It snowed in my city today! So of course I wrote a Steph fluff about itđ„°
2026 is the year of Steph Catley and nothing will stop me
Also if you can identify where I live from the pictures no you canât
no warnings this is all cutie patootie
From the moment you woke up, something felt different. Your bed was warm, the duvet cocooning your body like a mummy- and you were dead to the world, until a few seconds ago. But it couldnât have been a noise that woke you- the world was quiet, eerily quiet. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and blearily and grabbed a robe, feeling your shoulders relax as the soft fabric cloaked your body. Bare feet against the cold, hardwood floor, you opened the door and padded out into the morning light.
The first thing you noticed was how white the light was, in your whole flat. Christmas was well over by now, and the decorations sat packed into their boxes in a corner by the dining table. You cleaned yesterday, so for once there were no dishes in the sink and no clothes on the airer, glaring at you to fold them. At first you thought maybe it just felt empty now the tree was gone and the lights taken down, but no- it was something else. The huge window above the kitchen sink was almost completely whited out, the sky a blanket of heavy cloud, and then through the sleep in your eyes you realised- snow.
Not just a little bit of snow, either. A steadily falling flurry that had coated the rooftops and swirled on the breeze like steam coiling through cold air. You couldnât fight the childlike delight that rose in your chest, a grin spreading on your face that no one would see. Snow! It never snowed there, not ever, hadnât since the first year you moved to the city and ended up traipsing around a park taking pictures for a friend. But now it was snowing- for real, settling on the pavements and the lampposts in a way that couldnât be misconstrued as sleet or frost or hail. Nope- that was snow.
Before you could think, your phone was in your hand and you were typing her name in. You snapped a picture out of the window, just capturing the adjacent roof and the layer of white that covers it.
You captioned it, and sent it to her without batting an eyelid.
Your morning continued with a lighter feeling in your heart. The flat was cozy, well insulated against the freezing outside, and there was something distinctly comforting about wrapping your hands around a hot mug of coffee as the flakes continued to tumble on the other side of the glass. You had nothing to do that day, no plans, and just sitting there and watching the sky felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Across the city, Steph was in a strop. She was dressed, in leggings and a quarter zip, thick socks tucked into her trainers. She was ready to go, literally about to step out the door, when it started. And now- now it was too heavy to contend with, there was no way sheâd run when it was that cold, and sheâd probably break her neck slipping on ice anyway. She tugged the elastic from her hair frustratedly, shaking it out around her shoulders, and gave Calvin a little ruffle on his head.
âSorry bud.â She scrunched her nose.
âNo run today. Walk later, maybe, if youâre lucky. But no run.â
Calvin whined, retreating to the sofa where he curled up against the cushions and looked at Steph like sheâd committed a crime.
She sighed, irritation flaring in her chest as she flicked the coffee machine on for the second time that morning and resigned to being trapped inside. She hated snow- hated the fucking British weather, interrupting her schedule and ruining her plans, getting rid of her tan and forcing her to take vitamin D eight months of the year. She was muttering under her breath to the dog, settling herself in a corner of the couch when her phone pinged from the kitchen counter.
Maybe it was the group chat- the other internationals would surely be feeling the same as her, right?
Or maybe it was Beth or Katie, in their element, likely embroiled in a snowball fight.
Or maybe⊠but no, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
She couldnât allow herself to wonder what you were doing right now. Couldnât let herself think about you for longer than a minute without the anxiety in her chest tightening, that sick feeling swirling in her gut. It had been three weeks- not even a month since she last saw you. But those three weeks- no contact, not even a Merry Christmas, the five day gap passed without giving in to temptation, no New Years⊠not that you wouldâve kissed her anyway, obviously. She shook the feeling from her head physically, making Calvin jump a little. Not today.
The door to the coffee shop tinkles open, and you shift in your chair. Your hands clutch at your mug, Stephâs usual flat white sitting on a saucer at the seat opposite. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold as she comes through the door, pulling a beanie from her head and waving with a grin as she crosses the space. You canât help but note a few heads that turn to look at her as she moves- ever graceful, glowing in a way that is hard to describe, attracting peopleâs attention even when she doesnât mean to. She plops down in her chair, shrugging the jacket from her shoulders, and immediately picks up her drink.
You try, desperately try, not to watch her throat as she swallows one, two, three times. You donât flinch at the sound of satisfaction she makes as the mug clatters back down. Youâve gotten good at this- holding it together, being the best friend she needs, giving her everything while she barely notices. You chat, about work, her break from football, you slaving away right up until Christmas Eve. Steph tells you sheâs going home for Christmas- you did know that, of course you did, but it still stings something awful when she tells you sheâs going to be gone for so long. She seems to feel it too, a sympathetic smile playing across her face. Itâs always easy with her- she always says the right thing, makes you laugh without effort, looks you in the eye like sheâs seeing right into your soul.
If she ever found out the truth, that youâve loved her for as long as you can remember and wanted her for even longer, youâd be ruined. Completely and utterly destroyed, no going back. As she sipped her coffee and nattered about Calvinâs groomerâs wedding, you made a vow- right then and there in that moment. Sheâd never know. Youâd carry this to your grave, and it would never hurt her like it hurt you.
You hugged Steph goodbye outside the coffee shop, wind whipping your hair into tangles that clung to one another when you pulled apart. She laughed, made some joke about even your hair not wanting her to go. You smiled right along with her, ignoring the burn in your chest.
Steph finally turned her phone over. There it was, your contact, staring up at her cruelly, like something snide and mocking. 1 new message. That anxiety bubbled up again, crawling sickeningly up her throat, as she unlocked the screen and opened the conversation.
Good morning đ€ bet youâre LOVING this x
Her heart squeezed. Teasing her, as always, as if no time had passed. She flopped down on the couch dramatically, earning a huff from Calvin, who watched on disapprovingly. She grinned as she looked at the picture again- out of the window of your apartment, so she could picture exactly where you were sat, knees tucked up under your body, coffee in hand. It was disgusting, actually, she thought, just how easily the image sprung into her mind, the way her belly fluttered with butterflies. She sighed, sinking her head back, and said out loud.
âWhat the hell am I gonna do, Calv?â
You dressed quickly, eager to get out the door before the heat of the flat started to get uncomfortable over all your layers of clothes. Leggings under joggers, thermal top under your hoodie under your coat. Scarf tied up to your nose, hat pulled down to meet it, barely leaving a gap for your mass of hair and eyes to peek out. At the front door you pulled your gloves on, and looked out into the world with a smile.
Your boots crunched against the fresh snow, flurries still curling down from the sky, dampening your hair and clinging to your coat. Youâd told yourself youâd just go for a walk, get some fresh air, maybe do a lap of the park. But before you could argue with your own brain, with the sheer magnetism that kept you on course, youâd turned the corner at the end of Stephâs road and found yourself looking up at the closed curtains of her front room. Maybe she was still asleep- that would explain why she hadnât answered your text. You didnât want to wake her⊠as you got to the end of the driveway, you considered turning back, leaving her alone, letting sleeping dogs lie. But you couldnât, even with the sweat starting to seep from your palms, the lump in your throat; the draw towards her was too strong to fight. So you took a deep breath, steeled yourself, and knocked on the door.
Steph heard the knock, and considered ignoring it. It wouldnât be the first time- it was usually just the postman, looking for someone to talk to on his daily rounds, or someone giving her a leaflet about Jesus. But then it came again, three sharp taps that felt strangely familiar, although why that knock should be any different from any other she wasnât sure. Still, that feeling was what hauled her up off the sofa, Calvin trotting around her heels, and to the front door.
And there you stood- flushed cheeks, hair wild, eyes bright. The grin on your face said only one thing, that you were incredibly pleased to see her. And all of the animosity, all of the insecurity and fear and worry that had plagued her for twenty one days, melted away in an instant. You were there- barely a foot away- and that was all that mattered.
âSteffy!â As you threw your arms around her, wet coat leaving a damp patch on the front of her sweater, she couldnât help but dissolve into the hug and squeeze you tighter. Her hoodie was soaked, your cheek freezing as it pressed against hers, but her stomach felt so incredibly warm, like the glow of a candle as its flame swallowed the wick and grew.
You prayed, as Stephâs arms came around your waist, that she could not feel the pounding of your heart. You cursed internally when a deep breath overcame you, not realising youâd been holding it since she touched you. When you eventually pulled apart, she looked at you like she was seeing the sun for the first time in a long winter. She was damp, still in her sweats with her hair in a knot, but she smiled at you like youâd just handed her a million dollars rather than a very snowy hug.
