#imsogonesposts !!

fuckkkk steve is SUCH a clingy drunk i love him smmmm.

like. y’all have been dating for a few months now but you haven’t made the Big Step of moving in together yet but! you do! have each other’s house keys so like. it’s two in the morning and you’re sleeping all cozy wozy in bed until you just feel a huge weight just collapse on top of you and this weight reeks of beer but also cinnamon and hairspray so you don’t panic. you know this weight, you love this weight.

you don’t, however, love the smell of alcohol emanating off of him. you try to push him off but this man is heavy i fear so it does Not work. you can feel his tongue and lips leaving sloppy wet kisses along your neck, and it’s a little gross but it’s also really funny how uncoordinated he is. 

you have to call out his name multiple times to get his attention as your fingers rake through his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp, and he almost purs at the feeling. he hurries to get off as you as soon as you express discomfort bc he’s so so good for you and wants to do whatever you want fawkkkk i need this man so bad guys.

he’s so pouty when u call him out for being stinky but cheers up again so fast when you offer to help him shower. does he think he’s going to get lucky? oh yes most definitely. he’s a very clingy and needy drunk which mean he’s also a horny drunk. you, however, are a responsible person who knows a drunk person cannot consent so you’re doing the right thing and saying no & js trying to get him showered and into bed. he is incredibly whiny abt this.

you get him into your bathtub though, you sitting on the edge as the shower rains down on him. you’re gentle as you wash his hair, despite his pouting that you’re not touching him anywhere else, but his pout quickly melts away as you press kisses to his cheeks and nose and lips after each step in the shower. when he gets out, he does that dog thing and shakes his head rlly fast and flings water everywhere bc rn he thinks that’s like the funniest thing ever actually and you get a little upset at him for getting water on u but sigh it’s ok bc he’s cute.

you help him dry his hair and loan him his own sweatpants that you stole ages ago before you get into bed together, steve all cozy with his arms wrapped around your waist like you’re his own personal teddy bear and his face pressed into the crook into your neck. you think he’ll try to make his moves on u again and that he’ll start to kiss your neck and his hands will start roaming, but you greatly underestimate how incredibly exhausted he is. 

he falls asleep much too quickly to try anything. he stays awake long enough to murmur an “i love you” against your skin, but doesn’t stay up long enough to hear you say “i love you” back. it’s alright though, there’s always tomorrow, when you nurse him back to health from his inevitable hangover

i fear that steve harrington is such a groomzilla im sorry </3 he needs everything to be perfect for your day bc it’s like the day ever and he’s showing everyone how much he loves you, his wonderful beautiful perfect bride, so everything has to be perfect for you and he will genuinely crash out if it’s not.

during the wedding planning he’s lowkey your yes man bc he’s just. agreeing with everything you want but also this is steve he’s had his own dream wedding planned out since he was like 10 he’s got the monica geller wedding book let’s be so fr. and it’s good that the two of you agree on a lot of the big ideas like the venue and the flowers and the color scheme, though you do have a small argument over china patterns, you figure out a compromise. 

the closer you get to the wedding, the worse steve gets. the week before, on the days just leading up to the ceremony, steve is so incredibly snappy and erratic. whenever someone tells him to calm down he just snaps at them and feels really bad but is too proud to actually apologize. he’s like. two “dude just breath”s away from crashing out. but he never never gets upset at you bc he knows how stressful this whole thing is for you too so like. he’s so mean to everyone except for his bride to be and it’s really cute actually.

he needs everything to be perfect so he’s lowkey micromanaging everything bc it doesn’t take him as long to get ready as it does you so while you’re getting your hair and makeup done, he’s making sure every decoration is perfect, all the chairs are evenly spaced, and everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing. 

he’s incredibly serious about the “not seeing the bride before the wedding” thing so he delegates some tasks to your maid of honor and dustin, his best man ofc, who he trusts to also make sure everything is perfect for your day. steve sobs when he sees you walking down the aisle. he tries so hard not to bc “no one wants to groom to be all blubbery and wet in the photos” but he can’t help it. you look like a princess in your dress and veil, and he couldn’t be happier to have the chance to be your prince charming.

your girl yearns for scoops ahoy steve so OFC it’s going to be in the summer of ‘85 in scoops ahoy. you work in one of the clothing stores at the starcourt mall and your job, albeit a part-time gig for some summer money, reflects your fashion sense, and steve is fucking obsessed with how you dress.

you’re familiar with robin, you’re not the closest people in the world but you’d consider her a friend. you know she works at scoops so whenever you’d get a lunch break, you’d go and pay her a visit in the parlor. get a scoop of ice cream and chat with her, keep her company if it’s not a busy day.

