#yearn

omg i love this thank you for requesting, lovie!!! in all honestly i think this is more yearny than angsty, but i hope you enjoy!!

જ⁀➴ lose the one

steve harrington x fem!reader angst/yearn

cw: sexual innuendo’s, reader has a shitty dad that ruined her taste in men 💜, dumbass!steve

you… befriended steve at the start of sophomore year.

you use befriended very lightly because from the very start, nothing about you and steve was friendly.

it started off as him asking you to spend a day with him and his god awful friends at the carnival, to which you flat out refused.

he thought you were joking, because who would refuse to go on a date with king steve?

he became intrigued by you—steven harrington himself, not the hair or the king—and he wanted to figure you out. you were the only girl that didn’t swoon when he walked by, and he was determined to the change that.

gradually, throughout your sophomore year, you and steve grew flirtatious. it wasn’t anything that was guaranteed to grow into something more, but it also wasn’t not a chase.

it was long and quite painful if steve was actually serious about you. you were convinced he gravitated to your personality and wasn’t actually interested in pursuing you.

seeing him chase another girl did something to you. here’s the thing about steve harrington—his chases are special. he puts thought and care into each step towards you. he’s deliberate with his next move, and he pays attention.

at the start of your ‘friendship’ you took him up on that carnival offer, but under the condition that none of his friends were there.

you didn’t realize how much your condition sounded like a date. not until he kissed you under the streetlight outside your home.

you kissed him back, because how could you not?

“we’re friends, steve.” you pulled away, redrawing the lines of his chase.

“i’m gonna get you.” he said surely.

“you sound like a kidnapper.”

his hand rested on your hips, right on the band of your jeans.

you brought your hand up and smoothed his hair out of his face. “my friend can’t kidnap me, okay?”

at the time, you said it as if to continue the whole kidnapping joke you had going on. as you recall, you begin to wonder if it really was the joke you were referencing.

you begin to wonder if all those months ago you knew steve harrington should not, under no circumstances, catch you by the end of his chase.

should not, would not? potato potato.

his hand was now under your sweatshirt and rested on your bare waist, thumb brushing your ribs. he occasionally brushed over the lace detailing of your bra. the fabric—soft, yet prickly—stung him like rose thorns; it brought him back to life, but it reminded him about what he had been daydreaming about.

that’s why months later—as the same thumb grazed over nancy wheelers lace bra as she lay naked on his bed—he was surprised to come to the realization that he might have lost the real chase. the chase that truly mattered.

but, then, as he stood outside your house with his bare hand fanning over torso, he foolishly believed he was going to catch you.

he knew the chase would come to end, but he had no idea it would end with a completely different bunny tucked under his arm.

steve harrington was smart with his chase, you’d have to give him that. he chased you by being absolutely everywhere.

he was running behind you, beside you, and looking back at you. he was woven into your path like moss growing on gavel. you were almost fairly certain the chase would end with you in his arms. you were beginning to accept that.

throughout the chase, you and him took many breaks. you both got tired and wanted something real.

he would tell you all about his parents never being home and the unreal expectations they had. you would tell him about your asshole father and how you managed to manifest him in every single one of your boyfriends.

he’d wipe your tears away, “i’ll never be like your father. i won’t leave and i won’t be mean.”

he gave you false hope and that’s what you hated the most of all.

one day, a third addition joined your chase. a bunny much cuter and put together than you. a bunny with higher market value.

you couldn’t blame steve for being greedy.

he thought he would be able to manage you both. while nancy was the stable bunny, you were the bunny with the outline carved into steve’s heart.

steve attempted to fill what’s carved with nancy. he thought it was working, until it didn’t.

until he felt the familiar lace fabric on nancy and your name was on the tip of his tongue. he put nancy in a place she did not belong; his heart.

she felt his reluctance and stopped him from going any further.

don’t capture what doesn’t fit.

nancy fit, just not in the way steve needed. nancy was objective, he needed emotional. he needed something real. something that knew what she wanted. something not in the outline of nancy wheeler.

that night, the first name to be uttered was yours. she gave him a knowing look accompanied by, “what did you do?”

he hadn’t even felt you drift away; he didn’t fail to capture you, he failed to keep up with you.

you took turns to confuse him and he was too distracted to follow.

he was suddenly not woven into your path like you once assumed he was.

“i think you know what you need to do.”

he sprung into action, flying off his bed and putting on the first shirt he could find.

he was pulling out of the driveway before nancy could even fully redress.

he had been so foolish to believe he was able to chase both of what he wanted, he lost the one thing he needed.

he drove to your house and saw the absence of your car in the driveway.

his head fell on the wheel with a thud, accidentally hitting the horn as well.

your little brothers figure emerged from the second floor window, that familiar head of curls swaying in the wind. “the lake.” he called out to steve, voice drawled out in an impressed tone.

a tone that would’ve carried murderous undertones had he not be underaged and still covered in baby fat.

steve got to lovers lake in record time, determined to fix what he had broken.

you were perched on the hood of your car, feet dangling freely. because you were free. you were no longer being chased. promises of being caught were long forgotten.

the crunching of leaves made you tense up and look back. seeing him made you tense up even more which was definitely not the reaction he’d been hoping for. not when there once existed a version of you that found solitude in him.

