nasty habit (steve harrington x reader)
a/n: i will probably rewrite this sometime in the future bc i'm not happy with it but yknow, whatever. here goes nothing.
"That's a nasty habit, you know."
You looked behind you, seeing none other than Steve Harrington, who was watching you intensely as you took a drag from your cigarette.
"Fuck off," you replied. Steve hadn't talked to you since he started screwing around with Nancy Wheeler, and you had no plans on rekindling your friendship with that jackass. Especially not right now, at this party, while you were trying to have a smoke in peace.
"Have you always been so mean?" Steve asked, walking closer towards you.
"I dunno. Have you always been such a self absorbed prick?"
Steve was visibly taken aback by your harsh reply.
"Hey, come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that," Steve whined.
You looked at him in disgust. Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?
Steve sighed dejectedly. "I was just... trying to make conversation."
"Shouldn't you be up Nancy's ass? You know, like you were when I needed you?" you spat, resisting the urge to throw your cigarette at him.
"Look, I'm sorry," Steve began, "I-"
"Yeah, you sure fuckin' are, Steve. A sorry excuse for a friend– now get the fuck away from me," you said, cutting him off. You didn't wanna hear his bullshit excuses.
"We aren't together, you know, me and Nancy Wheeler," Steve mumbled.
"Damn, I honestly don't care. How many times do I have to tell you to piss off? We aren't old pals. Quite frankly I want nothing to do with you."
"Why do you have to be such a... such a..." Steve stumbled over his words before closing his mouth.
"Say it," you hissed, "Why do I have to be such a what, Steve?"
"Why do you have to be such an ass? I know I screwed up, okay, but damn... At least let me try to make it up to you. You won't even let me apologize," he complained, "I'm fucking sorry, Y/N. I should've never... done what I did."
"Fuck you, Steve Harrington," you said, keeping your voice low so that it wouldn't crack, "Fuck your apology too. I hate you."
There was a point in time where you loved him, more than anything, but now when you looked at him all you felt was disgust, and seething rage. He broke your heart, he used you, and here he was, acting as if a pathetic apology could undo everything he did. Ditching you for Nancy, breaking the promise he made to never leave you, leaving you heartbroken. You'd stayed in bed for weeks, too devastated to show your face at school, afraid you'd see them together.
"You slept with my best friend," Steve suddenly said, speaking with conviction. As if you sleeping with his friend for revenge amounted to half of what he did to you.
"What do you care? You're the one who left me," you retorted.
"I didn't– I– I don't fucking know, maybe I care because I'm fucking in love with you?"
"You don't love anyone but yourself."
Steve looked genuinely hurt by your words. Good, was all you could think as you looked at the pain written on his face.
Your cigarette was nearing its end, and so was your patience.
"Steve," you spoke quietly, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Just leave me alone. You can't fix what you did."
"Let me try," he said, stepping closer to you. "At least let me try."
Try how? What could he possibly do to repair the giant fucking mess he made? The wound may have healed by now, but your anger remained. It would take far more effort than he was probably willing to put in.
You looked Steve over, contemplating it for a moment.
He quite literally dropped to his knees on the ground in front of you, hands clenched together.
"Please. I'll do anything... Just give me a chance to make things right. It's okay if you don't ever forgive me, I just want to say I tried."
You scoffed, putting your cigarette out on the underside of your shoe and tossing the butt in his direction. It landed a few inches away from your desired target. "I'll believe it when I see it, Steve."
He stood back up, kicking at your discarded cigarette butt and closing the space between the two of you. "Look at me, Y/N. I'd do anything for you."
"How many idiots have fallen for that line before?"
You looked at him, curling your lip and furrowing your brow. "Stop? You fucking stop, Steve. You're just making this worse for us both."
"Please stop. Y/N, baby, listen to me... please."
"I'm not your baby. Don't ever call me that again."
With a sigh, Steve stepped down and turned to walk away. You watched him for a second before turning to light another cigarette.
"Those things will kill you, you know," Steve muttered. He must've thought you didn't hear.
"No faster than you will, Steve Harrington."
You waited to hear him walk away, but there were no footsteps. Just silence.
"Let me think about it, yeah? You really hurt me, you know. I can't just forget that," you spoke, your tone softer now, kinder.
"I know... I fucked up, really bad, Y/N. Letting you go was the worst decision I've ever made," he said, "And I've made a lot of really awful decisions."
You chuckled in agreement.
You didn't expect that from him, who'd always nagged you about your smoking habit ever since you started a few years ago.
Steve just laughed. "Yeah, I figured as much."
You watched as he pulled a pack of Camels out of his jacket pocket, slapping it against the base of his hand before taking one out and lighting it.
"When the hell did you start smoking? And why are you smoking my brand?"
Steve laughed again as he took a long puff from the cigarette.
"A lot has happened," Steve said as he laughed dryly. "And, well, because they remind me of you."
"That's the corniest shit I've ever heard, Harrington," you said, giggling earnestly.
"Yeah, well, it's the truth."
The two of you stood in silence after that, smoking your cigarettes in the cool night air as you listened to the muffled sounds from the party inside.
Somehow, you ended up in Steve's stupid car, sitting shotgun as he barreled down the roads towards your house. He'd almost gotten into a fight with some dude at the party for being a creep to you, and you had to physically drag him away. Steve had a tendency to start fights he wouldn't win, and as much as you disliked him right now, you didn't wanna see him get pummeled in front of everyone there.
"Would it kill you to like, not get into fights all the time?"
"Hey, I was just trying to stand up for you," Steve complained, looking over at you. "Or were you interested in that weirdo?"
Steve didn't laugh, but you did.
"Kidding, Steve, don't take everything so hard."
"Yeah? Like you took Tommy's–"
"Shut the hell up, don't even go there."
Steve laughed now, and you sank into the passenger seat, arms crossed. "You're so not funny."
Steve laughed even harder as you pouted. He was definitely not as funny as he seemed to think he was.
"Hey, humor is a good coping mechanism, you know?" Steve said, finally ended his laughing spell and focusing on the road again.
"Coping mechanism? Don't try and act like you even cared that I slept with him, you were so far up Nancy Wheeler's ass I wasn't even a thought in your head," you grumbled, looking out the window and away from Steve's stupid face.
"What? Of course I cared. A-and of course I thought about you, I never stopped thinking about you, you know," Steve said, the humor drained from his voice.
"Not enough to call, or talk to me, apparently," you replied, unaffected by his cheap words.
"I figured... I figured you didn't wanna hear from me," Steve said, looking over at you.
"I didn't, but here we are."
With that, Steve turned up the radio. Landslide was playing, and you sank deeper into your seat.
"Change this, please," you asked, not wanting to deal with the bad memories this song brought up. You'd spent too many nights crying to that song to hear it right now, in the presence of the reason behind it.
"You don't like Fleetwood Mac?" Steve asked, looking shocked.
"That's not it just- just change the damn song, okay? Please," you begged.
He listened, and a song you didn't know started playing.
You looked away from the window, turning your attention to Steve. "What?"
"You just, don't seem like yourself, is all."
"You don't even know me anymore, Steve," you said begrudgingly. "Don't try to act like you do."
Steve pulled into your driveway and put the car in park before turning to look at you.
"Come on, Y/N, talk to me."
"No. Just drop it. Goodnight, Steve, thanks for the ride."
He grabbed your wrist as you turned to unlock your door.
"Don't be like this, please." He was looking at you with the most pitiful expression you'd ever seen.
"I'm not being like anything. Let go of me," you said, tugging your wrist away from his grasp.
"Y/N. I know something's wrong," Steve continued. He just wouldn't shut the fuck up.
"Drop it, damn it, Steve! I don't wanna talk about it... especially not with... you," you exclaimed, raising your voice at him to let him know you were serious.
"Okay, okay, I get it. You still hate me, but... I'm here for you, okay?"
"It's not... ugh, Steve," you gave up on getting out of the car. "I don't hate you."
"Really? Sure could've fooled me," he commented, staring at you with those big brown eyes.
"I'm just... hurt, okay? I'm still so hurt over what you did, the way you just... forgot that I fucking existed just because some new girl showed interest in you. Hurt over the fact that I wasn't good enough, I guess," you confessed, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Youve always been enough. I'm sorry I didn't see it before but... but I love you, Y/N. I'm so stupidly in love with you, even if you hate my guts. A-and you have every right to, after everything... but that doesn't change the fact that I love you."
"You don't love me, Steve," you said, trying not to start crying. "You don't love me. Please stop. You're just drunk."
"I didn't drink anything tonight," Steve said, looking you in your watery eyes.
"S-so what do you think this is? You come back to me because Nancy's with Jonathan now? To get back at her or something, or, or so that you're not alone?" you spat, suddenly angry again. "You could have anyone in Hawkins, so why don't you go break someone else's heart? You've done enough damage to mine."
Steve looked at you, bewildered and sad. "Is that... Is that really what you think of me, Y/N? I thought we were best friends, and you really think I'd do that to you?"
"I don't know what you'd do, Steve. I used to think I knew you, but you proved me wrong."
"You're not just some random person to me, Y/N. I still think of you as my best friend, you know? I wouldn't hurt you..."
"Not intentionally, Y/N. I- I was scared, okay? You were the best thing in my life and I was scared of screwing that up. I was scared of hurting you."
"Well, you sure as shit did it anyways, didn't you?"
Steve sighed. "What can I do? How can I prove myself worthy to you again?"
You sat in silence for a moment before replying, "I don't know."
Before you knew what was happening, Steve leaned in and kissed you. At first, you wanted to push him away, keep him as far away from you as possible, but you gave in and let him. You still didn't kiss back, but you let him finish the kiss. When he pulled away, he was looking at you with teary eyes.
"I love you, Y/N, I mean it. I'll do anything," he spoke softly.
"I said I don't know, Steve, I really don't," you replied, looking down, suddenly intrigued by his center console.
"I'm not going to leave you again," he said. "I promise. I swear on- on everything, on my life."
You huffed, unsure of what to say, or what to do. There was only thing that made sense to your emotional-overdrive brain right now. You leaned closer to Steve and kissed him.
The kiss was messy, and rough, and you didn't care. Steve's hands flew to your face and you tangled yours in his hair, neither of you moving to break apart until air was absolutely necessary.
"You do still love me," Steve mumbled, staring at your now-swollen lips.
"Of course..." you replied, covering your face. "I couldn't stop if I wanted to, and believe me, I tried."
He smirked at you and reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face.
"Well, that's a start, right?"
"Listen, it doesn't mean I forgive you," you told him sternly. "I still think you're an asshole."
More silence ensued, though it wasn't exactly as uncomfortable as it had been. Steve just watched you, and you shifted in your seat, nervous under his gaze.
"What are you looking at, idiot?"
"You're just so pretty," Steve replied, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't believe it took me so long to realize you're the one for me."
"Flatterer. You're just hoping I invite you in to have sex, huh?"
Steve's jaw dropped in surprise. "N-No! That's not it at all! Why would you say that?!"
You giggled and punched him in the arm. "Was a joke, Steve."
He groaned at your antics. "You sure make it hard to tell when you're joking."
"Goodnight, Steve. See ya around, I guess," you said, jumping out of the car.
That night, you laid in bed, replaying the night's events in your mind. You went to the party after being convinced by some friends, not expecting to see Steve there. You hadn't seen him at all since graduation a few months prior, and were hoping for it to stay that way.
How you ended up kissing him in his car was beyond you entirely, but you weren't mad at how things played out. You now knew better than to fall for his pretty words, but you weighed the pros and cons and decided it wouldn't hurt to give him another chance. If you took his words at face value, he did seem genuinely sorry for everything that happened between the two of you, and all you'd ever really wanted was for him to be sorry.
You didn't think he'd ever want to be with you, but tonight's events proved you wrong. Truth be told, you were still wary of him, unable and unwilling to let go of the past just because he seemed regretful. But, as much as you hated it, you did still harbor feelings for him, deep down. Steve had been your best friend for years, your first everything, and you spent months desperately hoping he'd come back to you. Now that he had, it'd be a shame to let it go before seeing what would play out between the two of you.
