foreverromanticising

[foreverromanticising]

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[foreverromanticising]

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ lando norris x singer!reader

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

status: in process !

✩⡱ SIDE A.

track one, the good witch.

track two, wendy.

track three, you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man)

track four, two weeks ago.

track five, body better.

✩⡱ SIDE B.

track six, want you back.

track seven, history of man.

track eight, lost the breakup.

track nine, there it goes.

[foreverromanticising]

22 for your blurb game please 💕

pastel, this one hurt, ngl. absolutely devastating. i love it.

#22: "ORANGE JUICE" BY NOAH KAHAN (STEVE HARRINGTON)

"you said my heart has changed, and my soul has changed, and my heart - my heart."

warnings: pure. angst. all hurt, no comfort. mentions of issues with alcohol/alcohol addiction.

wc: 2.8k+

It was a mistake from the moment he’d received the invitation. He knew he should have tossed it into the trash, should have gone about his day and never lingered on the small postcard that had been sent to him from his hometown. There was a single good thing to come from him answering the call. 

And yet, he did. 

Hawkins, Indiana was one of the few graveyards filled with ghosts that could make Steve Harrington bleed. People, places, memories – were they all always this sharp? It was the only thing on his mind as he drove through town, through the streets he grew up in and past the stores he no longer shops at, and felt it all coming back to him. His skin never grew tougher, despite his delusional thinking these past few months, and was thin as thawing February ice, cracking under the sight of you. You, stood in the living room of Robin’s downtown apartment. You, who hadn’t so much as glanced at him since he entered the room. 

You, who he had left behind. A bleeding wound that he’d stuffed with the gauze and ignored for a long eight months. The ghost with the sharpest knife. 

“Come and grab a drink,” Robin insists as she drags him through the front door, hardly letting him have the time to untie his shoes and shove them off with other familiar pairs of sneakers and boots, “We have so much to talk about, Dingus.”  

“I don’t…” 

The words die on his tongue. She’s not even listening, too eager to catch up with her best friend. 

I don’t drink anymore. 

He hadn’t drank since that last night, that last fight. Even the scent of whiskey made his stomach turn since he’d left. Vodka burned more than just his throat, and gin made his eyes water. He couldn’t drink. 

“Rob,” he tries as she drags him right past the couch, right past you, “Rob, I have to drive. I can’t-”

“You could stay the night,” she teasingly sings over her shoulder as she passes through the archway to her small kitchen, him right behind her. 

He could, but he won’t. He already saw the drink in your hand, and he already knows that the couch is your final resting place tonight. He won’t do that to you – he won’t hurt you, again. 

“I really can’t,” he sheepishly replies as she finally drops his hand. Her palms are colder, even more chilled than they had been after afternoons of slinging ice cream together at StarCourt. He doesn’t know if it’s because he had no heat to offer from his own palms, or if he’d just been a leech and absorbed all the warmth she’d offered in that small touch. “I promised my mom I’d visit with her and my dad while I’m in town. The Harringtons are already headache-inducing enough without a hangover.” 

It’s a sorry attempt at a joke, but Robin laughs anyway. The kind of laugh that cuts to his bone, that saws right through his thin skin and makes the first incision. He missed her – he misses her. She’s right here in front of him, and he’s never felt further away.

Robin navigates away from the bottles of chilled alcohol on the countertop either way, whether she’s realized to not push the topic or not, and heads straight to the fridge. 

“We might have some pop in here, if you really want. I’m pretty sure I bought some Coke on my last grocery run. Or- Oh!” she pauses, peeking her head back out from behind the fridge door, hiding something in her grasp as she grins radiantly, “How about some orange juice?” 

The carton is nearly crushed in her grasp, mostly empty as she holds it up. 

It immediately reminds him of all the summer clementines you’d shared with him before he’d burnt everything to the ground. Sticky and sweet, innocent and divine. Before the fight, before he’d packed away his entire life into his car and drove as far away from Indiana as he could. As far away from you as his half tank of gas could take him. 

The bile rises in his throat, but he nods anyway. 

He watches her navigate the unfamiliar kitchen; she knows it well, knows it like home. Every cupboard and every drawer, she clearly has them mesmerized, because this is her home. Hawkins is still Robin’s home, is still your home, even if Steve has sworn it off. 

“So,” Robin presses as she fills a crystal cup with orange juice, looking up eagerly at Steve.

It’s hard to be bitter when she looks at him like that. Like he’s done nothing wrong. “So?” 

“Tell me about it!” he jumps from her excitement, cringing as she hands over the glass, “Tell me all about the big city. Is it as cool and refreshing as you had dreamed it would be?” 

Steve looks anywhere but at his best friend. He looks over the chipping wallpaper in the hallway, flowery images faded from the years. He glances over the dated backsplash of the kitchen itself, noticing how the checker pattern clashes terribly with the steel appliances. His mother would have a fit if she stepped foot in this apartment – whoever had been the interior designer had had more than just questionable taste. The yellow-toned lights from overhead certainly wasn’t doing it any favors. 

“It’s-” More words doomed to die on his tongue. They’re ashen, stickier than any clementine. Bitter and biting, burning and cutting. There’s not a singular positive attribute about his new home he can think of mentioning, because it doesn’t really feel like home. And it’s funny, because he had said the same exact thing about Hawkins when he was leaving it behind. 

Looking back, this place felt more like home than any big and gouache city ever could. But it has nothing to do with back roads he once sped down, or lonely parks he once cried in. 

It has everything to do with the bright-eyed, soft-freckled girl in front of him. It has everything to do with the shadow that suddenly enters the entryway, quieter than ever as it leans against a splintering frame. 

“You made it.” 

Your voice is a whisper, so soft he swears he imagined it. But then his head turns, and you’re there. Not a figment of his imagination, not a dream he’ll wake up from in a cold sweat. You’re standing there, tangible as ever, arms crossed with a blank face. 

“I made it,” he echoes back, voice even lower than yours. 

Three little words, and not a single one resembles what he really wants to say. 

I love you.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean it. Any of it.

If I bruise my knees now, will I ever see your forgiveness? 

You’re a picture frame frozen in time, looking the exact same as you had the day he’d watched you fade from his rear-view mirror. Same stubborn-set lips, same disapproving eyes. 

But more importantly, same soft hair. Same sweet perfume. Same shaking hands, built to hold, not fight. They should have never been forced to form angry fists; but he’d never given you a choice. He’d forced your hand – he’d taken all your soft curves and loving edges, and turned them colder than stone. Colder than Robin’s hand.

That was his fault to carry to his own grave. 

“I’ll… leave the two of you alone,” Robin says, slowly passing over the glass of juice as she takes a few steps towards the doorway. There’s a fear in her eyes, as if this is the real reason why she had drug him to the kitchen so quickly – she hadn’t wanted to run the risk of this. All this tension, all this hurt. But it was inevitable, and Steve had already put on his Sunday best in preparation for it. 

He waits on you to make the first move. Whatever happens, whatever is said is all in your hands. Hands he hopes have let go of the fists you’d had to raise against him. Hands he hopes will hold him gently, even if nothing more than metaphorically rather than physically. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel those hands hold him again; not as a lover, not as something to be gripped onto. They would never thread through his hair again in the morning light, and they would never fist his t-shirt through tears in a somber dusk. 

You make your way across the kitchen, just as Robin had, before you settle against the counter. You lean against it, facing him fully, arms still tightly crossed as you stare. And he stares right back. But it’s a losing game; he knows his gaze will always be softer on you than even the blankest of looks that you will give him. There will always be love behind his, and there will never be kindness behind yours again. 

He deserves it. He left you. You begged him and begged him not to, and he still left. 

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” you quietly admit after some silence, fingers pressing down into your bicep as if withholding yourself, “She mentioned she’d sent an invite but…” 

“But you figured I would be too busy?” he offers when you trail off.

“Something like that.” 

Something like that. God, he hates it, he hates this. He hates that all he wants is to take you in his arms, to admit all his sins and pray for forgiveness at your altar. He hates that all he can think about is how your lips tasted the last time they’d pressed against his – salty from your tears – as you’d exhausted your artillery of ways to get him to stay. He hates how he still feels the weight of your body curving and meeting him halfway, wrapped up in you but not tightly enough to not still wake in the morning and just drive away. 

Your eyes look over him, slowly trailing up and down, but nothing like they once had. “You’ve… changed.” 

That was putting it nicely. You were here, haunting him, but he was the one that resembled a ghost. Nothing more than a transparent sheet of the boy he had been. 

Maybe the city had been what changed him. Maybe his new job at some stuck up law firm had made more than just internal changes. Maybe it was his abstinence from alcohol that had changed him, letting the wrinkles in his face fade and making the moles across his cheek and neck a little more noticeable. Maybe the lack of sunshine had turned his hair darker. Maybe that had also turned him paler. 

But that’s not what you meant. He knew you saw right through him – you saw straight to the rotten core he’d been hiding away for six months. Something old, something abused, something tired. Something yearning to come home to a place that was never his at all. You were talking about all the sleepless nights sponsoring the bags beneath his eyes, all the guilt that was eating him alive from the inside out. All the missteps that he had taken that led him to the lifelong regret and mistakes he can’t ever take back. He could bandage the wounds, he would hold his chest high, but it doesn’t hide the bloodstains of the self-inflicted carnage. 

“So have you,” he nods, looking you up and down, lying through his teeth. 

The only change present was the one he’d already seen before he left. The one that sucked the light from your eyes as you asked him to just stay. Not even in Hawkins, but with you. You would have followed him to the ends of the worlds, you told him as much, and he’d still said no.

Why the Hell did he ever say no?

Your eyes dart to the crystal glass in his hand, “Isn’t it a bit late for a mimosa?” 

“What?” he follows your gaze, and sees the way you’re almost glaring at the glass in his hand, “It’s not- I- this isn’t a mimosa.” 

Your nose scrunches, “What? You always said that mixing cheap wine and orange juice still counted, it was just the poor man’s mimos-”

“There’s no alcohol in the glass.” 

Your mouth hangs open ever so slightly, eyes squinting in disbelief. And then he sees it. God, he wishes he wouldn’t have witnessed it – the slow fall of your face, until you’re nothing more than a clean slate of marble again. 

But in the transition, he saw it. The realization that he had changed, that he had made some of the right changes, just a little too late. He was capable of being a better man, just not for you. 

“Why not?” your voice is tight, lips a hard line as you refuse to meet his daring gaze.

Look at me, he begs. Please look at me and let me explain myself. 

“I haven’t drank since-” Since that night. Since that fight. Since you begged me to give it up, to call you beautiful without the whiskey flooding my bloodstream. Since you asked me to stay, and I still went. 

Unlike Robin, you know the words he can’t say. 

“That’s-” you choke on your words, your composure cracking for the first time since you’d entered the kitchen. You take a moment to clear your throat, “That’s good. That’s… great, Steve.” 

He can hear your hurt, clear as day. He can hear every question ricocheting in your mind: why couldn’t you have done that for me? Why couldn’t you have given me an inch when I gave you all my miles? 

He’s glad you don’t vocalize any of them. He doesn’t have a single answer. You deserve one, but he can’t offer one. 

It’s not supposed to be this way. You and him shouldn’t be leaning on opposite counters, oceans apart in the middle of Robin’s kitchen. It should be your kitchen – one shared between you and him. He should be holding you, twirling you around in the quiet of the night by the light of an open fridge, the only sounds being you stifling your giggles over the padding of bare feet. 

The two of you should’ve made it. 

You’d given him all of your love, every last drop, and he’d turned cheek and ran. You’d never risked asking for more, always settling only for what he was willing to give. No labels, no talks of the future. Hiding you away in the dead of night as the two of you shared cheap wine on rooftops, burying you between his sheets as he’d steal away another piece of you that he didn’t intend to keep but carried all the same. Sticky kisses, but only when no one was looking. Whispered admissions of devotion, but only when no one was listening. 

You always gave him a slice of your clementine, peeled and pleading and begging silently for anything in return, and he’d given you nothing. Just a mouthful of bloody goodbyes and nights reeking of whiskey. 

“You look beautiful,” he spits out before he can think better of it. The pulp of the juice is on his tongue, and you look so broken for just a second that he swears he can turn back time. He can make it right. He can offer you more than a burial ground. 

Your sad smile says it all. 

He’d finally said it. He’d finally admitted just a fraction of the hold you had him in, and not a single drop of alcohol in his system. No need to see you naked, no need to pretend the words hadn’t been uttered once the high was over. He’d finally said it. 

“I’ll see you around, Steve.”

And it was too late.

You leave the kitchen without another word, and it takes everything in him to not chuck the glass of orange juice at the wall. 

He didn’t even like orange juice. The pulp would get between his teeth and drive him mad, it left an odd film on his tongue he couldn’t stand, and it was always too sour for him to find refreshing. It’s the same reasons he hated oranges growing up. Until you, until your clementines. And he thinks if you walked back in, if you asked him to, if you held out a palm with a slice of all you had to offer to him again, he’d find a way to swallow the taste again without complaint. 

You’re not going to walk back in, though. 

It’s too late. 

So Steve crosses the room the counter you once leaned against, grabs the closest bottle of cheap whiskey, and pours. Straight into his mouth, not even bothering with the orange juice. 

He never thought a ghost’s knife would taste of clementines as it stabbed through his gut, even through the burn of alcohol. His mistake. 

[foreverromanticising]

A SEASON FOUR REWRITE BY UPSIDEDOWNWITHSTEVE

IT'S 1986, THERE'S A NEW MONSTER TO FIGHT, A TOWN TO SAVE AND STEVE HARRINGTON HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOBODY ELSE KNOWS ABOUT.

CHAPTER 1: THE LOVE CLUB CHAPTER 2: A GIRL'S CURSE CHAPTER 3: THE LIAR AND THE FALL OUT CHAPTER 4: DEAR DIARY CHAPTER 5: THE GIRLFRIEND PROJECT CHAPTER 6: THE WINDOW CHAPTER 7: THE CONFUSION AT THE SINCLAIR'S HOUSE CHAPTER 8: BABY CHAPTER 9: THE END

A (LENGTHY) WORK IN PROGRESS

[foreverromanticising]

pairing: Harry Styles x booktuber!reader

summary: The internet speculates about whether Harry and YN are together. She admits to some hidden feelings to her best friend. He still cannot use his IG and buys any book that she recommends. Finally, something happens. But is it about them?

a/n: Second part of the booktuber!reader in celebration of 1000 of you following my little messy blog. i hope you enjoy it! love ya!

part 1 taglist

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 57 593 others

harryupdates HARRY and YN via her best friend's IG story.

view all 5 842 comments

hArrysbtch THEY ARE SO CUTE I LOVE THEM

hArrysbtch also, that best friend of yn is really putting them in the spotlight, isn't she?

⤷ harrysmoustache that's what i said! wasn't she also the one with them in italy???

⤷ hArrysbtch you think she shared those photos?

⤷ harrysmoustache yeah, it's all connecting nicely

harrysmylife i mean... that can be a couple but best friends as well. like, i sit like this with my male best friend

harrysfan39 his dimples...

harrysfan87 she's so beautiful... has anybody said it already?

——————————————————————————————

CELEBRITY GOSSIP

HARRY STYLES, BOOKS, AND LOVE FROM A YOUTUBE VIDEO

If you are wondering if this article's title is stating that Harry Styles is a taken man, you would be correct. Starting with the simple YouTube video posted by the channel of the name ynrecommends and ending with a yacht vacation near the coast of Italy and burning romance.

But let's start at the beginning. The booktuber from ynrecommends (YN YSN) did a little video of reading books that Harry Styles recommended during his interviews and so on. Because of the Harries (name of Styles' fandom), the video skyrocketed and gained hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of a few days. That's probably how our heartbreaker found the video, leaving a little comment and not forgetting to flirt with the author (we love it!). You could say the story of them began right in front of our eyes.

It was a few months ago, and throughout them, there were multiple crumbs left by the couple. Joined bookshop travels, appearances in YN's vlogs and other videos, and of course, THAT vacation on Harry's yacht.

As our source that is very close to both of them says 'the romance started late in their time of knowing each other, because of their both overflowing schedules and fear of ruining the friendship.' What is more, we didn't only get the words but also photos that clearly confirm the romance between the rock star of our generation and the indie booktuber despite YN's claims of 'being single and very happy with it.'

Is that how you are with your 'friends'?

What do you think is true, our sources claims or YN's words?

Source 74%

YN's words 26%

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Text messages between YN and her best friend

ynn🧠 my lovely, favourite best friend, i have a little, tiny question bestie🫦 i'm your only best friend maybe besides Harold...🙄 ynn🧠 yeah yeah, i know you like him, don't hide it buuuuut, back to my question... bestie🫦 yes yes, what's up? ynn🧠 i'm not accusing you of anything, i just wanna ask if you send somebody the photo album from italy? bestie🫦 remember that ig account we did in uni? i thought it would be a nice idea to turn it into a little photo diary. i put some of the photos there. i told you on the boat, like a week ago. why? ynn🧠 i forgot about it, im so sorry! but someone from that account must have seen those photos and sold them to that gossip magazine... whole internet thinks im harry's girlfriend. i got like 50 dms asking how much i paid him to be with me bestie🫦 fuck im so sorry, sweetheart! i totally didn't think about it. tbh, i kinda forgot he was famous while being there with you two ynn🧠 yeah, i forget about it whenever i see him and don't be sorry, baby! it's not your fault some of those people will do anything to gain even a little bit of money i only asked because harry's manager needed to know if any of our photos were hacked or somethin' bestie🫦 was harry mad about the article? ynn🧠 he said that after years of having bullshit having written about him, he got used to it. but i can see that it bothers him that he can't have a moment for himself bestie🫦 fuck, im gonna bake him some good cake as an apology ynn🧠 it's not your fault!!!! harry knows it bestie🫦 okay, but im baking something anyway and btw, that article isn't so far from the truth, is it? ynn🧠 what do you mean? bestie🫦 oh, come on! you two act like a couple whenever you're together! there must be something there ynn🧠 ... there's not, really. we never talked about it but just fell to that closeness as friends. you know how touchy i am with people that im comfortable with, he's the same. it just looks like we're a couple, but no bestie🫦 but you want more, don't you? ynn🧠 i value him too much as a friend to think about it

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, hArrysbtch and 251 382 others

yourinstagram first day on this fancy boat, and i was crawling (freaking scared to fall into the water) and in the last few days, i was swinging myself on this little hammock, crazy days, crazy

thank you harrystyles for putting it up for me, love ya my bff

view all 34 428 comments

harrystyles You ditched me for those books

⤷ yourinstagram they are literally my job

⤷ harrystyles You took 30 books with yourself. A seond suitcase just for them.

⤷ yourinstagram blah blah blah you took two guitars

⤷ harrystyles That's literally my job.

⤷ yourinstagram yeah, that's what i said

harryupdates brave move, yn

hArrysbtch i'm waiting (impatiently) for the next video

⤷ yourinstagram it's coming, it's coming. a little vid of italians recommending me their favourite books!

harrysmoustache not the little explaination of that on ephoto from that article 'i was crawling, cause i'm scared'

⤷ harrysmylife subtle but to the point

stylebabie 'my bff' i know she is cackling behind that little screen

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, yourbestfriend, harryupdates, annetwist and 18 201 383 others

harrystyles momento magico in italia

view all 482 381 comments

yourinstagram thankfully that photo was taken before me almost drawning

⤷ harrystyles i rescued you

⤷ yourinstagram if by rescue you mean laugh, panic and then dive and almost make me drown again, then yes, you did rescue me

jeffazzof Harry.

⤷ harrystyles Jeffrey.

⤷ jeffazzof Check the account.

⤷ harrystyles Oh.

hArrysbtch hsdfUHFJHLVBRIAP what the fuck ehat the fuck

hArrysbtch i am so confused right now

harrysmoustache you guys are playing with us

harryupdates wrong account, harry!

annetwist Bellissima 😍

harrysmylife the flower, the EARRINGS, yn, the cat... i cannot.... this man is a menace to the society

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hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates and 3 402 others

hArrysbtch this video was worth the wait! yn is one of the best and realest youtuber out there. plus, harry filmed this episode for her so it's even better

view all 928 comments

harryupdates I loved it too! the little moments of them interacting behind the camera kept in the video were absolute gems!!!

⤷ hArrysbtch YES!!! it was so funny and wholesome

harrysmoustache harry's little 'i think you'd like this shot' during a moment when yn is walking down the alley.... soooo cute i love them

stylesbabie this is my first video of hers that i watched and i am so mad at myself. this is the best booktuber channel i've ever come across

harrysmylife yn interacting with Harry's italian friends, having harry translate the recommendations from people on the street and him just hyping her up... just so freaking cute

harrymylove i don't care if they are together or just friends, i just enjoy watching them be together, like, next to each other. it's so refreshing and lovely

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londonboyharry

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 10 318 others

londonboyharry this is what I saw while walking around the park near my hotel in italy... Harry literally made yn stop mid-sentance and said 'wait, i need to take a photo of you.' i- i was melting and couldn't believe my eyes and ears

view all 2 307 comments

hArrysbtch he is so boyfriend

hArrysbtch like, he must be, come on

harrysmoustache i say i don't care if they are together or not. but i do. i so do. i want them together more than i want myself to find a partner

harrysmylife BEST FRIEND/COUPLE ON EARTH

harrysfan88 i love that we're all confused about them

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yourbestfriend

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 34 028 others

yourbestfriend put those two in a room with books and that's what you get...

view all 5 301 comments

yourinstagram i was just looking through the atlas, come on

harrystyles And I was actually reading, not faking like some of us.

⤷ yourinstagram oh fuck off

⤷ harrystyles This is not so treat people with kindness of you.

hArrysbtch i love the fits so much

harrysmoustache this si so frustraiting

⤷ harrysfan49 why are you so obsessed with them? leave them be

⤷ harrysmoustache i just want to know if i can call them the best couple on the planet

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmylife and 32 482 others

harryupdates HARRY with a fan today in London!

view all 4 302 comments

hArrysbtch he's so cute

hArrysbtch wait, yn wore that t-shirt in her latest vlog

⤷ harrysmoustache sharing clothes????

harrysmylife he looks so cute, i want to put him in my pocket

stylesbabie the cardigan is back, guys

harrysfan87 i am the one who met him!

⤷ harryupdates how was it?

⤷ harrysfan87 magical! he stopped after walking out of the bookstore when i walked up to him. he had a bag full of books. i asked him what he was buying and he said 'oh, ehmm, i have crime and punishment, hamnet, emma and some Sally Rooney here'

⤷ hArrysbtch that guy is just buying anything yn recommends...

⤷ stylesbabie but none of it was in her italian vlog?

⤷ hArrysbtch yes, but those are the books from her 'summer to autumn reads' video

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 1 019 392 others

yourinstagram story in two acts... 🏡📚

view all 23 492 comments

harrystyles Scandalous.

⤷ yourinstagram Forgot you have sensitive eyes after a bad night sleep.

⤷ harrystyles I slept very well last night, thank you.

yourbestfriend 👀

⤷ yourinstagram 🫣

hArrysbtch WTFSAJFHOAUW no way

hArrysbtch this is confirmation, isn't it?

⤷ harrysmoustache i think so

⤷ harrysmylife but... we don't know if that really is harry

harrysmoustache she bold and she sexy

comment liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 234 others

jeffazzof Congratulations, YN.

⤷ harrystyles thanks jeff!!!!

comment deleted

⤷ yourinstagram thanks jeff!!!

⤷ harrysmoustache girl, we saw that!

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a/n: do we think yn and harry finally got together?

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📌: @daniellef89x @crazygirlinthisworld @ameerakane20 @golden-hoax @sleutherclaw

[foreverromanticising]

Carm really doesn’t want to screw up his and reader’s first Christmas together

"Hey, Carm, I was looking at the books, and did you know you have to- What the fuck is that?" Sugar stopped, skidding to a halt looking at the infamous teal bag on Carmen's desk.

"Hey, uh... It's Christmas comin' up, and-and I'm tryin' to rewrap this for-"

"Jesus, Carm." Sugar scoffed, shaking her head. "That's... Are you proposing?"

"What? No. No, no, I-I'm not- Why does it look? You think she'll think I'm-"

"-Yeah, Carmen. You've been together maybe five months? And you bust out Tiffany on Christmas? Yeah, I think she might think it's a ring." Sugar rolled her eyes.

"Fuck," Carmen threaded his hand through his hair. "No, I-I just wanted to get somethin' nice, ya know? Somethin' good for our first Christmas..." He muttered, face flushing in embarrassment. It was still new to him- this. You. Telling people about you. Being with you. Not keeping things so private and protective, scared to have his family or anyone know about this side of him and ruin it.

Sugar's face softened. "What'd you get her anyways?" She hummed, looking at the neatly tied box.

Carmen tapped his finger on the box, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I got her a necklace with, uh, with little round thing, ya know? And I-I got a 'C' engraved on it."

"A 'C'?" Sugar raised her brows in amusement.

"Yeah, it was, fuck, it was Richie's idea. Somethin' about Taylor Swift and a song. He said she'd like it. Do you-Do you think she will? Or should I- I should probably get somethin' else too, fuck."

"Carmen," Sugar said softly, biting back a laugh. "I think she'll love that."

"Yeah?" Carmen hesitated, rolling his lip around while he looked from the box back at her.

"Yeah. It's a really nice gift." Sugar snorted lightly. "I would be happy to get it, and I'm not even a huge Taylor Swift fan."

Carmen nodded, looking down at the box. He hoped you'd love it. Hoped you wear it.

"Are you bringing her to Christmas?" Sugar asked lightly. "Think she's ready for that?"

"Fuck no." Carmen shook his head. "No, I-I don't think I'm ready for that." Sugar laughed in agreement. "I haven't... I haven't even told Ma."

Sugar nodded slowly. "Yeah, I... I get it." She offered. "I could tell her if you-"

"-No, Sugar." Carmen said firmly, running a hand down his face. "Just... Just let me get through this first one without all that bullshit. I just... it's the first one and I don't..." Carmen didn't say it but Sugar heard him.

She knew Carmen wanted to shield you from Donna, from the chaos that was his family. He wanted to keep you around. Sugar's heart swelled at the thought. The thought of her baby brother having someone permanent.

Carmen did bring you to her New Years Eve party. A small get together (well, as small as a Berzatto one could be) with no Donna. Just the cousins, friends, and others celebrating and ringing in the New Year. She was happy to see the necklace on your neck, the engraving shimmering in the low light of the room.

[foreverromanticising]

pairing: Harry Styles x booktuber!reader

summary: A new series on ynrecommends channel on YT called Celebrity Book Club grabbed Harry's attention. Now, they are simply joined at the hip. As friends. Right?

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yourinstagram

liked by harryupdates, yourbestfriend and 17 291 others

yourinstagram hello! i started a new series on my YouTube channel - celebrity book club! my first victim was the one and only - Harry Styles. he has an... interesting library to recommend. click the link in bio if you want to watch me gush over harry, new bookshop I found and the best coffee ive ever made!! byeee, xx

also, you harries are too good with photoshop. i was sure he was reading book lovers...

view all 2 302 comments

yourbestfriend bestie gettin' famous!!!!

⤷ yourinstagram i knew it was a bad idea to listen to you...

⤷ yourbestfriend people need to know how great of a booktuber and reader you are

harryupdates that's a great video! i immediately subscribed to your channel!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you! I hope you'll find something for yourself there, xx

user22 came here from yt! fantastic video

user39 your editing skills are amazing!!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, yourinstagram and 34 402 others

harryupdates yn from ynrecommends on yt did a video where she read all the books that Harry has ever recommended. she is hilarious, very sweet, and absolutely clever. watch it when you have some spare time, you won't be disappointed!!

view all 5 201 comments

hArrysbtch ive been watching her videos for months!!! thank god she finally gets the spotlight she deserves

⤷ harrysmoustache does she (like most of the booktubers) sugar-coat everything or she's just blunt?

⤷ hArrysbtch oh she's super down to earth! she also does those instagram lives where she talks about the latest book(s) she's read. super funny and laid back

⤷ harrysmoustache oh, thank god! i was looking for someone like that! im diving into her channel right now!

yourinstagram thank you so much! thanks to you, you harries are flooding my socials!! (im not complaining) xx

⤷ harryupdates can't wait for another video!

harryshoee she's so beautiful, too! and loves cats!

harrysmylife "harry, if you ever watch it, let's pretend you guys, if you ever watch it, i recommend you diving into Toshikazu Kawaguchi" she has TASTE, let me tell you

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harrymylove

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 22 301 others

harrymylove I'VE MET HARRY YESTERDAY!!!! look at him and my doggy Bart. i still can't process it...

view all 3 301 comments

hArrysbtch how was it???

⤷ harrymylove it was so lovely! he was kind enough to take a photo and talk with me for a while!

⤷ hArrysbtch what did you talk about? pls spill the tea

⤷ harrymylove im an English major so i asked him about some book recommendations. he answered with "i didn't have much time to read anything new recently. but was recommended and just bought Toshikazu Kawaguchi's books, so maybe this author"

hArrysbtch Kawaguchi???? after yn recommend that to him in a video???? he watched her video??? yourinstagram

harrysmoustache I've just started reading 'before the coffee gets cold' and looooove it!!

harryupdates do we think he actually watched yn's video?

⤷ hArrysbtch i hope so!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrymylove and 45 302 others

harryupdates HARRY'S official YT channel left a comment on ynrecommends latest video!!

view all 6 401 comments

hArrysbtch that bish said 'let me break the internet and use me fuckin phone'

hArrysbtch unbelievable...

harrymylove he watched the video that's why he recommended me Kawaguchi... im melting

harrysmoustache i hope that he loves it as much as i did!!!

harrysmylife 'love, h xx' let me go cry in the corner

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yourinstagram

liked by yourbestfriend, harrystyles and 67 492 others

yourinstagram hopefully, this date will be successful

view all 9 201 comments

yourbestfriend was it?

⤷ yourinstagram after a couple glasses of wine, we moved to the bedroom

⤷ yourbestfriend STOP

⤷ yourinstagram never praise a ford till you get over...

harrystyles Assuming it wasn't successful, do you have any dates free?

⤷ yourinstagram i'll need to check my calendar, although i only attend when coffee (or wine) and good books are provided

⤷ harrystyles Done.

⤷ yourinstagram i'll think about it 🫣

harryupdates oh those are so tricky!!!

hArrysbtch stop, i also had an awful blind date with a book...

⤷ yourinstagram that's the worst! i just need to read the synopsis and thena few pages to decide if I want to buy it

harrysmoustache why is nobody talking about harry being in the comment section??? ASKING HER OUT??? who is this man??? what's happening

⤷ user93 well, it's clearly not him typing or even controlling it! the managmet took it over long ago!

