Oblivious — S.H.
gif from @rhaenyratargeryen
steve harrington x fem!reader.
summary: steve has been in love with his best friend ever since they met at tina’s halloween party. from that night on, she became the one constant he could hold onto, the bright spot in the middle of hawkins’ endless chaos. every sweet laugh, every word, every small gesture from her felt like a lifeline, something he had quietly cherished for years. he longed for her in ways he couldn’t admit, craving more than just her friendship… unfortunately she’s oblivious as hell.
warnings: steve being a blubbering lovesick fool to the reader & making out (we love you yearning harrington).
author’s notes: i had to.
STEVE HARRINGTON IS ANNOYINGLY IN LOVE WITH YOU. Everyone with working eyes—hell even a person with one blind eye can tell that he was head over heels for you. From the moment he saw discomfort gracing your pretty face when a guy was touching you like he had the privilege to do so at Tina’s Halloween party and punched him, you with your soft eyes and sweet smile thanking him, Steve knew he was gone for.
Ever since that moment, you and Steve became inseparable. You were there when he got roped into Dustin and his band of nerds’ chaos, watching in barely concealed amusement as Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, was gradually, inevitably, reduced to a glorified babysitter.
And a pathetic yearner.
“Earth to Steve Harrington,” Robin waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him out of his daze. “You’ve probably been in Heaven for a while now, buddy.”
Steve gave Robin a confused, annoyed look, one brow lifting. Robin said nothing, only turning her attention to you. You were perched on the couch with a magazine in hand, brows adorably scrunched in deep focus, a detail Steve always noticed no matter how hard he tried not to.
You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, a quiet, unconscious habit that made his thoughts stumble. He hadn’t kissed you, not yet, but he imagined it anyway; imagined how sweet your lips would taste if he ever got the chance. The thought lingered, soft and maddening. Even with everything falling apart around you, you looked calm, serene, painfully pretty. It was unfair. You drove him absolutely insane.
Ah. This was the “Heaven” Robin was talking about.
He peeled his eyes away from you, although albeit reluctantly and turned instead to a far less pleasant sight: Robin grinning at him, eyes bright with unmistakable mischief.
So this is probably the Hell side now.
“You really can’t go a minute—scratch that, a second—without getting all gooey-eyed over her. It’s pathetic,” Robin said with a dramatic sigh, before her mouth curved into a smirk. “And kinda cute.”
Steve gave her a deadpan look. “I don’t go all gooey-eyed.”
He was, of course, lying. Ever since he’d picked you up earlier and you’d stepped out of your house in that goddamn white skirt he loves, Steve had been fighting for his life the entire day. The sight of you had nearly short-circuited his brain, heat rushing straight to his face, his thoughts scattering in every direction at once.
God, you were so so beautiful.
The only thing that kept him from completely losing it was your bright, sweet smile and the way you’d greeted him with that soft, “Hey, Stevie,” like it was nothing. Like you hadn’t just undone him with a single look. The moment had lodged itself deep in his mind, replaying over and over, refusing to let him forget just how badly he had it.
Okay, maybe he was actually pathetic. Pining over a girl for years who only sees him as her best friend. But nobody could blame him. Every time he looked at you, it felt like the rest of the world softened and blurred at the edges. You were the one steady thing he clung to whenever thoughts of the crawl crept into his mind or worry for Dustin tightened his chest. Just knowing you were there was enough to ground him, a quiet reminder that he didn’t have to carry all of it alone.
You were solace wrapped in beautiful skin and an angelic face, and Steve still couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough to earn even an ounce of your affection; even if it was only as a friend. He wouldn’t risk it. He couldn’t. Somewhere along the way, he’d accepted the quiet ache of it, choosing your laughter, your trust, your presence over the chance of losing you entirely.
Wanting you as something more hurt, but losing you would hurt worse, and so he held his feelings close, content to love you quietly even if all he wanted to was to scream how much he loves you.
Robin groaned. “You’re doing it again. It’s getting creepy now.”
“Doing what?” Steve asked, completely unaware that, in the middle of his wandering thoughts, his gaze had drifted back to you, settling there like it always did, natural and unthinking, as if his eyes knew exactly where they belonged.
“Going gooey-eyed over her,” she replied with a snort. “Can practically see hearts forming in your eyes.”
“You’re so annoying,” he muttered, but he caught the way Robin wiggled her brows when he very much didn't deny it. He flipped her off. “You’re way worse with Vickie.”
“Touché,” Robin shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself. “But, hey, at least I can do that to my girlfriend. You? You’re over here staring at Y/N like a sad puppy and doing absolutely nothing about it.”