The sound of the phone ringing surprised you out of your thoughts, and you jumped out of bed and trudged downstairs to answer it. Who the hell was calling this time of night, anyways?
Of course it was Steve. Who else would it be?
"So, I was wondering... could you come over? My parents... they're not here, and I..."
"Nope. Try someone else."
"Y/N, please," Steve said, begging, "I don't... I don't wanna be alone, okay?"
You huffed, but he sounded so... sad, you couldn't help but feel bad for how quickly you shut him down.
"Fine. Are you coming to get me, or should I walk?"
"No! I mean, yes, I'm coming to get you. Don't walk, please."
Steve just lived a few streets over, so you didn't get why he was so against the idea of you walking, but you left it alone. "Okay. See ya."
Steve arrived in record time, and you carefully checked your house to make sure all the doors were locked. Your parents were out of town and your brother was with his friends, so you were responsible for the house. After double-checking every lock, you grabbed your bag and keys and headed outside to meet Steve.
His BMW was parked in your driveway, headlights shining through your living room windows. Steve himself was on your porch, patiently waiting by the door like a puppy.
"Let's go," you said, heading towards the car.
Steve chased after you, bolting in front of you to open the passenger side door.
"Aw, what a gentleman," you teased as you climbed into the seat.
"You know it," Steve replied, smirking at you. He'd definitely been staring at your ass while you got in, but you figured you'd let it go for now.
When you got to Steve's house, he got out to open the door for you again and grabbed your bag. You stared at his butt this time as he walked in front of you, leading you up the walkway to his house.
"Nice ass, Harrington," you called out.
He ignored you as he unlocked his front door and opened it, letting you step inside.
"Nice ass, Y/L/N," he replied as you walked past him. You turned around and jokingly punched him in the chest.
Steve grinned at you, that stupid god damn shit-eating grin that made you melt, and leaned down close to you.
Not wasting any time, you kissed him, pushing him into the door, and he kissed you back, grabbing your hips for balance.
"Hey, slow down," Steve murmured as he pulled away from the kiss. "You're gonna make me fall even more in love with you, at this rate."
"Good," was all you said.
After a while, the two of you found yourselves in his living room watching movies.
"Let's watch something scary," you suggested as you rummaged through his parents' movie collection.
"Come on, Steve! You guys have The Legend of Hell House! I fuckin' love that movie," you begged.
"I'm just... not that into horror movies," Steve said, causing you to pout.
"Since when? We used to always watch them together!"
"Things change, okay? I'd... rather not talk about it," he replied.
You sighed in defeat, settling for Grease. It was one of his old favorites. He'd always compare the two of you to Sandy and Danny, back when he'd make you watch it at least every other weekend. Back when the two of you hung out on a regular basis, and there was no tension between you.
Despite your attempt to pick a movie that would hold his interest, Steve didn't seem enthused about the movie. In fact, it seemed as though he was in another world entirely.
"Steve, what's up with you?"
You looked at him carefully, noticing for the first time that night the dark circles under his eyes and the fading bruises and scrapes on his face. What the hell had happened to him?
"What?" Steve asked, looking at you as if he was clueless.
"You're not even paying attention to the movie," you commented. "What's the matter?"
"It's nothing, I'm just, thinking and stuff," Steve told you. You didn't believe him.
"You're lying to me, Steve Harrington."
After a little more prying, Steve finally cracked. Right there on his couch, he recounted to you all the events of the past months, everything from Will Byers' disappearance, his breakup with Nancy, the fight with Tommy and Carol, his adventures with the boys.... Steve told you about everything, including the Upside Down. He admitted to it being the reason he was afraid to spend the night alone, and honestly, how could you blame him?
You were rendered speechless by his story. All you could do was hold him while he talked about the horrors he experienced during the time the two of you were out of touch. What could you even say?
Steve's face was buried in your chest as you cradled him, the two of you sitting in silence as you rocked back and forth, stroking his back with your fingers. You didn't know what else to do besides hold him and let him cry, a sight you rarely ever saw. Steve was a pro at holding back his emotions, but you were thankful he decided to talk to you. It meant more than you could express, and you felt as though the bond the two of you previously shared was still there.
The two of you just sat and cried for a while.
