yourself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked, and the sound of Nancy’s voice rang through.

“Hello?”

A sigh left your mouth, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Nance, hey, I have a favor to ask.”

You gave Nancy a quick rundown over what has happened the past two months, tears welling up in your eyes too fast before you could hold them back. The memories still fresh and vivid, emotions you’ve had to settle within you instead of blowing up like a timebomb waiting to detonate.

But of course, Nancy was your best friend, so obviously she understood. She would do anything for you and vice versa. 

The sound of a car running and door closing sounded off not even 15 minutes later. You opened the front door to see Nancy. Your bottom lip began to quiver, immediately bursting into tears. Nancy wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Does he know,” Nancy asked, pulling back to look at you.

“I wrote him a note. He’ll see it when he gets back from practice. I didn’t want to mess up his morning with the kids,” you say, voice shaky with tears.

You grabbed the black and white striped lumpy duffle bag that’s been taunting you for weeks. You turned over your shoulder to look back at the empty home, not knowing if you were going to come back, the thought scaring you. You locked the door behind you, settling into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. You watched you and Steve’s shared home get smaller and smaller into the background as the car drove farther and farther away from it. You feel like a piece of your heart was welded into every inch of that home, the empty void inside of you growing bigger. 

You closed your eyes, hoping to calm your nerves down. All you saw was your body falling from an infinite height, hoping Steve was at the bottom to catch you.

[supercutz]

o m g. i am so gagged. the writing is so amazing and complex. as someone who struggles with anxiety and often lets insecurities fester in my mind, you hit the nail on the coffin. every emotion was rawly portrayed. i love some gut wrenching angst. i cannot wait to read part two!!

[cha0ticstranger]

“why do you care that i’m using AI to write my fics?”

putting the environmental and ethical considerations aside, it’s because writing is a craft even if it’s ’just a hobby’. to practice becoming a better writer, you have to read because it will expand your vocabulary and understanding of tone, syntax, and plot development. so when i’m scouring for fics and they turn out to be AI, i’ve learned nothing from it. AI uses consistent phrasing and signals that it learned to mimic from humans. writing is a craft and AI will only ever mimic the work it has stolen from authors, and can never be original or genuine because it is not human. you cannot learn to sew if you cannot thread your own needle. you cannot learn to sing if you refuse to learn your scales. you can learn and you can write.

[supercutz]

if you’re writing a fic you should NOT use ai. it’s obvious and copy/pasting something chat gpt spit out based on a prompt you gave it is not art. i will block you, i’m not even exaggerating. as a smaller author on this platform it’s disgusting to see someone do that.