“Touché,” Steve shot back with a glare, then let out a long, exhausted sigh, like this was a conversation he’d been hoping to avoid all day—which, honestly, it was. “It’s complicated,” he said flatly. “You know that.”
“You’re a coward, Steve,” Robin beamed.
“I know that,”
“An absolute down bad loser,” she added.
Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Mhm.”
“A lovesick puppy,”
“This is the second time you referred to me as a puppy—“
Robin shushed him, holding up a finger. “Wait, I’ve got another one…” She clicked her tongue, eyes lighting up like a lightbulb going off. “A miserable, pathetic, yearner.”
He scowled at her. “Are you done?”
“Do you want me to list more of your characteristics?” Robin asked, genuinely curious.
Steve pointed an accusing finger at her. “You need to shut your mouth.”
“Who needs to shut their mouth?”
It felt like Steve had just gotten whiplash. His head snapped toward where you now stood beside him and Robin at the radio station table. Amusement sparkled in your pretty eyes, your glossy lips curving slightly, almost into a smile. He didn’t even realize how his whole body relaxed, how a breath slipped free from his chest, before he flashed you that easy, charming grin without a second thought.
“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted.
You giggled. “Hey Stevie,”
“It was—um, Robin was just—“ he rambled, hands going through his hair, a trait he does when he’s nervous and endearingly, whenever he talks to you.
“You’re such a lost cause,” Robin whispered to him and Steve prayed, actually prayed that you didn’t hear what she said.
Steve shook his head. “Robin’s just being annoying as usual.”
Robin rolled her eyes and stepped away from the both of you to check on the radios instead.
“Shit it’s 2pm already,” Steve cursed as he looked at his watch then back to you. “Let’s get you home, angel.”
You chuckled, a sound that shot straight through him like electricity, something he always wished he could bottle up and keep to himself. “Since when did you start listening to my dad?”
“Uhh…” He hesitated, then gave you a sheepish grin. “Since now?”
Your smile widened, pretty and effortless, and Steve felt himself drawn in like a moth to a flame. Were you a witch or something? That smile could bring any man to his knees, and Steve wasn’t exaggerating. He knew all too well about the assholes you’d dated before, the ones who’d melted at your charm. He clenched his jaw, recalling them with a mix of irritation and longing, and as Robin would constantly remind him, he was a jealous asshead—especially whenever he remembered the chances you’d given those guys that he would have killed to have himself.
You really had no idea what you’re doing to him.
“You’re such a gentleman,” you teased him.
He does not feel like a gentleman right now.
Seeing you with your hair loose, cascading in a dazzling wave over your shoulders, wearing shorts that only reached your thighs and a lacy top that hugged your figure perfectly, Steve couldn’t help but stare. You looked completely at ease in your own room, effortlessly beautiful, and every detail of you seemed to pull him in, making it impossible to look away.
Jesus Christ.
Steve swallowed audibly, his cheeks burning as his fingers itched to bridge the space between you. A fierce, almost desperate need surged through him to touch the soft, inviting skin that had been calling his name for as long as he could remember. He felt feverish, consumed by want and desire. Watching you sit cross-legged on your bed, looking up at him with those dangerously captivating eyes and soft, plump lips he ached to taste, he wanted nothing more than to burn this moment into his memory forever, unable to look away.
“—and he was being a complete, total jerk,” you rambled, frustration flickering across your face as you glanced at Steve, who was still staring at you like he hadn’t heard a single word. You cleared your throat, a little sharper this time. “Stevie?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” he replied automatically, shaking his head as if to clear the fog of his wandering thoughts.
“Were you even listening?”
“Yeah, yeah, I was—” He started, but trailed off the moment he caught your incredulous, are-you-kidding-me look. With a defeated shrug, he admitted, “No, not really, angel. Sorry.”
Worry creased your eyebrows. “Are you alright? You’ve been… weird today. Is it because of the crawl? Or Dustin?”
“No, no,” Steve spluttered, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I mean, yeah, this crawl shit is freaking me out and I’m worried as hell about Dustin, but I just… I think he’s a complete asshole.”
You gaped at him. “Dustin?”
Steve swore under his breath. “Not Henderson, sweetheart. The guy you were just talking about. Jake? John? Ja—”
“It’s Jared,” you supplied.
“Yeah, whatever. Him,” Steve said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s an asshole. And he doesn’t deserve you. At all.”
You let out a halfhearted laugh, shaking your head. “You say that about every guy I’ve ever dated, Steve.”