⤷ harrysmoustache and they say im delulu...

harrysmylife SHUT UP !!! avtivrry is my favourite harry, like??? what do you mean he can type the comment? the flirty one? the one asking a girl out? like???

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harrystyles via close friends IG stories

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates and 4 292 294 others

harrystyles 11.08.2023 📚

view all 23 292 comments

yourinstagram you did not buy them just for yourself

⤷ harrystyles Wouldn't you like to know 😎

harryupdates Well-read king that we stan

hArrysbtch I'm connecting the dots here

harrysmylife welcome back 2013 Harry, how have you been?

harrysfan83 since that girls yt video, he became obsessed with books...

⤷ harrymylove it's called getting a crush on somebody

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hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates and 4 492 others

hArrysbtch sooo, this is a still from yn's latest video... that stack of books looks awfully familiar to the one that Harry posted a week or so ago... coincidence? i don't think so. plus!!!! she did say she didn't spend a penny on those books

view all 928 comments

harrysmoustache if they are together, i feel like the fandom would love her

⤷ hArrysbtch i would hope so!

harrysmylife relationship, friendship or whatever -ship it is, im here for itttt

user94 y'all are really reaching now...

harryupdates it's the way she was glowing in that video for me! she looked so happy

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yourinstagram

liked by hArrysbtch, harrystyles and 76 301 others

yourinstagram when they read your recommendations>>>

view all 8 492 comments

hArrysbtch now let him play patroclus in a movie, i dare you Hollywood

⤷ harrysmoustache who would you choose as Achilles??

⤷ hArrysbtch you know what? let him be Achilles and Timothee would be Patroclus

⤷ harrysmylife this adaptation with this casting would cure me, for real

harrysmoustache he's in his lover era

harrystyles I love reading your copies of books with all the 'cute' and 'slay' and 'I LOVE THEM'.

⤷ yourinstagram it's called active reading

⤷ harrystyles No, its not.

⤷ yourinstagram party pooper

yourbestfriend thanks for inviting me!!!

⤷ harrystyles Do yo want to join us?

⤷ yourbestfriend I knew I liked you for a good reason

harrysfan45 so she is the girl from those pap photos

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, stylesbabie and 87 392 others

harryupdates HARRY taking photos of YN in Italy!!

view all 7 302 comments

hArrysbtch melting

harrysmoustache what in the world...

stylesbabie i know exactly what that photo is focusing on

⤷ user42 what?

⤷ stylesbabie (•) (•)

⤷ harrysmoustache in the wise words of Steve Harrington: BOOBIES

harrysmylife so they are dating

⤷ user93 no one confirmed it

⤷ harryupdates good luck with waiting for Harry, confirming that he is/isn't in a relationship

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 291 492 others

yourinstagram the promised vlog is up on my channel! grab some good drink and a snack for a quick talk about being single, vulnerability, loving your friends more than anything and - of course - some good books I've read in Italy!!!

view all 16 302 others

harrystyles I see the similarities between pictures 3 and 4

⤷ yourinstagram well, one is a cute little creature and the other is a sweet creature

⤷ harrystyles Good one.

hArrysbtch best vlog I've ever watched!!! Good job!

harrysmoustache being single??? what do you mean? i was rooting for you...

⤷ stylesbabie ...we were all rooting for you

harryupdates great recommendations as always!!! my tbr is growing with each of your video

celebrityupdates Single? Our sources are saying quite otherwise!

⤷ user56 spill the tea!!!!

⤷ celebrityupdates Link in bio to all the things you need to know about this romance!

⤷ harrysmylife it's like a man and a woman cannot be friends

⤷ hArrysbtch here we go again...

——————————————————————————————

a/n: do we want to see more of them?

[foreverromanticising]

okay. currently working through a hefty carmy fic atm so send me ur carmy thoughts for baby blurbs or hcs or just so we can chat about my favourite man ily pls thank u<3

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear #carmy berzatto

[foreverromanticising]

Is the restaurant what Carmy wants?

We have seen in the last two seasons of the bear that Carmy is a people pleaser. Here’s why:

1. Throughout season 1, Syd wants the restaurant to be great, not shitty so Syd produces a whole document on how they can improve and even makes a risotto with a ribbon of brine and although Carmy seems thankful for Syd’s ideas, he is not quick to listen to Syd. Eventually he agrees to implement Syd’s ideas.

2. In s2e6, Mikey, Richie tease him about Claire. Claire is persistent in pursuing Carmy. Carmy eventually dates Claire.

3. Claire mentions that no one has cooked for her. Carmy eventually cooks for Claire.

4. Carmy literally draws the menu for Syd and when they are arguing, Carmy says, ‘’This is what you originally wanted and it is so awesome.’’

5. Carmy had lost touch with Mikey before his death and it was devastating, but now he owns the restaurant that was a huge part of Mikey. We learn that Mikey’s businesses usually failed in S2e6 so is Carmy putting pressure on himself to ensure that this business, the last thing that Mikey worked on does not fail?

Seeing how Donna was in the Fishes episode, it explains why Carmy is a people pleaser. He wants to show that he is making things nice for people around him, but when will he make things nice for himself?

I really believe that after therapy and some soul-searching, Carmy may discover that ‘the bear’ is not for him. I also think that something or someone (most likely Sydney) will make him realise that he needs to make a choice between what people want and what he actually wants. Similar to Syd, Carm longs for a connection with others but he doesn’t know how to go about it so the restaurant is the thing that is making him connect to others. Is Carmy only holding onto the restaurant so he can remain connected to Mikey and others? Also, whether people like it or not, Carmy is in love with Syd so is he holding onto the restaurant because he believes without it, Syd would not be there?

I see Carmy giving up his ownership to the restaurant and focusing on other things: his drawings and Sydney. In the end, I really hope he chooses his happiness over everything else.

[foreverromanticising]

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER TWO - MY PART OF TOWN ON A WEEKEND

↢ chapter one | series masterlist | chapter three ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [15.7K]

warnings: no use of y/n, breaking and entering (not in a bad way lol), talks mentions of self deprecation, steve opening up about his parents, cursing, mutual pining.

summary: Roane County soon becomes a place that Steve finds himself attracted to, especially for that one special person. Meanwhile you find it hard to believe that Steve and your new friends actually make the effort to show up for you in more ways than one--even if tonight it's just you and Steve. There's a newness yet comfort between the both of you that has been brewing since your first meeting, it's just a matter of when and where things will start to pick up...in his car, in your living room, or in your wildest dreams?

Steve didn’t know when he started becoming so prompt when it came to time, possibly when he picked up the duty of dropping off and picking up the kids from school. But nonetheless, he hated running late, and he also hated the fact that other people would be waiting on him. Today was no different, and he wasn’t planning on breaking a promise to a very special person whom he said he’d show up for. 

He had specifically told Robin to be ready on time and to even call Eddie to remind him of today’s plans, seeing as though he was so forgetful, but obviously it just always had to be them and his horrible time managing friends.

Steve couldn’t wait, impatiently tapping his foot on the Wheeler’s driveway waiting for the rest of the kids to show up so they could get going, but of course if one was taking too long to get ready, the other wasn’t ready at all. Nancy and Jonathan had told him to get going first—that they would all meet up there eventually when everyone was ready.

And that should’ve worked out, except for the fact that Steve was the only person out of the group to make it past the “Welcome to Roane County” sign before city troopers closed the roads due to a bumper to bumper accident. The bouquet of flowers sitting in his passenger seat and the white top you had left behind in his bedroom in the backseat hoping to find its way back to you tonight. 

With his foot on the pedal, he pressed down harder, watching each minute go by on his dash clock, hoping he’d be able to catch you in time before it was too late. 

You sat on the wooden crate, elbows resting on your knees as you looked both ways watching bystanders walking through the halls of the almost empty gallery. It was a slow day, not too many people showed up, probably because it was a Sunday night and most times people had better things to do than walk around and observe art but part of you wished at least some would care.

To top it all off, you’d only gotten three sales out of the thirteen paintings you had brought to the event—not like they weren’t any good, but they were meaningful in your eyes and you wished others would see it too.

You had spent the last few days thinking about something other than Steve, knowing good and well that you were an adult and there was surely more to life than a guy. Bills had to be paid and the last thing you should be doing was kicking your feet and blushing like a high schooler with a crush on the pretty boy.

Plus, you realized that it didn’t do you any good thinking so hard about him and what he felt for you because it could be all in your head. 

You needed to realize that banking and hoping he would feel the same just wasn’t worth your time or energy. If you kept digging yourself into this hole of feelings for him and those feelings not be reciprocated, you’d just bury yourself there in a pit of embarrassment.

You had learned long ago that holding out hope for something you weren’t positively confident about would only hurt you, and you were sure this was just something you were going to sweat out and laugh about later.

Both you and Steve were adults, and if there was a chance for more, then you’d just have to wait it out until you were sure. 

The only thing keeping you going tonight was heading home and spending the rest of the night thinking about the next week and how much work you needed to get done. So much to be done, but so little energy and inspiration you had left to get it finished.

People always had this idea that your mind was constantly running with ideas too fast for your paintbrush or pen to catch, which in some instances could be the case, but for you it wasn’t as easy. You’d hit a drought in muse, barely having the spirit to get up and actually create something that was your own. 

It was taking everything in you not to give up and call it quits because you worked too hard to get here. You had spent too many years proving and fighting towards a goal of following the dream that you envisioned for yourself. It was the voices of people telling you that your passion was “childish” or “just a hobby” that put a fire under your ass to get out of this artist block. That giving up this easily meant giving them the last laugh and you sure as hell weren’t going to do that. 

“I’m not too late, am I?” 

The pair of shoes coming into your line of sight followed by the voice you could never mistake broke through the barriers of your thoughts. You looked up and there he was, trying to catch his breath from the quick jog from the parking lot to the inside, not wanting to miss you before you packed up and left.

A wave of relief filled your anxiety ridden senses finally seeing someone that you recognized for the first time tonight. 

“Steve.” You beamed up at him through your sad eyes, instantly standing up and wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

“Hey.” He grinned against your head, pulling away somewhat to see your face, the sadness clearly fading with each second you two spent in each other’s arms.

“You’re not too late.” You exhaled before hugging him again and finally letting him go. 

“And these are for you.” 

He grinned handing over the small bunch of roses that you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in just relieved to see him here. 

Your hands wrapped around the brown paper, shielding your palms from any stray thorns as you held them close to your chest and inhaling the clove scent that radiated off of the blossoms. 

“Thanks!”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets while you fidgeted with your hands. The two of you holding eye contact filled with happiness yet nervousness behind them—both of you trying not to let it show though.

Steve smiled broadly, seeing the artwork behind you, “I’m glad I made it on time, I wouldn’t wanna miss it. I was just stuck in traffic for a little. That’s why it took me a while to get here.”

A part of you felt terrible for the hassle he must have gone through, considering the fact that Roane was already an hour away from Hawkins. Adding traffic meant it must have taken longer than usual. If you had known, you would’ve told him it was alright for him not to make it today.

But the other part of you felt smitten that he had sat through that hour of traffic just to be here. It showed that he was committed and didn’t like breaking promises, even if it was as little as something like this.

God, you were totally forgetting that inner monologue you had about Steve and relationships doing you no good.

You reached out a hand, skimming his arm appreciatively as you grinned so widely it took up most of your face.

“You really didn’t have to, Steve.”  

But your reaction told Steve that you felt otherwise from your words. More than elated with the fact that he had made the effort to show, and he was glad that he delivered. He wiggled, swinging his head, as your hand fell from his skin, wishing it would stay there longer so he could never forget it.

“I wanted to, and so did the others, but they were a little behind. You know, Will was really looking forward to coming tonight.” He mentioned wistfully.

Steve just now reminding you of the others who were not here beside him. It had totally slipped your mind that the rest of your friends weren’t here and greeting you tonight at the gallery.

But was it really wrong to admit that you also had totally forgotten that you had invited them in the first place?

It wasn’t like you didn’t care if they showed up or not, but you always learned to never set your expectations so high when it came to people showing up for you. Therefore, you always tried to not take it personally when others didn’t follow through with their words or commitments.

Back when you were still dating your ex, you used to invite him and your then friends to your galleries, expecting they’d just pop in to show some support, but they never did. So you just learned to suck it up and accept the fact that even if someone you loved said that they would show, there was always a possibility that they weren’t. 

Yet here you were, with Steve being the one to show up, and now actually hearing how the others made an effort to want to show up tonight, too. It made you feel soft inside, like a plate of mush which would reduce to nothing because the tenderness was too much for you to handle and fathom for yourself. 

“Oh…” You murmured under your breath, letting those words and his actions sink in for a second. 

Steve caught it, the way you glassed over once he told you that information not knowing what you were feeling deep down.

“Buuuuttt I’m here so I hope it’s still ok.” 

You snapped out of the glassed over expression the second you heard his voice coming to you again. It wasn’t just a dream of someone actually showing up for you…Steve was really here, and if it wasn’t for the damn traffic accident, the others would be here too. Friends who actually showed up for you for once.

“More than ok.”  You grinned, nodding more to yourself than to him.

He smiled once you came back too, your free hand reaching out to grab his arm and lead you to the canvas that you propped up against the walls. Your fingertips only fell off his skin as you took the time to rearrange the canvas so that he could see them all clearly without them overlapping one another. 

Every piece was different, yet the same, a collage of colors and techniques that worked together to make such a sight for the eyes. And for the first time in Steve Harrington’s life, he came to appreciate art and almost felt like he could see every brush stroke that you had put into them.  

His own fingertips strung free from his pockets, reaching out to feel the paint over his skin. There was a texture in this specific painting, the one of a bright blue sky with pastel clouds, something out of a lover-like fantasy world.

“Wow… so this is all you, right?” 

You nervously squeezed your hand tightly around the stems, nodding your head “Yeah, and they’re not my best work but—“

At the admission of hearing you tear yourself down so quickly, he jumped in headfirst and didn’t let you finish that sentence. Instead, he looked at you like you were totally mad — furry brows bunched together as he pshed and gestured back to Lover painting he was now going to coin it.

“No, these are amazing… I mean like seriously, the details are so realistic.”

You laughed lightly, whispering a soft “thank you.”

You watched him, the way he didn’t skip a beat, grabbing the next painting beside the pastel sunset. There was a visible contrast between the two canvases. Unlike the previous one that was filled with bright colors, this was gray and black. A forest somewhere that you had made up in your imagination, with tall trees and an ominous fog that you could only dream about what was on the other side of it.  

“How much?” Steve asked you, turning his head to look your way where you raised your brows confused. 

“What?”  Your eyes squinted, trying to understand if he meant how much time you took to paint it.

“For a painting. This one looks really cool and I think it would look nice on my wall. The car poster is getting a little lonely up there all by itself.”

He chuckled, looking back at the painting and holding it far out towards the wall to try to picture it in his room.

You couldn’t take him seriously. There was no way he was asking you how much a painting was. None of your friends ever bought a piece of your artwork, and never even voiced want to own something that you had taken the time to make. Which is why you never really had a lot of friends anymore, but let alone believe what you heard coming from Steve’s mouth.  

“W-what?”

He looked at you, raising his brows then going to pick up another, “No?  Then what about this one? I think it would be a nice contrast because the colors of my walls are actually—”

You stopped him, clutching onto his wrist because you couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t have to pity you and purchase something just to be kind. You didn’t want him to go out of his way for that. 

