nightmare
Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader
Summary: Steve having a nightmare & needs some comfort.
Words: 600~ish
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The Harrington house is too quiet at night.
The kind where every sound feels louder because it echoes off marble and glass and rooms that are too big for one family that’s barely ever there.
You hear a soft clink. A cupboard closing too carefully. You slip out of bed, padding past sleeping bodies and discarded blankets. The kids are tangled together. Max is tucked close to El, their heads nearly touching, breathing slow and even. Lucas curled up next to them, shoes kicked off and forgotten.
You move through the room on bare feet, careful with every step, so you won’t wake them up.
You follow the faint glow at the end of the hallway. The kitchen light is on.
Steve stands in front of the open fridge, in shirt and boxers, hair messed up, staring inside like it personally wronged him.
He flinches when he hears you. „-oh. Hey.“ His voice is low. Rough around the edges.
„Hey,“ you say softly. You step closer, taking him in - the tense shoulders, the way his hands are gripping the fridge door like it’s the only solid thing in the room. „You okay?“
He shrugs. Too quick. „Yeah. Just … couldn’t sleep.“
You don’t pressure him. Instead you reach past him and grab the first thing you see. „Emergency midnight snack?“
He blinks. Looks down. Leftover pizza. Cold.
„… yeah,“ he says after a second. „That sounds right.“
You two sit on the kitchen counter, feet swinging slightly, eating straight from the box like teenagers in a movie that doesn’t have a thing to worry about. The fridge hums. The clock ticks too loud.
Steve chews, then exhales long. „I had a nightmare,“ he admits quietly. „Same one.“
You turn toward him fully. Do you wanna talk about it?“
He shakes his head. „Not yet.“
That’s okay. You reach for his hand instead, fingers warm, grounding. He squeezes back immediately, like he’s been waiting for permission.
„I hate that this house feels so big at night,“ he murmurs. „Feels like it remembers all the bad things.“
You smile gently. „Then let’s make it forget.“
You reach for the radio on the counter and turn the knob. It crackles, then settles into a slow song - something soft, something old, something that sounds like it was made for dim kitchens and quiet hearts.
Steve snorts softly. „You’re serious?“
You hop down from the counter and hold out a hand. „Come on, Harrington. Humor me.“
He hesitates - just for a beat - then he takes your hand.
You sway, barely moving. His hands rest at your waist, unsure at first, then steadier when you lean into him. Your head rests under his chin like it belongs there.
His heartbeat his fast. You can feel it on your cheek. „You’re safe.“
„Yeah, I know. With you I am,“ he murmurs.
You pull back to look at him, he exhales like that’s been stuck in him all night. His forehead drops to yours, eyes closing. Steve kisses you - soft, slow, unhurried. Nothing desperate. Just reassurance. Just here, now, together.
When Steve pulls back, he rests his cheek against your hair, arms wrapped around you like the house can’t get to him like this.
„Thanks for coming to find me,“ he murmurs.
You smile against his chest. „Anytime.“
You sway until the song ends. Until the quiet doesn’t feel so sharp anymore. Eventually, you turn off the light, leaving the kitchen behind. And back in the living room, Steve pulls you close to his chest. And between the sleeping kids the Harrington house feels a little less empty than it did before.
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Thank you for reading! 💙
STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST
