After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities.
Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader
Wordcount: 1133
Warnings: This is a blurb based on this fic. This is Steve and the Reader's first meeting/assignment. *This blurb contains canon typical violence, including violence toward both main characters, children, and a foster mom. Please read at your own discretion.
This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!
Navigation • Masterlist
---
Moodboard • Episode 00: Prologue
The clacking of your heels was drowned out by the chaos of an office. You straightened your blazer and asked the receptionist to point you in the direction of your new field partner. She extended a long nail and offered a kind smile, and you followed her directions around desks and ringing phones and the toss of rubber band balls to a desk near the back corner.
A man leaned back in his chair, the aluminum groaning under his weight. His ankles were crossed atop the desk, and he was licking pink yogurt off a plastic spoon.
“Special Agent Steve Harrington?” You asked.
He looked a bit dumfounded, glancing first around the room before sizing you up. His brown hair was a bit unruly, and his shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal a patch of chest hair and a white tank underneath. “Yeah?”
You introduced yourself, extending a hand.
Steve scrambled upright, tossing his spoon to the desktop and meeting your gesture with a clammy, but firm grip. He grimaced in pseudo-apology, a frown creased between full brows.
He towered over you, broad shoulders and long limbs. You’d read his file. He’d been given a handful of medals of honor and bravery for his stint on the battlefield, and it showed in his lithe frame, the muscles that roped his exposed forearms, his hunched shoulders. You think you found further evidence in the dark circles beneath his eyes, the scar etched into his lower lip.
“Owens speaks highly of you.” He said, offering you a seat at the desk.
You slid another aluminum chair over and watched him toss his yogurt cup and spoon into a nearby trash can. The sting of strawberries and cream tickled your nose. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Owens say something bad about someone. I think he’d tell a Demogorgon she was beautiful to avoid hurting her feelings.”
Your comment prompted a hesitant smile, and the wag of his head. “Have you been out before?”
“On the field?”
He nodded.
You swallowed. You’d seen one Blight, in your training. Your shoes squelched into barren land. You hadn’t gotten the smell of rot from your nostrils for a week.
“My expertise is in psychotherapy and deescalations.” You said instead.
Steve didn’t appear impressed.
You supposed talking people off ledges and removing a shaking hand from a trigger might be a little underwhelming to someone who had fought inter dimensional creatures and people with telekinetic powers.
“Call came in from Green Bay, twelve-year-old girl convinced her foster brother to eat a box of detergent.” Steve pulled a file from the top drawer and tossed it to the table in front of you.
Your stomach churned. You’d already read the brief, already seen the photos. This was your job now, time to toughen up.
You nodded. “When do we leave?”
—-
Your hands trembled, aching from the cold. Your snot froze to your upper lip and stung in your nostrils. The wind whipped at your cheekbones, and your boots crunched in the snow.
“Cora, put the knife down.” The glint of steel shined in your periphery, the knife floating mid-air, held inches from your throat.
Your gaze remained trained on the little girl. The ends of her hair crusted with frost and blood trickled from her upper lip.
The snow around her had been stained red with Steve’s blood.
“We aren’t here to hurt you,” you explained, hands still raised. “We want to help. We know others like you. Other kids with powers.”
“Meredith told me she would keep me safe,” the girl sobbed, voice echoing across the barren field.
You released an exhale for the woman you’d found in the kitchen, a foster mom turned puddle. Steve tracked Cora’s bloody footprints across the backyard and through the woods.
You glanced down at her legs. Her ankles were swollen and purple.
“Meredith called us to help you, Cora. She asked us to take you back with us to our facility in the city. We can introduce you to other kids. We can teach you how to hone your powers.”
“I don’t want to leave!” She screamed, and you felt the weight of the knife against your chest.
—-
“How’re you doing, really?” Steve elbowed you as you both stepped out of Owens’s office.
You straightened your blazer, itching at the gauze on your chest.
You signed up for this. You’d done the training. You’d worked with a myriad of mental illnesses in all demographics. You told Owens as much.
When you didn’t answer, Steve pulled you into an empty board room. That crease etched between his brow, and he leaned to eye level.
“The second you feel like this is too much, I need you to tell me. There has to be trust between us. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs out there and in here.” He emphasized his last words with fingertips to the tabletop.
You chewed back a remark on how frustrating it had been to travel with him, to work with him, to ask him a plethora of questions that had been shut down. Instead you took a deep breath and said, “How are you doing, Steve? Really?”
He shifted, sat on the table’s edge, crossed his arms across his chest. The shoulders of his blazer raised to tickle the hairs at the base of his neck.
He’d told Owens the same things you had. All in a day’s work. You can’t save everyone. Things that you had echoed despite the churn in your stomach.
Meredith’s body was etched into your eyelids like the blue glow of staring into the sun. You’d slept with four blankets to avoid a chill.
Steve contemplated your question for a moment before his shoulders released with a sigh. “That sucked. All of those kids will be without a mom. I keep thinking that if we’d gotten there five minutes sooner…”
You shook your head. “There was no way. The flight was delayed. The roads were icy.” You knew better than to blame yourself. You’d been taught better than that.
“You asked me how I was doing,” Steve cut you off.
You stared back at him, catching the vulnerability in his gaze. You swallowed, nodded. “I keep replaying everything I said to her, wondering if I could have said something different to talk her down.”
Steve shook his head, perfect coif wobbling. “You said all you could. It was actually really impressive.”
Your face warmed at the compliment and shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
He snorted at this and tapped at your elbow, nodding to a handful of agents walking your way. “Want some lunch? My treat.”
You nodded and let him lead you out of the conference room and down the long hall toward the elevators. Your shoes clacked the whole way.
Hey, guys! I know I asked you for birds and then fully went MIA all weekend. My sinus infection has sucked my soul into my sinus cavities and is holding me hostage.
I'll leave some snippets as soon as I can function again, but for now, enjoy this little Ranged blurb about how you and Steve first met.