“Steve, you really don’t have to buy one.” Your voice was full of trepidation and uncertainty, something he didn’t understand. 

He placed the piece down prompting you to let go of his wrist as you shuffled back awkwardly, not meeting his eyes and instead boring holes into the pieces you had made, judging every detail and how Steve couldn’t possibly own one of them, let alone hang it on his wall. 

“Why not?” He sought gently, his fingertips grazing your hands that you tugged on, halting you for a moment as you finally looked up to meet his eyes.

You swallowed, wiggling your shoulders as you struggled to find the words.

“B-because, I don’t know…they’re really not my best work and it’s embarrassing—“ 

Again, he shook his head with a look of reassurance accompanied with a deep frown that was unhappy about the way you were talking about yourself and the things you created.

“Hey, nonono, they’re all so beautiful. I’m serious. And I seriously want to buy one, so please?”

You took a deep breath, tightly pursing your lips and nodding, “Fine, ummm, just pick any you want… let’s say, $20!” 

He finally let up, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out more than a $20 bill and placing it in the palm of your hand, “You’re selling yourself too short.”

The contact of your hands touching already made your heart race a little faster, but it was the squeeze that he gave you that made your knees weak, along with the signature toothy smile that was a burning image in your head.

His hand retraced a few seconds later allowing you to stuff the cash into your back pocket, “No one buys art from an amateur over $20.”

“Then they don’t deserve your art because this is worth way over $20.” 

“Thanks, Steve.”

There was a few seconds of silence, watching Steve examine the piece he had picked out and you trying to see what wheels were spinning in his head. Probably him thinking about which wall to hang it on or worse, where the nearest garbage can was so he could dump it out and forget about it. 

You pinched your eyes shut for a minute, silently cursing yourself out of these stupid self-deprecating thoughts that always seemed to come out for no goddamn reason at all, even after the nice things Steve had said.

“I should pack up, everyone is leaving.” You cradled the bunches of flowers in your arm getting ready to clean up and get going, but of course, Steve beat you to it. 

Flipping over the wooden crate you were once sitting on, he tucked his purchased canvas under his arm while he carefully began to grab the other canvas, standing them upright in the wooden box. 

He always did this, and you weren’t sure if it was just when it came to you, or maybe it was a thing he did with the rest of his friends. But he was always willing to help—at least when it came to you. Always springing into action before you could even ask for help and even if you didn’t, he wanted to. 

“Will these fit in your trunk, or should I put them in the backseat?” He asked, beginning to walk towards the exit doors, ignoring your protests to try to carry the crate yourself. 

You eventually gave up, a small snicker coming from him that you picked up on as you caught up with him.

“Umm neither? I took the bus today.” 

He held the door open for you with his foot, listening while you walked out into the brisk night air. 

“I could give you a ride back home?” He suggested, looking at you, trying to decide.

“Are you sure?” You bit your lip, looking up at him where he nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket, dangling it in the air. 

You smiled softly, finishing into your own pocket, fingers spreading the cash he had given you just a few moments earlier, “I’ll take it if you let me pay for dinner?”

He shook his head with a chuckle before devotedly nodding his head.

“We have a deal.” 

The maroon BMW was easy to spot in the parking lot. Steve clicked the unlock button as the car offered one, two beeps before he popped the trunk open and carefully placed your things in there. You were already making your way to the passenger seat as he shut it, ready to pull the door open, but his hand reached forward first. 

Your eyes jerked to his, where he hovered closely behind you before pulling it open, “let me.”

Was Steve always this gentleman-like? Did he always open the door for his passengers? Maybe for Robin, but you weren’t quite sure about the others. Though you didn’t have much time to ponder his chivalrous, the door slightly closed after you had gotten in and the driver’s door opened as he jogged over.

“Where are we headed?” He tugged on his seatbelt, clicking it in as his eyes remained on yours.

“Do you like breakfast for dinner?” You asked, fingers brushing over the floral petals sitting in your lap before you flickered your eyes up at him. 

“Show me the way.” He grinned, putting the car in drive and letting you give him directions to your favorite spot. 

Maybe it was the fact that Steve had done a good job at preparing himself to not look and sound like an idiot when it came to you, but today he was more at ease which was surprising considering the fact that it was your first time alone without the rest of the crew actually around. All of the nervousness and built up anxiety from the last encounter seemed to have melted from both of your minds, just focusing on the now and savoring it.

When you and Steve finally arrived, you had beat him to opening your door, however he did walk a few milliseconds faster just so he could hold the front doors to the diner open while you brushed past him with a giggle. 

“Hi, sweetie pie!” 

The voice of your dear friend and favorite waitress, Dorothea, came barreling out the double doors of the kitchen as she caught your entrance through the tiny window sliver. Dorothea was a lot older than you, but she felt like the only friend and mother figure you had here in Roane. 

You immediately wrapped your arms around her, hugging her closely with a squeeze, “Hi, Dorthy! Missed you!” 

She laughed at your nickname for her, rubbing your back warmly before pulling away and turning her curious sights to Steve, “Missed you more, pumpkin. And who might this be?” 

You backed away, just enough to stand beside Steve and gesture to him, “A friend of mine! He came by to stop at the gallery and I had to take him here.” 

He waved at her, stepping forward with a hand lent out for her to shake, but in Dorthy’s overly-friendly manner, she wrapped him up in a hug, a tight one just like she had you in a few moments ago. 

“Oh—well this is nice.” He mumbled, making you stifle a laugh as he shyly hugged her back and patted her shoulder stiffly.

Finally letting go, she took a good look at him, almost inspecting every detail of his face with her brows slightly raised, trying to intimidate him and send him running out the door. It was safe to say that Dorothea was protective of you, just like a mother would to a daughter, and to her, you were the one she never had. It meant a lot to see you walking in for the first time in a year with a boy whom she had never seen by your side. But seeing as though Steve didn’t seem to be scared or cower backwards, she laughed, giving his shoulder a firm pat. 

“Your name?” She ordered plainly.

He swallowed, glancing at your not so fazed self, “Umm, Steve. Steve Harrington.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve!” She patted him on the back, before turning to you with a wink, “C’mon, your favorite seat is open.” 

You screeched softly, clapping your hands to yourself quietly. Dorthy guided the both of you to a secluded booth in the back of the diner, the one with the only working jukebox machine and motioned for you to slide in and take a seat.

“Wanna take a look at the menu, hun?” Dorthy pulled out a copy of the menu from her apron, passing it to Steve who thanked her. 

“Do you know what you’re getting?” He proposed, looking up at you from the menu. 

You nodded with a smile, your eyes drifting up, seeing her pen drifting over the notepad just awaiting your confirmation.

“The usual,”  you responded as she bowed and began jotting it down.

As she wrote, you turned your attention back to Steve, filling him in on what you ordered all the time.

“A Spanish omelet. A side of French toast smothered with strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. And a small decaf and water.” 

“A meal fit for champions.” Dorthy quips as Steve laughs, not bothering to look at the rest of the menu. 

“I’ll get the same thing, but instead of strawberries can I do the blueberries?” 

“Sure, hon,” she says, doubling the order and making a note from the fruit substitute.

Steve handed her back the menu as she finished up, watching the ballpoint pen point towards the wall of the booth where Strawberry Shortcake and Elvis were singing next to a road sign that read, “Music and Food Ahead!”

“You know she did the mural in here?”

Dorth wore a proud expression, watching Steve’s eyes go wide, and twisting his head around at the restaurant that was covered in your art. 

You rolled your eyes lovingly, shoving away at her hands, “stop it, Dorth!” 

“Holy shit…you did all this by yourself?”

Steve leaned closer to the wall, getting a good look at the meticulous detail that you put into the whole thing. His eyes shuffled between going wide and squinting to take it all in.

Dorothea didn’t give you time to respond to his question, instead speaking for you, “Yep, in 113 hours.” 

“131”  you corrected with a smirk as she rolled her eyes sarcastically and clicked her pen shut.

Steve let out another expletive under his breath, tearing his eyes from the wall leaning back into the seat to look at you in amazement that you hadn’t told him this sooner. If he had known you had painted and designed a mural for a diner as big as this one, he would’ve asked Jonathan if he could borrow his camera so he could take pictures of it.

“131 hours… she’s talented, you know.” She raised her brows at Steve with a hand on her hip. 

He beamed, patting the walls and not letting his eyes leave yours, “Insanely.” 

Dorothea was warming up to him, a giddy laugh erupting as she nudged your shoulder with her elbow.

“I like him!” She buzzed not so softly to you as you giggled and hung your head down shyly away from Steve’s gaze.

The ripping of paper came from her notepad, ready to head back over to the kitchen and get your dishes started,

“Food should be out in twenty. Try not to break the jukebox in the meantime.”

You looked back over your shoulder shouting out, “I would never!” as she waved her hand in the air mindlessly at you

Steve’s eyes were still glued to you, filled with awe at hearing just how much work you put into doing this all yourself. But you, on the other hand, were too busy scanning the songs on the marquee, wondering which one you would pick to play first. 

“I still can’t believe you did all this.” Steve shook his head in disbelief, fingers tracing the outline of the road that you painted on the adjacent wall. 

You grunted, wiggling your shoulders as you began to tell him more of how you got in that position in the first place.

“Dorothea and I met because she used to stop by the gallery from time to time and when she got the job here, she told the owner about my work.” 

“Really?” Steve asked, watching you finally take your sights away from the jukebox and look at him. 

You nodded, resting your chin on your fist, “Originally they just had the checkerboard pattern in here,” you pointed to the black-and-white tiles that were on the ground, his eyes following your finger.

“But then Dorothy reached out and asked if I was willing to come in and do a custom 50s mural.” 

“But in that many hours? How’s that even possible?” He crossed his arms over his chest watching you closely.

You looked behind you suspiciously before leaning closer towards him, your mouth covering one side of your mouth as you whispered.

“A ton of coffee and a promise of free food for life….but the owner doesn’t know that.”  You confessed, watching him throw his head back and cover his face as he laughed. 

“You’re gonna milk them dry of coffee and pancakes one day,” He joked

You shrugged your shoulders, relaxing back into the booth and sighing, “They’ll survive just like how I survived painting this piece of crap.”

The insult towards yourself slipped without hesitation, masked with faint laughter while you looked around the too colorful restaurant where the walls were littered with everything that came from your hands.

As soon as it left your mouth, Steve’s laughter stopped watching your eyes drift over the rest of the diner, shaking your head to yourself as if you were disgusted with the masterpiece you made. He didn’t know why you were so hard on yourself, your own worst critic at times even when it came to little things that he would die to be praised upon.

But you hated it as if you hated yourself.

“Why do you always do that?” He sought, leaning on his elbows, seeing you turn to face him.

Your forehead creased up, silently asking him what he meant.

“Why do you always tear yourself down? I—I noticed that about you.”

His voice was quiet, mixed with a hint of concern, obviously. The crease in your forehead fell, and instead you looked almost bewildered, as if you didn’t know how to answer it rather than why he was questioning you in the first place.

“I don’t know, i—it’s easier for me to be critical than to be nice to myself.” You admitted, swallowing and looking down at the jukebox like the list of songs would distract you from his stare you could feel.

“Why?” Steve asked again simply, not trying to prod but just trying to understand.

You shrugged again, not meeting his eyes this time around, “It’s what I’m used to hearing — how I need to do more instead of being satisfied with what I did.”

“Then why not just think about what you did in the moment and be proud of that?”

You scoffed, not with any harsh intentions but just at the irony, because you always tried but had those other voices eating away at you. The devil living rent free in your consciousness, tearing you down at every opportunity.

“You mean what wasn’t enough?” You respond dryly, and Steve rolled his eyes, tutting at your response.

He offers you a stern look, but at the same time a gentle kind that tells you he truly means what he’s saying.

“Stop that. You’re doing it again and you know that it’s not true.”

“It kinda is…I mean, just look at me. I haven’t painted anything in days. You bought a canvas that I haven’t been able to sell in months. I’m practically the epitome of a failure right now.”

You looked just as stressed as you sounded. Hands running from your forehead to your scalp, threading your fingers through your hair and giving them a slight tug. Lips parted as you took a deep and long breath out. Eyes pinching closed accompanied with a shake of your head before they snapped open and met his apologetically.

“S—sorry, I’m rambling. I just…it’s been so hard to actually get stuff done, y’know?”

He nodded sympathetically as if he knew exactly what you were talking about, but in his head, the most stressful thing that happened with his job was getting tapes returned after the deadline and having to deal with complicated customers who didn’t want to pay the late fee.

Still, he just wanted to make you feel better.

“I mean, I get it,” He started, swallowing, trying to gather his thoughts into a clump of something that would make sense.

“…I can’t even imagine how stressful painting this entire restaurant must have been, and on top of that, I know it’s probably a lot of pressure to keep producing those pieces of art—but it’s gotta be worth a little more than money, you know?”

Steve’s words intrigued and perplexed you in the best possible way. Letting up on the tug you have on your roots, you brought your fists back down to your chin as you raised a querying brow at him. He understood, nodding as he licked his lips and peers up again, trying to muster the thoughts.

“Like—it’s like you don’t realize that people are actually so captivated by what you make. I swear, if you told Robin or Will that you painted this place, they’d go batshit crazy and run around here complimenting everything you did. So would everyone else.”

There is truth to every single word he’s saying and Steve knows that, yet you still sit across from him, wondering if that’s really true. As if there was a possibility that he’d ever lie about something so small yet incredibly important to you, because this was a habit of self-deprecation that was planted by someone who was the opposite of Steve.

The person who would nit-pick at everything you did and made you feel like the things that you enjoyed doing and were proud of shouldn’t be on a pedestal and appreciated. Instead, it was knocked off and shattered into a million tiny pieces where every single flaw was showcased.

And while the person wasn’t in your life anyone, there was a permanent mark that you couldn’t erase and the habit that you never got the chance to grow out of — being so judgemental and critical of yourself.

“I’m sorry…did—did I say something?”

You were quiet for less than a minute, but it was enough to fret Steve and regret what he had said, thinking he must have hit a little too close to home.

Why was he always like this? It happened just a few days ago when you both were separated between his bedroom door and now sitting here in front of you actually seeing you go silent felt even more anxiety inducing.

But you shook your head quickly, glazed eyes coming back to life, full of reassurance just like the words that you spoke a little too fast for your liking.

“Yeah…I mean no! I mean, yeah, you said something, but not in a bad way. In a good way, actually! I just… sorry, I’m thinking.”

Steve replied with a small tight-lipped smile, nodding his head as a way to say, take all the time you need and think away… but just be sure to think good things about yourself.

You turned your head on your hands, deliberately making a round through the diner that you painted and poured your heart and soul into. That sure, while Dorthy had to bribe you with some coffee and food because the owner didn’t meet your price, it was actually decent and if you weren’t the one who painted it, you would’ve been praising it every time you walked in here.

Even if you painted Strawberry Shortcake’s lashes a little too full that it looked like spider legs or made Elvis’ hair so tall it could be mistaken for a wave, it all came together and like Steve said it was worth more than what you were paid.

It gave you experience.

Spending days going back-and-forth sharing sketches with the owner and even his little daughter that begged and pleaded with her dad to include Strawberry Shortcake despite the 50s theme.

Multiple trips back over to your favorite art store in Hawkins to pick up the paints that you liked to work with in too many shades to count.

Long days and even longer nights with your headphones blasting the same tape on repeat when you just started outlining the whole thing.

Hunched over in awkward positions and standing on a creaky ladder to make sure you didn’t miss filling in a spot with color.