"Steve, I-I'm so sorry, I had no idea you were... going through all that. Going through it alone," you whispered, his hair tickling your face as you spoke. "I'm so sorry. I was too busy being angry at you to even... to even care what you might've been dealing with."
Steve pulled away from you slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. He held your face in his hands.
"Stop that. I wouldn't have let you get involved in that anyways, even if you tried. You were safe and unknowing, like, just like you should've been," he told you, staring at you intensely with his big brown eyes. They were red and puffy from crying, and the sight alone nearly brought you to tears again.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours.
"You could've died! You could've died and all I cared about was that you ditched me for Nancy!"
"You didn't know, babe," Steve repeated.
Something about the sound of his voice, the way he was looking at you, it was all too much. You jumped off of the couch and headed for the downstairs bathroom, where you could cry without Steve looking at you like that, without him trying to comfort you.
You didn't feel like you deserved his comfort, or his kindness. You'd known things between him and Nancy had ended shortly after they began, you'd heard all about it, but wouldn't swallow your grudge to talk to him. You had left him in the past, never acting on your desires to speak to him, to try and be whatever it is that the two of you were again. Steve had gone through literal Hell and you weren't there for him. You used to think he was the worst best friend in the world, but now... now you felt like it was you, instead.
You cried in the bathroom, sliding down to the floor on the other side of the door. You held your head in your hands, too ashamed to go out and look Steve in the face again.
"Y/N, you... you okay in there?" Steve's voice was quiet, barley a whisper. You could feel him leaning on the door.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him, hastily wiping your tears. You jumped up and turned the sink on. "Just give me a second."
When you opened the door, Steve was right there, waiting for you in the hall. Grease's credit scene was rolling in the background.
"Steve," you breathed, looking up at him, unable to find the words to speak.
The words left your mouth before you could think about what you were saying, about the consequences of what you said, about anything at all. All you'd thought about since Steve's recollection of events on the couch was how much you loved this man, and how there was nothing and no one else that compared. No matter how angry he made you, no matter how much you tried to hate him, it was never enough. You always loved him, all along, no matter what.
"I love you, Steve Harrington," you repeated, leaning against the doorframe.
He stepped forwards, closing the space between the two of you. You expected a kiss, but instead, Steve threw his arms around you, squeezing as tight as he could. You collapsed against him, trusting him to support you while your legs gave out. You sobbed into his chest, squeezing him back.
"I love you," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I missed you so, so much, Y/N."
"I missed you too," you choked, trying your best to calm yourself. It wasn't working.
The next morning you woke up in Steve's bed, both of you fully clothed, a rare occurrence. You vaguely remembered Steve carrying you to his bedroom and the two of you climbing into bed and holding each other while you both cried. At some point you must have exhausted yourself to the point that you fell asleep, and now here you were. Steve was laying beside you, sleeping softly, like always. He looked so peaceful when he slept, despite the horrors he'd been through.
You rolled over on your side and touched his face, tracing your fingers along his jawline, taking in his features. You'd seen Steve's face almost as much as your own over the years, but each time you looked at him felt like the first. He mesmerized you.
Steve groaned, awakening at your touch, and you kissed his forehead.
"Good morning," you whispered. "Want me to go make breakfast?"
In reply, Steve wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Just stay here, we can go get breakfast in a bit," he mumbled, burying his face in your hair. "I just want to hold you."
Your face burned bright red, and you were so thankful Steve couldn't see you. He'd make some smartass comment about it, how he still made you blush even after all these years. You snuggled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"I love you," Steve said.
You kissed his chest. "I love you."
"I missed this so much, you know? You, us... I was... so lonely without you," Steve muttered into your hair.
"I was, too," you admitted. You tried to keep yourself occupied with friends, with boyfriends, parties, cigarettes, beer, drugs– anything to keep your mind off of Steve Harrington. But he was one habit you just couldn't kick, and the proof was right in front of you as you laid in his bed.
"I need a cigarette, Steve," you whined, your voice muffled by his shirt.
"Nasty habit," he replied.
"You're by far my worst habit," you told him, slowly pulling away and climbing out of bed. "I can never get my fix."