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dee-writes-angst · 2 years ago

Text

CALLING OUT YOUR NAME

FEATURING Steve Harrington x adopted!hopper!reader

CONTENT WARNING description of injuries, mentions of trauma, hurt steeb :(, angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, Steve being an asshole in high school

SUMMARY just when you thought he had forgotten you, he called out your name

AUTHORS NOTE ahhhhh! I don't know where this went but enjoy :)

You suffered a crushing defeat. Eleven, despite her best efforts, couldn’t reach Vecna in time, resulting in catastrophic consequences. Max, Lucas, Robin, Dustin, and Steve were all severely injured and ended up in the hospital. The extent of their injuries varied, but the grim reality was undeniable: you had all been defeated. During the chaos, you found yourself with Lucas, engulfed in a tumult of screaming, crying, and pleading as you cradled a weak Max in your arms. Her labored breathing shattered your heart into countless pieces.

In your desperation, you called out to any force that might listen, begging for Max's life, because it wasn’t her time to go—none of you were ready to say goodbye. After a frantic rush to the hospital, the overwhelming stress and exhaustion took their toll, causing you to faint in the hospital lobby, alarming both Lucas and Erika. Concerned for your well-being, the medical staff admitted you overnight for observation, attributing your collapse to acute stress reaction. Fortunately, you were stable and discharged the following morning, though Erika insisted on vigilantly watching over you throughout the night.

Being confined to the hospital bed initially kept you out of the loop about the full scope of the incident. Once discharged, you were quickly surrounded by your friends, eager to fill you in. Eleven, whom you had come to consider almost like a daughter ever since you helped Hopper raise her, threw herself into your arms, her tears soaking your shoulder. Mike had to gently pull her away so that Jonathan could have his turn to embrace you, his sobs muffled against your neck. You and Jonathan had shared a brief romantic chapter during high school, but had amicably parted ways when he began growing closer to Nancy. Despite the end of your romance, your bond remained strong, evolving into a deep, platonic love. Will, Mike, and Nancy joined in, their group hug was brief yet filled with immense warmth and concern.

After the emotional reunions, Eleven and Nancy guided you to sit on your bed to explain the sequence of events in detail. Eddie and Dustin had valiantly attempted to divert the bats, a move that tragically cost Eddie his life and left Dustin seriously injured. Vecna had anticipated their distraction and used it to his advantage, trapping and nearly killing Steve, Robin, and Nancy. However, Eleven managed to intervene just in time to save Max, pulling Vecna's focus away from her at a critical moment. This distraction allowed her to barely fend off Vecna, ensuring Max's survival by a narrow margin. While Eleven’s intervention bought them some time, the group had nearly executed their final plan to eradicate Vecna. But, before they could deliver the final blow, Vecna vanished, leaving behind a wide-open gateway that threatened all of Hawkins.

"Holy shit," you gasped, your mind struggling to grasp the enormity of the events they were describing. The words seemed to hang in the air, dense with gravity and horror.

"I know," Nancy replied with a heavy sigh, her voice tinged with fatigue. She gently rubbed your arm, offering a semblance of warmth in the cold aftermath of the battle.

"But how? How was he weakened? And how did you manage to escape from all that… that entanglement of roots?" you pressed, your thoughts scrambling to piece together the chaos they had endured.

"About that…" Eleven began, her voice trailing off uncertainly. She exchanged a meaningful glance with Will, who promptly exited the room. The tension thickened in his brief absence, leaving everyone in a state of anxious anticipation. Moments later, he returned, bringing with him a wave of relief in the form of Joyce and Hopper.

"Oh my god," you froze, your heart leaping into your throat as your eyes brimmed with tears. The sight of Hopper, alive and well, was overwhelming—a beacon of hope in the shadow of despair.

"Hey, cupcake," Hopper greeted you with his familiar, gruff affection, stretching his arms out wide. The old nickname, a tender relic from countless memories of your youth, acted like a spell, breaking the paralysis that had gripped you. You dashed into his embrace, burying your face in his chest, the familiar scent of his jacket enveloping you in safety.

"Pops," you sobbed, the relief of seeing him alive making your knees weak. "How? How are you here?"

"You two kids weren't the only ones who didn't give up on me," he responded, his voice rich with emotion. He glanced over at Joyce with a look of deep affection and gratitude. You smiled through your tears, your heart warming as you witnessed the palpable bond between your adopted father and Joyce. It was clear he had found a kindred spirit to share his turbulent life.

Glancing over at Joyce, you playfully wiggled your eyebrows. Throughout your time as one of Jonathan’s girlfriends, Joyce had always shown you a particular fondness, treating you more like a daughter than a mere acquaintance. This special connection meant that the two of you shared many intimate conversations and inside jokes. Joyce rolled her eyes at your antics but couldn’t suppress a knowing wink, causing a burst of laughter to escape you, lightening the heavy atmosphere.