On goers on the other side of the windows peering in to admire the art inside the diner that would soon be a grand opening to them.

Signing your name teeny tiny-ly in pink right beside Strawberry Shortcake’s hat when you finally finished the whole piece.

Getting the biggest hug from the owner’s daughter once she stepped in and saw her favorite character painted included on the mural.

Getting even more compliments and praise from the staff and customers who were impressed by the sheer talent that was depicted on the wall.

Steve was right.

It was worth more than money and sure as hell was worth a lot more than your critiques when you did the very best you could with the deal you had in front of you at the time.

Why were you always so mean to yourself when all you wanted was to just be nice?

You were nice to Dorthea.

You were nice to Robin.

You were to all of your new friends.

You were especially nice to Steve.

But you weren’t nice to yourself.

You had to start making an effort to be.

Your eyes made its last round of the diner, ending with your orbs meeting Steve’s, whose didn’t seem to tear away from you during your thinking time. He watched every second, seeing the way you’d pinch your eyes tight to see something better and how he could tell there was happiness behind them when they landed on a particular part you were proud of.

The wheels were turning in your head and he hoped what he said stuck because he wanted, needed you to know his words were true. You were everything in a way that was too profound for him to ever describe.

“Whatcha thinking?” Steve pondered out loud as your eyes finally landed on his.

You smiled gingerly, shrugging your shoulders, “That I ought to be nicer to myself.”

“Yeah?” Steve grinned heartily, content with the fact that you were seeing it through the way that he was.

You nodded assuringly before your hands trailed behind you, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your wallet. He watched you, hearing the zip from a compartment being opened followed by the clank of the coin dropping onto the table.

“Annnnnnd I’m also thinking about what song I’m gonna play.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at how short and sweet you kept it when it came to what you were really thinking about just then. But to him what mattered the most was that you heard him out and something inside you lit up bright enough if you had told him that you were really going to start being nicer to yourself.

Whatever you were thinking and keeping to yourself was fine by him, just crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t need to hear you tear yourself down any longer because if he did, he was sure that he was going to tell you all the reasons why he thought you were so great.

Your fingernail traveled down the list of songs, beaming excitedly when you saw your favorite as you hastily inserted the coin and punched in the number and letter that got the tune ringing through the restaurant speakers.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as the piano crescendoed through the diner and your head thumped to the beat while your mouth moved along with the lyrics. Last summer he had taken the kids to watch Top Gun at the theaters and for a week straight they couldn’t stop singing the song. He had almost grown annoyed with it until now.

He was going to be sure to thank them for singing it so much that the lyrics were now ingrained in his brain so much so that he didn’t miss a beat mouthing along with you as you giggled through the tune, surprised he knew it so well by heart.

Though you were sitting, Steve could tell that you were letting go in some oddly cute way that he hadn’t seen you before. Your shoulders grooving to the beat and your hair tousling with each shake you gave to accompany the rhythm. You looked like you were having the time of your life here with him even if it was just at some diner in your part of town with your favorite song playing in the background.

His palms rested against the cool table top, sliding himself out of his seat and holding out his hands towards you as the music continued. Your head bops stopped for only a few seconds, eyeing the hand he held out to you before trailing to his face.

“Let’s dance?” He asked, wiggling his brows while his head thumped.

You bit your lip, looking back at the nearly empty diner knowing that it didn’t matter if this place was full or not, you were going to take his hand and dance for the next two minutes. Being nicer to yourself meant many things and not caring what others thought was one of them.

“Sure, why not,” you breathed, taking his hand as he pulled you up out of your seat and began moving the both of you to the beat of the music as you sang along.

Your hands holding onto his as you both jumped around looking like complete love sick fools in the back of the diner where the few customers way up front smiled at the sight. Laughter intertwined with the singing and hair moving in every direction with each sway and turn.

All the care in the world that you could give right now went out the window with Steve’s hand in yours. Not even in the romantic or platonic sense, but in a human way that was too complex for you to describe. Like some sort of sorcery that sucked you into an alternate dimension where you could just be free of judgment and anxiety.

At one point in your life, you used to sit across the table with someone who would tell you to stop wasting your quarters playing dumb 50s love songs while you devoured pancakes. And here you were playing those stupidly dumb love songs with someone who got up and asked you to dance not caring how many quarters you’d use for the remainder of the night.

Steve wished that he had ordered more food because maybe then it would take longer for the order to come out and cut the dancing short, but still he kept it going. Pouring out all his change into a pile near the jukebox as you two ate your dinner, taking turns picking songs while he resisted the urge to ask you to dance with him again.

If he did, however, you were sure you’d drop your fork in a snap and take his hand all over again.

A snap back to reality is what Steve took instead, instantly flooded with a hug from Dorothea as she walked you two out of the diner and wrapped her arms across his body snuggly.

“It was nice meeting you, honey bun! Get her home safely and I hope I see you around soon!”

Steve snickered, nodding against her shoulder before he pulled away and stepped aside, giving you ample room to hug her.

“Bye, Dorth, I’ll see you! Thanks again for dinner!”

You kissed her cheek lovingly before pulling away, waving one last goodbye to her before you and Steve walked towards his car.

It didn’t surprise you that instead of heading towards the driver’s side; he jogged up to the passenger door, holding it wide open for you as you trailed a bits behind him. You shook your head halfheartedly, watching a smirk splay over his face still holding the door for you.

“After you,” He said in his best English accent, making you giggle as you slid into the seat and he shut the door before you could give him your gratitude.

A few seconds later, he was already in the driver’s seat, buckling in and starting up the car, ready for the drive back to your place. You watched him check his mirrors one last time before he shifted the car to reverse, his head turning back to the rear as his hand rested behind your chair as he backed out.

“Did you need me to give you directions?” You shifted your body towards him.

He shook his head, turning back around and moving the car into drive, “I think I know the way from here, but a little tour guide would be nice.”

The radio wasn’t needed for the car ride back, instead the air was filled with gasps and pointed fingers in different directions as Steve drove and you happily gave him a brief tour of your part of town. Not that it was any different from Hawkins with the small-town feel to it, but in a lot of ways Roane just felt more cozy.

Steve picked up on that right away, feeling the sense that Roane was more like you in many ways, but especially the scenery. Even in the night, he could see the rose bushes that decorated the side roads and the endless turns into different mom-and-pops that were slowly dying out in his town.

You pointed out the small park down the road which held your town’s weekly farmers’ market that you grocery shopped at most of the time. A lot of the produce was from local farmers and gardens. You even mentioned that during the fall, Merrill Wright who owns the pumpkin patch in Hawkins, occasionally stops by and donates pumpkins for the town’s annual carving contest.

But your favorite part of town seemed to be a small cafe called Taylor’s, or that’s just what Steve was assuming by your reaction.

“And that’s my favorite coffee shop!” You blurted, pointing at the quaint store on the corner of the block you and Steve drove past. 

You began to trail off, telling him about the place that you found yourself always going to, “They have this honey rose latte, and it’s like the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life… you need to try it! And they make these things called cronuts—” 

“Cronuts?” Steve peeked over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, captivated by your enthusiasm over a baked good that was foreign to him.

“Yeah! So it’s basically like if a croissant and donut had a child. Perfectly flaky on the outside, yet soft and buttery on the inside. They make a couple of variations every morning, but they usually sell out so quickly before I can get my hands on any.”

You sighed sadly, sulking back into the seat, knowing that you were never really a morning person and with their early opening time, it would be impossible to drag yourself out of bed to snag a dozen, no matter how heavenly they tasted.

“Have you ever tried making your own? I’m sure you could do it,” Steve spoke, turning the wheel into your complex.

You shook your head. “I tried a few times, but I can’t seem to get it down. I even tried asking the owners to share the recipe, but I think it’s one of the family ones that they want to keep a secret.”

He turned into a parking spot directly in front of your unit where the motion sensor light sparked up, casting a gentle golden glow around the both of you.

“That’s a shame. You know, I could always try to sneak in and steal their secret recipe for you?” His voice was laced with playfulness.

You couldn’t help but giggle, scrunching your face up with laughter, “I don’t think I’d have enough to bail you out for trespassing and robbery, Steve.”

His eyes drifted up in the air, while his fingers pointed at you. “But if I get the recipe for you, then you could open up your own place and outsell them, then you could bail me out.”

You reached out to poke at his arm gently, shaking your head. “Don’t entice me! Though I don’t think I’d be able to sleep or bake knowing you’re locked up.”

The car had been placed into park a little while ago, yet here you and Steve sat, still looking at each other with awfully wide smiles that didn’t have any plans to disappear anytime soon — the two of you wanting to stay in the sweet warmth that enveloped you.

Steve shrugged his shoulders and his eyes sparkled with adoration, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. The guys would totally be scared to mess with me after hearing how far I went to get a recipe for the best baker in Roane.”

You blushed stupidly at his words, “I’m just a regular person that enjoys baking!”

“Nope! You’re like on some Julia Child level. I won’t be surprised if you have your own baking show one day.” He said genuinely.

Crackling your nose, genuine humor and horror flashed over your face, “Ew god no! She’s amazing and I’m terrible on camera. I’ll probably freeze up and forget that I’m supposed to be talking the audience through every step.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, scolding you softly, “Hey, be nice to yourself.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, totally letting the comment slip by accident, “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot! But like seriously, I’m camera shy and that’s a fact, not an insecurity thing.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, when I was seven the local reporter asked me what my favorite ride at the county fair was and I froze up and I asked for my mommy.”

He pursed his lips, blinking his eyes closed and nodding his head admittedly while you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock. You tried to stifle your laughter but you couldn’t, convulsing down with endless giggles erupting in your chest.

“Steve! God, I’m so sorry! You must have been traumatized!”

He joined in on the laughter, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “I refused to watch the news! Every time my dad would turn it on, I would sprint towards the remote and change the channel because I was terrified of seeing myself on there.”

“I guess that would make two of us dorks on camera.” You settled down, eyes lingering on him where he nodded with a smile.

Neither of you wanted to say goodnight.

“I-I had a really great time tonight.” You started, rubbing your hands together in your lap, the slight wrinkling of the brown wrapping paper around the flowers making the only noise in the car. 

He hummed in agreement, “So did I…the most fun in a while, but I’m probably going to be dreading sitting in traffic all the way back home, but it was worth—”

“Why don’t you stay over at mine tonight?”

The offer came out a little quick for your liking, even without you fully thinking it through, but it just seemed like the right thing to say.

“Really?” Steve asked, lifting his brows

You nodded, gulping down quickly, “Yeah! I can take the couch and you can take—”

“I’m not letting you take the couch.”

You breathed out, rolling your eyes, “Fine! You can take the couch and I’ll be sure to give you plenty of blankets and fluff up the pillows extra nice.”

“Hmm, it sounds tempting. You sure? I really don’t mind sitting through the traffic.”

You nodded firmly again, “Positive! Plus, they take forever to reopen the roads here, but they’ll probably be open in the morning and it’ll be just right.”

After having reassured him of his stay, he removed the keys out of the ignition before following your lead as you exited the car. You remained on the pavement, subconsciously waiting for Steve and digging into your jean pocket for your keys. Steve was quick, making a pit stop at the trunk to grab your crate of paintings you had forgotten about.

“Oh, thank you!” You whispered as you felt him behind you.

He simply smiled, following step by step to your front door and lingering close by as you worked the key into the lock, twisting it open. You entered first, your hand blindlessly pushing the door to keep it open for Steve as he stepped through. The dark entrance quickly lit up with the yellow fluorescence from when you flipped the light switch on.

You tioed your sneakers off, placing them on the small rack near the door and tossing your keys in the small pottery bowl.

“You can just give those to me.” You said, holding your arm out to finally take the crate from Steve as he obliged and worked on unlacing his shoes and placing them next to yours.

You walked deeper into your apartment, setting the crate down in an empty corner in the living room before you began turning on the rest of the lights to brighten up the place a bit. Surprisingly, you kept the place pretty tidy over the last few days, just a couple of paint bottles that you had left on the coffee table as you attempted to paint this morning before the gallery — unfortunately, that was unsuccessful.

And while Steve kept to himself, watching you quietly as you walked around and picked up a few things you had lying around, he couldn’t help but notice the vase of flowers he had previously given to you, still thriving in the middle of your coffee table. 

Soon you were already heading towards the kitchen, walking past him with the new bunch of flowers in your hand ready to get them in another vase before they began to wilt. 

“Do you want something to drink? Tea or anything?” You called out, tearing off the brown wrapping and tossing it into the rubbish before reaching for a glass jar to store them in for the meantime. 

Steve didn’t miss a beat, crossing the short distance between the kitchen and the hallway watching you place the roses upon the kitchen window sill hoping they’d catch some much needed sunlight in the morning. 

You turned on your heel, reaching for the fridge and opening it to retrieve the pitcher full of cold water. 

“Just some water.” He said, grabbing clean glasses from the dishrack and held them out for you as you poured.

Steve waited until you closed the fridge before pushing out your glass first, letting you get your sip before him. To you it felt like a nice flow with him here, like a harmony of domesticity that you didn’t know you had been missing out on. 

You leaned against the counter, watching him gulp the remainder of his water as you spoke, “Should I shower first, then you second? I think I might have a pair of sweats that could fit you, but I don’t think I’ll have a top or anything like that.”

He swallowed and nodded, “That’s fine, just some pants will be good enough. You don’t mind if I use the phone to call Robs? Just wanna let her know that I’m staying the night before she spam calls my house.”

You laughed, pointing towards the living room where the rotary phone sat on a small table near the couch, “She must be worried sick, so you better call soon. I’m gonna go shower really quick. And I swear I won’t use all the hot water!”

“No, please, don’t stop your hot water hogging in my presence.” He called out as you laughed out loud on your way to your bedroom to fetch a clean pair of pajamas for the night.

He heard the bathroom door shut and the water from the shower start up. Reaching back into the fridge, he poured himself another half cup of water, and finished it quickly before grabbing both his and your cup and heading towards the sink. After giving them a brief wash and setting them upside down on the rack to air dry, he plopped onto the couch, picking up the phone and dialing the numbers he knew by heart.

One, two, two-and-a-half rings, then the line picked up.

“I am so sorry we didn’t make it tonight! I swear, I was telling Eddie to drive faster, but then the stupid city troopers just started blaring their sirens and stepping out onto the road and before you know it, the road was closed, which is why—”

Maybe he had gotten accustomed to Robin’s rants, but he was almost about to let her finish before he had realized that she thought it was you on the other line and not her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress his laughter as he cut her off, “Robin, jeez, slow down, it’s just—”

“Steve!”  she exclaimed, nearly damaging his eardrums, “Why does it say you’re calling from Roane County?”

“Because I’m in Roane, dingus. I’m spending the night at her apartment. Traffic is still way too backed up for me to make it back to Hawkins tonight.”

There was a sharp gasp that came from her, followed by a hand hitting something, or actually someone who was sitting beside her, and shrieked out a “What!” in response.

Not that Robin was a great liar or anything, but Steve just knew she was doing a bad job at trying to hide the fact that Nancy, Max, and El were also in her bedroom, as he couldn’t mistake their familiar voices and gasps — especially Robin’s not so quiet whisper.

“Steve is spending the night with her at the apartment! Holy shit, he finally made his move!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, stretching the phone away from his ear as the sounds of girly screams and giggles came loudly from the other side. Rustling followed, which sounded like the phone dropped before it was picked up, and Robin’s voice echoed again.

“Steve? Steve, hello, are you still there?!”

“If I say yes, will you guys stop screaming like six-year-olds?” He asked with a heavy sigh, followed by a grunt by Robin.

Steve swore he could see the rolling over her eyes, just by the sarcastic scoff she offered him, “Don’t be ridiculous Steve, we’re more like ten-year-olds. Still in our youth, yet on the brink of teenage dirtbag status.”

“You have to stop hanging out with Eddie, I swear—you know what, whatever. I’m staying at her place as a friend. Did you get that? Friend.”

Again, there was that knowing sarcastic scoff that she responded with that would be followed with her classic banter.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stevie. Just make sure you wear a rubber if you and her plan to “spend the night” as more than friends! I don’t need my friend knocked up with baby Harrington before her and I got the chance to go bar hopping.”

“Can we come too?” He could hear the two eager voices of El and Max in the background.

“No.”

Max jumped in, leaning in closer to the receiver, “To which one exactly? You and her sleeping together or us going to the bar?”

Steve hissed, shutting his eyes tightly “Robin, take me off a speaker! And that’s a no to both, by the way!”

There was laughter erupting from the other side again, before he heard a click and Robin’s voice came in a lot clearer as she pressed the phone to her ear, cutting Steve off from the rest of the gals.

“I’m just poking some fun at you, dingus. Your sex lives are none of my business, but I’m just trying to preach safety. How was the gallery by the way?”

He took a deep breath of relief, finally escaping to what he hoped would be a normal conversation with the uncomfortable comments towards him and his sex life that really was zero to none. 

“Great. I actually bought something off of her, plan to hang it on my wall right next to the car poster above my desk.” He answered.

“Honestly, if I were you, just ditch that lame car poster and buy the rest of her art and flood your walls with it.” She half joked.

“No, that would be creepy — like a stalker level creepy or something. I don’t want her to think I’m creepy.”

Robin snorted. “The fact that you even considered it shows me how badly you actually want to get rid of that car poster.”

“Whatever…gonna throw it out next weekend or something.” He sighed, realizing that he had grown out of the lame car poster since he was sixteen.

“Or we could donate it to the Salvation Army? Maybe some pretentious twelve-year-old will think it’s another man’s treasure.” Robin suggested half jokingly.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Anyway, after the gallery we went for dinner at her favorite diner—”

She gasped as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, “The one with the French toast smothered in strawberries?!”

He chuckled, nodding his head to himself. “Yeah, that one. She got hers with strawberries and I got blueberries.”

“Do you have something against strawberries?” She accused suspiciously.

“I thought I told you they’re too tart for my tastebuds — now can I tell you about the rest of the night?”

“Please do.” She responded, dropping the whole spiel about fruit and forgetting why she asked in the first place.

“Before we got our food, we talked, then we danced, then we ate and then we ended up here. She’s in the shower right now.” He looked down the hallway still hearing the shower going in the bathroom.

“Danced? Since when did you like dancing and may I ask what song?”

He pshed, rolling his eyes but he knew she could feel it, “I always liked dancing just not with you because you always step on my feet, and it was Great Balls of Fire.”

“Dude, I stepped on your foot like twice and it was actually your fault because you got the routine wrong! And I thought you said you hated that song?”

“Well, I don’t hate the song… at least not anymore.”

There was a gag on the other side of the line, making him chuckle before she spoke, “You’re so in love it makes me physically sick.”

His eyes widened, turning his voice down to a whisper, “Don’t say that! I’m not in love, I’m just…just, shit, I’m just—”

“Just really whipped by her, trust me we alllll know, but hey, if you want to play the long excruciating game before you finally see it through, then by all means go ahead, but the day you two finally stop dancing around these feelings will be the best day in my—”

“Steve, do you think these will do?” Your voice came barreling into the living room and his hand clasped over the receiver of the phone, cutting your voice off from Robin's side.

Your hair was wrapped up in a towel and you were dressed in some baggy sleep shorts and a tank top to match. You held a pair of gray sweats in your hands, along with a dark blue towel folded right beneath it.

Steve removed his hand from the phone, “Uh shoot, Robin, hold on,” he then placed the phone down, standing up and taking the pants from you.

He unfolded it, checking it out before nodding, “Yeah, these are fine. Thanks.”

You clapped your hand together cheerfully, “Okay, great! Sorry, I threw out all of my ex’s old stuff that he left, but you probably wouldn’t want to wear anything that douche owned, anyway.”

He nodded and watched as you gestured back to the bathroom.

“I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom by the way. And you can use my shampoo and body wash, I don’t mind! But you’ll probably smell like a florist by the time you get out, so just beware.”

Steve grinned, shrugging his shoulders, “Nothing I’d rather smell like — oh! Robin’s still on the phone by the way.” He looked down at the device, slight static that could be heard as you nodded.

“Can I talk to her for a bit?” You asked, walking over to take his spot on the couch.

He nodded and tucked the items under his arm as he began walking backwards towards the bathroom, “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“Will do.” You saluted, taking his previous spot on the couch as he spun around and headed into the bathroom.

“Robs?” You picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear.

“My favorite person in the entire world, hi! Sorry the rest of us couldn’t make it tonight. It was a whole thing with half the kids running late, Eddie not driving fast enough, then the road closed. Total chaos, but we’ll make it to the next one for sure!”

Her voice bursted with energy, excitement, and sincerity despite the late hour of the night, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. For some reason, she was always energized and ready to go, something you secretly wished you had too.

You giggled, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face, “Don’t even worry about it, I totally understand! And if it makes you guys feel better, it means a lot that you guys even remembered to come in the first place… it means a lot — more than you’ll ever know.”

“Stop! Don’t get all sappy on me because I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it without crying!” Robin warned with a sense of warmth laced in her comical tone.

You giggled again, playing off her teasing, “No, don’t you dare cry! You can’t cry when I’m not there to hug you and make it all better.”

She sighed dramatically, “Fine! I’m saving my tears for when you’re here to hold me and bless me with a homemade dessert.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way. I really missed you guys tonight.” You confessed, resting your head back on the couch as you could hear her apologetic sigh on the other side.

“We did too, but Steve told me you guys went out for dinner and he even danced with you?”

You hummed contentedly, “Yeah, he asked me to dance and it was great… the food and the dancing, duh.”

“Did he step on your toes?” She couldn’t resist taunting, knowing Steve wasn’t the best at footwork and probably skimped out on the deets of how he definitely stepped on your toes.

You laughed heartily and shook your head despite her not being able to see you, “God no, but I’m pretty sure I kinda scuffed up his Nikes.”

“He’s got a few more pairs at home. He’ll live.” She quipped, making the both of you laugh before she continued.

“Sooo did anything happen? Yenno besides dancing? Kissing perhaps?” Her voice was low and teasing, probing for more juicy details of the night.

Your eyes widened, feeling a slight blush creeping on your cheeks not wanting for Steve to stumble out on a conversation like this.

You cupped your hand over the receiver, eyes glued to the hallway to make sure he wasn’t going to come out of the bathroom anytime soon as you whispered.

“Jesus, no! W-we just dance and… sorta held hands while doing so but—”

Robin cheerfully interjected, happy that things were finally getting a move on with you and Steve, “Progress. We love to see it!”

“I thought we agreed on friends—” You started, before she quickly cut you off again and dismissed the thought of you and Steve just being friends.

“Yeah, whatever, be delusional and blind if you want. Just don’t act so surprised when the day finally comes when you both wake up and get together already.”

“You know, you’re so lucky that I love you.” You sighed half heartedly, half thankful and half terrified of her friendly meddling.

She gasped dramatically, holding a hand over her heart, “We’re already in the “I love you” stage? This is the fastest I’ve moved with a girl who isn’t even my girlfriend.”

“Well, consider me the first to say it after a few weeks, because it’s true. I love you… and all of your delusions.” You declared proudly, truly feeling that Robin was your platonic soulmate that you had been searching for since forever.

“I’m honored and I love you too! Speaking of “I love you’s”, do you love me enough to let me and the gal pals take a visit to Roane tomorrow?”

You thought for a minute, shrugging to yourself as you didn’t have much going on and it would be nice to have a girl’s day. After all, Max and El had been talking about wanting to explore Roane, and Nancy and Robs just wanted more quality time with you.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but I don’t have anything baked or prepared, but I can probably whip somethi—”

“Nancy and I got it covered! Just be up and ready. Let’s saaaayy around ten?” She assured you, clearly excited and ready for the visit.

“Okay, sounds like a plan, but I should probably go now. I still have to set up Steve’s bed for tonight, which is the couch—” you explained, ready to say your goodnights to her before being cut off again.

“You could always let him sleep in your bed?” she teased, earning a chuckle and eye roll from you.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m hanging up! Goodnight and I love you again.”

There were kissy sounds on her end, making you giggle before she spoke,“Night Night! Don’t forget protection and I’ll see you tomorrow…Oh! and tell Steve I said don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

“Night, Robs!” You said one last time before ending the call and looking forward to actually seeing her in person tomorrow along with the other gals.

Heading towards the small storage closet that housed plenty of household items, you grabbed a few things Steve would need for the night. An extra throw pillow and two blankets, a thicker one to keep him warm, and a thinner one to layer over the top if it got colder during the night.

You removed the decorative pillows that took up space on the already cramped couch, hoping it would magically make the space bigger to fit him. You fluffed up the throw pillow to the best of your ability, not wanting him to catch a cramp in his neck from the uncomfortable sleeping position. Not bothering too much with the blankets, you left them folded on the end of the couch, letting him decide how he wanted his makeshift bed to be for the night.

Still, even with the useless pillows thrown to the floor, the couch itself still looked too small for Steve. He was taller than you and the couch just barely housed your body when you laid straight on it. Though most times you would have to curl yourself into a ball to not feel so cramped.

Now you were really regretting just getting the damn couch for the looks rather than the spaciousness, but you had no idea years ago that a nearly 6 foot guy would be staying over the night. You were debating on just convincing Steve to take your room, knowing he’d have a much better night’s rest on your bed, so much so that you hadn’t realized that the bathroom door had creaked open.

“Why are you looking at your couch like that?” Steve’s amused voice broke through your anxious thoughts.

Turning your head over your shoulder, you were met with the sigh of Steve Harrington clad in only the gray sweatpants you had lent him. The top half of his body was exposed to your eyes and the four walls of the apartment that would most definitely never forget the sight. 

“Umm, I uh, sorry… what did you say?” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

You were sure you looked like a tomato, eyes tightly shutting and trying to erase the image of him shirtless so you could stop acting like such a schoolgirl, however the freckles that sat across his skin were engrained in your mind — never could be wiped out. 

He chuckled, arms instinctively wrapping across his chest to conceal bits of him, as if that would make it less awkward than it already was. 

“It’s cute…” he remarked casually, brushing over your original question.

You opened your eyes slowly, a confused look plastered on your face because while you were totally distracted by his body, you knew for a fact he didn’t say anything about something being cute. 

“Huh?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, jutting his chin in the air towards you, “When you get all blushly.” 

You gulped, running your hand over your neck and collarbones, feeling the heat radiating off your body.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, but you were kinda just standing right there and I didn’t expect to see you looking like that.” You paused, watching his brow raise jokingly before you backtracked and stumbled upon more word salad. 

“Wait no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like that, in a bad way, but I meant like that in a ‘holy crap, I didn’t know Steve had so many moles and freckles’ kinda way.” 

Steve smiled, biting back for it to cover his entire face, knowing it would make you even more blushier and though he found it endearing he didn’t want to tease you for it. 

“They are kinda everywhere, huh?” He settled, looking down at his arms and inspecting the beauty marks that covered the expanse of it. 

You nodded, resisting the urge to count how many he had alone on his left shoulder alone, and the hair that sprawled over his chest, “Y-yeah, everywhere.” 

Steve didn’t let a second of silence go to waste, referring back to the original question he had asked you. 

“I asked you why you were looking at the couch that way.” 

Turning your head back at it, you gestured towards the length of the couch, sighing heavily before letting out a weak laugh. 

“There’s no way this is going to be comfortable for you, Steve. You’re like a tall giant and when I nap on here, I curl myself up like a worm in order to fit on it.”

He tsked, giving you a shake of his head before going around you and plopping stomach down onto the couch. Steve tries his best to look comfortable, though you can’t mistake the way he’s bending his knees and squeezing his shoulders in to fit on the piece of furniture. 

You giggled, settling on the floor and crossing your legs as you sat within eyesight of him. Your hand moved up to your head, removing the towel from your hair as you squeezed the fabric between your ends to soak up the remaining water as he watched.

“Steve, just take my bed tonight, please?” 

He closes his eyes, humming out a “Nuh uh.” 

“You’re going to wake up with horrible back pain tomorrow.” You warned voice lifting to something that was almost chiding. 

Yet he remained rigid, peeking his eyes open and shaking his head against the cushions, “I’m not taking your bed and if it makes you feel better I’ve slept on worse. Mike Wheeler’s dusty basement carpet, for example.” 

You scrunched your face up in disgust, nose instantly sniffling at the thought as Steve chuckled and maneuvered his palm under his chin to watch you. 

“I’d probably have a sneezing fit.” You mumbled under your breath.

He nodded, “I practically sneezed myself to sleep that night, but hey, it was better than being home with my parents there.” 

You grimaced, bunching your damp towel in your lap as you played with the fabric, wondering if you could ask him a question about his personal life. Sure, you had shared things with him, but you never wanted him to feel like he owed you part of his life just because you did.

Still you asked with caution and softness, “Sorry, if this is crossing a line, but… do you know when your parents get back in town or do they just show up unannounced?” 

He gave you a reassuring smile, swiping away the hesitance on your face that was scared you were going too far. And while Steve had told you a bit about his tumultuous relationship with his parents, you weren’t quite sure if he would be open to talking about it more – his perspective and everything. 

Usually he wasn’t, but with you he felt like he could. 

“Usually I can guess when they’re leaving and coming home. My dad has a lot of business trips and conferences during the summer. They host them at fancy hotels and resorts and my mom likes mingling with the other wives that go.” 

He explained and you nod, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on the caps as you continue to listen. 

“Yeah, so, in the summer they’re gone for like a week, then they come home for a few days. But during the day my dad is at the office and my mom hangs out with her lady friends so I can usually avoid them, but it’s harder to do at night… y’know ‘cause where else is my mom and dad going to sleep right?” 

He laughed uncomfortably, trying to make a joke out of it, which you totally understood because of the stipulations of him living under his parents’ roof and all, but still you knew that his home didn’t feel like home to him — at least not when his parents were there.

“And that’s why you prefer sleeping in Mike’s prehistoric basement, to avoid seeing them.” You speculated, but more so landed on the dot with.

He nodded, a tightlipped smile at how easily you saw through it and how you probably understood why he jumped at the offer at staying at your place tonight rather than going home and having to deal with running into his mom and dad.

Steve felt like, for the first time, he could go on and on about him, not terrified of making his family sound horrible, knowing it was embarrassing enough, but with you he knew you came with no judgment.

“I know it sounds crazy. Like why I can’t just suck it up and face them, but it’s so weird and dehumanizing. I can just tell that they’re judging me. I’m the only son they have and here I am still selling tapes at Family Video while my dad manages his own firm–” 

“But you’re happy, right?” You didn’t mean to cut him off so suddenly, but you knew that this was the most important question of them all.

He furrowed his brows, staring at you confused before spitting out an answer, “Happy? I mean…it’s kinda difficult always trying to evade my parents, but it does kinda feel like I’m a secret agent sneaking into a Russian base trying to get my uniform at seven in the—” 

You couldn’t help but interject again with a giggle, “I meant happy working at Family Video. You’re happy there, right?” 

His smile grew wider despite misinterpreting your question for the second time around, but still you didn’t grow irate with him, just patient and more than happy to ask again and that alone made him feel no judgment and embarrassment alone.

“Oh! Well yeah, I guess at first it was a little boring, but after Robin and I started to get the groove of it, now it just feels like we’re hanging out and doing chores to pass time. And we get to watch movies and eat in the backroom snack bar.” 

You smiled, lifting your shoulders up and letting them relax back down, happy with the sight of Steve in front of you. Sure, you knew that his parents were really hard on him, but he was the person who had to face it every day. Yet seeing him talk about how happy he was working with his best friend, that made up for a piece of the sadness that you could still tell was gnawing at him.

You weren’t sure if you could solve it, and you were sure that you couldn’t, but you could at least make it better for him.

“So who cares what your parents think? You’re happy and it’s working out for you, so what’s the big deal? Is daddy mad that his son doesn’t want to carry on his business legacy?” 

Steve laughed, a genuine laugh that he half stifled into the pillow before settling his cheek on it and shaking his head with a smug smirk.

“Oh, he’d jump for joy the day I put on a suit and walk out the house with a briefcase up my ass.” 

There was laughter in the air again, a sort of connection that was made purely off of the both of you opening up about something so deep and personal. In the diner it was him comforting you and here in your living room it was you being there for him in a way that no one else could.

It’s not that he didn’t want to open up to Robin or the rest of his friends about it, and truth be told they already knew. They knew that Steve had a rocky relationship with his parents, and Steve never hid it, but he did stray away from talking about it because why would he need to in the first place?

After all he had friends, true friends that cared about him the way that he wished his parents did, and he cared about them the way he always wanted to be appreciated for. Not tolerated just because his mom and dad were purely his blood, but celebrated because he found people who loved him in a way he didn’t think was possible.

But enough was enough for Steve. There was only so much he could hold in and after years of suppressing it and trying to act like it didn’t phase him the way it did when he was a teenager, it was now time to confront it and let it pass here…with you.

You settled from your laughter, slowly watching as Steve did the same, wrapping his arms over the pillow and propping his head up slightly supporting his chin.

You purse your lips, your fingers drawing circles on your knee as you spoke to him, “I know what it’s like. Unsupportive people and whatever, but you gotta just stick to it and they’ll back off eventually…or you can leave. Start a new chapter without them.” 

He seemed to ponder your words for a second before replying, “Is that what you did?”

With a knowing smile, you shrugged, “Yeah, I guess you could call packing up and leaving without telling anyone would count.” 

“That sounds like the dream.” He sighed, closing his eyes at the thought of packing up and running away to start his life without his parents in his.

You could tell he was thinking of it, dreaming up the thought of a life where he could live it the way he pleased without trying to please his mom and dad. You used to do the same thing, waiting for the day to finally get the courage to live your life and dreams unapologetically, without the weight of your ex that would only make you feel less than.

Instinctively, your hand reached out and softly tapped on his hand, prompting him to open his eyes and stare at yours resting upon his before meeting your eyes.

“It’s really nice, and hey, if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcomed here. I just can’t promise a comfier couch next time, but I can assure you I vacuum and mop the floors weekly.” You offered graciously.

“Thanks, that’s really nice of you.” Steve replied, the gratitude and sincerity evident in his voice.

Your thumb moved over his knuckles warmly, feeling the pulse point of his vein before retracting, “Of course, and thanks for today. Showing up and giving me a ride. It really means a lot.” 

Part of Steve wished you kept your hand there, knowing it was the thing that was keeping him grounded here with you, like a promise that you would keep forever. Instead, he settled for a smile, maneuvering his body and sitting upright to see you clearly.

“Yeah, no problem. I had a blast, and I’d love to come to the next one, whenever that might be. I’ll make sure everyone is on time this time around.” 

You grinned, standing up and throwing your damp towel over your shoulder, “I’ll let you turn in for the night, and please, don’t hesitate to wake me up before you leave.” 

“And ruin your beauty sleep?” He joked, standing up and holding his arms out towards you.

You giggled, shaking your head as you walked into the frame nuzzling your face into his warm chest and feeling his warmth envelope you. His bareness left little imagination to your sense of feeling, but just as you suspected, his skin was soft and the fuzz on his chest tickled your neck in a comforting way that you didn’t want to shake off.

Taking a deep breath of him in, and feeling his arms tighten around you, you whispered loud enough for him to hear, “Nighty night, Steve.” 

“Goodnight, sweet thing.” He replied in a soft murmur, his fingers leaving indents in the small of your back where he hugged you tightly before releasing and letting you go.

You had to find it in you, to finally pull away, giving him one around smile before you turned on your heel and headed towards your bedroom. The slight ruffling of the blankets and his body moving against the cushions as background noise on your short walk to the door before you took one last glance back and saw him smile at you, fingers ready to pull on the lampshade to turn the place dim.

Your fingers twiddled at him, before you finally shut your door, and only then did you hear the click of the lamp, darkening the rest of the apartment as you threw your towel into the hamper.

Slipping beneath your covers and turning to tuck your face into your pillow is where you finally let out a squeal – one that you had been holding back for the entire night. 

Steve had made you feel things, maybe things not so foreign because after all crushes were a normal part of life, but he made you feel a kind of way where the light bulb in your head lit up and stayed on when you were around him. Almost like a constant realization that he was always so good – good to you and good to everyone else in his life. 

He never wanted or asked you to change, but just wanted you to see things through in a way that would benefit you for the better. You never knew what this was like, accustomed to feeling like you had to shapeshift into being something that was pleasing for men, yet here you were not being asked for that by Steve. Just being asked to be nicer to yourself, because he knew you were worthy and capable of it.

Something in you was holding on to each and every single one of his words, hoping that he meant it in a way that was more. More than friends. More than everything that you believed you two were just destined to be. 

A sweet thing. Something so sweet that only you wanted with him, yet didn’t know if you could have. A kind of sweetness that could only be dreamt up in your wildest dreams.

And so dream you did, of the sweet things you and Steve could be in another world.

A word where you and him would switch off weekends at each other’s homes.

A world where you would stop in at Family Video just because you missed him.

A world where you could pick up the phone and hear his voice on the other line because he wanted to see what you were doing.

A world where you two would take turns washing dishes and drying.

A world where you could sit in your living room or a half empty diner and just talk without being afraid.

A world where it was just you two against whatever obstacle that you both were facing.

A sweet, sweet, sweet world where it was you and Steve, hand in hand, chest to chest, lips to—

“Wakey wakey, gorgeous! You forgot to set your alarm, didn't you?”

Your eyes snapped out, instantly letting out a shout as you saw Robin hover above you with your alarm clock in her hands. She flinched, stepping back and giving you room to breathe as you sat up and caught your breath.

“Robin, what the hell! How did you even get in here…and what time is it?” You gathered your comforter closer to your chest, closing your eyes and sighing, not believing this was real.

She shrugged her shoulders, placing your alarm clock back on the bedside table before plopping back first at the end of your bed and turned her head towards you.

“Max apparently has a talent for picking locks, and it’s almost a quarter to ten. We were going to just wait outside until you woke up, but I almost had a heatstroke out there so breaking and entering it was.”

Despite the suddenness of it all, you couldn’t help but close your eyes and let out a laugh as you fell back into your pillows. You definitely forgot to set your alarm last night and the last thing you wanted was your friends who drove all the way here to be waiting outside in the hot Indiana heat.

You felt Robin crawl up the space and settle beside you, her hands resting on the pillow where she laid her head as she smiled at you cheekily, “Not mad are you?”

You shook your head and bopped her nose before she crinkled it, “Nope! But you do owe me by making my bed.”

She groaned, stuffing her face in the pillows as you got up and stretched your arms out wide feeling the tension release in your limbs as you walked out of your room and headed to the living room to greet everyone else while Robin’s groans died down.

Max and El, sat on your couch flipping through comics. The blankets that Steve had used the night before neatly folded and placed on the arm of the furniture. Meanwhile, Nancy moved across the kitchen table setting out plates and utensils keeping to herself and knowing where everything was it seemed.

“Morning, pretty ladies.” You greeted, watched their eyes fall on your less than sleepy and surprised state.

El popped up from the couch first, easily clinging to your side with a hug, “Good morning! Sorry we had to break in, but Robin was dehydrated.”

You grinned, draping your arms around her and hugging her warmly before she pulled away, “We can’t have our dear Robin dying of dehydration can we?”

“Definitely not, especially not before she gets the inside scoop on you and Steve’s date last night.” Max chimed in, giving you a side hug as you rolled your eyes playfully and pushed her shoulder gently.

“It was not a date!” You retorted making your way to the kitchen to greet Nance who was smiling to herself as she still set the table.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, bringing her to a stop as she threw her head back and hugged you tightly, “Sorry about breaking and entering… but Robin and I brought some breakfast so I hope it helps!”

You looked over her shoulder, seeing the take out boxes of pancakes, link sausages, toast, and other goodies that they had picked up from a place in Hawkins.

“This totally makes up for it, and I’ll just give you guys a copy of my key. That way, no more breaking and entering and then you guys can bring me breakfast forever!”

“Sounds like a better idea than picking the lock every time,” she quipped pulling away from the hug, “do you have any orange juice, by chance?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab it, no worries,” You said heading towards the fridge and going to open it, before you noticed the bright yellow post-it that stuck to the appliance.

Messy and rushed handwriting filled the small square and your fingers ripped it off, reading it to yourself…

Thanks again for letting me spend the night, it means a lot! Didn’t want to leave before you got up, but I promised Eddie I’d help him and his uncle Wayne with something at their trailer.

Anyway, I hope you don’t mind that I started the washer with the pair of sweats you lent me and I left the top that you forgot at my place folded on the dryer. I also woke up early and got a honey rose latte, and you were right, it tastes heavenly. I asked them to make yours with almond milk and no ice, and I left it on the second shelf in the fridge. Managed to snag a dozen of those cronuts and I left them in the microwave to keep them warm. Hope you don’t mind that I took the blueberry one.

Enjoy, and I hope we see each other soon, sweetheart.

- Steve <3

There was a wide smile on your face, stupidly reading his words over and over again and hyper-fixating on him remembering your milk of choice and the tiny crooked heart drawn next to his name.

Steve Harrington didn't seem real at all, someone that you could only think up to be that perfect and attentive to small details. And no guy would ever go as far as this for you, but there you were opening the fridge to see your favorite latte sitting on the second shelf of your fridge and when you turned to look at the microwave, you could see through the transparent glass, the bakery box that held the delectable treats in.

You probably looked just as silly, frozen in your kitchen staring at a piece of paper and smiling to yourself like a maniac. It was only a few more seconds until Robin came sliding in next to you, creeping over your shoulder.

“Oooo, did the lover boy leave a note!” Robin wiggled her brows, attempting to peek at the note before you quickly clutched it to your chest for safe keeping.

You blushed, and turned on your heel, grabbing the orange juice and your drink and placing it on the table, “That is a secret that will not be revealed!”

“He did!” The younger girls shouted from the couch as you blushed and shook your head

“I’m going to go brush my teeth and then I’ll be out!” You called out, walking back to your room with the note still in the palm of your hand.

“Then you’re going to spill the date details!” Robin shouted, pouring orange juice into the glasses.

You could hear Nancy jokingly scolding Robin, “Give her a break, will you?”

Quickly, you slipped into your quaint laundry room on the other side of the hallway where the slight rumbling from the washing machine was beginning to slow down. There was your white eyelet top that you had worn and left behind the first time at Steve’s place sitting folded on the washer with another note placed on the top of it.

Forgot to give this to you the last time I was here. I read the label and the machine washed it in cold water then put it in the dryer on low. Hope I didn’t ruin it or anything!

- Steve :)

You picked up the garment, assessing it and seeing that the stain was fully gone and instead it was perfectly clean and now reeking of everything, Steve. The sandalwood, mint, freshness, and warmth — everything him. The scent filling your senses and going back to the hug you two shared last night, wishing it were his arms wrapped around you again.

Now you definitely knew what you were going to be wearing today and who was going to be running through your mind — even if this was your town and your place, he had already left a mark too big and permanent for you to erase. 

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: chapter two is finally here!!! originally this chapter was supposed to be longer but for organization and trying to avoid lag purposes, i decided to shorten it a bit and save the next major scene for the next chapter! again, i have to say a big big big thank you to my bestie and ultimate favorite person everrrrr...MISS EFFIE!!! she's amazing and she is constantly encouraging me to write and helping me with proofreading and setting up the storylines itself! i love her so so so much (I LOVE YOU EFFIE BABYYYYY)!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

[foreverromanticising]

would anyone be down if i wrote for carmen berzatto …

like i’ll take requests or do my own thing, i just have to get my thoughts about him out so pls pls lmk

#carmy #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear

[foreverromanticising]

a lesson in romantics; lesson one

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, FALL, 1992

September. Fall semester.

A new town. A new school.

Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.

You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.

Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.

You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you. 

The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now. 

Steve. It suited him.

“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.

Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.

“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”

Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.

“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls. 

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”

~

“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty. 

“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.” 

Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.

“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”

They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”

Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.

~

You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.

It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche. 

A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.

A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.

Of course it was Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Right.” You nodded.

You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”

Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.” 

“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”

You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”

“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”

“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.

“You betcha.”

[foreverromanticising]

hiiii !! i love ur writing 💕💕💕 would u be down to write something simple just abt like snuggling carmy when u wake up together 🥺🥺

LET THE LIGHT IN | endless drabble series (summer edition)

summary: early morning musings pairing: carmen berzatto x nb!reader a/n: the only time i will write for carmen where nothing bad happens

masterlist. ☕.

mm, warm. too warm. carmen doesn't let go, doesn't realize he's holding on, arms wound tight around a body who's shape is so familiar. he stirs first because he's never really sleeping, enveloped in the scent of your hair, the subtle cleanliness of washed sheets, the faint musk of sweat that clings to him like after-image in the dim morning light. chicago's summers are always unforgivable.

for once, he doesn't really mind.

the sheets are tangled and your back rests against his chest and he's so close, so close that drowsy eyes can see the small blink of your lashes. still sleeping. it's too warm and too early. the slip of light between the curtains cuts across your cheek. if he could bring himself to release you for just a moment, he'd caress it, soothe the ache that doesn't exist. he loves you.

he loves you and he loves your home and he loves that you love him and that you never tire of saying it. he's desperate for those words, like he needs a reminder before he cracks and loses it, and he loses it often. your love is verbal, his love is touch. love you doesn't fit in his mouth, so he kisses instead.

chapped lips brush against your cheekbone where the light's the harshest. muscles flex and tense and he won't let go, even if sleeping you have nowhere to rush to. closes his eyes, then, content, safe. you're here and you're real and you protect against the fire and he loves you and this is the only way he can say that he does.

[foreverromanticising]

series masterlist | last part — next part (coming next week!)

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: asshole!steve, explicit language

summary: you're hoping for the best, perhaps even some sort of miracle, but from the first phone call to the first meeting, it's pretty clear that everything that has been said about him is oh so true

CHAPTER ONE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉❞

Steve Harrington’s Newest Film Wins Big at Golden Globes but Actor nowhere to be found at the Awards Show… Partying in Vegas Instead? Full story here!

