djoaholic

spencer — she/her — 20

masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･requests open !

i hate to say this but i really don’t have a lot of motivation for that series right now

god

— Title Fight

Steve had been having nightmares for weeks after everything with the upside down. Eddies death, your near-death, his own near-death. He hadn’t told you about them because he didn’t want you to worry, but tonight, you witnessed it for the first time while staying over.

Sleep had become something Steve dreaded. But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when collapsing into bed after a long shift at Family Video meant eight uninterrupted hours, waking up tangled in the sheets with the sun pouring through the blinds and Robin blowing up the house phone because he’d slept through his alarm. Back then, sleep was easy.

Now it was a gamble.

Some nights he got lucky. But some nights he stared at the ceiling until dawn, too afraid to close his eyes because he knew what waited for him the second he did.

The dreams never started as nightmares. They always began with something painfully ordinary. The creak of his front porch. The sound of Dustin laughing somewhere behind him. You, his beautiful girlfriend playing with his hair and his hand in your free one. Robin talking so fast he could barely keep up.

Normal.

Then the air would change, the sky would darken, vines would crawl over cracked pavement before he even noticed they were there. He’d hear the chittering first, then the screaming and suddenly he was back in the Upside Down.

Back with blood drying on his skin and the metallic taste of fear coating the back of his throat. The bats were everywhere, their wings beating against his ears so loudly he couldn’t hear himself think. He’d swing the nail bat until his arms burned, but they never stopped coming.

Sometimes it wasn’t the bats and instead it was Vecna. Sometimes it was you there. Alive one second—and gone the next. No matter what happened, the ending never changed.

Steve always woke up before dawn, lungs burning as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.

At first he’d convinced himself it would pass. A week or maybe two.

Trauma, Robin had called it after everything was over. Said everyone dealt with it differently and Steve figured she was right.

He just hadn’t expected 'dealing with it' to involve surviving Hawkins all over again every night. So he’d adapted. Coffee became less of a choice and more of a necessity. Dark circles settled permanently beneath his eyes. He’d smile when people looked too closely. "Just tired."

That became his answer to everything.

"You okay?"

Just tired.

"You look like hell."

Didn’t sleep great.

"You sure?"

Yeah.

Always yeah.

Because if he admitted the truth—that he was twenty years old and terrified of falling asleep—it would suddenly become real. And Steve Harrington had spent most of his life pretending everything was fine. He wasn’t about to stop now.

The rain had started sometime after midnight. It tapped softly against the bedroom window, just loud enough to fill the silence without disturbing it. You had been asleep beside him for hours. You’d insisted on staying over after movie night, claiming you were too tired to drive home, and Steve hadn’t argued. Having you there made the house feel less empty somehow.

For the first time in weeks, he’d actually fallen asleep without fighting it. Maybe because your hand had found his before either of you drifted off.

Or maybe he’d simply been too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

You stirred beside him, still half asleep, you carefully untangled yourself from the blankets, trying not to wake him as you padded quietly down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Steve didn’t move, fast asleep. When you slipped back into the room a minute later, everything looked exactly as you’d left it.

The room was dark, the rain still whispered against the glass, Steve lay on his side, breathing steadily. You smiled to yourself, easing back beneath the duvet, and settled onto the pillow.

For a while, there was nothing. But then Steve’s breathing changed. It wasn’t obvious at first, just… quicker, sharper like he’d started running somewhere you couldn’t see.

You frowned into the darkness.

He let in another breath, this one caught halfway through his chest and quiet sound escaped him—barely audible, more like a strained exhale than a word. His fingers curled tightly into the bedsheets. "No…"

The whisper was so faint you almost convinced yourself you’d imagined it. But then his whole body tensed, his jaw clenched, breathing turned ragged.

"No—"

This time it came out louder, more just a mumble, but more desperate. Steve’s head jerked slightly against the pillow as though he was trying to escape something invisible.

You pushed yourself upright. "…Steve?"

He didn’t answer, his face was twisted with fear. Sweat clung to his forehead despite the cool room, and another broken gasp left his lips before he suddenly screamed.

The sound tore through the silence, your heart lurched into your throat. It wasn’t loud enough to wake the neighbours, but loud enough to make you jump so violently your heartbeat pounded in your ears. "Steve!" you were beside him in an instant.

