For fox sake

steve’s a good guy, and when you offered to help him relieve his stress even further by letting him use you however he wants, you really did mean it. the only stipulation he asked for was that it only happened if he was stoned, because that somehow made it less weird.

this time, steve’s had a bad week. which seems to be a little bit more like a bad month. keith has him working ridiculous hours, and robin keeps bailing on her shifts to hang out with vicky. his car battery won’t keep a charge despite it being changed three times, and he needs new tires.

and he’s lonely. very terribly lonely.

you hear it in his voice when he calls you a little bit past 8, beating around the bush for a minute before telling you that he’s planning on smoking and would you pretty please come over. and maybe wear something that provides easy access.

you wouldn’t dream of denying yourself — or him — of that.

and use you, he does. all of you.

kisses you until you’re gasping for air, biting at your lips and licking into your mouth like it’s made of candy.

grabs your hips and hauls you onto his lap, hardly getting you stretched open enough before bullying his way inside of you. he knows you love the burn, the way he keeps you steady and helps you take it. he fucks you on his cock like you’re a toy, something for him to play with. something truly his.

steve loves it when you ride him, though he’s typically the one making you bounce. his teeth latch onto his bottom lip while he moves you, up and down at a dizzying pace. when the taste of copper hits his tongue, he leans forward to suck and kiss your nipples. he’s prone to leaving a hickey or two or five on your breasts, just because he can. likes knowing you’re marked up by him and no one else.

and when your legs get too tired, he flips you onto your back, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he’s slow now, grinding in deep, holding your hands to his mattress while he coos down at you.

“you’re real good to me, yeah? lettin’ me use this pretty pussy?”

you leave with shaking legs after, your stomach in knots for the rest of the evening thinking about him and thinking about how he may like to use you again in the future. maybe you could cockwarm him — or perhaps a blowjob, guiding the tip past your gag reflex just to feel your throat tighten around him —

his next call comes not even twelve hours later, just as the sun is starting to rise.

“i’m sober. but i can’t stop thinking about you.”

A drive that normally would’ve taken fifteen minutes, took Steve seven to get to you.  

He ended up in Forest Hills. The trailer park didn’t have a sign at the entrance anymore, it was probably kicked down by a bunch of kids or just withered and broke down with age and neglect— how ironic. 

The park was quiet, everywhere was quiet now after Vecna split the town in four and the military got their hands inside. There were curfews in place at night and patrols on streets that were busy during the day. Everything was locked in tight, but the party found a way. 

Steve found a way.

Despite the quietness, Steve’s hackles are still raised (and always will be) as he keeps a pocket knife in his pocket and the bat in his trunk. 

Walking up the steps of the trailer,  the home is an eerie sight to see. The windows are shut and the curtains drawn, yet there is a dirt yellow hue of light shining through the cracks of the linen. He can see your shadow, can see you pacing back and forth from the window. Your body covers the light every few seconds as you walk across the room. 

He knocks on the door three times like he promised. 

Don’t answer the door unless you hear those three knocks,” He tells you over the phone. “I mean it, honey—if you hear three knocks, then you know it’s me.”

“Thr-three knocks.” You repeat breathily.

You open the door— pupils dilated and watery, your hands gripping the old wood like it was the only thing keeping you upright—just enough for Steve to slip in. Closing the door with the back of his foot, he gives you a once-over, but before he can even turn around to twist the lock or ask what happened, you’re hugging him tightly. 

There’s blood in your hair. He can taste it as he presses a kiss at the top of your head. Steve shushes your cries. Rubbing his hand on your back up and down, reassuring you that everything will be okay. 

That you’re safe. 

That he’s here. 

You’re grasping his jacket like it’s your lifeline, rubbing your face into him as if you can crawl into his skin and hide there. Steve lets you stay in this moment for as long as you need to. Sitting his chin against your head as your arms squeeze his body tight. 

The trailer is dark and cluttered. The couch is a bruised leather that’s seen better days and the coffee table is covered in pizza boxes, old beer and liquor bottles. There’s clothes scattered over the living room floor, and Steve can already put two and two together with the little clothes you have on. 

The kitchen light is turned on, that same burnt yellow hue Steve saw from the window. It flickers like an eye twitch as it lights up the common area. 

He cups your cheeks in his hands and gently moves your face from his chest. Tilting your head up to let your eyes meet his, he asks, “Where is he?” 

You lick your dry lips before swallowing. Your eyes are not staying on his for long  as you grip his wrists tightly. Your hands are sticky against his pulse, he knows that the minute you let go,  you’ll leave a sticky bloody handprint in your wake. 

 Eyes closing with a shuddered breath, you duck your head down and whisper, “He’s in the kitchen.”

Steve nods his head. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he tastes the bitter metallic again. He  lingers there for a few seconds longer, as he hears you release a shudder of a breath. Stay here, he whispers,  as he slowly walks over to the kitchen. 

He couldn’t see it at first. Not with where he was standing, or with the couch and kitchen bar in the way of his vision. But as soon as  Steve walks toward the corner of the small U shaped kitchen, he can see the mess of  blood that has slithered its way from its resting place. 

There’s a dead  man laying on the kitchen laminate with blank eyes and a knife in his neck. 

Again, there’s not much that phases Steve Harrington anymore—not even when his ex-something calls him about a dead body in the dead of night. 

He feels you before he sees you. Your hands wrapping around his right arm with your cheek smushed against it. You both look down at the body. Steve can feel you shaking, can feel your pulse pumping from how tight your wrist is pressed into his skin. 

You tried your best to clean up the mess from what Steve can tell. There’s dishrags and kitchen towels on the floor, stained crimson. The tile that was once a beige now covered  with streaks of deep red. You really did try to clean it up yourself—but the artery at the neck is a bloody thing, and a couple of towels aren’t  gonna cut it. 

He can tell you realized the same thing, as there’s still an undisturbed puddle of blood that creeps closer and closer to Steve’s shoes. 

“What are we gonna do?” The question comes out hoarse from your lips. Steve looks down at you, you're still staring at the body that is still against the brown wooden cabinets. Steve says nothing at first, instead, he takes off his corduroy jacket and slips it over your shoulders for your comfort and modesty. 

If you didn’t kill him, Steve would’ve done the job no question if you asked him to. 

“I’m gonna clean this up, and you’re gonna take a shower.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your eyes flicker from Steve’s face to the man you just killed minutes before. Steve walks in front of him to cover your line of sight. For you to focus on his face and not the death behind him. 

“You’re gonna go shower. When you’re done, you’re gonna pour the bleach I have in the van everywhere—on the walls, on the temperature knobs and down the drain. I’m gonna take care of him, honey, I’m gonna make it go away.” 

He knows the words that are leaving his lips aren’t registering in your mind, but Steve tries his best to bring you back with gentle rubs of his thumb on your covered shoulder. You blink up at him once he finally gets your attention. He smiles softly and repeats the words he told you before. You fiercely shake your head once he finishes.  

“N-no…I wanna help.” 

“Honey, you don’t need to do that—”

“I know,” you start. The words come out louder than you maybe intended to, but you don’t apologize or falter your eyes from his gaze. There’s something behind them that Steve can’t decipher whether it’s fear or determination—perhaps both. 

“After what he did I–” Your eyes water as they go distant again, Steve rubs his thumb on your shoulder to bring you back, “I want to do this.”

With a final nod, Steve lets you help him. Because who is he to deny you of something you want?

Steve asks where your clothes are and you tell him it's on the floor next to the couch. He walks over to get them, asking if you want to put them on or throw them away. You shake your head, hands tightening over his corduroy jacket like armor.

He zips you up inside the brown jacket instead. 

He tells you to lock the door behind him and to wait for his three knocks again, promising he isn’t leaving you. Steve heads for the SQUAWK van and opens the back doors to gather the container filled with cleaning supplies, black trash bags, rope and gloves. He grips the shovel and axe under his arm as his hands are full.

Looking around to make sure everyone is still in their homes, quiet and locked away, he heads back with his hands full and knocks three times with the foot of his shoe. You open the door, less afraid than the first time but still uneasy.

Steve tells you everything that he’s gonna do each step of the way. 

“I’m going to take the rest of his clothes off him before we get started.” 

He hands you the extra pairs of gloves he brought, and places the other on himself. He tells you to open one of the trash bags—used for gathering dead leaves for fall— as he strips the remainder of  Jack’s (the name of the dead fuck)  clothes from his body. There’s military tattoos across his chest, and a branding on his right shoulder. Steve puts his clothes in the bag as well as yours. 

The knife goes into another bag, a smaller one that Steve’s packed and tossed to the side. 

“Okay ,honey, we have to put him in one of the bags  just in case someone’s watching.” Steve knows no one isn't, and that even if they were, the residents of Forest Hills are a quiet bunch that keep their mouths shut after what happened during Spring Break. 

After how the town they call home treated someone from their community. 

Wayne Munson left Hawkins after Dustin confirmed his son’s death—letting the man know of    Eddie’s  bravery despite the rumors of evil and deceit. Wayne left Forest Hills when half the population did, and moved closer to his job at the plant that was a town away. No one from Forest Hills  ever complained about the Munson boy, in fact, he was well loved. Aside from that one time when he stole a RV.

 So after all of that, they realized that what happens in Forest Hills stays in Forest Hills.

It was the main reason why Jack was stationed in this trailer park—to keep an eye on the distant community. 

Steve tells you that he’s gonna drag the body out back to the woods, where he will have to drain the remaining blood from his body, so he can cut him up into smaller pieces. 

“Does this place have a back door?” He is glad of your nod once it comes, “Good. That’ll make it easier for us.”

Steve’s dad took him hunting once, when he was ten  years old and still a boy full of hope and naivete. Going hunting was something his dad did every year—he and a bunch of his business friends would fly out to a buddies property  and they’d all get together, smoke cigars,  snort coke and justify killing something innocent. This was the first year his father decided to bring Steve along for the ride. 

 “It was a way for you to bond with him.” his mother had said, and at Steve’s young age he believed her. He knew once he got older that it was just his dad’s way of forcing him into a man.

His dad made him stab the deer in the neck after the first shot sent it to the ground—wounded and unable to escape.  His dad made sure Steve didn’t look away as the light left its eyes, making him help cut the poor thing open and field dress it. Hands bloody and fingers trembling with silent tears falling down his face, Steve tossed the guts and organs into the wet grass for the earth and its animals to consume.

Hours later, when the meat was served, Steve threw up on the table. Right over the cooked venison, mashed potatoes and green beans, and right on the cashmere tablecloth. His dad was angry and embarrassed.

Steve was sick for three days after that—would puke at the smell of food or even looking at it. Every time, he would just think about the wounded stare of the deer as he killed it. 

His mother forbade his father from ever taking him out hunting again—as if his father would ever do it again, with how much Steve embarrassed him, reeking of vomit. 

But that never meant Steve ever forgot how to do it—how to skin and dress a dead animal.  His dad would quiz him randomly throughout his adolescence. When the whiskey sat in his stomach too long, when he was angry—trying to prove something to Steve and let him know that he was still the man.

Even when Steve was fifteen, when his parents surprised him with the decision of staying for Thanksgiving, he knew it was too good to be true. That they wouldn’t just be a happy family and be normal. No, his dad took him to the shed out back and told Steve that he was in charge of the turkey—the live turkey that gobbled and strutted on the concrete floor of the shed, picking at anything that it thought was food.  

Steve had to kill it. Had to ring its neck and cut its feathers. He had to skin it, drain it and dress it all. 

That’s why it's so easy for him to do it now. 

That’s why it’s so easy to tie Jack’s feet together with rope, to throw the length of the end of the rope over a sturdy tree trunk branch and pull, until his body hangs in the air. 

That’s why it was so easy to slit his throat the rest of the way that you had started and watch as his blood fell into the hole of the rotten earth you dug up like he told you to. 