Steve stared at you like you’d just said something outrageous. “Yeah, because it’s always true,” he shot back, completely serious. “They don’t listen to you, they don’t look at you the way they should, and they sure as hell don’t appreciate you.” He stopped himself, jaw tightening, then softened slightly as he met your eyes. “I just… I don’t like seeing you waste your time.”
You blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. “Steve…” you said softly.
Steve didn’t know where the sudden surge of confidence came from, only that seeing you like this did something to him. Your pretty eyes were fixed on him, all attention and concern, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you worried at it absentmindedly. You looked so effortlessly beautiful it almost hurt to take in.
He moved closer, slowly, until he was crouched in front of where you sat on the bed. Even like that, he still loomed over you, and he didn’t miss the way bashfulness flickered across your face when you noticed just how little space remained between you.
You looked up at him through your lashes, breath a little unsteady, and for a moment the room felt too quiet, too small for everything sitting between you.
His voice came out softer than he expected when he spoke, careful, like he was afraid to startle you. “He’s a dickhead.”
You couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, the sound easing the tension between you, the kind that had begun to feel almost dangerous. Steve had always been good at that, at making you feel comfortable without even trying, and the realization left a faint bitterness in your chest.
No matter who you dated, you always ended up comparing them to him. Steve was your best friend, someone off limits, someone safely labeled as just a friend. And yet, the way he was looking at you now, with quiet reverence, like you held all the comfort he had been searching for, made that label feel suddenly fragile.
You swallowed, breaking eye contact first, your fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “You don’t have to hate every guy on my behalf, you know,” you said gently, trying to sound light, normal.
Steve huffed out a breath, something almost like a laugh, but his eyes never left your face. “I know,” he replied. “I just… want better for you.”
The words settled heavy between you, unspoken meanings threading through the silence. You looked back at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time the thought crept in uninvited and terrifying.
What if better had been sitting in front of you all along?
“Like who, Stevie?”
The words landed softly, but they unraveled him all the same. Steve went still, breath catching in his chest as he looked at you, sitting there with that open expression that had always undone him. For once, he didn’t look away.
“Me,” he said quietly.
Your eyes widened, and Steve rushed on before fear could stop him, voice trembling but sure. “I mean… I know I’m your best friend, and I know I’m not supposed to feel this way, but I do. I have for a long time. Since Tina’s party. Since before I even knew what to do with it.” He swallowed hard, hands curling into fists at his sides. “I try to be okay with just being your friend because having you like that is better than not having you at all. But it’s killing me, Y/N, actually killing me.”
You didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched, heavy and fragile, and Steve braced himself for the worst, forcing his hands to stay still even though every instinct told him to pull back. His chest felt too tight, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
To his surprise, you reached out hesitantly as if you were second guessing if you should touch him, then cupped his jaw.
“I didn’t know,” you whispered, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin.
Steve leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes fluttering shut for half a second as if he’d been waiting for this his entire life. “Robin and Dustin said I was too obvious.”
You laughed, bringing his face closer to you. “I’m sorry, I’m stupid.”
Steve let out a quiet, breathy laugh, eyes opening as he looked at you like you’d just said something impossible. “Hey,” he murmured, lifting a hand to rest over yours, grounding but gentle. “You’re not stupid. Just… a little oblivious.”
“A little?” you sheepishly smiled.
“I take that back,” Steve retorted fondly. “You were so oblivious. My oblivious girl.”
The words hung between you, warm and intimate, and something inside him shifted. You leaned in, fearless this time, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, and Steve froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide, before closing them and melting into it.
He groaned softly into your lips, the sound low and unguarded, and immediately knew he was addicted. You tasted impossibly sweet, like everything he had wanted for years distilled into a single moment, and it sent a jolt straight through him.
His hands tightened gently on your waist, pulling you closer, desperate to feel every inch of you.
“This is driving me insane, baby,” he murmured between heated kisses, his other hand brushing up to tug lightly at the strap of your lacy top. “You drive me fucking insane, god.”
You squealed as Steve suddenly lifted you by the back of your thighs, carrying you effortlessly from the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he sat down and brought you with him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you straddled his lap.
A quiet moan escaped you, and Steve swallowed it like a man starved, his own breath hitching in response. Your lips were soft and warm against his, sending shivers down his spine, and every brush of your mouth against his felt like fire sparking through him. His hands moved instinctively, resting on your hips and pulling you closer, as if he could finally make up for all the years he’d held back.
He broke away from the kiss, eyes trailing hungrily to your dazed eyes, flushed face and swollen lips. “You’re mine now, sweetheart.”
You grinned and pecked his lips. “All yours, Harrington.”