His entire body had locked up beneath the blankets, every muscle pulled painfully tight. His breathing came in short, frantic gasps, chest rising and falling so quickly you worried he wasn’t getting enough air. His head thrashed against the pillow. "No—please—" his voice cracked. "Don’t…"

You’d never heard him sound like that. Not even after Starcourt, not after everything with Vecna, this wasn’t Steve Harrington.

Your hands hovered uncertainly above him.

Should i wake him?

What do i do here?

"Steve," you whispered again, gentler this time. "Steve, sweetheart… wake up."

Nothing.

His breathing only became more desperate, fingers clawed helplessly at the duvet, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then tears slipped from the corners of his tightly shut eye and your chest ached. "Oh, Steve…" You couldn’t bear it anymore.

One trembling hand found his shoulder. "Steve." You gave him a careful shake, "Steve, it’s okay. Wake up."

His whole body jolted and for one horrifying second, you thought he was going to swing at you. Instead, Steve lurched upright with a violent gasp, ripping himself out of the nightmare as though he’d been dragged underwater.

His eyes flew open. Wild and unfocused. He looked straight through you. His breathing was ragged, almost painful, and his hand instinctively reached across the mattress as if searching for something. Or someone. Or anything just to keep himself grounded.

"No…" he breathed out, voice shaking. "No, no, no…"

You immediately took his hand, speaking softly and quietly to not startle him. "I’m right here."

He flinched but only then did his eyes begin to focus. He looked at you and for several seconds he didn’t speak. His gaze darted over your face, shoulders, hands, as if he needed proof you were real, that you were with him.

Alive.

"You…" His voice was barely audible. You squeezed his hand. "Me? What happened baby, I’m okay."

His breathing didn’t slow. He was still staring at her with that same horrified expression, tears gathering faster now. "I—I thought…" The words wouldn’t come as his throat closed around them. You shifted closer until your knees touched his. "You had a nightmare?"

Steve looked away immediately. Embarrassment flashed across his face almost as quickly as the fear had. "I—I’m sorry," he muttered hoarsely, wiping at his eyes before you could pretend not to notice. "I… I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Steve."

"I’m fine." He said automatically. way too quickly like it had been rehearsed a lot.

You just stared at him. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t even hide it. His breathing still hadn’t settled. He looked exhausted, not just because of tonight, but he looked weeks exhausted. Months, maybe.

"You don’t have to do that with me." You say quietly.

His jaw tightened. "Do what?"

You sigh and squeeze his hand. "Pretend."

Steve swallowed hard, his mouth opening and closing like the words ran away from him before he could get them out. Then he let out the smallest, most defeated laugh you’d ever heard. "…I thought you died."

The confession hung in the darkness.

"So many times.." He stared down at your joined hands. "Every night it’s different. Different places… different monsters…” His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, almost like he was reassuring himself you were really there. "But it always ends the same."

Finally, he looked back up at her. "An—and this time…" His voice cracked. "This time I couldn’t get to you."

You felt tears sting your own eyes and without saying a word, you reached up and cupped his face. "You did, Steve." You brushed the damp hair away from his forehead. "You woke up."

The tension in his shoulders eased, if only by the smallest amount.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The rain continued its gentle rhythm against the window, the room illuminated only by the occasional flash of distant lightning.

Steve sat with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had turned pale. He hadn’t let go of your hand until a few minutes ago. You watched him carefully, he looked… embarrassed. Not because he’d cried, but because you’d seen him.

"You should try and get some more sleep," he murmured eventually, his voice rough from bad sleep. "It’s late."

You almost laughed. Instead, you tilted your head. "And what about you?"

Steve’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor. "I’ll be okay." And there it was again. That same automatic answer.

You reached over to the bedside table for the glass of water he’d left there earlier in the evening, holding it out to him. "Drink. Your voice sounds all crackly."

He accepted it with a quiet, "Thanks." his hands were still shaking. Both of you noticed. Steve immediately set the glass back down, curling his fingers into his palms as though that would somehow hide it.

Your heart broke. "Steve…"

"I’m sorry."

You frowned. "What are you apologising for?"

"For…" He rubbed a hand over his face. "For ruining tonight."

"You didn’t ruin anything."

"I woke you up."

"You had a nightmare."

"I screamed."

"You were scared."

Steve finally looked at you. His eyes were bloodshot, lashes still damp. "I haven’t slept through the night in so long." The words came so quietly you almost missed them. "I keep thinking it’ll stop." He let out a humourless laugh. "Every night I tell myself, ‘Tonight’ll be different.’"

His shoulders slumped. "It’s never different."

You stared at him. A month. A whole month of pretending, forced smiles, carrying everything by himself. Without thinking, you slid closer until you could wrap both arms around him.

For a second, Steve stayed completely still. Then, as though something inside him finally gave out, he leaned into you, forehead resting against you shoulder.

You felt him exhale, tired and defeated. You wished more than anything that you could help him get better. "S'gonna be okay, Steve."

"I don’t wanna sleep," he admitted.

You gently ran your fingers through his messy hair. "You don’t have to."

He frowned against her shoulder. "What?"

"We don’t have to go back to sleep." You reached over and grabbed the old deck of cards that had been left on his bedside table for probably a month.

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "We can stay awake."

Steve blinked at the cards, "Seriously?"

"Mhm."

"You want to play cards at…" He glanced at the alarm clock. "four-twenty in the morning?"

"If that’s what it takes." You chuckle softly.

For the first time that night, a real smile appeared on Steve’s face. It was small, but real.

"You know," he said, shuffling the cards with noticeably steadier hands, "I’m probably still gonna beat you. Always do."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, absolutely not."

A small laugh escaped him, quiet but after weeks of waking up alone in the dark, after dreaming of your death, it was nice to have you beside him.

warnings- i don’t think there’s any? soft gator, parents are harsh on reader but doesn’t go into much detail.

@daphyducky — for the gator x pregnant reader series could you write about how reader tells her parents about the baby finally and Gator tells his dad as well and they have a dinner and it goes totally wrong with both parents and the reader goes home upset and Gator shows up at her door. (from comments)

part one < has link to part two. on main masterlist you can see links from extra requests to continue storyline

tonight was the dreaded night for both you and gator. you’d texting him to let him know this was happening so he decided to do it on the same day night.

both your parents are finding out.

you were already 12 weeks, there was a tiny little bump now so you decided to go with a shirt that was loose at the stomach area and some jeans— not too casual looking but not too much either.

at dinner, you were so nervous you were contemplating never telling them and they could find out when the baby was actually born.. but sadly it’s not that simple. when the words 'i’m pregnant' leave your mouth.. your moms expression immediately lit up, your dad not so much..

"you’re pregnant!" your moms expression immediately repeats with a big grin on her face. "wow sweetheart, we weren’t even aware you had a boyfriend?" she laughs. you stiffened slightly but waited a little longer to tell them the truth.

your dad takes a large swig of his beer already at the table before he speaks up, "who’s your boyfriend?"

wow that didn’t last long, did it?

you clear your throat, a nervous habbit. "well, um.." your fingers fidgeted in your lap. "i—.. i don’t have one.."

your moms expression fell slightly. "what do you mean?"

"i don’t have a boyfriend." you repeat and take a deep inhale to prepare yourself. your dad already looked irritated and you definitely didn’t help it with what you said next. "it wasn’t planned with anyone.. just kinda happened."

your father looked livid. "you’re telling me, some guy got my daughter pregnant and he’s not even sticking around? who’s the dad?"

you let out a nervous laugh, "is it really all that important…?" you trail off.

"yes!" both your parents say at the same time. they were staring you down and you couldn’t help but pray for a blackhole to come suck you out of this situation.

"it’s um.. the dad is, uhh.."

"spit it out!"

"gator tillman.."

there was a moment of silence before the table erupted into yells and rude comments. your parents weren’t bad people, just a little shocked, and tipsy, but it was clear they were extremely disappointed in you. not only are you getting pregnant in your early twenties before you’ve even given yourself the chance to achieve big dreams and goals, but you got knocked up the deputy. the comments from your dad keep coming, your mom just sits there looking at you with a mix of disappointment and anger. she eventually speaks up after a moment of silence. "he is a bad person. just like his father! do you even know what his father is like? how he has raised gator?!"

you felt your eyes tearing up as both of them kept going, and going. it wasn’t even advice or gentle in anyway, it was just rude disapproval. you let them keep going a little longer until you snapped. "fine! i get it, okay?! it was a mistake, you can hate me all you want but I’m having this baby and you just have to deal with it!" you push yourself off of the chair to stand up, looking down at them. "thanks for this wonderful dinner.." you say sarcastically, the food wasn’t even out yet either. both parents watch you storm away through the restaurant doors.