It doesn’t take long for him to drain out, with a good amount of the blood already spilt on the kitchen floor. 

Cutting his limbs doesn’t take too long either. Thanks to  Steve’s own paranoia of keeping his weapons sharp and the ptsd-nightmare induced insomnia keeping him up, aided him in this time of need.

 You throw up once Jack’s right arm is cut—his shoulder to hand separated from his body like a snap of a twig.  Steve doesn’t ask if you're sure that you want to keep doing this. He doesn’t ask if you want to take him up on that shower he suggested and sit in the van where a thermos full of your favorite tea and a granola bar is waiting for you. He knows that you want to see it through. So, he simply rubs your back and praises you with how good you’re doing, how you're almost done. And you nod at each comment. 

There’s seven bags filled with stones and knotted tight, each one with a single body part—leg, leg, arm, arm, head and torso.

 He lets you do the honors of chopping the fucker’s dick off and smiles proudly as you slam the axe down repeatedly on the genitals. 

The military had already laid their tape, searched and took their samples for research from Lover’s Lake, and no one swims in these waters since a teen died in it. So Steve knows this is a better place than any to leave the body. 

There’s a big part of him that’s hoping that the crack of the Upside Down is still there.  So when the body parts all meet the bottom of the lake, it’ll open up and hungrily take it for the demogorgons and fucked bats to devour. 

It takes an hour and a half to clean the blood and everything else in the trailer—to make it seem like Jack's death never happened and that you were never there. 

The smell of  bleach and ammonia burned Steve’s nose, made you cough and your eyes water, but it got the job done of erasing what once happened.

You’ve been quiet the entire time, probably due to shock. Only nodding your head when Steve spoke to you, praised you or gave you instructions. His jacket is still on your frame, now coated in blood and dirt, but you don’t take it off. 

With a final once over of the place, he flicks the light switch, and the kitchen light stutters before it finally goes out. 

He walks you to the van, chucking the bag of clothesin the back before opening the passenger seat for you. Both the driver and passenger side are already covered in tarp, and he makes sure you're buckled before handing you the thermos of tea. 

Your hand finds his as he gets into the driver seat. He kisses the top of it before turning the ignition and driving away.

—

Steve burns the bag of clothes and shoes  in the rusted burn barrel in his backyard. The black knotted bag is hidden under the leaves and twigs he added for kindling. The two of you watch the fire engulf the clothes into ash. 

Your right hand never leaves his as the left hands him the cigarette he had previously lit. Once the cigarette is finished and Steve flicks the butt end into the burning barrel, is when you finally speak. 

“I’m tired.” 

Steve takes you back inside, and upstairs into his bedroom. He  doesn’t falter in his step when your clasped hand pulls him toward the bathroom.

 He watches as you shakily reach for the zipper of his corduroy. Steve covers your hand with his as he slowly reaches for the silver link. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers softly. 

You nod your head and try your best to give him a smile for good measure. 

Steve gives you a reassuring nod as he pulls the zipper down, slipping the jacket off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He lifts you slowly onto his bathroom counter, before kneeling in front of you. He takes off your socks, covered in dirt and blood from your feet and kisses your knees, telling you how brave you are. 

When clothes are shed and the faucet is turned as hot as you want it. When your head meets the shower’s hard pressure of water, is when you finally tell Steve what happened—as the blood, dirt and grime slide down the drain. 

You tell Steve that you knew him, that  Jack would patrol around the same time you volunteered at the school. That you guys talked and flirted and laughed with one another,  and that when he asked you on a date— you said yes. 

You tell Steve that it went fine. That when you guys spoke and flirted on the phone a couple days after, he asked if he could come over. 

“I told him no. Despite going on a date with him, and despite seeing him often when I volunteered—I didn’t want him to know where I lived, ya know?” The words leave your lips quietly, as Steve shampoos your hair. He hums in understanding, afraid if he speaks you’ll go quiet again. 

Your eyes are closed and your back is turned to him—it’s easier that way for you to confess what happens.

You tell him that the night started out fine. That the both of you drank booze and laughed and listened to music on his record player. That you got close on the couch and kissed and kissed some more. But then, he got too touchy too fast. 

And this is when you finally turn to him, as he lets the water wash away the soapy residue in your hair. Your eyes pleadingly look at him,  “At first I was fine with it, and then after a while I just…wasn’t.” You tell him that you didn’t know why you felt uncomfortable, that you came to his place to fuck him, so you didn’t mean to feel uncomfortable but you just were, and you didn’t want to do it anymore. 

Steve nods and listens. Rubs your back and holds you tight as you shake. 

You tell him that you got up from the couch to create space, acting like everything was fine and that you were just thirsty. He told you where the cups were when you asked, and as you poured tap water into your glass, that’s when you saw the kitchen knife in between the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“He got annoyed by how long I was taking. Came into the kitchen and tried to kiss my neck and keep going, but got angry when I said I didn’t want to.” The words come out shaky as you sob. Steve kisses your shoulder and lets you grip him as tight as you need to. 

You tell him that Jack got angry. That Jack got aggressive. That Jack hurt you. And that is when you stabbed him. 

“I didn’t know who else to call.” You finish with a loud sniffle.

Steve pulls you back from him, just enough so he can look you in the eyes when he speaks. 

“I’m glad you called me, honey.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

And Steve repeats those words,  again and again and again as he glides himself at your entrance and slides inside you.

 You asked him if he could, whispered it against his lips with the prettiest please he’s ever heard—and who is Steve to deny you of something you want?

He tells you that you’re his brave girl as he fucks you against the shower wall. Lets you grip him tightly across his shoulders, against his neck and in his hair. Groaning at the sharp crescent cuts you leave in his skin and the stinging bite mark on his neck. 

 He tells you how smart you are and that you didn’t do anything wrong. 

Steve tells you he loves when you're close, and you mutter it back to him when he comes inside you. 

The both of you lay in his bed, still naked and intertwined. Your hand on his heart and his hand cupping the back of your head. Steve tells you there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and he watches as your eyes slowly close and drift off to sleep to the sound of the fire cackling in the burn barrels. 

Steve will have to get rid of the clothes that lay on the bathroom floor in the morning, will have to scrub and clean the shower just in case. And he knows a guy in Forest Hills who will get rid of Jack’s motorcycle for fifty bucks and a gram of weed.  

But for now, Steve will lay at your side and watch you sleep. 

There’s nothing that can phase Steve anymore. And when it comes to you, he will make sure that nothing will happen to you again. 

In your twenty-seven years of life, you've been to a lot of dates.

Good ones, bad ones, the horrendous ones.

You always considered yourself decent at flirting, and never really stressed before any of your dates.

But the days leading up to your meeting with Steve? You acted insane.

"Or do you think I should like, go shopping?" you asked, the face of your best friend staring at you through the screen.

"For what?" she replied, adjusting her glasses at another one of your questions.

You shrugged, feigning your nonchalance. "New dress. Maybe new shoes."

"So..." she exhaled, tiredness slipping into her tone. "You're going on a date with a guy you really like, and what I'm gathering is that he likes you too, so you suddenly decide to change everything about yourself?"

You just blinked at her, unable to respond.

You were acting dumb, you knew you were.

"Let me summarize all of our conversation then." she continued, her finger pointing at you through the screen. "No, you don't need to get your hair done, you don't need new manicure or clothes. You don't have to...manufacture yourself just to meet this man. Sure, you can make yourself look good but I can obviously see what's happening here."

You pouted and hid your face in your hands, screaming internally.

Of course you didn't need to do any of that, you didn't even want it. You were perfectly fine with clothes that you already owned, and getting your hair done was just simply unnecessary. You could work with what you already had.

But fuck, you were so nervous and eager to impress him that you've lost yourself in all of this.

"You think he's freaking out like this too?" she added, a smile creeping onto her face. "Because I had dates with guys who barely even washed their asses before meeting up."

You laughed, a small amount of stress slipping from your mind.

"Hopefully he isn't. Freaking out, I mean. Not...the other part."

"Just be yourself, babe. He obviously already thinks you're great, otherwise he wouldn't ask you out."

She smiled softly, and you smiled back, her warm voice filling the space one more time.

"Don't think you're not enough, especially because of a man. I won't let that happen again."

And just like that, she made those voices in your head a little bit quieter.

Seeing him for the first time was almost like an out of body experience.

You knew that he was handsome from the pictures, but actually being close to him? It was almost unfair for a man to look this good.

Well, fuck. You were definitely nervous now.

When he saw you approaching, he stood up from his chair, all tall and handsome. His dress shirt was ironed to perfection, silver cuffs shining under the warm lights of the restaurant. You could see some of his chest hair peeking out from where he left the top unbuttoned, and fuck, it kinda made you dizzy.

"Hi, gorgeous." he started, carefully sizing you up and down too. "I didn't know it was possible for you to look even better than in those photos, but wow."

And it was genuine, the way his eyes couldn't seem to focus on one thing, jumping from your eyes to your lips, then your neck, the top of your breasts (that you didn't purposefully push up even more), your legs, and even hands.

He was actually stunned, and likewise.

"I could say the same thing about you." you admitted, feigning confidence, though your throat suddenly felt dry.

Before you could register it, he pulled your chair from the table, gesturing for you to sit. When you did, he swiftly pushed it forward, like you and the big wooden piece weighed nothing.

"That's a first." you murmured, getting comfortable as he went to his side, sitting opposite from you.

"What is?"

"Someone doing that for me. It's very...gentlemanly..."

His brows furrowed in worry. "I didn't mean it like– I know you're capable–" his cheeks reddened, trying to get the right words out. "Was that too old -fashioned?"

You giggled, shaking your head. "No, not at all. It was actually really nice. Don't worry too much."

He visibly relaxed, a small smile forming on his lips.

"So you can tell that I'm really fucking nervous?"

"I wouldn't say that. Maybe just...mildly anxious."

"Well..." he started, leaning towards you across the table as if to tell you a secret. "You still make me really fucking nervous."

It was hard to believe that a man like him could feel nervous about you, but you didn't get to investigate his worries further—a waiter appeared by your side, ready to help and take your orders.

As Steve recited them back to him, you let your eyes wander a little.

Steve had a few rings on his fingers, and for a moment, you genuinely got scared. Your first (dumb) instinct was to assume that he had a secret wife all along, until you inspected them carefully—none on his ring finger, none actually indicating that he was married.

"I just like wearing them." he said, pulling you away from your thoughts.

You looked at him, embarrassed, realizing that your waiter probably left some time ago.

"So much for my secret investigation." you sighed, covering your face with your hands.

"You looked at my rings like they personally offended you." he laughed, taking your hands into his own to make you stop hiding, warmth spreading onto you as you actually felt his touch. "Figured what you're thinking about."

"Sorry...that's kinda unfair of me to assume that."

"It's not unfair at all, dating can be a nightmare." he shrugged. "People hiding their marriages just to get with someone new is more common than you'd think."

"Yeah, I mean...it's like an even more messy way of cheating." you laughed, though there was no actual humor beneath your words.

"Well, pinky promise that I'm not married." he said, intertwining your fingers together. You didn't even realize that he was still holding you, your joined hands proudly displayed on the table.

You felt that weird feeling in your stomach, like your insides were doing cartwheels without any prior warning.

"So, Steve–" you decided to change the subject, thought made no effort to free yourself from his hold. "What got you into online dating?"

He smiled, fingers absentmindedly moving over your skin, like the motion soothed something in him.

"It helps with meeting people you normally wouldn't even get to know...Maybe it's naive, but I really want to fall in love. I want to find my person and do all the things that I didn't get to see my parents doing. I want to actually be happy in my marriage, to have someone who will be there for me, always and no matter what."

You met his glance, vulnerable and so impossibly soft, your thumb grazing his skin now.

"Are your parents divorced?"

