*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Wheeler Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: Mild language. Kind of spoilers for S4.
a/n: This was requested from my Tumblr. It's been a while since I wrote for Steve, but I had fun doing this one. I did take some liberties with the story by putting Steve back in high school. Requests are still open. I do have quite a bit of requests to get through, but as long as you don't mind waiting for something, I am happy to write for you. Thank you all for the love!!
§
You sat at your desk, fighting to keep your eyes open. The math equations on the chalkboard all seemed to blend together, and class hadn't even started yet. You sighed and ran your hands over your face. For the past four days, you had been having bad dreams. But not just any bad dreams; you'd been having night terrors. Dreams that seemed so real that you were crying and in a cold sweat when you woke up. The dreams were so bad that you actually dreaded going to sleep every night. It was to the point where you were staying awake until your body crashed. But then the nightmares stopped only coming at night. You started seeing and hearing the steady tick of a grandfather clock. You didn't tell anyone. Instead, you just came to the conclusion that you were probably hallucinating from the lack of sleep, or at least you hoped that's all it was.
You rubbed your eyes before looking up and seeing Steve enter the classroom. Even though you felt like you hadn't slept in about a week, your body suddenly became very alert. You knew Steve for as long as you could remember, but it wasn't until a couple years ago that you started seeing more of him. He started hanging out with your little brother, Mike, and his friends. At first, you thought it was a little odd that a teenager was hanging with a couple of middle schoolers, but you quickly pushed that thought away. You hadn't said two words to the boy. You were just happy to catch a glimpse of him and earn a smile in passing. When you found out you shared the same math class at the beginning of senior year, you almost exploded. And when Steve sat next to you on the first day and actually said hello, you nearly fell out of your chair. You were mid-way through the school year now, and still, your only interactions were about Mrs. Anderson's trigonometry quizzes.
Steve maneuvered through the desks until he was sitting at the desk next to you. He looked perfect. His hair was combed and styled with enough volume to make half the girls in the school jealous. He was handsome, whereas you probably looked like an extra from Return of the Living Dead. Steve hung his backpack on the back of his chair before turning to you. Your tired stare was trying to focus on the chalkboard, but you could feel Steve's eyes boring into you.
"Hey," he said, causing you to turn your attention to him, "are you feeling alright?"
He leaned a little closer to get a better look at you, but you quickly turned back to the front of the room.
"Yeah, yeah," you said, waving him off, "I'm just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Nightmares?"
The single word had your back straightening. You hadn't told anyone about what you had been dealing with. No one knew a thing. You snapped your head to face Steve again, and he jumped back a little at the sudden movement.
"What did you just say?" The question came off a bit harsher than you wanted, but you couldn't help the hope that bubbled up inside you. Steve put his hands up in surrender and leaned back in his chair.
"Sorry, I was just asking if you had nightmares? You know? Like bad dreams?"
Your jaw went a little slack. Of course, Steve didn't have a clue what you were going through because you were going insane. Nobody was having vivid nightmares or seeing a random grandfather clock. You let out a breathy laugh to try and cover up the utter disappointment you felt.
"Oh, right, yeah, just a bad dream."
You turned your attention to the front of the room just as Mrs. Anderson began her lesson, but you weren't really listening. Instead, you dropped your head down onto your desk. You let your eyes shut for a brief moment, and that is when the ticking started. It was quiet at first as if it were miles away, but it slowly got louder with each passing second. You raised your head from your desk to find the once full classroom empty. Mrs. Anderson wasn't standing at the board droning on about sin and co-sin, and Steve's worried stare was nowhere to be seen. The fluorescent lights that shined from the ceiling were dimmer than before. Your breathing began to quicken when the ticking sounded again, and you turned to see the grandfather clock standing just outside the window. You watched the pendulum sway back and forth, dinging with each swing.
"Your time is almost up, Y/N." A low voice grumbled, and you began to franticly look around to find where it came from. Your name echoed over and over again in your ears until, as if you were being sucked out of a wormhole, the lights came back on, and the entire class was staring at you.
"Y/N?" Mrs. Anderson said, "The answer to number seven?"
Your ears were ringing, and you could feel your chest tighten as the panic started to settle in your body. A couple of students began to laugh at your inability to answer the question. Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows, but instead of giving her an answer, you shot to your feet and grabbed your bag.
"May I use the restroom?"
Mrs. Anderson's eyes narrowed before she gave a reluctant nod, and you ran out of the classroom. The bathroom was right around the corner, and when you entered the dingy room, you didn't waste any time locking yourself in a stall. You dropped the toilet seat, placed your bag at your feet, and sat, throwing your head in your hands. Tears that threatened to spill over burned your throat as you massaged your scalp. You were staring at your feet, counting the cracks in the linoleum floor, when the lights began to flicker. Your fingers froze in mid-scratch, and your body tensed.
"Y/N? Honey?" Your father's voice sounded from the other side of the stall, and you slowly raised your head to stare at the graffiti-covered door. Bile crawled its way up to your throat, but you swallowed it down.
"Dad?"
You looked up at the flickering lights again and knew that your father was not actually there.
"Did you want help with those math questions again? I went and got you a calculator?"
You recoiled a little on the seat just before the lights above you started to flicker more rapidly, and two dark, slimy inhuman feet came into view at the bottom of the door. Then, suddenly the stall door began to rattle, causing you to jump back.
"Y/N! Did you hear me? Open the goddamn door!"
You let out a scream, and your hands flew to your ears. The tears from earlier were falling at full force as you tried to block out the sound of your father's distorted voice.
"Open the goddamn door, Y/N, or I'm gonna bash your pig-ignorant skull in myself."
Another scream fell from your lips as you scooted back even further, causing you to fall to the floor. You continued to push back until your back was smashed up against the wall and your knees were pressed to your chest.
"Go away! Go away! Go away!" You shouted as the door rattled on its loose hinges. Every part of you hoped that the rusty screws holding it in place didn't give out.
"Do you hear me?" Your father's voice echoed in the small bathroom, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
"Go away! Go away!"
"Can you hear me?"
"Go away! Go away!"
Then suddenly, the door stopped rattling, the lights stopped flickering, and the room was silent. All you could hear was the sound of your heavy breathing and racing heart. Your cheeks were stained from the stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. Your eyes flittered around, taking in all they could see from under the stall. There was nothing there. You peeled yourself off the floor, grabbed your bag, and carefully moved to unlock the door. When it squeaked open, you took a single step out to find the bathroom the way it normally was. Dirty mirrors, paper towels were strewn on the floor, and grimy sinks. It was the same rundown bathroom you were used to. Your nose started burning as you tried to hold back a new bout of tears. You took another look around. It was mere moments ago when you had sworn you were going to die. A sob bubbled out of you, and you took off running out of the bathroom.
Your vision was so blurred as you burst through the door that you didn't realize there was someone right outside until you were slamming into their chest. You started swatting at whoever it was, still shaken up from the bathroom incident, when suddenly two hands gripped your arms, ceasing your assault. Another sob racked through your whole body just as the sound of an angel's voice cut through your crying.
"Hey, hey, what happened? What's going on?" Steve asked, trying to get you to focus on him. When you finally opened your eyes and looked at him, it was like a cool drink of water on a hot day – refreshing. His brown eyes held so much worry he could put any mother to shame.
"What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing little circles on your arms, "Talk to me."
Your breathing was so ragged you were almost hyperventilating, and it felt like you might faint. You just shook your head as another wave of tears started to brim.
"I-I need to get out of here," you said more to yourself than to Steve. But he didn't care. He bent his head down enough to regain your eye contact.
"Where do you want to go?"
You lifted your head to hold Steve's stare. His large hands gave your thin arms a little squeeze, urging you to answer. Your bottom lip quivered as you took in a shaky breath.
"Anywhere but here."
Steve just gave a curt nod before saying, "Come on," and snaking an arm around your waist. You didn't protest as he pulled your body close to his and guided you toward the parking lot. But you couldn't help the little flitters of butterflies in your stomach at being that close to him. You had a little thing for Steve for years but had always assumed he was out of your league. But now you were curling into his side, and he was holding you tighter with every inch you gave him. For the first time in days, you actually felt comfortable and safe.
When you reached Steve's car, he opened the door for you before getting in himself. He didn't say anything as he started the car and began pulling out of the parking lot. Neither one of you said anything as Steve drove farther and farther away from the school. You were fidgeting with your fingers, and your leg was bouncing about as fast as Steve was driving. You leaned your head against the window, letting the chill of the glass pour through you. Your eyes shut briefly before Steve finally spoke.
"What happened back there?" He asked, his voice much louder in the quiet of the car. You shook your head, reopening your eyes.
"If I told you, you'd probably think I'm crazy."
He scoffed.
"Yeah, I highly doubt that."
You turned to face him, and when you saw how sincere he looked, you opened up.
"Have you ever felt like you were going crazy?"
Steve nodded.
"Occasionally, yeah."
"Well, I've been feeling that way for almost a week now." That statement hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't fully thought about how long everything had been going on. You gulped at the realization before continuing.
"It started with these unbearable migraines, then I started getting nose bleeds. I thought, maybe I was just pushing myself too hard, but then I started having these vivid nightmares." You started to fold back into the seat.
"They felt so real that I dreaded going to sleep." You paused and looked down at your hands.
"Then I started seeing this clock."
You could see Steve stiffen in the seat next to yours.
"What clock?"
"It's an old grandfather clock that's ticking like it's counting down to something."
You looked back at Steve and could tell his once calm demeanor had changed to what looked like fear.
"Is that what you saw in the bathroom?" He asked, voice a little strained.
"No," you said, shaking your head, "I saw something much worse."
"What did you see?"
He turned enough to lock eyes with you briefly as you whispered, "A monster."
You could see Steve's throat bobble at your statement, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to the road. The silence was back, but it was much heavier than before. You couldn't help thinking that Steve knew something you didn't, but you didn't press the issue. Instead, you turned to look out your window.
"Where are you taking me anyway?"
Just as you asked that a tiny building came into view. The old ice cream parlor you used to go to when you were a kid. You remember seeing Steve there sometimes, but you didn't think he paid attention to anything you did.
"How does ice cream sound? I know you used to come here a lot when we were younger."
Your heart swelled at the thought of Steve paying attention to the small details about you. You didn't know how he did it, but in a matter of minutes, Steve had managed to make your very scary reality fade away. There was no longer a monster chasing you in your dreams and making you hallucinate. It was only you and Steve sitting in the parking lot of one of your favorite places. A wide grin spread across your face.
"Ice cream sounds perfect." You said before following Steve out of the car and up to the store.
Steve held the door open for you, and as you approached the counter, his hand fell gently onto your low back. Your eyes widened, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. It was the second time he had touched you so intimately, and you knew that you only ever wanted him to touch you like that and no way else. You leaned into him, his hand like an anchor, keeping you steady throughout the storm.
The two of you ordered your ice cream, Steve never removing his hand until he had to pay. But once his wallet was back in his pocket, his hand was back on your body as he led you to a table out front of the store. When you sat, you immediately began to devour the delicious, sweet treat. Sitting across from Steve, you couldn't help but stare at him. His gray Members Only jacket hung over a black shirt, and his hair was a little windswept now, but he pulled it off. A small smile pulled at his lips.
"What?" He asked, snapping you back from your daydream.
You shook your head, a bright red blush creeping onto your cheeks.
"Nothing. It's nothing."
Steve began wiping his face and looking at his hands.
"Do I have something on my face or something?"
You started chuckling as he continued his attack on his face.
"No, no. It's nothing."
"You can't just stare at a guy and not elaborate."
You dropped your stare to the table, the blush deepening.
"You're just not what I expected."
"Well, what did you expect?"
You shrugged.
"I don't know," you said, raising your eyes to meet Steve's again, "Not you being this nice to me."
Steve's eyebrows furrowed at your statement.
"Have I ever given you a reason to believe I'd be anything but?"
"No," you said, your smile returning, "you haven't."
The two of you held the other's gaze for another beat before you look away, the heat on your cheeks like an inferno. You continued to eat your ice cream in silence before Steve spoke again.
"You know," he said, "this is kind of a big step for me."
"What's that?"
He motioned between the two of you.
"This. Sitting here talking to you. Just the two of us."
You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to control the wild grin that wanted to split across your face.
"And why would you say that?" You asked in your most nonchalant tone of voice.
Steve leaned back and threw his arms up.
"Because ever since I became your brother's and his little shithead friend's honorary babysitter, I feel like there's always something preventing me from talking to you."
A giggle you had been suppressing fell out, earning a smile from Steve. You looked down at the rustic table.
"This is a pretty big deal for me, too," you said before slowly drawing your eyes up to meet Steve's stare again. He straightened in his seat.
"Oh, yeah?"
You let out another giggle.
"Yeah, because ever since you became Mike's honorary babysitter, I've really wanted to talk to you."
This time it was Steve's turn to blush. That little red tint on his cheeks sent your heart into a frenzy. You, insignificant and completely batting out of your league, had that effect on Steve, the King of Hawkins high. It wasn't long before he regained his composure, leaned forward over the table, and lowered his voice.
"Well, don't tell Mike, but the only reason I began hanging around in the first place was because I wanted to see you."
Your stomach did a 360 as you held Steve's soft stare. You watched as a small smile spread across his face, crinkling his eyes in the process. You could have stared into his cedar brown eyes forever had time permitted, but you knew your parents would be wondering where you were, so you finished your ice cream and followed Steve back to his car.
Steve's hand continually brushed up against yours on the center console the whole way to your house. Every part of you wanted to feel his fingers curl around yours, but you didn't want to press your luck. And soon enough, he was coming to a stop in your driveway. His little touches ceased as he parked the car and turned to fully face you. He was much closer in the tight quarters of his car.
"I had a good time talking to you, Steve."
"I had fun too," he said, running a hand through his hair. Your fingers itched to feel the softness his hair provided, and you had to actively stop yourself from reaching out.
"Maybe we could do that again sometime," Steve said, and you smiled.
"I'd like that."
You held his gaze for another beat before turning and opening the door, but you stopped short just as you were about to get out. You turned back to Steve and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you for taking care of me today."
He lifted a hand and cupped your cheek.
"Always."
You let his warmth wash over you for a split second before finally getting out and walking up your driveway. Once inside, you made your way up to your room, high on the feeling of Steve's hands on you. You plopped onto your bed and sighed, the thoughts of whatever monster was haunting you were far away. At least for now.