"irresponsible girl.." one of them mutter.

it took everything in you to not scream and bawl your eyes out but instead took big breaths, made your way home, changed into sweats, then settled on the couch. you had texted gator already, told him how you left early but didn’t give much information. there was no answer which was expected— hes tried to dodge or cut short every conversation you’ve had with him since this whole thing started.

after around an hour of watching a tv show you liked, you started drifting off until you heard a car pull up outside of your house. you stand up and walk to the window to check outside and then you see gator getting out of his truck and slamming the door shut. before thinking twice, you go to the door and open it before he’s even at the porch.

he freezes slightly when he looks up and sees you already standing there. you give a little smile, standing on the top step. gator takes a big breath, exhaling with more force than he needed. "how’d your parents take it then?"

you laugh slightly. "not great. they were okay to begin with. then they asked about the dad, and…" you trail off, taking a seat on the top step of the porch.

gator nods, already understanding. "not a big fan a' me then, huh?" he takes a few heavy steps toward you to sit on the step with you, a distance between you so he wasn’t too close.

"nope.. apparently not." you say and look over at him. "what about roy?"

gator stiffens slightly, knowing this question was coming up. "you know what he’s like. likes things on his terms." is all he gives you.

"and those terms are..?"

he refused to look at you as he continued. "just said some stuff about sending money to you instead. not ruining my future with the wife and kid thing.. that bullshit."

you knew that if you had came from a wealthier family, roy probably would’ve wanted a marriage between you and his son, it would be a good look for the tillmans. but you didn’t come from a wealthier family, so to him you were worthless. you sigh, "ruining your future, huh? kinda harsh.."

gator scoffs, "tell me about it."

there’s another awkward silence before he adds, "says i shouldn’t let a girl decide the rest of my life. especially not—… especially not someone like you.."

ouch.

"do you agree?" you swallow hard, preparing for the answer.

gator keeps his gaze ahead. "n—..no i don’t agree." that surprised you. "i know i ain’t been the most comforting about all this.. but i do try, yknow?"

"i know that." you nod slowly before sighing. "so i guess it’s just me then?"

gator finally looks over at you. "i—i dunno.. maybe. i’ll still help out and stuff. come to appointments if ya need me..?" it was almost like he was asking for permission.

"yeah of course.." you meet his eyes. "in a couple months we get to find out the sex.. you wanna be there for that?" your voice was soft, almost scared for his answer. he looks at you a little longer before nodding ever so slightly. "yeah.. i think so."

he looks away, a moment of silence before he adds, "sorry about your parents by the way. shouldn’t have been that hard on ya."

you don’t respond, instead letting this moment sink in— the first time you and gator have had a full conversation without any sort of insults or bad blood. it was nice.

at first, the doctor tells him that his hearing is slowly but surely declining, he refuses to believe it no matter how much you may nag at him. luckily, his doctor gave him hearing aids right away so that when it does get worse, he’s already prepared. you told him over and over to wear them to try get himself used to it. it got to the point where steve could only hear voices muffled, and he finally gave in.

"steve, let me teach you sign language." you sit on his bed across from him. "i had to learn because of my cousin, and not to brag, but i’m awesome at it. so let me teach you!"

steve hated it. he hated that he needed to be taught how to talk with his hands. he had a perfectly working mouth? why couldn’t he just use it? "i’m not learning sign language. i have the hearing aids already."

"that doesn’t mean you won’t need to sign. cmon steve.. please let me help you, baby." you looked at him pleading, knowing he couldn’t say no, and you took his hands.

that night you taught him the basics. the next morning you made him do it all back to you to test his memory. the next day, you taught him some more stuff that you thought would be good to know, the next day you made him repeat it. that whole process happened often. it was a strictly ran program by you, but it came in handy of course.