"Worse, they're still together." he scoffed, as if the words burned him. "They lived their whole lives treating me like shit or acting like I didn't exist, all while pretending that they wanted to be near each other. I know they hate being in that marriage, and I'm a direct victim of that."

It was heartbreaking, hearing that Steve lived all his childhood without any care, without the warmth and support that parents are supposed to give.

"Thank you for telling me." you said, sending him a soft smile. "I can only imagine how hard it must've been."

"It's better now, I don't really talk to them anymore." he shrugged. "But what about you? What made you download the app?"

"Well...I want to fall in love too, though my reasons come from the opposite side."

Steve nodded, focusing on your words. He looked genuinely interested in what you were saying—something you haven't experienced in a while now.

"My parents are still married, and I could feel their love my whole life. I grew up surrounded by it, never once did I think otherwise." you continued, smiling softly at the memories. "They're disgustingly in love. Every single time I visit they're trying to be sneaky, stealing kisses and whispering sweet nothings to each other like some teenage couple, and I just pretend that I don't notice."

"They sound great." he said gently.

You nodded, playing with one of the rings on his finger. "They are. It's just that...They made me believe that it's possible, you know? Finding that one true love, someone just right for you. But I think I'm starting to lose hope for that."

"That's why you made that profile? It's like a last resort?"

"I always thought that love comes to you only in...real life, I guess." you said, laughing a little. "Not through an app, not because of an algorithm."

"I feel another "but" coming." he said, encouraging you to speak.

"But...real life love has been a bitch to me, so I gave that app a chance."

It went quiet for a moment. Steve gave you space to continue, but he quickly noticed that the rest of this conversation was not happening today.

But it was fine—you didn't have to bare yourself completely just yet.

"I'm glad you gave it a chance, then." he said, looking into your eyes with softness that you haven't seen before.

"And I'm glad that you've taken something positive from all that you went through. Finding love is a nice dream to have."

He smiled, that genuine smile where all of his teeth show and cheeks get full, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"And I assume you're willing to help?"

Did the room get hotter? Or was it just him and his perfect fucking smile? Perhaps his smooth words and tone? Hard to pinpoint, but it was making you melt into that chair like a damn ice cube.

"I'm just kidding." he continued, seeing how speechless he made you. "Unless the answer is "yes", then I wasn't kidding at all."

You laughed, body relaxing from all the tension.

It wasn't like you didn't want that. Of course you wanted to fall in love, and especially with Steve if he continued to be so great to you.

But thinking of admitting that to him, especially on your first real date, was undoubtedly scary. It could wait until you were sure, until you knew that falling for him wouldn't be a risk.

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"I can work with that."

The rest of your dinner was fucking amazing. Conversation was flowing, just like the champagne you ordered, and you found yourself laughing and smiling more than usual. Way more than usual.

Your chin rested on top of your hand as you listened to another one of Steve's stories, his shoulder brushing softly against yours. Sitting on opposite sides was forgotten about halfway through your date—Steve moved his chair next to yours under the pretense of "hearing you better".

You didn't mind though, you liked having him close like this, being able to count all the little moles on his stupidly pretty face.

"Sailor suits? Really?" you smiled, the image of younger Steve serving ice cream in a goofy uniform flooding your mind. "You probably looked like a dork."

He flashed you a grin, intertwining your hands together and resting them on his thigh. It felt good, and by this point it felt natural too.

"Actually, a lot of ladies thought I looked sexy. Desirable, even."

And you laughed even more, but somehow you knew that it was the truth. Steve just had that charisma, that magnetic beauty that made you weak in the knees.

"Shame I didn't get to see it then."

"I kinda...still have it in my closet."

You gasped, playfully slapping at his hand, pretending to be offended. "How dare you hide that gem from me? You'll show me, right?"

He smiled, granting a quick kiss to the back of your hand, your heart running laps at this endearing gesture.

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Well, fuck.

When you left the restaurant, he insisted that he'd walk you home. You didn't protest, wouldn't even dream of it.

You walked through the streets of New York, hand in hand, laughing and joking like you knew each other for years now. It definitely felt like it.

When you reached your house you were happy to just say goodbye, but Steve had it all planned hours ago.

He came closer, the scent of his cologne filling the space, mixing with your own perfume. You inhaled deeply and he did just the same, almost basking in the feeling. Both of you combined—the real testimony of your closeness.

And finally, when his arms hugged your waist, he kissed you.

It was sweet, careful—your lips getting used to the new feeling, the feeling of each other. He tasted sweet, like the dessert you just shared, and you found yourself thinking that one taste is just not enough.

He broke the kiss, his eyes immediately searching for any doubt on your face.

"Was that okay? I hope–"

But he didn't get to finish, because this time, you kissed him instead.

It was harder, deeper—your tongue getting familiar with his, your hands running through his hair. He made a soft sound, clutching onto you even tighter.

You didn't know how much time had passed. You just knew that kissing him like this made everything else fade away. It was only him.

His mouth went lower, carefully kissing down your neck, the fast tempo of your pulse surely making an impact on his lips.

Then you felt it, his hips moving just slightly, his hard length evident through his pants.

He stepped away, his lips swollen and red, eyes hazy, almost in a trance.

"Let's call it a night before– It's our first date and I try not to move this quickly. I want to make it right...with you."

You nodded slowly, sending him an understanding smile. Because you understood, of course you did—you operated the same. Sex on the first date was usually a "no" for you too.

But damn if he didn't leave you high and dry. With him, you felt ready to fuck against the damn wall of your apartment block.

So he (apologetically) smiled, hugged you longer than it'd be considered a normal amount for a goodbye, and whispered into your ear:

"But I'd be lying if I said that taking you against that wall didn't cross my mind."

Why the fuck would he say that? Making you even more horny for absolutely nothing.

Well, at least you knew that he had the same idea. You weren't that perverted after all.

Or maybe you were, because that night, hand between your legs again, you thought about Steve—fucking you against that goddamn apartment wall.

interactions appreciated:)

They told you that you should be talking to someone about how you feel or spending more time with family as you weren’t seeing him anymore, but your immediate thought was to have an escape from everyone that knew you. It sounded easier than sitting down and awkwardly having to explain that Steve was disappearing due to him going into a ‘darker version of Hawkins with alien-like creatures’ which led you to breakup with him in the first place.

You’d been curled up on the sofa in the living room with your parents on the sofa opposite you, and you’d been slowly trying to bring up that you wanted to sign up for an open space to become a scout leader without rushing into the conversation too quickly. You needed to make sure that they were in a good mood before you possibly ruined it or made it worse.

“Mandy is waiting on me to tell her if I’ll be signing up for the scout leader position.” You finally managed out and shifted on the sofa, flashing them a small, awkward smile. “There’s still space for me to join.”  

Your mother sighed and folded the corner of the page in her book, placing it down on the arm of the chair. “You’re putting yourself up to do something that you need to commit to. You can’t pull out a few weeks in because it’s too tiring or it’s not what you were thinking it was going to be. I don’t think this is a good way to get your mind off that boy either.”

“I want to do it, mom. I went to scouts for years and you know that I really enjoyed it. It’s the same thing, but I’ll be leading activities instead.” You replied, glancing down at the floor. “And I’m doing this because I want to, not for any other reason.” You mumbled.

She smiled at you, shaking her head. “I was young like you too once, you know.”

“And what? At least I’m not going out to party and drink. I could be doing that instead if you’d like. I think you should be appreciating this more.” You huffed, stretching your legs out on the sofa.

“Be nice to your mother.” Your dad said sternly, glancing at you over his glasses that might as well have been completely off his nose.

You glanced at your dad, then back to your mother with a sigh. “I’m doing nothing else at the moment. I really want to.”

“What about being with family?” Your mother asked.

Your parents were always the type to want to have quality family time together. They were always the first to host Christmas meals at their house where everyone in your family would come over to eat and play board games. If you were to ever suggest eating dinner anywhere that wasn’t the dining room with them, you were pretty sure that they would disown you.

“It’s not like I’m going to disappear from this house, mom. Scout meetups are a few times a week for a few hours, and they go camping every few months. I’ll still be here.” You reassured her. “I’m twenty. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yet you’re still living under our roof.” Your dad shrugged, clearly only speaking when he has something snarky to say.

Your mother sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. “I’m used to you being with us all the time. You’re growing up.” Her voice wavers, and there was clearly more to it than wanting you to healthily manage your breakup.

For a second, your chest felt tight hearing the change in her voice, but you couldn’t give in and hold back on something that had been on your mind for weeks. “Mom...” You sighed, watching the sad look on her face. “I know that you don’t want me to go anywhere, but I need to at some point, otherwise I’ll be stuck here bored out of my mind doing nothing with myself.”

She went silent for a few seconds, listening to your dad rustle the pages of his magazine, and you were bracing yourself for her to come up with another way for you to not go. “How long is this for and are you sure that you would really like to do this? You can’t stay in bed if you’re feeling lazy when you’re supposed to be out with the kids.” She asked.

“I can stay as a leader for as long as I want, I don’t think there’s a limit. I’d at least like a few years. I’d get some really nice experience. I don’t know how else I can get you to agree with me. I really wanna sign up for this.” You nodded quickly, basically begging her at that point as your last resort. “Please, mom.”

Her eyes darted to your dad who just shrugged, but it wasn’t a no which was a good sign. She tilted her head to the side with a surprisingly gentle look on her face. “This doesn’t mean that you’re escaping our family time though.”

Your face lit up and you quickly pushed yourself up from the sofa, padding over to your mother, and leaning down to wrap your arms around her. It was the least that you could do so she didn’t change her mind. “I could never miss it. Thank you, mom.”

You decided to stay downstairs with your parents for a little longer so that you didn’t make it too obvious that you were only there to ask about signing up. As it started to get further into the night, you crept upstairs to your bedroom and pulled the application that Mandy gave to you ‘just in case’ out from your drawer, grabbing a pen and filling in all the details.

There were more forms that you needed to sign and some training you had to do before you became an official leader, but it seemed pretty sweet to you that you’d be reliving your childhood, but as a leader that you used to look up to instead. It would be something that you could proudly put on forms for future jobs.

You’d be shaping kid’s lives, watching them try out new things and seeing how their faces light up, just like yours did when you were in their position years ago. They’d learn something valuable that they could wave around and show off to their friends which most kids wouldn’t be learning if they were constantly in their homes.

Your finger traced under your writing on the application, checking that everything was correct before quickly scribbling your signature down at the bottom. Life sounded less dull knowing that you’d be lighting fires, securing helmets on children’s heads for rock climbing, pitching tents, kayaking through rivers and hopefully not tipping over instead of being in your home all day, rethinking your whole life.

It all came back to this being an escape to forget about Steve, because the awful thing about it was that he really was sweet until he came out with these childish responses, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your head around. He was careful with you, and he had to fuck that up. You didn’t want to ever find out the real reason for his distance. It was probably best to never find out.

Every year, towards the end of the summer, all the scout groups in your area come together to host a huge three-night camp to celebrate the children’s and leader’s achievements. It was a way for the kids to show off the skills they have learned or a chance for new starters to learn something new and to earn badges they haven’t had the chance to get.

The coach journey on the way to the campsite was always one of the best parts. All the kids were chanting words, singing songs they made up on the spot, counting how many silver-coloured cars they could see, asking the driver ‘how long until we’re there?’ and groaning when the driver replied with ‘soon’. One of the kids came to the front of the coach to sit beside you because his tummy felt uneasy which happened every time.

Once the coach started rocking and bumping over the pebbles and branches, your head turned to look out the window and the campsite came into view. There were already other coaches parked up further into the campsite with the other Scout groups stepping off to set up their tents for the next few days.

The coach started to slow down along the rocky path, and the cabins in the centre of the camp started to come into view. All the leaders get to stay in a cabin whilst the children stay in a tent. It’s an unfair advantage that gets spoken about every year, but you always shrug and tell the kids that it wasn’t a decision that you made. In the centre, there’s a huge cabin with toilets, a seating area, self-catering area and a room for any emergencies or accidents.

As soon as the coach came to a stop in the parking area, you whip your head around and see all the children already unbuckling their belts and getting up to grab their bags from the overhead compartment which you had clearly told them not to do before you set off.

“Okay, okay! Everyone take a seat.” You rush to stand up and call out so that the children at the back can hear you. “No pushing. When the row in front of you have grabbed their bags, then you can get up and get yours.” You say, shaking your head. “Christopher! What did I just say? Sit back down.”

Christopher grins at you from the aisle, slowly moving back to his seat. “I’m very sorry, your highness. I won’t do that again.”

The children start to giggle between each other at his comment, and you press the heel of your palms to your eyes with a sigh, then turning to the driver who looks horrified, pulling a laugh from you.

“I’ll help you unload the bags in the luggage compartment, makes this easier and quicker for the both of us.” You say with a small smile.

He lets out a relieved sigh, opening the doors. “Thank you.”

For the next twenty minutes, you spend your time taking out bags from the compartment at the side of the coach, waving them in the air for the children to come collect them. The children are already distracted, getting impatient because you’re spending too much time grabbing everyone’s bags.

Once you passed the final bag over, the driver slams the compartment shut and thanks you a few times before sprinting back onto the coach. You walk over to your group that decided not to listen to you and wander off after they collected their bags. Their shoes are already covered in dirt, and you haven’t done anything remotely messy yet.

You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulders. “I encourage you all to go to the toilet before you do anything. We had a long journey, and I don’t want anyone to be complaining that they need to go when we’re halfway through an activity. Do I need to repeat myself?” You ask, looking around.

They collectively nod, earning quiet ‘yes’s from some of the children.

“Good. The toilets are in the main cabin in the centre. Place your bags in the seating area for the time being, then we’ll get the tents set up.” You confirm with a smile, leading them over to the cabin.

The main cabin is already busy, and you suspect that all the groups haven’t arrived yet. There are children already running laps around the outside of the cabin and leaders leaning against the railing with mugs in their hands. You step inside and hold the door open for your group, waiting for them to set their bags down and make their way to the toilets.

It heavily smells of pinewood mixed with coffee from the self-catering area. You glance around the room until your eyes land on Mandy, the main leader of your group, and walk up to her with a sweet smile, gently tapping her shoulder.

Mandy turns around and almost jumps back like she’s surprised you made it here in one piece. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it. How was the journey?” She asks with a grin, placing her coffee down on the table and patting the side of your arm.

You suck in a breath. “The kids talking each other’s ears off as usual. My instructions went through one ear and straight out the other, apparently. How was setting up?”

She gives you a look that already tells you she’s ready to be up and out of here. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth so nobody can see or hear what she’s saying. “Oh, it was awful. All these leaders have badges that I’m surprised they have. Nobody was cooperating. So much for being a leader.” She mumbles.

“I’m glad I wasn’t setting up this year then.” You laugh.

“They’ve picked an awful spot for camping this year. I’ll be shocked if they even did a risk assessment on this place.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so glad that we get to pick where camp is next year.”

You nod. “I trust that you’ll pick somewhere nicer.”

A man calls out from behind Mandy. “Hey, we need some help over here.”

She flashes a quick smile to the man and then shoots you a helpless look as she follows him. You settle down on a wooden chair nearby, crossing your leg over the other whilst you wait for your group to finish up. The main doors into the cabin open and a man steps inside with a heavy looking backpack that surely looks like it’s going to knock him over.

He shrugs his bag off his shoulders and places it down beside a chair with a grunt. When he turns around to brush the crease in his trousers, it almost knocks the air from your lungs. Your stomach twists and you turn your head to the side as if he won’t work out who you are that way, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

The reason you were sat here in the first place is sat in front of you, and you have no idea if he’s up to something or if he innocently signed up for this. After a few seconds of trying to avoid his gaze, you can see his eyes land on you and how he freezes. You swallow, rolling your eyes before narrowing your eyes at him, trying to work out why he’s here.

“Steve.” You say coldly. “You’re kidding, right?”

He presses his lips together, awkwardly glancing around the room, then his eyes drop to the floor.

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you back to convince me that you were attacked by aliens and you saved the day in your little fairytale?” You scoff. “You’re such a child, Steve. It’s honestly pathetic.”

His eyes dart to yours helplessly. “Don’t mention that. Don’t ruin this.”

“Ruin this?” You laugh. “You’re acting like you didn’t ruin a whole lot of shit for me two years ago. Why are you even here? I didn’t think this was your type of thing. Thought you’d be sticking to partying, not camping.”

“I volunteered myself.” He says quietly like it’s something he should be ashamed of.

A laugh slips from you again. “No way. I’ve got to be in another world right now. Maybe it’s the one with all the monsters you warned me about.” You quip.

His shoulders slump and he brushes his hands against his trousers. “Are you going to be like this the whole time we are here?” He asks.

You shrug. “Depends.”

Before he can ask you anything else, your group comes rushing back into the seating area and he clears his throat, standing up and walking away. He turns his head around to look at you, only for you to still be looking at him, and he quickly whips his head back around to focus on the self-catering station.

You stand up from your chair, dropping your gaze to all the children in front of you with a small smile, trying to forget that your ex-boyfriend is in the same room as you. “Have we got everyone here? Where’s Lizzie?”

“She’s still in the toilet.” Sally says from beside you.

“Could you go and tell her to be a little faster? We need to stick together.” You ask.

Sally nods and stumbles her way through the crowd of people, disappearing into the toilets. She comes back out a few seconds later with Lizzie flapping her wet hands about, trying to dry her hands quicker. They stand in front of you and you do a head count, checking that you’ve got everyone.

“Perfect. Grab your bags. Let’s set up.” You say, grabbing your bag and quickly glancing over at Steve before you head outside.

After a long trek down the site to find an open area, the children set their bags down and their gear to pitch their tents. You help the children clear out the sticks and rocks in the area so that it’s flat enough to keep the tents stable. One of the children comes up beside you, leaning down to grab the twigs scattered around.

“Who was that man you were talking to before?” Sally asks curiously.

You turn your head to face her with a small smile, even though the thought of him right now is making you feel uneasy. “He was an old friend of mine. I haven’t seen him in a long, long time.” You reply with a half-lie. You weren’t looking to explain to a young teenager about a relationship you had when it shouldn’t be something she should be thinking about yet.

“You looked like you were angry at him.” She says, and you pause.

Your shoulders drop and you sigh. “Did I?” You ask, trying to sound like you didn’t know you looked angry, when you were very much more than angry at Steve.

She nods, holding her stack of twigs and sticks close to her. “Did he do something wrong?”

“Nothing that you should worry about.” You smile, gently rubbing her back. “We’re going to be pitching the tents in a moment, so you can place the sticks somewhere away from our area. Preferably in a place where nobody will trip over them.”

She flashes you a quick smile and hurries back over to her friends with a quiet giggle. They probably saw something that you didn’t catch, and you were mortified about whatever questions they were going to ask you over the next few days. You walk over to the camping gear and clap a few times to gain their attention.

“Quick re-run over the rules.” You call out and they shuffle along to you. “There are four of you allowed in each tent. We have an odd number, so three is okay, but we can’t have five. There’s not enough space for five in a tent.”

The children are looking at each other, waving at their friends as they silently work out who they want in their tents. Some of them silently start moving towards their friends, wrapping their arms around each other like you’re going to pull them away if they don’t.

“Are we allowed to switch tents with our friends, so we all have a turn?” Robert asks.

You slowly nod. “I’ll say yes, but you’re responsible for moving your own gear and items and if there’s any drama over switching, then I’ll stop you from switching at all. Any more questions?” You ask, and they go silent. “Okay. Let’s pitch the tents. Help each other out, that’s what you’re all here for.”

They grab their gear from beside your feet and rush to a space to claim it. Your group have a lot of practice with pitching tents, and if needed, they can help the newer children who aren’t sure what to do. The point of this camp is to show skills, and teamwork is definitely up there.

As you’re walking around to check in on the groups setting their tents up, you can hear cheers and giggles coming from somewhere nearby. You turn around on your heel to see another Scout group coming to set up beside yours, and then you see Steve slowly trailing behind them with their gear in his hands, looking grumpier than ever.

“You alright over there?” You laugh at Steve. “You look like you’re struggling.”

He huffs, gripping the bags tighter. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Do they not have their own hands to carry their things?” You ask as he walks past you.

“Doesn’t look like it.” He grumbles, grunting as he placed the gear on the floor, stretching his arms out.

His group seem to be using him as their own personal assistant, holding their bags and now attempting to pitch their tents that they don’t look that bothered trying to do. You’ve been standing watching him try to set up one of the children’s tents for the past five minutes, but he keeps sighing to himself and convincing the children that he’s ‘got it’.

You glance at your group who have already pitched their tents, and they’re sitting inside them, sorting the sleeping bags. After a while of contemplating going to help Steve save himself from embarrassment and possibly ending up with the children sleeping on grass, you walk over to him.

He’s trying to push the poles through the tent, but the poles keep popping out of the tent, collapsing it. You stand beside him, assessing what’s in front of you. “Have you ever pitched a tent before?” You ask, looking him up and down.

He clears his throat, folding his arms over his chest. “No, I haven’t.”

“I can tell.” You murmur, glancing at the collapsed tent.

“Why’d you ask me then?” He sighs, rubbing his hand against the side of his face.

You grin. “Because you’ve been making a right fool out of yourself in front of everyone for the past ten minutes. It’s hilarious.”

“Help me out then.” He groans.

“Aw, that’s sweet. You’re asking me for help.” You tease, already leaning down to pick up the poles that popped out of place and securing them tightly. “It’s a tent, Steve. If you don’t secure the poles tight enough, of course it’s going to collapse. This is supposed to be able to get through all types of weather. I thought that would be obvious.”

His ears go red at your comment as he watches you thread the poles through the tent. “I know that. The poles just… weren’t tightening any further.” He replies. “Faulty.”

“Sure.” You drag out, pushing the poles into the ground. “Need the pegs.”

“What do they look like?” He asks, searching through the bag.

“Oh Jesus, Steve.” You sigh, looking over your shoulder. “They should be silver and look like a hook.”

He scrambles through the bag, metal clinking together, and he takes out a handful of pegs, placing them in the palm of your hand. You push a peg into the ground to secure the corner, then push yourself up to secure the other three. Once you’ve checked that the tent’s secured, you step back beside him and take a look at it.

You tilt your head to the side with a grin. “Think you can do that for the other tents?”

“Sure, I can. Seems easy.” He says confidently.

“If it was easy, you wouldn’t have been struggling to connect poles together, which isn’t even the hardest part of pitching a tent, by the way.” You add, pressing your lips together to suppress a laugh.

His eyes narrow at you and he drags his hand down his face, looking completely hopeless. “You’re making this sound worse than it is.”

“It’s pretty unfortunate that you can’t set up a tent. I’m looking forward to see you trying to do other things.” You flash a mocking smirk at him.

“This is like a field day for you.” He sighs.

You shrug with a smile. “Have fun pitching the rest of your group’s tents. I expect to be back here in five minutes, tops.”

You walked back over to your group, smiling way too much for someone who’s only been here for two hours.

By the time the sun set behind the trees, all the Scout groups came together to sit around a fire that was much taller than you. Every group was tasked by the camp manager to grab as many logs and sticks as they could and bring them over. It became a competition between the children in your group that the person with the most sticks won, and it caused a lot of bickering whilst you were walking over.