“hey.” his throat bobbed, eyes widened in that way that made him look like a hurt puppy.

you turned back around, not offering him anything to latch on to. you weren’t going to allow him to resume the chase just because he had found you again. not when you so stupidly pranced around in front of him hoping to regain his attention and get chased.

“listen, i know i messed up-”

“messed up?” you repeated, voice scratchy. it was only then he saw the cigarette pinched between your two fingers.

cigarettes and lovers lake, two things steve harrington had claimed long ago.

you were finding solitude in him without actually going back to him, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t tear his heart into two.

“no, you lost me,” his name was on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t have it in you. your mouth couldn’t take the shape of his name, your lips can’t taste how it feels, and your tongue wasn’t allowed to guide it out. not when you spent so long forcing every inch of your being to forget him.

forgetting steve was not easy. it was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

forgetting steve was endless; you’d cry, forget, remember why you were crying, start crying, and forget. it was a cycle so vicious you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of because it made you feel something.

even if something was essentially in the form of nothing. when your heart would go numb from the crying and the convincing that forgetting him really was the best option, you were reminded as to why it hurt so bad.

you had heaven in between your fingertips and it withdrew itself oh so suddenly. you thought you were finally worthy of tasting heaven after living through hell.

“i’m here now.” he said firmly, walking to stand in front of you.

“barely.” you scoffed, venom dripping from your tongue. you grabbed his chin, forcing yourself to ignore the familiar tingle that came from touching him. you tilted his head and saw his neck littered in purple bruises.

the alternative phrasing love bites circled in your mind. he was loved and bitten. claimed.

not yours was painted on his skin in different shades of purple.

“bunny-”

“you don’t get to do that.” you cut him off. “you don’t get to call me that. not after-” the words got stuck in your throat, that huge lump forming refrained them from fully leaving.

even your body was against it. your body that was conditioned to his touch. your body that learned an entirely new language just to dance with his in wordless communication.

it felt the betrayal too. his betrayal pumped through your heart and flowed through your veins. your body was protecting you from what you didn’t think you needed protection from.

in a way, it’s similar to when you get a vaccine and they inject the virus in you.

“i trusted you.” you managed to make out, voice thick with a swarm of emotions. “i know it was all a game to you, but to just leave after saying you wouldn’t?”

“it wasn’t a game.” he said quickly. “it was never a game.”

your hands that was previously clenched into a fist on your lap now lay flat against his cheek after the sound of skin cracking ripped through the air.

“don’t lie to me.”

he placed a hand on his cheek where yours once was. even if it was for a fleeting moment, the feeling of your hand right where it belonged—on him—made his heart clench.

he’d get slapped again if it meant you would hold him again.

“i’m not lying.” he said breathlessly. “i swear. i don’t know what i was thinking—going after you and nancy at the same time. it was so easy with nancy. i showed her i was interested and she didn’t take me on a complete thrill of a chase. she folded. i had her, but i didn’t want her. not in the way i want you.”

“then why did you throw it all away? why?” you prodded his chest with your finger.

“i don’t know! jesus- i don’t know.” he ran a stressed hand through his hair.

“we had something good, steve.” that was the first time you’ve said his name in months. he had to press his fingertips on the hood of the car to stop himself from crumbling to the ground.

the physical effect your absence had on each other was desperate. it hurt to see and it hurt even more to feel. it hurt to feel so helpless when you were standing right in front of everything you’ve ever wanted.

“real good.” you added, ignoring the way your tongue tingled after saying his name. “it wasn’t stable, but it was good.”

“i don’t want stable.” he confessed. “i want deep talks and nights where you push me away and i crawl back in. i want nights that leave me restless because i’m so scared of what i would do for you. i want that stupid push-and-pull thing of ours back-”

“i want you to leave me the fuck alone. i told you,” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, hands shaky and voice wobbly. your bottom lip was trembling and tears were accumulating. “i told you everyone always leaves. and you told me you would stay.”

“i know, i swear- i’ll do anything to make it up to you. i was just scared! i was scared.”

you scoff, looking away and blinking tears back down. “of me?”

“of what you do to me.” he corrected. “of how you make me feel. i’m scared of myself and what i would do for you and because of you. not of you. never of you.”

you refused to meet his eye. you knew you would give in. you knew you couldn’t not give in. not when heaven was apologizing for the hell it put you through.

not when heaven is begging you to take him back.

he moved your head back to face him by your chin, hand now resting on the side of your face. his thumb brushed over your cheek and you hated the way you melted into his touch. your face leaned towards his hand in an act of psychological, biological, and neurological betrayal.

you didn’t want it, but every part of your being did.

“i know i messed up, bunny. i know i did. just give me one chance to prove myself to you. if i fuck up again, i’ll leave.”

“one chance?”

“it’s all i need, i swear. i- i saw what life looked like without you and it’s just- it’s not worth it. i won’t mess up again because i can’t. i can’t afford to.”

if only you let people see them.