âWhat are you doing here?â
It was the first time sheâd spoken, and the twang of her accent felt both foreign and familiar in your ears. After weeks of being surrounded by your southern family, the comfort of her voice was unexpected but more than welcome. It made you a little weak at the knees.
âIâŠâ you hesitated. What actually were you doing there?
âI came out for a walk. See the snow, you know? And I just⊠ended up here. Thought maybe we could take Calvy out to play?â You then bent down to the doorstep, and the dog came bounding out from behind Steph. He leapt up into your arms, covering your face in kisses as you ran your freezing hands through his soft curls.
âYes, yes⊠hello baby! Hello! Yes I missed you too⊠yes, yes, I know.â
Steph looked down at you, cradling her dog in your arms like a human child. He looked so relaxed there, more relaxed maybe than he was with anyone else.
âHe says âplease mum?ââ You looked up at her, and Steph felt a spark flicker in her gut at the look on your face. Looking up at her like that, knelt at her feet⊠No, now was not the time for that.
âUgh, fine.â She sighed, crossing her arms.
âYouâre lucky you two are my favourites.â
You stepped into her hallway, stamping your boots on the mat as she headed towards the stairs.
âLet me just get something warm⊠and dry⊠on. Sort the boy?â Steph looked at Calvin who was sitting patiently by the door, but his feather duster tail and wiggly hind quarters gave away his enthusiasm.
You just nodded up at her, turning to the basket by the door.
âCome on bubba! Letâs get you ready for an adventure.â
Steph closed the bedroom door and leaned her back against it. She looked down at her hands, shaking slightly, just barely in rhythm with the rapid, thudding beat of her heart. She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath, and then another, watching her fingers as the trembling stopped. As she dressed, her mind whirled.
Youâd just walked right up to the door? No call, no nothing? No explanation- for three weeks?
She couldnât decide, and she didnât have time to, as she zipped a waterproof jacket up to her chin. Time to face the music.
âHe is absolutely not wearing that.â Steph stood halfway down the stairs, lips pursed at the sight that greeted her. You sat cross legged on the floor, Calvin in your lap. Under his harness, youâd buttoned him into something that vaguely resembled a fleecy baby gro, his fluffy feet poking out and his head looking comically enormous by comparison.
âWhat?â You cocked your head to the side.
âYou bought it. And heâs gonna be so cozy, look!â You ruffled his ears and he licked your hand contentedly. With another sigh, Steph descended the rest of the stairs and bent down to kiss him on the head. She looked at you as she pulled away, rolling her eyes at your grin.
âYou are both insufferable, but fine. It is cute. Come on, letâs go.â
She reached out a hand, hauling you to your feet with practiced ease. It made your heart leap a little- you always forgot just how strong she was, she looked so tiny and unassuming. But she did it like it was nothing, and held you close to her for a split second longer than was strictly necessary. You took Calvinâs lead as she locked the door, and side by side you ventured out into the snow.
Steph really did hate snow- really. Her feet were wet, her legs numb despite the layers, her nose frozen to within an inch of dropping off, she was sure. But maybe it wasnât so bad, watching you walk a couple of paces ahead, her dogâs leash loose in your hand as he frolicked beside you. He clearly loved the snow- stopping to snuffle every time you came across a drift, following trails of footprints on the path, leaping into patches where it was deep and untouched and coming out absolutely covered. And you obviously did too- the way it made you laugh, your cheeks bright red but smile stretched wide, throwing your head back. She watched you spin, Calvin romping around you, opening your mouth to catch the flakes on your tongue. Steph felt odd, like she might burst into tears. She actually stopped, just watching you walk, until you noticed she was gone and turned to look back. Over your shoulder, eyes sparkling, you beckoned her.
âCome on slowpoke! Weâll race you to the end of the road!â And with that, you took off.
If there was one thing Steph was not going to do, it was lose a race. She was competitive, as competitive as any of her teammates, even if she seemed quieter and more controlled most of the time. But an elite athlete losing a foot race to someone who worked in an office? Not a chance.
She took off, locking in maybe a little too hard, skidding a bit as she caught up to you and catching onto a tree branch to steady herself as she overtook, slipping just a little. Unfortunately, you caught her arm just at that moment, and the momentum of Calvin bounding forth pulled you both to the ground, in a tangle of limbs amongst the mud and grass and snow.
