#imagine:steve

[tastefulstars]

it was moments like this, soft in-between wakefulness that made all the heartache and pain worth it.

the room is glowing softly with that greyish pre dawn light, the blankets are body warmed and messy and it's quiet, so quiet.

you roll and shift towards his warmth and there's a soft grunt, a small snuffling noise and a smacking kiss pressed against your temple.

"Go back to sleep, baby" He mutters and you shuffle closer, press your forehead against his chest and let yourself drift back into oblivion, safe in his arms.

[imagineseclipse]

Imagine:Steve choosing you over Nancy. "Steve please don't say it, I know you don't like me I know you like Nancy"you looked at the floor, not able to look him in the eyes. "What y/n are you crazy? I love you."Steve exclaimed as he engulfed you in a hug.

[tastefulstars]

You never really meant to get involved, not really, but your innate ability to find trouble caught up with you and now you're being briefed on everything from the party and you can see something akin to pity in the some of the older teens eyes.

"You're taking this very well" Steve murmurs as he drives you home and you shrug. You watch his hands shift on the steering wheel out of the corner of your eyes.

"Would you rather I freak out? Panic and start crying?"

His grip tightens, knuckles going white.

"No" He sighs, "I just- never mind"

He cuts himself off and you feel the tension rolling off him in waves. You're not sure what he wants from you so you offer nothing, quietly watching as his fingers tighten and relax on the wheel.

He pulls up at your house, car idling.

"Steve?"

You turn in your seat and face him but he refuses to look at you, you sigh.

"It's fine" He sighs, finally relaxing his grip, "I just. I don't want you involved. It's dangerous and I can't-"

He doesn't finish.

You can't stop the flare of hurt that blooms inside you. You hate knowing how willing Steve was to keep you in the dark, how willing he was to keep this secret from you. You leave and you don't see Steve for weeks.

By the time Steve tells you, it's too late, the gashes from the demogorgan were too deep across your stomach, blood flows freely and quickly as you press your hands against the wounds.

You hear Steve's voice in your mind whispering 'I don't want you involved, it's dangerous and I can't-' and then he's there, his face swimming as your vision blurs and he's finishing his sentence

"I can't loose you"