touch her and I’ll break your neck
Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader
Summary: Steve doesn’t hesitate when it comes to you. He will not tolerate if someone hurts his girl. And he will take care of you in any way he can.
Warnings: violence. hurt/comfort. attempt of SA (nothing graphic but please read with care). blood. Steve saying all the right things. dating Steve Harrington. no use of y/n.
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Steve’s almost done closing the Family Video Store.
He’s halfway to flipping the sign to CLOSED when the phone rings. He hesitates because normally no one calls this late. But that’s also why something in his chest twists. That can’t be good, right?
He picks up. „Family Video, this is…“
„Steve.“
Immediate relief floods his mind. It’s you, his lovely girlfriend.
Then he hears it. Your breathing goes fast and shallow and your sobbing. Every nerve in his body goes electric. „Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?“ His voice drops instantly, steady but tight.
„He won’t leave,“ you whisper. „Steve, he won’t leave me alone.“
His racing thoughts come to an abrupt stand. „Who.“
„My brother’s friend. He’s drunk. He…“ Your voice cracks. There’s a loud bang on the other end of the line. You gasp. „He’s trying to get in.“
Steve is already grabbing his keys. „Where are you?“
„My parents room. I locked it. He’s…“ Another bang, harder this time. „He’s hitting the door. Steve, I’m really scared.“
„Listen to me,“ Steve says with his fingers almost breaking the phone. „You stay locked in. Don’t open the door no matter what you hear. I’m coming.“
Steve doesn’t remember the drive. He remembers red lights blurring. His hands shaking on the wheel. Nearly missing a turn. The sick, crawling fear in is stomach.
When he stops the car, he jumps out without bothering to close the door behind him. He doesn’t care. Loud music blasting from the basement. He doesn’t care. Steve takes the stairs two at a time. The hallway is a mess. The bedroom door is open … broken by some guys hands.
And that’s when he sees it. You’re against the wall. Lip split and a bruise darkening your cheek. That guy - drunk, ugly and furious - has his hand on your wrist. The grip too tight for you to get away. His other hand near your throat and leaning in.
You’re struggling. Saying no.
Steve doesn’t think. He sees red.
„Get your hands off her!“
The guy barely turns before Steve is on him. He rips him back so hard, the guy stumbles. Steve’s fist connects with is face once. Twice. Three times. Years of bottled restraint and rage cracking wide open.
„You touch her again,“ Steve snarls, voice unrecognizable. „I will end you.“
The guy tries to swing back but he’s sloppy. Drunk. Steve’s rage is sharp and focused. Footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your brother shouting. Other voices pulling them apart before Steve can actually lose control and murdering your attacker.
The guy is dragged out and the door slams shut behind them.
Silence. Steve’s chest is heaving. His knuckles sting. His whole body trembling with leftover fury. Then he turns to you and the rage melts into something else entirely.
You’re shaking. Eyes wide in fear. Breath uneven, trying so hard to hold yourself together.
Steve’s voice changes. „Hey,“ he says softly. Careful, like he’s about to approach a wounded animal. „It’s me. It’s just me.“
You flinch at first - not from him, just from everything. He notices and it nearly breaks him. Steve drops to his knees in front of you. Slowly and without touching, so he wouldn’t scare you even more. „I’m here,“ he whispers. „You’re safe now.“
Your face crumbles and you fall into him.
He catches you instantly, arms wrapping around you tight but gentle. One hand cradling the back of your head away from his shoulder so he doesn’t press against your bruised cheek.
You break into full shaking sobs. „I told him no,“ You cry into his chest. „I told him to stop.“
„I know,“ Steve says quietly. „I know you did.“
„He wouldn’t listen… I swear I did…“
„That’s not on you.“ His voice is firm now, protective in a different way. „None of that is your fault. Not one second of it.“
Your fingers clutch his shirt like you’re drowning. „I was so scared.“
„I know,“ he says again and his voice cracks this time. „I should’ve been here sooner.“
„No,“ You choke out. „You came. You came to me.“
He presses his forehead gently to yours, careful of your injuries. „I’m so sorry,“ he breathes. „I’m so sorry you had to be scared like that.“
You shake your head weakly. „He said it was nothing. That I was overreacting.“
Steve pulls back just enough to look at you. His jaw tightens. „You said no,“ He tells you. „That’s it. That’s the whole sentence. That’s enough.“
You nod, tears still slipping down your face. His thumb brushes gently under your split lip, checking the damage like you’re made of glass.
„Does it hurt?“ He asks quietly.
You shrug. He exhales shakily.
„I need you to hear me,“ he says, voice softer that you’ve ever heard it. „You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t lead him on. You didn’t owe him anything. You don’t have to be polite when someone makes you uncomfortable. Not ever.“
Your breathing starts to slow. Steve shifts so you’re sitting on his lap on the floor, holding you fully now. One hand rubbing slow circles into your back. You bury your face in is neck and for a long time, he just stays like that.
Letting you cry. Letting you shake. Kissing your hair. Murmuring soft reassurances between two breaths.
When you finally quiet down, he pulls back slightly. „Can I clean your lip?“ He asks gently. „Just a little.“
You nod. He does it so carefully. Like he’s handling something sacred. After, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
„I’m really proud of you,“ Steve says suddenly.
You blink at him. „For what?“
„For fighting back. For locking the door. For calling me.“ His thumb brushes your cheek, avoiding the bruise. „You did everything right.“
Your eyes fill again - but not from fear this time. He presses his forehead to yours one more time. „I love you,“ he says. „And if anyone ever makes you feel unsafe again, I will be there. Always.“
„I love you too, Steve,“ You lift your chin and he closes the small distance between your lips. The kiss is soft like a feather. So gentle it almost shatters you into a million pieces.
When you part again, you catch his gaze. „Can you take me to your house? I - I don’t want to stay here tonight.“
Steve doesn’t hesitate. „Yeah. Yeah, of corse.“
He helps you stand, one arm firm around your shoulders, the other holding your hand. When your brother tries to approach - face pale, stammering apologies - Steve doesn’t even look at him. „Not now,“ he says calm but final.
Steve moves you quickly and careful. No one else gets to see you like this.
The drive is quiet. His hand never leaves your thigh. You’re starring out the window, but you’re not really seeing anything.
When you reach his house, he’s out of the car in seconds, coming around to open your door like he always does - except this time there’s no teasing. No princess comments.
Inside, the house is quiet and dark. Empty. Safe.
You stand there for a second in the hallway like you don’t know what to do with yourself. Then you whisper, „I feel … dirty.“
Steve’s heart squeezes. He steps closer but doesn’t crowd you. „You’re not,“ he says softly. „Not even a little.“
You swallow hard. „I just … I need a shower. I need it … him off me.“
„Okay,“ he nods immediately. „Towels are in the cabinet. I’ll get you one.“
You turn toward the bathroom, then pause. „Steve?“
He’s there instantly. „Yeah?“
Your voice trembles just slightly. „Will you … will you come with me?“
He blinks, clearly unsure what would be the right thing to say.
„Not like …“ you stutter. „Not like that. I just… I don’t want to be alone. And I don’t want to feel like it’s just me in there.“
Something protective and tender settles over his features. „Yeah,“ he says. „Yeah, I’ll come with you.“
Hey keeps his movements slow. Gives you control and let’s you set the pace. Te bathroom fills with steam, the water runs warm and you step in first. For a second, you just stand there under the spray, shoulders tight.
Steve steps in behind you a moment later, careful to give you enough space. The closeness is different tonight. Not playful or charged like usual. Just present.
Then you turn around and press your forehead against his chest. His arms come around you immediately.
„I can still feel the grip,“ you croak.
Steve exhales slowly, one hand cradling the back of your head. „I’ve got you,“ he murmurs. „I’ve got you now.“
You guide his hands. „Can you… wash me?“
It nearly undoes him - not because it’s intimate in a romantic way, but because you’re trusting him with something fragile. „Okay,“ he says gently.
He lathers soap in his palms first, warming it so it’s not cold against your skin. Then he starts at your shoulders. Slow and careful.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t stare. Steve just focuses.
His thumbs glide down your arms, washing away sweat, fear and the ghost of someone else’s grip.
„You tell me if anything feels wrong,“ he says, voice heavy with affection.
„It doesn’t,“ you answer. „It feels better.“
When he reaches your wrists, he pauses - thumb brushing softly over where the grip had been too tight earlier. His jaw tightens at the thought of that. But he doesn’t say anything angry. Instead the presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
„You don’t belong to anyone but yourself,“ he murmurs against your skin.
Tears mix with the water on your cheeks. You turn so he can wash your back. His touch is featherlight at first, then steadier. The steam wraps around you both, warm and cocooning. For the first time all night, your breathing starts to slow down.
You lean back into him. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. „Still feel dirty?“
You shake your head. „No. Just tired.“
Steve rests his cheek against your damp hair. „Good,“ he says gently. „Your safe here.“
You tilt your face up and he kisses you - not desperate, not heated. Just slow, tender and reassuring. His hands stay respectful. Protective without being possessive.
When you finally step out of the shower, wrapped in his towel, he dries your hair with one of his own like it’s the most important task he’s ever had.
Later in his bed, your curl into him. His clothes feel like a shield on your body. His arm is around you. Solid and strong.
You press your face into his chest. „Thank you.“
„For what?“
„For not making me feel ashamed.“
He tightens his hold just slightly. „You never have to be ashamed,“ he says. „Not with me.“
And when you finally fall asleep, it’s the first deep, steady rest you’ve had all night. Steve doesn’t sleep much. He just holds you. And makes sure you stay safe.
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Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙
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