Your group are sitting on the grass with blankets settled over their shoulders as they try to stay warm as the fire is doing nothing to keep anyone warm right now. The camp manager advised everyone to stay as far back from the fire to prevent anyone getting caught on fire, which was silly because the fire was mostly there for aesthetic more than for keeping everyone warm.

Steve’s group are beside you, which isn’t surprising. You’re convinced he’s going to be practically by your shoulder every day, and you don’t know whether to be angry that he’s doing this or keep mocking him. He’s been glancing at you all night, then looking away when you look over at him. He’s not subtle at all, and that only makes it funnier.

His group move to sit around him, breaking the main circle that connected all the Scout groups together. You glance at him, then at your group, watching as they stop their conversations between each other to see what Steve’s group is up to.

He notices that your group’s attention is on him, and his eyes dart to yours. You’re about to say something to take offence of this betrayal, but his voice cuts through. “Would you like to listen to a spooky story?” He asks your group, and they nod quickly, already shuffling over to mix with Steve’s group.

You huff and roll your eyes, shuffling yourself over with your group because there was nothing better that you could come up with anyway. He only smiles at your reaction, his eyes staying on you for a moment.

“Does it contain monsters in this story?” You ask, clearly referencing what he told you two years ago.

“You’ll have to see.” He shrugs, leaning against the log behind him. “There was once a girl that was walking through the woods to get back home.”

You roll your eyes, mumbling. “Cheesy.”

He shoots a look at you. “My story is anything but cheesy, thank you.” He replies, turning back to the children. “Anyway. She stumbled across a house in the middle of the woods with all the lights on. It had vines growing on the walls and it was old looking. She decided to check out the house and saw that the front door was open.”

One of the children huddled up in the group calls out. “Why would she go look?!”

Steve grins and continues. “She walked up to the front door and knocked once, waiting for someone to respond, but nobody responded so she knocked again. Again, there was no answer. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The house was nicely decorated with paintings hung on the walls.”

The children are all leaning forward, their attention set on Steve. This is probably the one time that they’re going to be listening to something that’s been said to them.

“She decided to look around the house, so she walked through the living room. There was a coffee cup on the table, so it was clear someone was inside there recently. She continued to walk through the house, checking out the kitchen and looking through cupboards.”

His voice started to deepen, and though you swore to yourself that some children’s story wasn’t going to scare you, you could feel goosebumps prickling at your skin. You wanted to blame it on him dragging out the story.

“Then she decided to walk upstairs, dragging her hand along the hand railing. She stopped at the top, looking left and right. To her left, there was a long hallway leading to a room at the end, and to her right, there was a bathroom. She stepped into the bathroom to look around. The bathtub was pristine and everything was neatly set out.” He continued, glancing around at the children.

“This doesn’t sound scary.” A child says confidently.

“She stepped out the bathroom and wandered down the long hallway, slowly pushing the door open. It was a huge bedroom. Everything in there was white. The walls, wardrobe, dressing table and the bed. Then she noticed that there was a bump under the covers of the bed.” He said as a whisper.

The children gasped, gripping onto each other, holding them close.

“She walked up to the bed, placing her hand on the corner of the covers and then… BOO!” He lurches forward with a loud scream that was surely going to capture the attention of the other groups, causing all the children to jump, pulling a laugh from him.

You flinch backwards, your heart hammering against your ribs, placing your hands beside you on the grass. His eyes land on you and he laughs, sliding his hand through his hair. “Scared, huh?” He asks.

You clear your throat, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Be quiet, Steve. That wasn’t scary. I wasn’t scared.”

“Sure, you weren’t.” He grins, proud of himself.

“What happened next?” Christopher asks.

Steve turns to look at him. “The rest is unknown.”

All the children gasp, leaning into each other to whisper. You awkwardly brush your hands on your legs, glancing at your group. “I think it’s time you all head back to your tents now. We have a long day tomorrow.” You say quietly, pushing yourself to stand up.

They all whine and groan at your comment, slowly getting up from the grass.

“You’ll be thanking me tomorrow, I promise.” You add, doing a quick head count.

Steve stands up, brushing the grass that was stuck to his trousers. “Did you like my story?” He grins.

“I’ve heard better, Steve.” You murmur, leading your group to their tents, turning your flashlight on as it started to get dark.

Once you made sure that they were settled down in their tents, earning a few complaints because it was ‘too early’, you head to your cabin. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, walking straight over to your bed and flopping backwards. You weren’t sure whether to hope for the days to go quickly or for them to drag for as long as they could.

The birds on the window ledge of your cabin woke you up early in the morning. You’d barely sat up in bed, and you already heard the kayaks being dragged across the grass and water splashing as people jumped in. The best part about camp was that there was no strict timetable, but activities ran all day which meant you could stay in bed for an extra five minutes.

You eventually slipped out of bed and quickly pulled on baggy shorts and a T-shirt that slipped from your shoulder. The main cabin was packed with leaders sitting in the seating area, deep in conversation. You walked over to the self-catering area and picked up a mug, turning the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil.

You’ve barely had time to process that Steve’s here, and he’s always around, wherever you look. He’s stood in a corner, leaning against the windowsill, sipping his drink. The kettle clicking pulls your gaze away from Steve and you pour the water into your cup, stirring the coffee.

Mandy walks over to you with a more cheerful smile than yesterday. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You grin, leaning against the wall.

“I know I said that this campsite was awful, but the beds are really comfy, so I’ll give them that.” She says, raising her cup in the air.

You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “Felt like I was back at home, honestly. The cabins are really cozy. I’m glad we get a pass and don’t get to sleep in a tent.”

“I’m thankful for that every time we camp.” She replies, glancing around the room, then back at you. “That guy has had his eyes on you for a long time, by the way.”

“Who?” You ask.

She nods her head backwards, gesturing to Steve. “Him.”

You glance at Steve who’s looking at you, and he quickly turns his head around, pretending to look through his pockets. “Right, yeah. Him.” You murmur.

“Now you’ve got to tell me.” She says curiously.

“Another time, another time.” You laugh. “This is not the place for me to be speaking about it.”

“Right, but I will keep pestering you.” She grins, sipping her coffee. “We’re on kayaking today. I’ve made sure that our kayaks are safe, and they’re waiting to be used.”

Your head drops dramatically. “I have to do the honors of bringing them there and trying to get them to be sensible with the kayaks, how fun.”

She nudges your side with her elbow. “You’ll do great. I’ll be taking over to do the nature trail later tonight, anyway.”

“My savior.” You laugh.

When you finally reached the group’s tents after a long, five-minute walk from the main cabin to their area, they were already out of their tents and dressed, playing noughts and crosses with sticks in the mud. You clap your hands together to gain their attention, and they drop their sticks.

“I’ll be going through this once, so listen up because I won’t be repeating myself. This morning you will be kayaking with me. Then we’ll be going to the cabin for lunch. You’ll have an hour of free time, as long as you’re staying on the grounds and behaving appropriately. Then Mandy will be taking you on a nature trail in the afternoon.” You say, clasping your hands together.

Then their questions started to flood in, and you could barely make out what anyone was saying to you.

“Whoa, whoa. One at a time.” You laugh and then point at Robert. “Go on.”

“Are we allowed to swim?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Not in the part of the river that we’re heading to, no.” Then you point to Sally.

“Did you like the spooky story last night?” She asks, earning giggles from the rest of the group.

“It was okay.” You say, trying to hold in a laugh. “Are there any serious questions?” You ask, watching as their hands drop down and you nod. “Let’s get going.”

Once you arrived at the dock by the river, the kayaks were already in the water, the paddles settled on top. The life jackets were hung up on pegs beside the dock, so you get your group to line up whilst you pass them the jackets and secure them tightly. As you’re finishing tightening the last life jacket, Steve appears in front of you with an awkward smile on his face, his group behind him.

“Oh, today is my lucky day.” You sigh, grabbing a life jacket for yourself and slipping it on.

He reaches behind you to grab the life jackets, passing them to his group. “Incredibly lucky.”

If you thought it was bad enough having to see Steve whilst you were in the cabin or gathering with your group at their tents, then kayaking was a whole lot worse. You got your group into their kayaks and had to pair one of your children with one of the children in Steve’s group as they were double kayaks, and you needed to fill space.

When all the children were in, you walked along the dock to get to your kayak with Steve trailing behind you, tightening his life jacket. You paused as you looked around the water, only seeing one kayak.

“Really? Are you kidding me?” You groan.

He peers over the fence. “Only one left, huh?”

“I’m so glad that you have eyes too, Steve.” You huff, looking around again like one will appear in front of you if you look hard enough. “Front or back?” You ask, folding your arms as you turn to face him.

He blinks at you. “What?”

“Steve.” You whine. “Front or back of the kayak before I change my mind.”

“Back.” He replies. “I don’t think I’ll be good at the front if I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not experienced with kayaking in the slightest.”

You grip onto the dock, slowly lowering yourself down into the front of the kayak. “Of course, you’re not. I’m not shocked.” You mutter.

He lowers himself into the back of the kayak, holding onto his paddle. “I’m honestly quite shocked that you’re letting me in the same kayak as you.”

You gently push off the dock so that you have enough room to paddle. “Don’t get yourself too excited. There was only one kayak left, and you’re not allowed to leave your group unsupervised. I’m only doing this because we have no choice.” You mumble. “Legally.”

As your groups are already off down the river, paddling away, way ahead of you, you’ve barely made it past the dock. Steve’s been trying to use the paddle, but he’s only been pushing you backwards into the rocks.

You look over your shoulder. “Steve, are you even watching what I’m doing?”

“I am. Have some sympathy. This is my first time kayaking.” He huffs.

“We’re not in sync at all. You need to be paddling in sync with me.” You sigh, facing forwards again. “Just keep your paddle still whilst I at least try get us closer to the kids, then you can try again. Watch what I do.”

He sets his paddle down and you start to paddle down the lake, eventually catching up with the children who turned their heads around to laugh at you. Steve laughs from behind you, seeing you get so frustrated.

“They’re laughing at you too, Steve.” You snapped, only making the children laugh more.

They continued to paddle down the river, pointing out otters that are laid on their backs, probably having more fun than you are. Eventually, Steve starts to paddle too, getting the hang of the movements and following what you do. Your paddle swoops under water, coming up and splashing Steve in the face.

“Hey, you got me wet.” He grumbles, brushing his hand over his face.

You grin, turning your head around. “You were bound to get wet at some point, Steve. You’re on a river.”

He rolls his eyes and waits for you to continue paddling before he starts moving side to side, making the kayak rock. You stop paddling and brace your hands on either side of the kayak.

“Steve!” You squeal, water sloshing around you as he rocks the kayak.

“What? I thought we were supposed to get wet on a river?” He teases.

You whip your head around, shooting him a glare. “If we end up in the water because of you, I swear to God.”

When you completed a lap around the river, being the last kayak to get back to the dock, you were quick to get out of the kayak, pushing yourself up and drying off. You didn’t hear the end of it from the children. They were relentless about you and Steve failing to get around the river in shape. You were crowned as the losers for the rest of the day, which you could agree was deserved.

Some of the other Scout group leaders saw you and Steve trying to get around the river together too, and their comments were worse. You wanted to go into your cabin and stay there until the coaches arrived on the last day.

At least Steve got something fun out of it, because clearly, he was more bothered about getting a laugh out of everyone instead of taking it seriously and trying to kayak. He was still the same Steve he was years ago, and you hated that you enjoyed seeing him this way. It almost made you forget that you broke up, and you don’t have this version of him anymore.

Everyone was up and out of their tents and cabins as soon as the sun rose the next morning. The heat from the sun was sweltering, and there was no air conditioning in the cabins. You had woken up in a hot sweat, immediately kicking the covers off, running to open a window.

When it was hot during camp, the only way to cool off was to jump into the water, which you were sure was going to be packed with people, and that’d only make it feel hotter. You dress in a pair of blue shorts and a tank top before rushing out of your cabin, making your way down to the lake.

As you walked along the path by the side of the lake, you saw your group dipping into the water, some sat on the rocks with their feet dipped in, and the others splashing each other to cool down. You looked around to see many camp managers around with hi-vis on and whistles around their necks, so you took the opportunity to keep walking around and find somewhere quieter.

You pad down a dock further along the river, settling down on the edge and taking your shoes off, placing them to the side and dipping your feet in. Your body instantly relaxes, and you swish your feet around in the water. A familiar voice comes from behind you, and you don’t need to turn around.

“I see we’re on the same boat.” He says with a laugh. “Get it, because we’re on a dock?”

You roll your eyes with a grin. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” You say sarcastically.

He takes his shoes off, almost tripping over and losing his balance, and sits down beside you, dipping his feet into the water. His hand is too close to your hand. It might as well be on top of yours.

“It’s too crowded at the other end. There’s no way anyone is comfortable over there.” You say quietly.

“Yeah, that’s why I came over here. Figured it would be less busy.” He nods, glancing at you for a second. “Are you not going to get in?” He asks.

You tilt your head to the side. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me, and I’m not walking back to my cabin dripping in water. I’ll save myself.”

“Everyone will be doing the same.” He shrugs. “I will be doing the same.”

“Well, you’re not me, Steve.” You smile, focusing on kicking your feet in the water. “I’m more than happy sitting up here with my feet in the water.”

He exhales through his nose, standing up and lifting his shirt off his head so he’s just in his shorts. “Suit yourself.”

He jumps off the edges of the dock into the water, coming up to the surface with his hair stuck to his forehead, spitting the water out. You roll your eyes and brush the water away from your face. Your eyes flick down to the deep scarring on his neck below his moles that you’ve never seen before, and you can’t push down the worry that’s growing inside you.

You clear your throat and look back at his face, trying not to focus on the scars. “When did you become a Scout leader, anyway?” You ask.

“Around seven months ago.” He replies, treading water.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised. “Wow. That actually sounds like a long time for you. I’m shocked you’ve lasted this long as a leader.”

“The kids are fun when they’re not ignoring me.” He sighs. “They’re yet to take me seriously for once.”

“They seemed to take you pretty seriously when you were telling that spooky story the other night.” You grin, resting your hands on the edges of the dock.

He smiles and shakes his head. “That was a first and a last. They only listen if Colin is talking, the other leader.”

“It was the same with my group for a while. They’ll get used to you eventually.” You say, flashing him a small smile. “I mean, I’m not shocked that they don’t take you seriously though. You’re Steve.” You laugh.

“What’s that meant to mean?” He asks.

How he doesn’t know about the effect that he has on people is slightly shocking. He can effortlessly make everyone laugh, every room that he walks into. He’s done that for years.

You shift on the dock, resting your hands on your lap. “Don’t twist my words and think that I’m being friendly with you, but you’re really funny without meaning to be. You’re an idiot that can make anyone laugh. It’s stupid, really. Nobody can take you seriously when you’re making them laugh.” You admit quietly, already regretting potentially boosting his ego.

“You’re definitely being friendly with me.” He grins.

You kick your foot under the water, splashing his face with a laugh. “Like I said, don’t twist my words.”

“Right, right, whatever.” He smiles, rubbing the water from his eyes. “I always knew you’d end up signing up to be a leader, but when did this happen?”

“Two years ago.” You sigh, your shoulders dropping. “It took a lot of convincing my parents to get here. They really wanted me to stay with them.”

He presses his lips together. “Sounds like your parents, alright. You’re old enough to be making your own decisions.”

“Believe it or not but I said the exact same thing to them.” You laugh, your eyes flicking down to the scars on his neck again.

The conversation between you both went on for a while until the camp manager blew the whistle and you had to get up to meet up with your groups for the next activities, even through the heat. He pushed himself up onto the dock and threw his shirt over his shoulder, walking beside you to the main area.

Whilst you were doing the next activity with the children, your mind and eyes couldn’t help but wander back over to Steve. It felt like nothing had changed whilst you were updating each other on your lives since being apart. You felt sick thinking about the scars on Steve’s neck, and you felt a strong urge to find out what happened.

Later in the night, you tried to get yourself settled down in bed, but you only sat against the headboard, staring at your door. The scars on Steve’s neck were practically burned into your eyes, and you felt uneasy going to sleep to never find out. You padded over to your window, looking outside to see a few people with their flashlights walking down the path, probably the last people to get into their cabins.

For a few moments, you paced around your cabin, not caring so much if your movements wake anyone up, trying to fight back the urge to have all your questions answered overnight. You cave in and slip your shoes on, grabbing your jacket from the hook and opening the door, quietly closing it behind you.

You remembered where Steve’s cabin was as you’ve given the cabin annoyed glances every time you’ve watched him walk in or out over the past few days. Once you reach his cabin, you quietly walk up the steps and knock on his door, hoping that he’s awake. The door opens seconds after, he’s standing in a T-shirt and shorts, his hair still messy from the lake. His mouth goes wide open, unable to form words.

“I know it’s late, don’t tell me. Can I come inside?” You ask. “Please?”

He nods quickly, stepping to the side. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You walk inside, brushing your shoes against the mat beneath your feet, and he closes the door behind you. He stands closely in front of you, his hand hovering over your side, looking more confused than he ever has.

“The scars on your neck, where are they from?” You swallow.

His eyes glass over and he shakes his head with a scoff. “We are not going there, not tonight. I’m not looking for having an argument over this again.”

“What do you mean again? This is the first time I’ve asked you about this.” You ask, squinting your eyes at him.

“Because my answer is something that you think I’m lying about, and I don’t want to see you walk away from me because of it again.” He chokes out.

You freeze hearing the crack in his voice. There was no way that whatever he had to say was a lie if he’s being this vulnerable in front of you, and if he is lying, then you’ll give it to him that he’s a pretty good actor.

“Tell me.” You say, more quietly.

He shakes his head. “I’m not arguing with you over this again. It’s not worth it.”

You look down at the ground for a moment, then back into his eyes. “I’ll listen, Steve. No matter how insane you’re going to sound.” You say, gently taking his arm and already leading him over to his bed before he can say no, sitting down on the edge.

“Please listen.” He whispers, gently placing his hand on top of yours when you nod. “When I was constantly disappearing and not letting you know where I was, it was for your safety. I didn’t want you to come out and look for me only to get hurt. I wasn’t going to sit there and let anything come for you.” He swallows, squeezing your hands tighter. “So, when you asked me to be honest, I couldn’t lie to you.”

You nod slowly, letting him continue.

“I know it sounds like some fantasy. I get it, it sounded like a fantasy to me too until I saw it all, but everything that I told you was real. Since then, I lost more friends in that place. My friends have lost their friends there too. Part of me was glad that you didn’t believe me, because that way you were safe, but I lost you, which was one of the things I tried so hard to stop from happening.” His voice breaks.

Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand. “So, the scars are from one of the… creatures there?” You ask, the word sounding weird on your tongue.

He nods. “It was a bat. Not the kind of bats that you see here, though. I wouldn’t say that’s the worst scar I have.” He says, slightly lifting his shirt to show you the scars on his sides and over his stomach.

Your eyes widen. “Jesus, fuck, Steve. I don’t know how I never saw those.”

He shrugs, letting his shirt flop down. “They’re definitely not the most beautiful sight.”

You look into his eyes, your lip trembling. “I don’t even… I feel sick. You were getting hurt and I left you on your own, during probably the most horrific time.”

His hand comes to your cheek, gently brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize slipped. “No, baby. I understood why you didn’t believe me, because I know that I do sound insane when I say it. I’m not blaming you for not believing something that doesn’t sound real.”

The nickname coming so effortlessly from his lips snapped something inside you, and your arms carefully come around him, burying your face into his neck. “I’m still so sorry. You were hurt. I wasn’t there to help you.” You sob.

His hand gently comes through your hair, holding you close to him after years of not being able to hold you. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m safe now. We are all safe now.”

He gently brings you closer, sitting you down in his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You slowly lift your head from his neck, your eyes glassy. “Nothing will hurt you again?”

“Nothing. We made sure of it.” He whispers.

Your face comes to his neck again, gently pressing your lips over one of the scars on his neck. His hands tighten on your waist, a soft gasp escaping from his lips. You pull back from his neck, and he immediately presses his lips to yours. Your hands slip into his hair as he deepens the kiss. He shifts and slowly lays you on your back on the bed, keeping his lips on yours.

His hand slides up your side to rest on your cheek whilst his tongue slips across yours, pulling a gasp from you. He slowly started to rut against you, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, almost forgetting to take a breath. Your hand comes up to gently tug the sleeve of his shirt, and he pulls away from your lips for a moment, catching at your hint.

“Wanting this off?” He grins, and his cockiness is already back.

You nod quickly and he leans over you, slipping his shirt off, dipping down to kiss you again. He’s taking his time with you, and you don’t know if you want him to hurry up or keep at this pace as it’s been a while since you’ve had a moment like this. His lips brush against your collarbone and he gently slides a strap down your shoulder.

“Yes, off, please.” You gasp out.

He nods, pulling the other strap down and sitting you up for a moment to pull the tank top away. His lips come back down to your skin, trailing over your bra and down to your stomach, and then back to your lips again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a soft whine slipping from your lips.

His hand blindly comes down to your shorts, and he carefully tugs your shorts and panties down at the same time, throwing them behind him. One of your hands slips into his hair, pulling his head down and desperately pressing your lips to his again. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you feel the tears pricking at your eyes again.

Having him back under your touch again was something that you weren’t ever expecting to have again. You convinced yourself that he was making some silly remarks only to never speak to you again, but you were so glad that you were wrong. You’re always going to love him, even with how crazy his life got.

He pulls back again to pull his shorts down, his boxers going down with them too. A grunt falls from his lips as he presses himself against your skin. His forehead comes to your shoulder, his shoulders rising up and down with every heavy breath.

“I love you.” He manages out through the crack in his voice. “I never stopped. Even when I entered that… awful place, I thought of you. Not a day went by that I wasn’t wishing that you were safe.”

Your hand gently brushes the side of his face, then sliding back through his hair, brushing his hair out of his face. “I love you, Steve. I’m glad that you’re safe.”

A soft smile twitches at his lips and his lips press to yours before he murmurs against your lips. “Tell me want you want, baby.”

You whine into his mouth. “Want you inside me. Please.” You beg, trailing your hands down his back, pressing him closer to you.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.” He repeats, reaching down and stroking his cock, a strangled sound leaving his throat. “Y’gotta be quiet, baby.”

You nod and he nudges his cock between your folds, quietly cursing to himself, and he slowly pushes in as the both of you gasp. His hand comes to hold your hand that’s rested beside your head, and his other hand rests on your waist. He looks into your eyes desperately and you nod.

He took the opportunity to push further in with a desperate thrust, and his head drops to your shoulder again. Your hand gently squeezes his you get used to his little desperate thrusts. You needed a little time to adjust to him.

Once the pressure of your hand on his relaxes, he pressed his lips to yours as he began to roll his hips into yours, immediately hitting the most perfect spot. You hadn’t realized that you were making sounds until his hand on your waist comes to rest over your lips and he only thrusts deeper, grinning at you.

“There we go.” He coos, looking down between where your bodies meet for a moment before he looks back into your eyes, leaning down to press kisses along your jaw. “Doing so well for me, baby. So perfect.” He murmurs against your skin. “Fuck.”

You whine against his hand, your words coming out muffled. “So good, Steve.”

He removes his hand from your lips and quickly presses his lips to yours again to muffle both of your moans. His hands slip into both of your hands, tightly gripping them and pressing them down into the sheets. Your hands squeeze his as he shifts slightly and finds a different angle, his pace quickening.