âCalvin,â she groaned, as the dog leapt up onto her chest, licking her face.
âHeâs just making sure youâre alright.â You laughed, sitting up, looking at her lying there on her back.
âCome on, Calvy, let mama get up.â You nudged the dog, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. To your utter shock, Steph laced her gloved fingers through yours and let your hands settle at her side, not letting go.
Your pulse skyrocketed. This was not the plan, definitely not the plan. This was the start of ruining the plan, actually. But you really, really didnât want her to let go.
âIs that okay?â Steph asked softly, looking down at her boots in the snow.
You cleared your throat, and then croaked out a quiet
âYeah. I mean, yes, of course.â
As you started to walk back towards her place, the dark of a winter evening already closing in, something heavy hung in the space between your shoulders. Steph held your hand the entire way, her grip tightening a little if she slipped on a patch of ice, loosening as she relaxed but never letting go. The point of contact felt charged- not just with physical electricity, but like a loose thread at the point of unravelling something left unsaid. And not just left unsaid for these weeks, but for months- no, years- before this moment.
Some minutes passed. Stephâs breathing returned to something resembling normal, although the clench of her heart refused to let up. She breathed in, slowly slowly, all the way, and then let it out in a sigh.
You noticed- of course. But you didnât say anything. This silence, however fragile and distorted it felt, was the final line of defence between you and a reality you hadnât dared allow yourself to imagine for so long. Hadnât dared even consider that Steph might have some stake in this- until she slipped her hand softly into yours.
âSo.â Steph said after a while, slowing her pace a little but not quite stopping.
âThree weeks, and not a peep. We just pretending that didnât happen?â
The way she said it was so blatant, but at least she was being honest. And she was right, of course. Three whole weeks.
âIâŠâ you hesitated, coming to a pause now and turning to face her.
âI thought maybe if I gave you some space, gave myself some space, we could keep doing this. A bit more easily, anyway.â
Steph looked at your face, although you couldnât meet her eye. Your gaze darted around skittishly, like settling on any one thing for longer than a moment would expose some truth in your eyes.
âKeep doing what?â She said it softly, far too softly for it to be a completely unanswered question. She wondered if you meant what she thought you meant- keep tiptoeing around this mounting thing, the thing that grew in each casual touch and shared glance and late night phone call.
âKeep pretending.â You exhaled.
âPretending what?â Steph caught your other hand in hers so you were standing completely joined, so close your scarves and coats brushed against one another. She was really pushing now, picking carefully at that thread, watching the stitches loosen.
âPretending weâre⊠friends.â
You felt her flinch, there was no denying it with both her hands in yours. At first it seemed like she was recoiling, but it was actually something more like a reset, a shift in her posture, like she wanted to lean closer but was too scared.
Steph was scared. Not scared like facing a big opponent, or scared like what if sheâd forgotten her passport before a flight- no, she was scared like you held a gun to her head. What if this was it? What if you were saying exactly what you meant- you werenât even friends?
âAre we not friends?â Her voice shook gently, tears constricting her throat.
âIâŠâ you leaned in then, still holding on, just resting your forehead against hers. Stephâs breath hitched, but she didnât move.
When you spoke, your voice sounded pained, like the words had been chiselling themselves into your bones for centuries. You were sure when you were dead and rotted away, theyâd find her name engraved on the inside of your skull.
âIâve been pretending for so long. Acting like itâs easy. And sometimes it is- youâre so easy to love Steph, so easy to care for, you make me laugh and understand me like nobody ever has. But itâs hard, too- knowing that you want to be friends, just friends, and that Iâll never get to love you quite like I want to. Iâve done my best to shield you from it, to hold it in a way that doesnât touch you. But Iâm not sure I can. Not when weâreâŠâ you looked down at your hands.
âLike this. This is too much. Iâm sorry, I⊠we canât be friends.â
When you finally looked up at her face, Steph saw you had tears in your eyes. She let go of one hand, and with a single gloved thumb she brushed them away.
âOh god.â She said softly, leaning in again until your noses bumped.
âI canât believe how fucking stupid we are.â
âWhat?â You balked through the tears, although you didnât pull away from her. Having her this close was agonising- her breath warm on your freezing cheeks. It felt like being impaled by something blunt, right through the chest, and having it wrenched around over and over, like someone was trying to mash the contents of your torso like potatoes. You could almost cry out from the pain of it- a burning, crushing feeling, inescapable and breathtaking.
