you suppose it’s just the blessing—and burden—of being the first-born Sinclair daughter. you were spoiled and used to everything going your way.
sue you!
so when Hawkins literally started falling apart, well, you were less than thrilled.
especially when that meant getting wrapped up with your little brother's friends to help them, quote-on-quote, save the world.
i mean, you had a perfectly established routine already!
wake up, breakfast with your friends, work at the thrift shop, dinner & cigs, late night vhs, & sleep.
not to mention your already perfectly planned out future.
go to college, become a fashion entrepreneur, find a hot boyfriend —none of the pathetic guys who try to flirt with you while you're on the clock — get married, have three perfect babies, and live the perfect happily ever after.
fighting demogorgons was 100% nowhere near that list.
but here’s the thing about being the oldest: your peace is the first sacrifice on the family altar. when lucas showed up at your bedroom door with that face, your routine was already as good as dead.
so you do what any good big sister would do.
you help.
because as much as you hate those little shits, you also would be devastated if they ended up dead. so, yeah, that's how you became their unofficial-official babysitter.
well, you and steve harrington of course.
and what a pair you two are.
king steve and the spoiled sinclair princess.
you two got along great!
well only if you considered bickering like a married couple, flirting relentlessly with each other, and literally killing for one another, great.
but, at the end of the day, what are friends for, right?
you're supposed to know what drives them up the wall, and what makes them laugh and hell, even cry. holding hands, and sharing hugs are what good friends do! calling each other “babe” and “sweetheart,” those are just nicknames of course. all friends have them. and a cheek kiss after almost being killed isn't that deep anyways!
sure, he’s got that stupidly perfect hair, that easy grin, the way he looks at you like you’re something he wants to keep. but you’re immune to that.
obviously.
you’ve known him like forever now. you’ve seen him bleed, panic, and complain about babysitting like it’s a crime. there’s absolutely nothing romantic about that.
it’s just proximity. too much time spent together. like the late nights spent in the same rooms, knees knocking and sharing cigarettes. it’s arguing over who’s driving (not you—apparently you’re a “hazard”), over who’s watching the kids, over who almost got killed this time. it’s steve handing you his jacket without asking. it’s you fixing his collar, smudging your lipgloss on his cheek, pretending you don’t notice the way his breath stutters every time.
friends do that.
friends stand back-to-back with matching weapons in hand. friends learn each other’s tells, memorize scars, and instinctively reach out in the dark. friends don’t let monsters—or people—get too close to what’s theirs.
and you’re not in love with steve harrington.
you’re just a hopeless romantic with a bad habit of mistaking (very) minor crushes for something more.
still… if the world keeps ending, and if you keep surviving it together —well.
who knows.
maybe you might be falling for steve harrington.
author's note — hii!! i hope you are as excited for this series as me! i see so many henderson & hopper readers, but never sinclair so i decided to take one for the team. you're welcome. feel free to send requests for sinclair!reader and i will get to them as soon as possible. check out this series as well as my other works on my masterlist! much love, & i hope you enjoy!