and steve’s pining. always. every time you come by scoops to talk to robin, he’s ogling you from the back. not in a creepy way, ofc, he’s not staring at your tits or ass or anything even though his eyes do drift sometimes but he SWEARS it’s not on purpose, he just thinks you’re gorgeous. everything about you. your hair, your eyes, your sense of style, even the way you always wave “hi steve” before your attention turns to robin for the rest of your little visit.

he thinks he dies a little on the inside every time you say hi to him. he’s like. three “hi”s away from being six feet under. it’s really bad. 

the first time you really meet, outside of some insignificant “hi”s whenever you’d pay robin or visit or polite smiles if you both worked late and bumped into each other in the parking lot, was when you were on a lunch break during work. like usual, you decided to swing by scoops to try their new monthly flavor and chat to robin.

unfortunately :( you don’t know her schedule so you come at a time when she’s not there :( but fortunately! steve is there! and he’s like turned around initially but when you ding the little bell on the counter he whirls around like “ahoy there!” but can barely get ahoy out before his jaw like. on the floor basically.

he kinda stares at you for a moment. and then you stare at him. and he stares at you. and you ask if robin’s there and he’s so quickly crushed. because of course you’re here to see robin. and even if you weren’t, you’d probably just get ice cream and then get out, no reason for you to stick around in a cheesy sailor-themed ice cream parlor. 

he tells you she’s not scheduled today and expects you to order something and leave. you do order something. and you pay. and you put a five into the tip jar. 

and you stay.

you lean against the counter as you munch on your ice cream because the shop is empty other than the two of you, and you assume steve isn’t busy doing much else. you ask him about his day, he asks you about yours, and you just. talk. like how you’d usually talk with robin. it’s not a passive greeting, not a laugh prompted by one of robin’s teasing comments towards him. it’s a real conversation. not only that, but it’s a comfortable conversation.

at least, it’s comfortable for you. steve’s a fucking wreck on the inside. you keep stealing his hat and touching his arm and chewing on the plastic of your spoon, your tongue occasionally poking out to swipe ice cream from your lip. every single little thing you do drives him insane. it’s not healthy and he knows it. 

steve thinks he’d die a happy man if he passed away right now. even if he had to be buried in the fuckass sailor uniform, he’d still die happy.

at the end of your break, right before you’re about to head out, you ask him “how many more times do i have to touch your arm before you ask me out?”

and ofc. king steve comes out bc you can take the boy out of the high school you can’t take the high school out of the boy. he’s so fucking pathetic. and he’s just like “mm maybe try one more time.”

you touch his arm all slow like and you’re just “i’ll see you around, then.”

and he’s trying to be all cool and suave abt it but really he’s bouncing off the fucking walls. and he’s just like “maybe we can see each other tomorrow night? maybe around seven?”

and you’re also like giddy asf. but you’re just “seven it is” before leaving and promptly returning to your store and squealing to your co-workers abt it. and steve is in the scoops backroom on the phone w/ robin squealing to her about it too.

you meet steve when he stops by your town for a rest in some inn and a drink, and he just so happens to visit during the town’s midsummer festival. there are booths set up selling foods and drinks and trinkets, carnival game booths with prizes, a band in the corner playing as people dance in the square, children running around maypoles twisting colorful ribbon around them, and flowers everywhere.

he puts bullet into a stable and intends to just grab a drink and some food and sit in a corner and watch the festivities before grabbing a room at an inn. he has no interest in getting to know the townspeople, he’s just here to rest for a day or two before continuing his travels. his plans are disrupted, however, when he notices a girl being tugged in all directions by a group of men (that are much too old for her).

through the crowd surrounding you, you attempt to signal for help with your eyes. luckily enough, he’s smart and is kind enough to swoop in, making some lame excuse to drag you away. the two of you end up in the cobbled square, dancing along to some jaunty tune the band is playing. you’re surprised at how dexterous this strange man is, but appreciates him for rescuing you from those other men that are desperate to marry you.

he asks you why they want you so badly, but fumbles his words horribly all “i mean— that’s not to say you’re not pretty or anything— you’re beautiful, i’d marry you— i mean—” he’s soooo awkward and cute oh my god. you tease him for being so soft when he literally has two revolvers on his hip and he laughs and relaxes once he realizes you’re not upset. 

you explain how you’re the mayor’s daughter, how everyone thinks that marrying you will secure them some sort of political protection, but that you’re exhausted of greying men always coming after you and how all you want is someone your own age, not being subtle in the slightest but steve is a little too dense to pick up on what you’re putting down. 

when the song ends, you ask if he wants food, and you grab a bite to eat together, sitting at one of the picnic benches and watching the young children of the town dance around the maypoles. you pay for his food so, in return, he wins you a stuffed bear at one of the carnival games. you accept the bear, but tell him if he really wants to make it even, he should take you out to dinner some day.

if im remembering the map of panem correctly, a decent chunk of district 4 is in oregon. as an oregon resident (#doxxed) i can tell you that it rains. so fucking much. like light sprinkles throughout fall but then winter hits and it’s permanently wet always. whoops.

living in d4 all his life, finnick is used to the rain. really, he loves the rain. he’s feeling the rain on his skin bc no one else can feel it for him only he can let it in. anyway he’s the kind of guy that checks the forecast but like. still doesn’t bring an umbrella bc he’s too tough for an umbrella he can handle getting a little wet he’s a MAN. 

or at least. that’s what he says. in all reality, it’s because the rain keeps him grounded. the smell of the wet grass and leaves, each cold droplet that falls onto his skin, it reminds him that he’s alive. that he survived his games, that he survived the rebellion, and that he’s okay now. he’ll take walks in the rain late into the night, and won’t bring a jacket despite your protests.

sometimes you’ll wake up to darkness, a storm pounding against your window and thunder sounding in the distances as lighting flashes, and the space beside you in bed is empty. the sheets still smell like salted caramel and vanilla, and your tempted to curl into them and to get lost in your dreams again, but you feel a tug in your chest telling you to go outside.

you grab coats, one for yourself and one for finnick, and go out to the front. he’s there, standing on the cobblestone path leading up to your porch, absolutely drenched from the rain. you call out to him, staying under the porch overhang to not get wet, and you’re surprised he can even hear you over the rain as he turns and his eyes meet with yours. you think he’s been crying, though you can’t tell where the rain stop and his tears start. 

you’re quick to descend the steps of the porch, immediately pressing yourself into his chest as his arms wrap around you and he buries his face in your hair. the two of you just stand there for a moment before you pull away to wrap the coat around his shoulders, coaxing him back inside.

you run a hot bath, the two of you curling into the small tub together as you warm up in the hot sudsy water. your hands are gentle as you wash his back and his are loving and tender as he washes your hair. you almost fall asleep in the bath, but he manages to get you out and dry you off with a warm fluffy towel. 

you don’t ask him what happened when you get back into bed. you don’t pry or nag or berate. instead, you only tell him two things. the first: to bring a jacket next time; you don’t want him to get sick. the second: to wake you. you don’t want him to be alone anymore. and you don’t like waking up alone all that much either.

you and finnick haven’t been on a date in ages. there was no way for you to be seen in public together after his games, no time or space for you to do anything romantic in district 13. even directly after the rebellion, you’ve both been too busy helping with rebuilding district 4 to actually spend any time with each other outside of breakfast in the morning and sleeping with tangled limbs at night.

so a month or so after everything, he’s ready to give you the perfect night out. district 4, along with the rest of panem, is still under pretty heavy reconstruction, but family businesses have started opening up again, the streets clean of rubble and the remnants of war. 

he’d surprise you with a brand new set of earrings that he made himself out of pearls he’d find while shucking oysters, take you out to the fanciest restaurant in the district. business is still quite slow but finnick doesn’t mind, it just means a little more privacy for him and his girl. the two of you technically have veterans discounts at most places due to fighting in the rebellion with district 13, but finnick always insists on paying full price anyway, and covers the entire meal. 

after everything, the two of you go for a midnight stroll on the beach. you get a little cold, but he wraps his coat around your shoulders, hold you close as you stare up at the moon and stars. the beach is quiet, there’s no one around but the two of you. even the seagulls usually squawking a ruckus are considerately quiet, as if they realize you’re having a moment together. when you start shivering, finnick asks if you want to go home. 

you refuse, wanting to stay there forever. to stay stuck in that moment with him, bare feet on the sand, high heels dangling from finnick’s wrist as he carries them for you, moonlight shining down on you and finnick’s scent and arms wrapped around you. you know if you go home, go to bed, it’ll all be ripped away for a few hours. 

you’ll dream of your arena, of seeing finnick in the quarter quell, of the struggles you endured in district 13 during the rebellion. he’ll be there when you wake up, of course; it’s all over now. but you don’t want to deal with it, even as a dream. not when it feels so real every time. you want to stay here. to preserve and protect this moment forever. but he says you’ll get sick, and guides you back home anyway.

your feet are bare on the cobble, not wanting to don your heels once again, but you don’t mind the smooth and cool stones under your feet. when home, you’re a little quiet as you get ready for bed, curling up under the covers beside each other like you always have. he asks you what’s on your mind and you tell him everything, and you both know there’s nothing either of you can do to change it.

but he’ll try anyway, he always will, as long as it makes his girl happy. he’ll kiss every inch of you until you laugh and writhe under his touch, his hands and lips gentle and reverent, like you’re a deity he’s never known. you know he loves you, and you love him. and for now, even with the nightmares, that’s enough.

i think finnick liking the beach is like. a universal headcanon in the hunger games fandom. so like obviously it’s no surprise that after the rebellion, once he finally gets to take you home to district four, he’s constantly at the beach. always. 

before everything, before the mockingjay and the quarter quell and the rebellion, he would always try to make beach trips special. packing a homemade picnic, finding shells and sea glass for your always-growing collection, making a little firepit so he can cook the fish he caught earlier that day for a sunset dinner at the beach. but that’s changed now.

beach trips are still special, of course. everything with you is special. but it’s a different kind of special now. now it’s him trying to grasp the fact that this gets to be his forever. that he gets to feel the waves lapping at his feet and the sand between his toes and the sun beaming down on his back whenever he wants. that he gets to see you getting your hems wet as you run along the shore every single day. that the seagulls around him are just that. they’re seagulls. not jabberjays trying to torture him with the sounds of your screams. 

he can’t find it in himself to do all of that extra stuff anymore. sure he still collects the shells for you if he finds a pretty one, but there aren’t any picnics, and all the fish he catches are donated to those still struggling after the rebellion instead of being saved for your own dinner. it’s not that you mind, of course, but it still feels wrong. like just because of everything you went through, things can’t fully go back to the way they were. 

instead of the same excitement the sands used to hold for finnick, it’s clear that it only holds solace now. when you wake up in the middle of the night to find the other side of the bed empty, you don’t have to search for long to find him. he’s always at the same spot, sat just a few feet away from the ocean with his knees hugged to his chest, staring out at the horizon. 

you find him and you sit next to him every time. no words exchanged between the two of you, but sometimes kisses are. on particularly cold nights, you’ll bring a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. it’s always too small, so it practically forces you into finnick’s lap, but neither of you will complain about the closeness. sometimes you just sit there and hold each other until you both fall asleep and wake up to the sun slowly rising and sand in your hair. 

you know you can’t force things to go back to the way they were. you can’t start packing picnics and making your own firepits in a vain attempt to bring that back, it doesn’t work like that. but the beach is still yours and his. nothing will ever change that.

aughhhh cowboy steve. he’s such a loverboy i fear omfg hashtag need that. 

this is the kind of man who would want your first “i love you”s to be absolutely perfect. i mean, you’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks and he’s confident you’re the woman he’s going to marry but obviously he cant propose just yet so instead he has this whole thing planned where he’s gonna say i love you for the first time on a romantic picnic date and it’s going to be like a fairytale

he shows up at your house with a bouquet of flowers and a picnic basket stuffed to the brim, full of fresh fruit and sandwiches and bottles of lemonade all for you to enjoy. as soon as you open the door he’s a fucking goner. like yeah sure you’ve been on dates before, but maybe it was the fact he has such big plans for today that makes his heart jump a little more when he sees you all pretty with ribbon in your hair and one of your mother’s old pairs of earrings dangling from your lobes. 

steve harrington never believed himself to be a man of god but he could’ve sworn you were an angel sent from heaven just for him, and he’s not sure how a sinner could get so lucky. 

you greet him with a kiss on the cheek and he grows redder than a beet as you simply take the flowers from him and start to skip off to the hill across the way you’ve dubbed as “your spot.” it’s right by a stream, the boughs of a weeping willow providing shade for the both of you, the bark chipped where steve had scratched his initials and your own into the trunk back at one of your first dates. you make it there first, steve trailing behind you with the picnic supplies, still in slight shock.

you’re a bit confused as to what’s going on with him, since you’ve kissed him on the cheek before, but decided to brush it off as if it were nothing. the picnic goes on without a hitch, and after the food is gone and you’re a little sweaty from the california heat, you decide to go and dip your toes in the water. 

skirt hiked to your knees so your dress doesn’t get wet, one hand holding onto steve’s, who stays on shore and helps you keep balance. unfortunately, you step on a particularly muddy rock on the floor of the stream, slip, and end up tugging steve into the water with you. he’s all blubbery and flustered but all you can do is laugh because today has been so perfect for you, and this man is apologizing as if you slipping was his fault?

you shut him up quickly with a kiss right on the lips, murmuring a soft “i love you” that stops him in his tracks immediately. he’s all doubts, how could you love someone that keeps messing up your dates? but after enough kisses peppered over his face, he finally, finally says he loves you too.