âYouâre so fucking stupid.â She whispered it again and as the âpâ left her mouth, her lower lip snagged over yours. Still you didnât move, eyes squeezed closed, the atoms width of space between your mouths tingling with the air pressure.
âSteph.â You tried to say it like a warning. Wanted to say if we do this thereâs no going back. Wanted to say weâre ruining everything. But instead your mouths brushed again, and the single word came out more like a desperate plea than a caution.
Steph couldnât fight it any more. Her whole body coursed with adrenaline, heavy breaths rising and dying in her chest, need sparking an itch in her fingertips. And then you said her name- like a prayer, like a promise, a voice sheâd heard in her head as she lay alone in the dark. And she gave in.
There was nothing cautious, nothing questioning, about the way Steph kissed you. If youâd ever wondered how she felt, it was all certain in that moment. Her hands came up to grip the collar of your jacket, yanking you forward, and she crashed her open mouth into yours with such aggression that your teeth knocked together. You half laughed, half gasped into her mouth, melting as she tried again, lips pressing deep and sure. Your hands unconsciously settled on her waist, clutching at her like she might disappear, angling your head to deepen the kiss, to get more of her. She made a sound, strangled in her throat, and it felt like sheâd filled your belly with petrol and then lit a flame right in your cervix- heat flared up from your core so violently it almost knocked you backwards. You couldâve kissed her like that for hours- freezing, numb, damp, entirely uncomfortable except for the desperate heat of her mouth.
And then Calvin whined, and reality came crashing down over you like a bucket of ice water. You pulled back, letting go of Steph reluctantly and look down at the dog. He was soggy, shaking over and over to try and get the water off, and shivering. God knows how long youâd been stood there, but the moon was peaking out from behind a cloud and the sky was dark.
âOh baby!â You scooped him up without thinking, gathering his wriggly wet body into you.
âIâm so sorry. You must be freezing.â You kissed his nose, and he was sure enough chilled right through.
âHelp me get his harness and this thing off,â you looked at Steph, who raised an eyebrow but complied as you held him like a very squirming and damp baby. She stood there, holding the wet things, as you unzipped your coat and bundled him up in your scarf. Her eyes went wide as you zipped the coat around him like a baby carrier, his whole body tucked in, one of your arms under his butt. He did wiggle for a moment more, but eventually settled with his head on your shoulder and a good natured huff. Steph just laughed.
You held out your hand to her, and she took it without question.
âCome on, letâs get back- before we both get hypothermia.â
Steph stepped into the hallway and kicked her boots off by the door, moving in a bit as she unwrapped her layers of coat and scarf. You unzipped your coat and Calvin sprung free, hopping down and immediately shaking the water off, droplets flying everywhere. You laughed, but Steph held up her hands.
âYou naughty boy! Youâre going to need a bath after all this.â She ignored him as he rolled around on the floor, leaving a puddle on the floorboards.
âWell.â You cleared your throat, watching the scene with a small smile and a pang in your chest. She was so perfect, and you wanted nothing more than to slot yourself into their little life and stay there forever.
âI should get going.â You stood in the doorway, watching her face carefully as she came to you. You thought Steph might look a little sad, or confused, but instead she was beaming, something mischievous twinkling in her eyes.
âDonât be an idiot.â She leaned into you, chests bumping as she reached down past your hip and grabbed the door handle. She pulled it closed, forcing you in, making you stumble onto the doormat less than graceful and leaving you stood there, just looking at her.
âIn fact, Iâm quite sick of both our stupidity.â She pressed her lips together, hands going to the shoulders of your coat which you allowed her to shrug off and toss to the side. Her arms wound around your neck like they belonged there, like they always had, and when her body leaned into you she was warm and close and real. Your hands settled on her waist, the same spot they seemed to gravitate to, and you held her there as she kissed you again. She was still frozen, cheeks and nose icy cold, but her mouth was burning hot and slipped wet against your own. Before you had a chance to move, to flip her around and press her against the door or tangle your hands in her hair or whisper something in her ear, Steph pulled back.
âWhy donât you do something smartâŠâ she turned on her heel, heading towards the kitchen, hands going up to her wet hair and twisting it up on top of her head as she moved.
As she rounded the corner, you took a breath. Then, you followed.