The room momentarily filled with the sound of your laughter, a much-needed reprieve from the dire narrative. As everyone gathered closer, the comforting presence of friends and family intertwined with a renewed sense of purpose. Hopper and Joyce sat down next to you, ready to dive into the story of their unexpected return and the pivotal role it played in weakening Vecna. They began to recount their side of the ordeal, weaving a tale of resilience and unlikely alliances that had momentarily turned the tide against the dark forces at play, laying bare the depth of their struggle and the flickers of hope that persisted against all odds.

"Where is everyone else?" you wondered aloud, your voice tinged with concern as you scanned the room, searching for familiar faces.

"Dustin broke his leg, so they've got him holed up in the room to the left of you," Nancy explained, her words carrying a weight that seemed to settle heavily in the air. Despite the warmth of her smile, there was an underlying sense of burden that spoke volumes.

"And Robin… Robin broke her windpipe," Jonathan continued, his tone somber. "It was touch-and-go for a while. They had to rush her into surgery and put her on a respirator. She's in the room next to Dustin, still unconscious. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, but it's going to be a long road to recovery."

As the reality of their injuries sank in, you felt a knot form in your stomach, a mix of fear and helplessness tightening its grip on your heart. Hopper's comforting embrace offered a momentary respite, his strong presence a steady anchor in the midst of turmoil.

"Lucas is with Max in the room next to Robin," Nancy continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Max… she's in a coma. Her injuries are… severe." Her gaze flickered to Jonathan, a silent plea for support, and he responded with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. "The doctors… they're not sure if she'll wake up. It's… it's hard to say."

The heaviness of the room seemed to weigh down upon you, pressing in from all sides with an oppressive force. You struggled to find words, your mind reeling with the magnitude of what they were telling you.

"Oh! Also… uh," Mike interjected, his voice hesitant as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Also what?" you prompted, your heart racing with anticipation, a sense of foreboding creeping into the corners of your mind.

"Steve… Steve has been asking for you," Eleven chimed in, her innocence a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. She had joined your makeshift family after 'the Steve incident,' unaware of the painful memories it dredged up for you. The mention of it sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of wounds that had never fully healed.

"Why? What does he want?" you asked, your irritation bubbling to the surface. The audacity of Steve to seek you out in the midst of such chaos left you reeling, a surge of anger rising within you.

"He won't say, kid," Hopper interjected, his voice low and gruff. He remembered 'the Steve incident' all too well, the scars it had left behind still raw and tender. "But if you want him out of your hair, I'll handle it."

"Wait, Hop. She needs to, it's been long enough since-" Joyce began, her voice filled with concern and a hint of motherly affection.

The tension in the room thickened as Joyce and Hopper engaged in a silent battle of wills, each one advocating for a different course of action.

"No," Hopper cut her off sharply, his expression resolute as he shook his head.

"Pops," you interjected, breaking the tension with a warm smile as you wrapped your arms around him. "I'm an adult now. I got this." Despite the façade of confidence you projected, a knot of dread coiled in the pit of your stomach at the prospect of facing Steve once again.

"Whatever you say, kid, but I don't know if I trust his intentions after the-" Hopper's words trailed off, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Please don't finish that sentence," you pleaded, a grimace tugging at the corners of your mouth. Hopper heaved a weary sigh, his resolve wavering in the face of your insistence. He leaned down to press a fatherly kiss to your forehead before reluctantly releasing you.

You smiled up at him, a surge of joy flooding your heart at the sight of him alive and well before you. "I've got this, pops. I'm your daughter, and if you can come back from the dead, I can take care of a kid I used to be friends with," you reassured him, though the words felt more like a mantra to bolster your own courage than a genuine assurance to him.

After bidding a reluctant farewell to your father, you followed Joyce out of the room and toward the door at the far end of the hall, adjacent to Max's. Joyce filled you in on Steve's condition as you walked, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and confusion.

"He's in here with a few broken ribs, chunks of skin missing, dehydration, and a concussion," she explained, her words painting a grim picture of Steve's injuries. "When he came to, he immediately asked how everyone was doing. After we told him you had fainted, he was adamant on leaving to go see you. Jonathan and Hopper had to step in to hold him down."

As Joyce's words washed over you, a wave of confusion washed over you. You hadn't exchanged so much as a word with Steve since he broke your heart all those years ago. His sudden desire to speak with you now left you feeling disoriented and apprehensive.

"Thanks," you managed a strained smile, attempting to steady your nerves with a deep, centering breath before stepping through the doorway. The room felt stifling, the weight of Steve's presence suffocating as you prepared yourself for the confrontation ahead.

Steve's voice cut through the air, calling out your name, drawing you further into the room. His relief was palpable, evident in the way his tense shoulders sagged as he sank onto the bed. "Oh, thank god. Are you alright?"