YouTuber calls Steve Harrington a “Jerk” and “Extremely rude” in podcast documenting her time working with him on the 2020 film “When the World Ends”

Steve Harrington: Another Pretentious Actor or Misunderstood Recluse?

Watch this video of Steve Harrington flipping off Paparazzi in NYC

You’d gone down somewhat of a rabbit hole.

And at first it was supposed to help you. 

There was no problem you couldn’t solve, and this Steve Harrington problem was just another thing to check off of your never ending list. You were in search of any piece of information that would tell you that the next three months being his assistant would not be the absolute worst. Anything that said that he was at least somewhat of a good guy, that the narrative of him being an asshole wasn’t actually the only narrative out there.  

However, you’d ended up feeling even more worried than how you initially felt when Jessie told you everything hours earlier. It seemed as if every article about him included something bad, and the only good thing they would say about him was how great of an actor he was— how he was close to being the next Leo DiCaprio, Joaquin Phoenix, etc etc— which you already knew and didn’t care that much about because that information wouldn’t help solve your problem. Him being a good actor didn’t mean that he had a good personality, and every single article seemed to tell you exactly that; except the paparazzi thing because that sounded completely justified since paparazzi sucked. 

In the end, when you forced yourself out of the hole because it was nearing midnight and you had to wake up early, you convinced yourself that maybe all of those articles weren’t even completely true. It wouldn’t be the first time that celebrity news outlets exaggerated their stories to make them more interesting; maybe his reputation as an insanely rude person was actually not as true as it was portrayed to be. And you let that hopeful, and potentially delusional, thought put you to sleep. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jessie: Here’s Steve’s number

Jessie: Once again, thank you for doing this!

You’d forgotten that you asked her for his phone number last night during your deep dive of him. 

You simply stared at it for a moment before texting Jessie back a quick “Thank you” and moving on to look at the other notifications that were taking over your phone; the slew of emails that came through in the middle of the night and early morning along with voicemails from calls you’d already missed because even though it was early for you, on the east coast it was already almost ten. It probably wasn’t healthy to wake up and immediately throw yourself into your work, but it felt like second nature at this point.

When there was somewhat of a lull in your day and you were sitting on your couch after enduring an hour-long Zoom call with the Executive Producers of the movie along with the heads of every department to make sure that everyone was on the same page for filming, you decided to finally call Steve. It felt slightly weird having to call him instead of a secondary person to talk about what you needed to, but you didn’t want to call his actual assistant who was probably not supposed to be thinking about her job right now.

You honestly didn’t expect him to answer, and you thought you’d have to leave a voicemail and hope that he’d get back to you sooner rather than later, but he answered on the fourth ring with a quick, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” You responded and then tried to mask the surprise in your voice by letting out a small cough. “I got your number from Jessie Robbins. I’m going to be your assistant during the filming of Fear of Lonesome. My name is–”

“Doesn’t matter,” He interrupted you. “You said you’re going to be my new assistant?”

You still told him your name anyway and then answered his question. “Yes, just for the three months of filming. I wanted to call before it starts in a week. Just to get any numbers that are important, or if there’s any specific information I should know.” 

He sighed as if he was completely annoyed by your voice and the fact that you were calling him right then. “My other assistant has all of that information. I’ll text you her number.” 

“Um, okay, thanks. But–”

He hung up before you could finish your statement and you stared at your phone for a moment before dropping it next to you on the couch. That short interaction with him was more than enough to let you know that those articles you read last night were all so very true. 

You let out a sigh in frustration and then another one when your phone pinged with a text message from him with the number of his real assistant. According to the text, her name was Sheila. 

There was no way that you were going to call a pregnant woman that was on bedrest due to stress; stress that you quickly concluded was probably caused by this job and having to deal with Steve Harrington on a daily basis. 

Therefore, you instead decided to text her, asking the same stuff that you’d just asked Steve, but barely five minutes from the moment you hit send, she called you. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, I would’ve texted you back, but all of this felt like way too much to type,” She began and then immediately continued. “I sent Steve all of the information that the new assistant would need, and why I am not at all surprised that he didn’t give it to you. Text me your email and I’ll send you the folder. It has the numbers for everyone else on his team, and there’s also a calendar with all of his commitments and stuff for the next few months. It’s pretty empty because of filming, and he likes to fully prioritize that, but his publicist might throw something in here and there because he likes to force him to do some public events even though Steve despises them. So, I’d say just check it every now and again.” 

That folder sounded like the holy grail. You could feel your frustrations slowly easing away. “Yes, thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope that will make things a bit easier for you. Steve can be pretty intense most of the time,” Sheila said, and that made you further imagine what these three months would be like; signs were still pointing to bad. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why is he…” You trailed off unsure of the best way to finish your question.

“An asshole?” Sheila concluded for you, and it was hard to bite back your laugh.

“I was gonna be slightly nice and just say rude, but yours works too.” You said, letting out another small laugh. “Why is he like that?” 

“He’s just really serious. Never does much else but work. I swear I don’t remember the last time he did anything fun.” 

Hearing that answer surprised you. It also meant that the Vegas article was definitely a stretch. You couldn’t help but wonder what the truth was, but you decided not to ask. 

“How do you deal with him?” 

Sheila was quiet for a moment, as if she was really thinking about her answer. “Eventually he’ll grow on you. Kinda like a fungus? Sorry, that was probably a horrible analogy.” 

“No, that sounds like it’ll be accurate,” You said and then silently prayed that these months would fly by.

“If you’re ever confused or need anything, or just want to rant about him, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I’ll be stuck in the same place until this baby’s out of me.” 

Sheila was really nice, and you could tell that she genuinely meant her words, but you didn’t want to have to bother her again; she deserved a break from all of this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’d woken up at five thirty in the morning on the first day of filming with a text from Steve. 

It was his coffee and breakfast order and the name of the place that he wanted you to get it from.

Seeing that text from him almost made you want to laugh given that the last message you’d sent him was you thanking him for Sheila’s number which went unanswered.

There were a bunch of things that were already being thrown at you when you got onto set that morning, but you decidedly avoided it all to first head to Steve’s trailer. 

You were determined to make the day go well; hoping that it would set a precedent for what the next few months would be like. And giving him his stupid coffee and breakfast order sounded like the best first thing to do to make sure that everything went well with you two. 

When he opened the door after you gave it three quick knocks, you greeted him with a smile. 

“Hey, good morning,” You said as you handed him the coffee and the bag with his breakfast sandwich. You then pulled out the folded piece of paper that had been in your back pocket, giving that to him as well. “The shooting schedule for today.”

“Mhm,” Steve said, placing the paper and bag down somewhere next to him. He took a sip of his coffee before pulling out his phone and focusing his attention on that. He glanced up at you for a brief moment and his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he was surprised you were still standing there. “I’ll call or text you if I need anything.”

Before you could say anything in response to that, he shut the door. 

This was your life now. 

In hindsight, maybe it was dumb of you to think that you’d have some sort of an actual introduction with him— especially with how the last, which had also been the first, time you talked to him went— but still, a small part of you had been hoping that you’d be proven wrong. 

You were kind of over hoping for that now, though. Because at this point, it was pretty clear to you what he was like, and it would definitely be dumb of you to continue to hope for something different. 

You’d dealt with an insane amount of rude people in Hollywood— actors, actresses, directors, pretty much anyone that at some point had some sort of seniority over you— and some of them had actually been worse than Steve. But there was something about this interaction that took the cake for you. 

Maybe it was because those past moments had been one-offs. Yes, some random actor or Hollywood exec had been a dick to you, but it would be a rarity if you had to talk to them again. However, with Steve Harrington, you’d have to deal with him for the next three months. 

You started walking away from his trailer and somehow almost immediately ran into Jessie. 

She started to smile at you until she noticed the look on your face. “Oh no, you look mad. What’s happened already?”

You plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, everything’s going fine. I gave him his coffee and stupid breakfast sandwich, he said he’ll call or text if he needs anything, and then he closed the door in my face before I could say anything.” You dropped the smile and gave her a deadpan look. “I honestly don’t even think he knows my name.”

She grimaced before giving you a hopeful smile. “I’m so grateful for you. These months will speed by, I promise.”

“Ninety days and counting,” You said, trying to match her hopeful smile but it still felt too fake. 

She opened her mouth to say something else, but your name being called on the small walkie talkie hanging from your back pocket interrupted her. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jessie told you as she started heading in a different direction, and you nodded before grabbing your walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I’m here,” You responded, making your voice sound as light as possible. “What’s up?”

Darryl, who was the head of the art department, proceeded to tell you that an important part of the set had yet to be delivered and they couldn’t finish preparing the set that would be used in today’s scenes without it. 

You let out a sigh as you took a quick glance at your watch; 7:30am. “I talked to the delivery company yesterday and they said they’d have it here by 7. I’ll call them again right now, and I’m headed to you now too.”

Even with the immediate stress you felt from this situation that you now needed to fix, it somehow still felt easier than having to deal with Steve. For the time being, you could focus fully on your actual job and keep your mind far away from him. Until he ultimately needed you for something, and the thought of that made you inwardly roll your eyes. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your phone pinged with a notification you expected it to be something from Steve. Even though you’d given him the lunch he requested barely an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wanted something else. Instead, it was a notification that his calendar had been updated. 

His publicist, whose name you learned as Tom, put an interview on the schedule for today; an interview that Steve would need to get to in three hours. Sheila was very right when she said that he’d just randomly add things to the calendar. 

Filming for the day wasn’t over yet and was still supposed to go on for a while, but you were already thinking of ways to somehow make this work. And as you headed to Steve’s trailer that was the only thing on your mind.

Your knuckles rapped on the door a few times and you could hear his voice through the door yell out a loud,“Yeah?”

You took that as your cue to enter instead of waiting for him to open the door, which you assumed would never happen. 

He was sitting on the small couch that took up the farthest part of the trailer with headphones in his ears and a script in his hand that had his full attention. He pulled one headphone out and looked at you. 

“Tom set up this interview thing with BuzzFeed for today. It’s in about three hours. I can tell Jessie that we have to end filming a bit earlier today, which should be fine if we–”

“No,” He interrupted you with a shake of his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of how often that was happening. “Tell Tom I’m not gonna do that.” 

You looked at him, confused. “What? Is that allowed?” 

Steve shrugged. “He’ll deal with it.”

You almost asked him why he was refusing the interview, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t give you an answer and he’d probably just get annoyed at you.

“Alright then,” You said instead as you started opening the door. “I’ll call him now.” 

Steve simply nodded at you before putting his headphone back in and turning his attention to the script again.

The phone only rang a few times before you were met with a British voice saying, “Hello?”

“Hi, yes, I’m Steve’s assistant for the time being,” You said, quickly introducing yourself because you wanted to get to the point of the call as fast as possible. “He said he’s not gonna do the interview that you set up for today. Um, sorry.” 

You weren’t entirely sure why you were saying sorry, but it felt awkward having to do this, especially since Steve gave you no reasoning as to why he said no. 

“Of course he did,” Tom said with a scoff. “I swear to God this kid is gonna drive me to start smoking again, and my husband would kill me if I did. Fucking hell.” You were unsure if he was talking more to you or himself. “Are you with Steve right now?”

It was easy to tell that that question was directed at you.

“No, not anymore, but I can relay any message you’d like me to give to him, if you want?” 

“Yes, tell him that this is the last time he’s gonna pull this shit. No more fucking back out of things that are meant to help his career. We are not having another fucking Golden Globes incident,” He said, and with the amount of irritation behind his words, it almost felt as if it was you that was being scolded by this British man. 

“Got it, I’ll tell him that,” You responded, although you knew when you gave the message you’d probably make it sound a bit less profane and angry. 

Hearing him mention the Golden Globes made you think of something. You knew that Steve had ditched the awards show, but the actual reasoning why was still a mystery to you. And you had to admit, you were a bit curious; just like the rest of the film world. “Can I ask what the whole Golden Globes thing was about?” 

Tom let out the longest sigh in the world before saying, “He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay home.”

You laughed at that because you assumed that he was joking, but when you were met with nothing but silence you stopped. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Sadly so serious,” He told you and then sighed again. “And just like you barely believed that, of course no news outlets would think that was the reason either, so they pulled any story out of their asses. Like, he’d actually go to Vegas? Jesus Christ.” He muttered something else under his breath that was too hard for you to make out. “And it was hard to play the sick angle because no one would believe that unless he was actually hospitalized, and doing that felt a bit too dramatic.” 

All of that information was a lot to take in, but you still nodded even though Tom couldn’t see you. 

“Wow, that’s, um, really… Wow.” You ultimately settled on saying, which was barely even a real sentence and you mentally kicked yourself for being at such a loss for words right then. 

“Yeah, that was definitely the best twenty-four hours of my life,” He said and you could easily hear the sarcasm dripping from every one of his words. “Actually, disregard giving that other message to him, I’ll just yell at him later. When is filming done for the day?” 

You looked at your watch and then let out your own sigh. “In four hours.”

“Okay, got it,” Tom responded, and you assumed the conversation was going to end there, but then he continued. “How’s he been to you so far?” 

Surprisingly, the question actually felt genuine and it made you feel as if you didn’t need to lie and make things sound better than how they actually had been. “He looks at me as if he hates me, so it’s been fun having to endure that for the past seven hours.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just his face. He probably doesn’t actually hate you.”

There was something about Tom’s response that made you laugh. “Okay, so when should I know for sure? If he throws his coffee in my face or if he murders me? Well, I guess if he murdered me I’d be finding out a little too late, but at least I’d be able to haunt him.”

“You’re funny,” He said with a chuckle. “I wish we could keep you around longer.”

“Do not put that out into the universe.”

[foreverromanticising]

Simmer

welcome to hawkins’ number one diner! where the staff don’t wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress can’t hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a little… much.

serving up indiana heatwaves, slow burns, walk in freezer breakdowns, late night talks, shared shakes and food as a love language. order extra spice for $4.

a linecook!au with eddie munson and shy fem!reader.

ch1. home style | coming soon.

[foreverromanticising]

—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩��𝐜𝐭, ch.2: thank you, love you

pairing—carmy berzatto x f!reader genre—drama, romance, age gap, boss/employee relationship warnings for this chapter—trauma, anxiety, swearing, sum depression again, the inception of horny thoughts word count—3.6k

old man discovers instagram

author’s note: we playin w our willy on chap 3 (i am unhinged)

masterlist |buy me coffee☕ | read on ao3 | < back. next >

important! some of the dialogue scenes are written as a script & dialogues that overlap are marked in [] <3  

it takes six days, three hours, and twenty four minutes to notice. and once carmen does, he makes an unconscious note to be attentive – not for any specific reason, for no reason at all, it just happens. things happen sometimes, and that’s okay, the natural flow of life demands action and inaction always prompts curiosity and, and, and, and, look, it wasn’t, he wasn’t, it’s not like that. he just happened to become aware of a trait, and now that he is, he can’t help but watch out for it. not, not watch out watch out, just, detect, maybe. like, he just so happens to glance, and she’s doing it again, and there’s a certain satisfaction to that discovery until he thinks that it’s weird he’s growing so familiar with her ticks.

it’s not on purpose – both are of innocent intentions. it’s an anxious response, a thoughtful one, because calmness can’t be absolute, something’s gotta give, and her give just happens to be her mouth. he sees her grinding molars by the twinges of her jaw, sees the pout, sees her two front teeth gnawing on her lower lip, sees quick swipe of her tongue as she thinks before she speaks. he sees, and sees, and sees, and sees, and 

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[foreverromanticising]

you and carmy are roommates