Your hand tugs away to slip from his grip and you slide your hand between your bodies, adding pressure to your clit and rubbing messy circles with your fingertips. When he realized what you were doing, he groaned into your mouth, almost losing the pace that he set.

He murmurs against your lips. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

His hand comes to yours, removing your hand from between your bodies and replacing your hand with his, circling your clit at a brutally slow pace. You gently bite down on his plush lip. The slow pace he has on your clit mixed with his cock thrusting inside of you burns perfectly.

“Steve.” You whine.

He slightly pulls away from your lips, rubbing your clit a little quicker, watching the way your breathing hitches as you try hold back any sounds from slipping so that you don’t get a lecture from any of the leaders tomorrow. “Y’look so pretty, baby. Always so, so pretty.” He whispers. “I love you… fuck. You feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.” He gasps, gently biting on your lip to muffle the noises coming from him.

Your hands grip onto his back, trying to hold him as close as you can even with how sticky and humid the cabin is. “I missed you, Steve.” You mumble with a gasp. “I’m sorry for doubting you and being so angry. I’m not doing that again. You’re not a liar.” You admit softly.

His tongue slides across your lip. “I know, baby. I don’t blame you.” He murmurs, his thrusts getting deeper. “I won’t be disappearing like that again, any time soon. Unless disaster strikes again.” He grins.

Always trying to be funny, no matter where you are, and that includes in bed. You roll your eyes at his comment, gently swatting his bicep, though a little smile twitches at the corner of your lip. “Idiot.” You murmured breathlessly.

He laughs, pressing his lips to yours again, and he starts pounding into you rapidly, a muffled squeak coming from your throat. His body shudders on top of you as he feels you clench around him, and your hand slips up the back of his neck, gently rubbing slow circles below the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling the sweetest string of moans from him.

Steve’s always been vocal, and he would be a lot louder if it wasn’t in the middle of the night with other leaders nearby to his cabin. You can tell he’s struggling to keep quiet, and you can’t blame him. It’s been over two years since you’ve been able to do this, even months before you broke up.

You gasp into his mouth. “Steve. Fuck.” You squirm beneath him and his large hand settles on your stomach, gently pressing down. “I’m so close. You feel amazing. Fuck. Keep going. Keep going.” You repeat, rambling underneath him, your voice coming out as a whine.

He groans, pressing further inside of you. “Wanna feel you squeezing me.”

You gasp, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh fuck… Steve.” You sob, your head dropping back on the pillows. “I’m coming. Oh, fuck! I’m coming.” You whine and he presses his lips to yours as you squeeze around him.

He whimpers into your mouth, and he weakly thrusted a few more times before stilling inside you, filling you up perfectly, shaking above you. You’re trembling beneath him, your breaths coming out uneven and shaky. He leans down, immediately pressing gentle kisses over your face, his hand sliding under your head to hold you close to himself.

For a moment, neither of you move, focusing on relaxing into each other. His hand on the back of your head strokes gentle circles, and he carefully pulls out, watching your face. He lays on his side, bringing you close to his chest, playing with your hair to soothe you.

“I love you.” He whispers, tucking your head into his chest. “Stay in here with me. We can talk more in the morning.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering. “Okay.” You whisper. “I love you.”

“Sleep, baby.” He murmurs.

For the rest of the night, he keeps you close in his arms whilst you both fall asleep. This wasn’t what you thought you’d be getting out of camp when you first saw Steve arrive, but it ended the final day of camp perfectly. You got to see the part of Steve that he kept quiet, and you listened, even though it felt weird to hear.

In the early hours of the morning, Steve woke you up with a few kisses on your face, and you could feel him grinning without having to look at him. You shifted in his arms, slowly opening your eyes. He leans his head back a little to get a better look at you and he flashes you a wide grin that you could say you missed.

“I know it’s pretty early, but I’d like for us to not deal with comments from the leaders whilst we’re in the main cabin.” He says sadly.

You raise your eyebrows. “Kicking me out so soon, huh? Pretty rude of you to do after last night. I’m taking full offence.” You joke.

He rolls his eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Y’know I’d love to keep you in here. You need to get to your cabin and pack your things, though. The coaches come pretty early, and you need to make sure your kids are awake and their tents are stored.”

“Let me guess, you’ll need help taking your group’s tents down?” You ask.

He huffs. “Possibly.”

“I’m glad to be of help.” You grin, pushing yourself to sit up.

He sits beside you, the covers pooling around your waists. Your clothes are halfway off the bed and on the floor. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before he lets you slip out of bed and pick up your clothes. You slip your shorts on and pull your tank top over your head, then you slip your shoes on and your jacket.

“I’ll see you if you make it to the tents in one piece.” You grin, walking over to his side of the bed and kissing his cheek.

“Missing you already.” He grins, watching you walk over to the door.

You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him before you walk out, quietly closing the door behind you. It’s starting to get lighter outside, so you rush back over to your cabin before anyone can question you. You get inside and change your clothes before you start packing your clothes and items into your bag.

There are leaders already making their way over to the main cabin, so you swing your bag over your shoulders and walk out of your cabin, locking it behind you. You spent some time in the main cabin with the leaders, everyone having their morning coffee and talking about how the camp has been, already discussing the next one. Your eyes keep darting over to Steve who’s grinning at you from the other side of the room, Colin beside him.

With a few complaints and groans as you had to go sort out your groups to get on the coaches, you walk down to the tents with Mandy beside you. The tents are still zipped up, and the children haven’t got up yet. You sigh and clap your hands together, earning mumbles from inside the tents.

“Alright, time to get up!” You say, weaving around the tents. “The coaches arrive in an hour, so you need to be up and dressed to take your tents down.”

They slowly shuffle out of their sleeping bags, tents zipping open as they crawl out, looking all groggy and grumpy. For the next few minutes, they lazily grab their gear bags and start to take the tents apart, which didn’t take as long as you expected. You turn your head to see Steve standing by a tent, trying to take it apart.

You glance at Mandy and the group who are putting the tent gear away, and you walk over to Steve, standing in front of him. “Struggling again?” You ask with a grin.

“I’m never going to work this out.” He mumbles.

“I can teach you at some point when you’re not under pressure.” You laugh and lean down to pluck the pegs out the ground.

He grins. “My house?”

“Sure, Steve. Sure.” You nod, but you’re more than happy to do so if it meant that you’d be around him.

He helps you take the tents apart, which he’s much better at taking them apart than pitching them. It was clear that he wanted you to come over and help him for the sake of it. When you’re distracted and he sees no one is looking at you both, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, earning a laugh and a ‘Steve!’ from you.

Once all the tents are down, you make your way back to your group and walk down to the coach parking area, and you feel a strange tugging in your chest. You hated leaving camp anyway, but you weren’t ready to be away from Steve after already having to be away from him for two years.

As you’re loading the children’s bags into the luggage compartment at the side of the bus, he calls your name from behind you and you whip your head around, your shoulders dropping by simply looking at him. He breathlessly pauses in front of you.

“My bus is almost ready to go, but I needed to see you before I leave.” He gasps out, resting his hands on the sides of your face.

A smile twitches at your lips. “I’m glad you’ve not disappeared again.”

“That won’t be happening again, I swear.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “I wanted to ask if we could try us again? I understand if you don’t want to after knowing what you know, but I won’t be running off anymore. There’s nothing crazy happening in my life.”

You tilt your head and press a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. “Yes, as long as we are safe and I’m not going to get eaten by some weird creature.”

He grins. “Trust me, you’re safer than ever.”

“Well, you know where I live. I haven’t moved anywhere, still with my parents.” You smile, dragging your hand down his chest. “Feel free to stop by.”

“Oh, I will.” He says with a cocky smirk. “I’ll need come camping lessons if I’m really going to get into being a leader.”

“I’ll give you some.” You laugh, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Now, get back to your coach before they drive away and leave you here.”

He gently lifts your head from his shoulder and presses his lips to yours in a deep, slow kiss, a quiet sound slipping from him. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you, Steve. I’ll see you soon.” You whisper, brushing the back of your fingers over his cheek.

“Don’t be surprised if I turn up tonight.” He grins, slowly stepping backwards.

You fold your arms over your chest. “Oh, I’m expecting you to.”

He waves at you before jogging over to his coach and you turn back to the luggage compartment, shaking your head with a smile. Once the bags are loaded up, you step onto the coach and take a seat next to Mandy at the front, and the driver slowly starts to drive down the path.

“I thought you were mad at your friend?” Sally asks from the seat behind you, and your cheeks heat up hearing the children laugh. They definitely saw you kissing Steve.

Camp didn’t go the way you were expecting it to, but it got you right back to who you were missing, and you were glad your parents gave into you. Steve wasn’t lying when he said he’d come to see you, you knew that. You’re expecting him to be waiting at your door when you get home.

But none of that explained why his heart beat a little faster when you were near, why he felt so desperately sad when you didn’t stay the night or why when he saw you talking to Ryan Williams at a party he wanted nothing more than to punch the nearest wall (or Ryan, whichever was more satisfying).

He was being stupid—he knew he was. You were technically not even friends. In fact, when you weren’t fucking each—you two were arguing. Not only that but you and Steve were not together and you were able to talk to any guy you wanted.

But it didn’t mean it didn’t kill him a little inside when you laugh at something Ryan had said while Steve watches from across the room.

Fucking Ryan.

Steve was deep in some sort of twisted daydream of socking Ryan in the face when someone taps his shoulder.

He turned around and was met with a pretty brunette who looked vaguely familiar. Amy something, or maybe it was Amanda, some girl who he had gone to high school with. Some girl who was fluttering her lashes at him and giving him every opportunity to be his distraction for the evening. He briefly considered it, knowing it would have certainly made him feel a little better about you and Ryan.

But he didn’t give in. Because despite the fact you annoyed the fuck out of him, he loved you. He knew it now he had seen you with someone else. He really fucking loved you. And he knew fucking someone else wasn’t going to stop that.

And so, instead of going upstairs with Amy or Amanda or whatever her name was, Steve went home. Trying not to think about you going home with Ryan, trying not to think about Ryan kissing you or fucking you or—

The sound of his phone ringing as he grabs a drink of water pulls him out of his thoughts. He didn’t know how but he knew almost instantly that it was you calling. And so, Steve answers. Because of course he does.

“Hi,” was the first thing he says when he answers the phone, trying to keep his voice casual, normal, like his heart wasn't beating out of his chest already. 

“Where—wherey’d you g-go?”

From the sound of your voice, Steve could instantly tell that you had been crying.

He felt his stomach drop instantly,

“Home,” he says, sitting upright instantly and straining to listen to the sounds of the party around you. But there was none. No music, no drunken yelling, no Ryan—

“Baby, where are you?”

The petname slips out before he could stop it. He only ever used it when he was feeling particularly needy—when you were on top of him, tits bouncing in his face and fucking yourself on his cock. When you would slowly roll your hips just as he was about to cum, making him lose his damn mind. That was the only time he called you baby.

Until now, that was.

“I-I left,” you tell him in a small voice. “I sa-saw you g-go and I—”

“Where?” Steve interjects, already standing up and grabbing his car keys that lay nearby. “Where are you? I’ll come and get you and I—”

“—I th-think I love y-you, Stevie.”

Everything stills. Time itself seems to slow down. Steve feels as though he has forgotten how to breathe. Because you felt the same, you felt the same.

But he couldn’t focus on that right now. Not when you were god knows where, sad and probably alone.

“I—I’m sorry I just—I saw you and Amanda and I—I—it felt like my whole world ended and then you were gone and I thought—”

“Tell me where you are,” Steve demands of you somewhat gently, jaw clenched as the words you had just uttered make him feel things he had been trying to ignore for months. “C’mon baby, I—I just need to see you so tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.”

You’re quiet for a moment before you tell him you were at some payphone right outside of Melvald's and Steve tells you not to move, tells you to stay exactly where you were.

Steve drives to Melvald's, breaks a few traffic laws on the way that he wasn’t proud of but he makes it to the parking lot outside the store in less than five minutes. 

He spots you almost instantly, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk with your arms wrapped tightly around your legs as if it could protect you from the cold.

Steve practically stumbles out of his car in his haste to get to you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking off his jacket without even a second thought and dropping it over your shoulders. “What were you thinking? Walking home alone like this, why didn’t you—”

“—be-because I thought you l-left,” you say quietly, your eyes shining as you look back up at him. “A-and I th-thought you left wi-with Amanda and—”

“—no,” Steve says with a shake of his head, dropping down onto the sidewalk beside you so he could cup your face with one hand to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen. “No, I didn’t go home with her. I-I wouldn’t do that.”

You breath hitches, you try not to think too much about the implication of those words but it was impossible not to do that when he was so close to you.

“Why?” You ask him quietly, barely daring to look away from him for even a second. “Why wouldn’t you—”

“—because I—because I love you too.”

Your eyes widen, lips part and Steve looks momentarily terrified that he’s said something insanely stupid, that perhaps maybe he had misheard you over the phone when you had told him you loved him.

But then you’re leaning in, closing the gap between you and pressing your lips firmly against his.

The kiss was anything but romantic—it was desperate, your fingers running through his hair as his hands roam over your body, grabbing at your thighs, your ass, anywhere he could touch, as though he was trying to map it out. It was the sort of kiss that left your core aching, made you want to pull him into his beamer and let him fuck you until sunrise. 

You weren’t sure how long you made out with Steve Harrington on the sidewalk but you knew it was Steve who was the first to pull away. You let out a noise of protest, something between a whine and a whimper as your eyes flicker down to his lips that were swollen from your kiss and covered in a mix of your spit. 

“Why did you—”

Steve presses his finger against your lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Because my girl deserves the best,” he tells you simply, the words making something in your gut squirm, the look in his eyes making your cunt clench around nothing.

You feel one of his hands brush along the bare skin of your leg. The subtle touch starts a fire in your gut, your eyelids flutter as he slowly drags his fingers up to your thigh in a tantalising dance that makes your blood hum with need.

“So let me take you home and then—”, he murmurs, fingers disappearing beneath your skirt and pressing his fingertips firmly against the damp patch that had formed in your panties. The moan that leaves your lips as a result should be embarrassing but you found that you didn’t care all that much when Steve’s fingers were circling your clothed clit, when you could see the thick outline of his cock through his jeans, “—then I’ll take care of you. Give my girl what she needs, yeah?”

You couldn’t do anything but nod your head frantically. Because he had called you his girl, his girl, his girl.

Steve wastes no time before he leans to kiss you again—this kiss much softer, gentler, everything you and Steve had never got the chance to be. He can’t help but smile into the kiss because when it came to you? It was hard not to fall but you had been right there to catch him.

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Sometime you felt like being with Steve was too good to be true. He was unlike anybody you’ve ever known. He was loyal and kind, always affectionate and respectful beyond words. He understood you in ways you weren’t even sure you did yourself.

As achingly sweet as he was, you practically lived in anxiety. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You waited, shoulders tense, for his kind hearted demeanor to finally switch on a day you upset him – maybe even only inconvenienced.

But he never did.

Steve never raised his voice – never raised his hand to you – he never dished out silent treatment when he was upset. He never demanded unrealistic expectations from you. He never asked you to change yourself or try to stuff you in a box.

It should’ve felt good. Safe.

It just made you feel more on edge. Like his inevitable blow up would be worse than anything your mind could have ever conjured up.

None of this was his fault, not even a little bit. You had your disgusting ex-boyfriend to thank for it. He was the one who littered your skin with bruises and wounds. He was the one who would kick you to the ground over and over and over again for saying the wrong thing at dinner. He was the one who told you you’d never deserve anything more than what he gave you.

And even though you were years out of it, and you did most of the work to unlearn every cruel word he instilled in your brain, it was hard to let it all go.

Steve knew about your past and not once did he let it affect the way he saw you. He didn’t see you as fragile or weak – he saw you for you. Strong willed and determined.

But was it really enough?

Today was Steve’s first day as head coach for the middle school baseball team. His promotion from elementary school to middle had been something he worked the past year for.

You couldn’t have been more proud of him but words didn’t feel like enough. So while he was at practice, you spent the day fixing up your shared apartment. You paid attention to every detail as you cleaned, you hung adorable baseball decorations around the room and you put every ounce of love into the dinner you made for him.

You had three pans across the stove at any given time, your fingers raw and numb from all the chopping. Your back ached from leaning over the stove but you knew it would all be worth it to see his face when he walked in.

He spent so much time making other people happy, you wanted to do the same for him.

Dinner was just about finished, you made him his favorite dish of yours – pot roast with some mashed potatoes and veggies on the side. The last thing was to plate it and fix the table.

In the cabinet, there was a set of beautiful glass dishes you and Steve were gifted by his mom. They were old china – beautifully hand painted with blue and white. You never had the chance to use them yet, but today felt like the perfect opportunity.

You carefully pulled two plates out and perfectly placed the food across the glass. You set his side of the table and then yours and with a quick glance at the clock, you had just enough time to yank your apron off to reveal the pretty red dress Steve bought you a few weeks ago.

Only a few minutes later, Steve walked through the door. Dressed in his blue and white coaching polo, paired with his khaki pants. His brown hair was floppy atop his head, his stubborn curl leaning over his forehead.

He looked tired – undoubtedly from the warm sun, but his eyes lit up the second they saw you. He gently shut the door behind him, but paused in the doorway as he took in the sight around him. The smell of food hit him first. His eyes danced around the room – taking in the decorations, the cleanliness, the beautiful table you set with candles and flowers alongside your dinner.

Then at you.

Your ridiculously gorgeous frame standing beside the table, wearing the dress he bought you. Your hands clasped in front of you, a shy smile ghosting on your lips.

“Hi Steve,” You murmured at him and he didn’t even try to bite back his grin.

“Hey baby,” He replied, finally finding his strength to move. He tossed his keys on the dish beside him and in a few short steps, he ended up right in front of you.

His hands found their home at your waist, his thumb stroking over the fabric there. Your arms follow, wrapping around his shoulders.

“What’s all this, hm?” His voice is so gentle and full of love. You smile up at him and quickly peck his lips before pulling away from him. You easily steer him to his seat across from you. You find your own seat immediately after, a smile still coating your mouth.

“This..” You gesture towards the plate in front of him. “Is to show you how proud I am of you, Steve. You worked so hard for your promotion and you’re gonna do great,”

Steve felt his chest warm with adoration as you stared at him. He was almost at a loss for words.

You were too damn sweet.

He smiled back at you and raised his hand across the table to grab yours.

“It’s beautiful baby, just like you,” His words make your cheeks heat up and he chuckles. “I love it honey, thank you.”

Your smile widens and you gesture towards the food “Now eat, it’s gonna get cold,”

Steve nods quickly, his hand slipping from yours to dig in. The two of you ate together, talking about how his first day went and how much he loved it already.

He told you about the kids on the team and some of the parents he was able to meet. He told you what he planned to focus on first with them and you could see that twinkle in his eye every time he talked about it.

It made your heart feel like it was going to burst.

When you finished dinner, you stood to gather the dishes but he stopped you before you could.

“Nuh-uh,” He hummed, rising to his feet and easily stealing the glasses from you. “I can do this,”

You frown up at him. “But it’s your day, Steve,”

He stacks the plates over each other, holding them with both hands as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

“You cooked all of this. The least I could do is wash the dishes,”

You fight back a smile as he walks further into the kitchen and to the sink. He places them down before his fingers begin to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt, carefully rolling them up to his elbow.

You bite your lip to suppress the grin threatening to make it’s appearance.

“Okay, but I can still help,” You declared. Steve says something from the sink that you can’t quite catch as you grab the drinking glasses from the table.

Both of them sit in each palm as you turn to walk back to the sink. What you didn’t account for was the chair pushed closer than you thought and before you can stop it, your foot catches on the wooden leg. Your knee buckles and in an attempt to keep yourself from falling, the cup slips from your grasp and shatters across the hardwood floor.

Your ears ring.

In an instant, you’re on your knees, huddled over the broken glass. Instinctively, your hands reach out to grab the pieces of glass as if you could somehow put it all back together before Steve turned around.

Suddenly, it was like you were no longer with Steve and instead, you were back in that awful house. You could feel your body trembling as your mind echoed with nasty thoughts, all by the sound of your ex boyfriend’s voice.

Look at what you did.

You can’t do anything right.

Do you even know how much that cost?

Your eyes stung with tears and your breathing hitched. This wasn’t just a cup – this was gorgeous art Steve was gifted by his mother and you ruined it.

You heard the sound of plates clattering in the sink and Steve’s footsteps getting closer.

This was it. This was when it was going to happen.

Your stomach was in knots as your hands quickly grabbed pieces of the glass. You couldn’t stop your hands from clenching around it but the fear pumping in your veins had you unable to feel the way it pierced your skin.

You could just barely see his shoes enter your vision. The sound of him calling your name was almost clouded.

“I’m – I’m so – I’m so sorry, Steve. It was an accident, I – I swear,” Your stuttering voice was all you could focus on.

Then Steve bent down and you physically braced for the impact. You didn’t really know what kind – from his hand, his shoe, his elbow – whatever he chose really.

But that didn’t happen. Of course not.

Steve gently wrapped his palms around your arms, pulling you upright until you were sitting in the chair furthest from the broken glass. Your hands still clutched the pieces tight, little specs of blood spilling from the sides.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve cooed, gingerly raising his palms to cup your cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? What happened?”

You don’t dare to meet his gaze. You keep your eyes locked on your trembling hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I’ll – I’ll fix it. I can – I can fix it,” You say frantically, tears streaming down your face in rapid succession.

Steve frowns and pulls your face upwards to face him. He says your name gently but firm. “Hey, I don’t care about the cup,”

Finally, you look up at him.

Your vision is clouded from the hot tears lining your eyes but you can see him. His face is twisted in confusion, his mouth pulled down into a frown and his eyes swirl with concern.

He looks almost relieved that you’re looking at him again.

“It’s just a cup, okay? It’s not a big deal,”

You shake your head, lip wobbling. “But it was from your mom. It was important and I – I broke it,” You sobbed.

Steve held you tighter. “Baby, breathe,” He says softly. “I promise you it’s okay. It was an accident.”

Your shoulders shake as more tears pour from you. Steve glances down at your hands and sees the way you’re clinging to the glass pieces. He mutters a curse before grabbing a wet towel and carefully forcing your fingers away from your palm.

He winces at the sight of your nicked skin and begins to clean up the skin. He keeps his eyes on his task as he begins to talk again.

“Baby, I need you to understand something,” His voice is firm but so tender. You blink through your tears and look back at him. “I will never hurt you, and I will never yell at you, especially not over a broken cup,”

Steve carefully plucks the pieces of glass out of your hold and throws them into the pile of the rest. He places the towel over your palm and uses both of his to interlace your fingers. His brown eyes meet yours.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. Accidents happen and it’s okay to get scared but I want you to know that you never have to be afraid of me. You’re safe baby, I promise you that.”

By the time he finishes, a new wave of tears have washed over you but not from anxiety – from love. From the love you’re overwhelmed with for him. From the aching difference in the way he treats you than anybody else.

You want to believe him so much – you do believe him, even when it’s easy to fall back into your bad spot.

He looks up at you from where he kneels in front of you. He’s careful in his movements, hyperaware of anything they could set you off. You suck in a shaky breath and wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you easily, caging you into him and his warmth. He whispers sweet things in your hair, lips grazing across your temple.

“I – I love you,” You whimper against the skin of his neck.