His words grated against your raw emotions, reigniting the seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. "Why do you care?" you snapped, your arms crossing defensively over your chest as you glared daggers at him, the venom in your tone thick and acrid.

"Listen," he began, his voice tinged with desperation, his face drained of color as he braced himself for your response. "I messed up, okay?"

"Messed up?" you scoffed, your scowl darkening into a murderous glare. "I don't think spreading rumors around high school about me being 'a whore who puts out for anyone' qualifies as a mistake. That sounds pretty damn intentional to me," you growled, your voice dripping with contempt as you confronted him head-on. Steve recoiled at the ferocity of your words, his features contorting with guilt and shame under your piercing gaze. "Seriously, how dare you have the audacity to ask for me, to care about me, after the stunt you pulled. You used to be my best friend, the person I trusted most in the world, and you knew damn well I was a virgin!"

"I know! I fucked up, and I am so, so sorry," Steve pleaded, his voice thick with remorse as he struggled to find the right words to express the depth of his regret.

"No! You don't get to apologize. Not anymore. Not after you ripped my heart out," you spat, your anger boiling over as you unleashed years of pent-up frustration and hurt. "You know what? I can't do this. I hope you have a shit life, Steve," you seethed, your voice trembling with emotion as you turned on your heel and stormed toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest with each step. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape, for relief from the crushing weight of betrayal that threatened to consume you whole.

"I was scared!" Steve's voice echoed through the room, halting you in your tracks. "I was scared," he repeated softly, his vulnerability breaking through the barrier of anger that surrounded you. You stayed quiet, guarded, but turned back around to see that he had gotten out of bed and was right behind you. Too close. You took a step back, instinctively creating space between you, as he continued to speak.

"I loved you so much that I thought I was going to die," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "You were gorgeous and everything that I ever dreamed of, but things with my parents were starting to get really bad. It went from casually throwing comments my way to yelling and throwing things and threats of kicking me out, and I just…" he trailed off, his breath hitching as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he mustered the courage to meet your gaze. "I couldn't put you through that, not after you had lost your mom and little sister."

"That doesn't excuse the rumor spreading, you dick," you retorted, your voice quieter now, the malice drained from your words. Steve reached over, his hands grazing your arms, but you quickly recoiled, pulling away from his touch. The physical contact felt like an intrusion, a violation of the boundaries you had erected to protect yourself from further pain.

"Please," Steve pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "I almost died. You almost—" he sighed heavily, running a hand through his tousled hair in frustration. "When I was stuck in those things, fighting for air, the only thing that came to my mind was you. It was you, baby. I was about to die, and all I could think about was how I lost someone so special, someone I wanted—no, someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. And me being scared is a stupid excuse. I should have never done that to you, but I can't take it back. The only thing I can do is ask for a second chance."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and vulnerability, as he bared his heart to you, laying his emotions bare in the hope of redemption. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat. "I love you, and I just want to take you out on a date. Just one, and then you can decide for yourself whether or not you ever want to see me again. If you don't, then I'll leave you alone. But… but if you do, then I think we could really be something special together, and I swear to try my best to fight for us."

The room fell into a cold, tense silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air as you grappled with your emotions. You were hesitant, scared of letting him back in after what he had done, but his words struck a chord within you. It could have been the end for both of you, it still could be at any moment. So why not seize the time you have left? If you got hurt, you got hurt, but at least you could say that you tried. Right?

As you stood there, grappling with your thoughts, Steve's hopeful gaze bore into yours, his heart laid bare before you, awaiting your decision with bated breath. The air crackled with tension, uncertainty hanging thick between you, as you contemplated whether to open your heart to him once more, or to shut him out for good.

"Okay," you breathed, the word hanging in the air like a fragile promise, waiting to see if he would shatter it with a cruel twist of fate. But he didn't. Instead, he took a step forward, his hand finding its way to your waist as he pulled you close, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin. He stopped just before kissing you, a silent plea in his eyes as he waited for your permission.

You found yourself lost in his deep brown eyes, the same eyes that had witnessed your tears, your pain, and your heartache. But this time, as you stared into them, you saw something different—sincerity, vulnerability, and a flicker of hope reflected in the small golden flecks. It was in that moment that you knew. He wasn't going down without a fight.

With a silent nod, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a heated kiss that sent sparks flying. It was a kiss filled with passion, longing, and a silent promise of what could be. When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless and wanting, the electricity lingering in the air like a tangible force.

"Just don't go and fuck it up this time, okay?" you murmured, your voice tinged with a mixture of caution and longing, your heart laid bare before him.

"Okay," Steve replied, his smile tender and genuine as he pulled you back in for another kiss, sealing the unspoken pact between you with a promise of redemption and a chance at love renewed.

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