“And you’re not listening alone. You never were. Every voice, every song, every moment on this frequency traveled outward. Spreading, connecting, becoming something larger.”
“We really took over this town, didn’t we?”
“The studio is just where WSQK started from.”
The queen at the controls, Mindy Flair.
The mindflayer.
“It was almost like you took the words right out of my mouth- and my brain!”
Something is possessing this town, and I don’t think episode eight is the end.
Summary: Loving yourself never comes easy to anyone. For some people, it's harder to understand. After coming out of a relationship, you never fully loved yourself until you met Steve Harrington. He was the one that has always reminded you of how perfect you are. On one particular today, you don't feel like yourself, but Steve helps you remember how perfect you are.
Notes:
Y/N/N: Your Nick Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
Warnings:
Trouble with self-image
Angst (maybe???)
Steve Harrington x-reader
Steve, Robin, and I sat together. I was trying to help Robin study for her calculus final this Friday. She has been a nervous wreck all week. "Okay, what's an integral?" I asked, flipping through her notecards. Her chin sat on her hand, her fingers tapping the table.
I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser
Midnights become my afternoons
When my depression works the graveyard shift
All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room
Steve looked up from his textbook to see if our friend knew the answer. "Um," she cleared her throat, "the reverse operation of a differentiation?" Robin looked at me for approval. I smiled and nodded my head. My friend sighed and leaned back in her seat. Steve chuckled to himself and went back to 'writing' his notes for our next assignment.
I shifted in my seat, wishing I hadn't worn this sweater. I had just gotten it and probably should've washed it before wearing it. "You okay?" Steve said quietly. "Yeah. This sweater is just really itchy," I complained. "Well, you could just take it off," Steve winked. I rolled my eyes and shook his gaze.
Robin's face scrunched at Steve's expression. She dropped her face when Steve glanced at her. Every once in and awhile, my boyfriend looked my way as I began to feel uncomfortable in the sweater. He leaned over and spoke so only I could hear. "I think you look very pretty," he muttered. He nudged my shoulder so I could look up at him.
He kissed my forehead just as the bell rang. The three of us stood up to head to class. Steve and I had our Biology final, while Robin had her Art final. "Good luck, Robin. I know you'll do great," I said. She thanked me and went down the opposite way. Steve put an arm around my shoulders. "You okay?" he asked.
I nodded. Steve dropped it, and we walked into class. He sat on the other side of the classroom while I went to the other. Our teacher decided to separate the groups to see if that would help us concentrate, but I'm not sure if that'll help. "Good afternoon, class," Ms. Smith greeted, "You will have two hours to complete this exam. After you are finished, bring the test to me and go back to your seats."
She took out the packets from her desk. Our teacher separated them by rows and handed them to the people at the front. Everyone passed them back. I pulled out my pencil, leaning over to ask Erica to hand a pencil to Steve. My boyfriend looked over his shoulder and thanked me with a smile.
I winked at him and started my test when our teacher waved us to begin. It was intimidating to see everyone else finishing the test before me, but I was able to finish with just thirty minutes to spare. I began drawing on a separate sheet of paper.
I should not be left to my own devices
They come with prices and vices, I end up in crisis
I wake up screaming from dreaming
One day I'll watch as you're leaving, 'cause you got tired of my scheming
I hadn't realized that the bell rang. I was in my own little world. Steve walked over to me and tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey," he said, "You ready for lunch?" I nodded and stood up from the desk.
______
(Later)
"I don't know what's wrong. I'm worried about her, Nancy," Steve said, running a hand through his hair. "Worried about who?" I asked, joining our friends for lunch. He looked up from his pasta. He glimpsed at Nancy. "Oh, he was telling me that he's worried for Robin," she said.
I nodded and took out a sandwich my mom made for me this morning. "I don't blame her. Calculus is hard," I said, taking a sip of my water. Nancy nodded in agreement. She smiled as Jonathan sat down.
Robin soon joined the other side of me, her plate covered in different types of food. I looked at her with raised brows. "What? Art class brings an appetite out of me," she shrugged. "How was that final, by the way?" I asked. "It was fine. I'm hoping my sketches were good enough," she answered. For the rest of lunch, we talked about our midterms and what we were doing over the weekend.
My boyfriend and I planned to take a trip to Lovers Lake with Nancy and Jonathan. Nancy had been talking about it all week; she wanted to provide the snacks, meaning she and her mother would be making them.
"Y/N, Steve. How did the Biology exam go? I need the details before I step foot in Ms. Smith's classroom," Jonathan asked. "It was easy, surprisingly," Steve replied, "It was just those graphs we studied, and we have to label some cell parts." Jonathan nodded, taking a bite of his lunch. I thought it was a little easy. Biology was kind of an okay subject for me.
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me
At tea time, everybody agrees
I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror
It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero
When it came to different terminology or finding the correct definitions, I'd always get stumped. Nancy had helped Steve and me study for the midterm. I just hoped that was enough to get me a better grade in the class.
Steve noticed that I had grown quiet after the mention of our Biology midterm. Lunch ended, and it was time for us to head to the library, given that we had a free period. I wanted to head home, but I knew my parents wouldn't like me leaving early, especially during midterm week.
The two of us walked back to the library. "Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asked, sitting down across from me. I nodded, not wanting to worry him. But something tells me that even saying I was fine probably made him more worried. Steve knew what went through my head regardless if I told him or not.
He was aware of my problems with self-image, I was getting better, but some days were harder than others. I had a great support system, and I thanked Steve for that every day. Today, for example, wearing this sweater that I thought I liked was really putting me in a different mood.
Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby
And I'm a monster on the hill
Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city
Pierced through the heart but never killed
And Steve could tell just by me zoning out or the constant nodding in assurance or words such as 'I'm fine' and 'I'm okay' with an unconvincing smile. At times, it felt like I was my own anti-hero, taking myself down for no reason. My mom always told me that those thoughts were the cons of growing up.
I mean, I guess she's right. We grow up in our bodies, so why do we treat ourselves badly? I pulled out my textbook to finish my study guide; that way, I wouldn't have to do it when I got home.
Steve promised he would help my brother practice for Lacrosse tryouts, and he asked me to be the ref. Steve never played Lacrosse, but his father did in college, so he's learned a thing or two.
Steve did anything but look at his book. Steve smiled at me when he saw my head stuck in my book. He pulled the edge of the book towards himself, but I brought it back to me. "Don't study too hard. Your eyes will pop out of her head," he teased.
He chuckled when my eyes met his. The corners of his mouth lifted, smiling at my nose scrunching at his comment. "What's wrong?" I whispered. "Nothing. I just think you should take a break," Steve thought. "Steve, we've been in the library for five minutes," I clarified.
Steve rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He tapped his hands on the desk, acting like the table was a drum set. I looked over my shoulder to see the librarian scowling at my boyfriend. I hid my laugh with a cough. Steve sunk in his seat and sent a look my way. "Shut up," he muttered. "Make me," I replied, flipping to another page in my book.
Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism
Like some kind of congressman?
I wake up screaming from dreaming
One day I'll watch as you're leaving
And life will lose all its meaning
He lightly kicked my leg, causing me to jump at the touch. Steve smirked to himself and finally grabbed his notebook. I shook my head in amusement and went back to my own little world where I escaped every now and then. Another thing my mother would always point out, "Sometimes going into your own reality isn't always a good thing, honey."
I'd roll my eyes at her comment. My father would disagree and claim that's where I get my most thinking done. He's always been someone who has supported me. He's got this carefree and jumpy personality that my brother and I loved, including Steve. Then, my mind goes to another part of my reality that reminds me of how different I am from my family.
I've never been an active person. Sure, I did dance and soccer when I was younger, but now that I'm getting close to college. I have no clue what I want to do with my life. My parents often say that I should do whatever I want with my life, but it's kind of hard to figure that out at age eighteen. Steve tells me not to beat myself up about it.
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me
At tea time, everybody agrees
I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror
It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero
The last bell rang for the day. Finally! It was time to head home. Steve's arm found its place on my shoulders on our way to his car. We said goodbye to our friends before driving to my place. My brother was still at school, but Steve wanted to set up my yard for Timmy, my brother.
My fingers tapped on the armrest as the radio played. Steve turned up the volume, noticing me bopping my head to the melody. He glanced at me and smiled. We pulled into the driveway and walked inside. "I'm gonna get changed. I'll be right back," I told Steve.
He gave me a thumbs up, stepping into the kitchen to grab a snack. I changed into my father's sweatshirt and shorts, immediately feeling more comfortable in these clothes. I loved the way the soft fabric of the sweatshirt touched my skin. It almost felt like I getting a hug the whole time I wore it.
I rubbed the side of the sleeves as I walked into the kitchen. Steve leaned against the counter, eating an apple and reading a book. I chuckled softly. "What?" he looked up with a portion of the apple in his mouth. "You look so philosophical," I said. His leg was propped on the cabinet, and he wore his favorite red sweater.
Steve looked at his position and attire before looking back at me. He caught on and put the book down. "What were you even reading?" I walked over to him. I noticed it was my grandmother's old cookbook. I let out another laugh. "What? It looked interesting," Steve defended himself.
"The art of making squash soup sounded interesting to you?" I held up the blue and green book. "Yeah," he said, taking another bite of the fruit. I wiped a bit of juice the apple had spread. Steve leaned into my touch.
I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money
She thinks I left them in the will
The family gathers 'round and reads it, and then someone screams out, "She's laughing up at us from hell"
He looked like he was going to ask me something but didn't know how to properly say it. I took my hand off his face and thought of getting something for myself. I opened the fridge and scanned over the shelves. "Y/N/N, can I ask you a question?" Steve set his foot on the ground.
"Sure. You can ask me anything," I said, picking up a small bottle of orange juice and a cheese stick. Steve sighed and turned to me with his side against the kitchen island. "I know I've asked this all day, but I'd like to get a true response," Steve said, "We're always honest with one another, but today I feel like there is something that you're not telling me."
I closed the fridge, partially knowing what he was going to ask me. I leaned against the appliance with my eyes on the tiled flooring. I traced the triangle pattern along the edges. "Is it something that I've done? If it is, tell me, and I can fix it," Steve stepped towards me with open hands. I shook my head and looked up at him for the first time since getting my snack.
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me
It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees
"I don't think you can fix this," I said. Steve's brows furrowed. I looked up at the ceiling fan to prevent myself from getting emotional. Steve stood beside me but made sure to keep a good distance. "Today's been hard," I spoke, "I know I'm getting better at not looking at myself as the anti-hero, but some days that idea just can't seem to escape my head."
Steve watched me as I expressed what was going through my head all day or all the time. He hesitated at first but laced his hand with mine. "I know you said I can't fix this, but I sure as hell am going to try and fix it," Steve said. He reached down and kissed the top of my head.
"I love you for you," he said, "I love your smart brain. I love the way you look at things differently. And I especially love how you go along with my shitty pickup lines. Robin might think they're stupid, but you never stop to make me smile with your comebacks." He wrapped his arms around me tightly. "I love you too," I said, earning another kiss on the forehead.
It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me
At tea time, everybody agrees
I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror
It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero
