Steve Harrington X Reader Hurt/comfort - Tumblr Posts

hi ellaaaa !!! :] im here requesting another steve harrington (or fred weasley if u want variety !!) drabble type thing again lol ! i was wondering if u could write smth abt the reader going to visit him at work and they're in an arm sling and he's just generally shocked ? u don't have to of course, i was just curious cause i fractured my elbow yesterday after trying to skateboard and i fell really hard on the concrete 😭 i got an arm sling today and i don't need help but people keep offering it (i appreciate it but i can do things fairly normally !!)

tysm !! -☄️

thank you for requesting; I hope your arm feels better now! <3

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1025 words

You had tried not to fall; you really had. After seeing Max skateboard across town on a beat-up skateboard that never left her side, you decided it would be of utmost convenience to be able to glide in between houses and stores on a similar board. It was only a bonus that you might look cool doing it. 

Thus, you find yourself practicing riding a skateboard on a hill entirely too large for your skill level. You had meant to stop at the stop sign, which usually signaled the end of your block, but you found yourself rapidly gaining speed, flying past the stop sign, and then flying down a hill that resembled a mountain–or a children's slide if you were being realistic. 

Given your speed, you rapidly hurtled down the hill, and any efforts to stop were futile. You crashed into a storm drain and were quickly thrown backward. Your elbow, unfortunately, took the brunt of the impact. After a tearful phone call to your best friend and a doctor's visit, you found yourself in an arm sling that was entirely too embarrassing to mention to your boyfriend.

Steve was cool, aside from his seeming default dad-like poses, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about your accident or show him, for that matter. You were committed to doing everything yourself and not having to recount your fall. 

With your busy college schedule & Steve's job at Family Video, this was easy for a while. You resorted to texting him during the week, praying that your injury would be healed before the weekend came, and you both would undoubtedly want to spend lazy afternoons together to make up for the lost time. 

During the week, you buried your head in books, took acetaminophen to reduce the pain, and faithfully elevated your arm to reduce the swelling–which previously made it resemble a turkey leg, the flesh around your elbow ballooning to uncomfortable levels. 

It was Thursday when you got a text from Steve that read: You better come into Family Video. The movie we rented on Friday is due for return! At that moment, you knew that your antics had ended. Plus, given your student budget, you couldn't afford late fees. 

When you read the message, you sent a silent glare to the VHS that sat woefully unaware, tucked underneath the TV in your college house. If you just had a few more days to heal, you could've been out of the arm sling before Saturday. But no, the VHS return you procrastinated upon injuring yourself the day after your movie night had come to bite you in the ass. 

Even worse, morning classes had made it impossible to avoid Steve at Family Video–though deep down, you knew the news would've spread to him through the source of his chatty coworkers. Begrudgingly, you walked to Family Video, mirroring the form of a wounded animal, the VHS tucked into a spare tote bag that sat loosely on your undamaged arm, head hung slightly in defeat. 

By the time you reach the store, the only thing keeping you calm is the gentle tweets of birds that flutter in and out of your hearing. You also feel increasingly guilty for keeping this from Steve. It probably wouldn't have done much damage to your reputation in his eyes. However, the thought of his doting getting more excessive made heat creep up your neck and into your ears–which may constitute one reason for your antics. 

Walking inside the store, you fight the urge to curse as the bell above your head dings, immediately alerting the workers to your presence. Usually, this was helpful for quick service. But now? You want to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

Looking upwards as you walk towards the counter, you meet Steve's face with a sheepish grin. Taking in your form like he usually does before seeing you makes you think all is well until his eyes fall on your arm. Upon seeing your sling, his eyebrows lift incredulously to his forehead, and he develops wrinkles that better suit a man twice his age. 

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to sputter out, "What happened to you?" It's a tone laced with shock, not anger, but perhaps a twinge of amusement. Although he doesn't find your misfortune funny, he thinks it's characteristic that you have managed to hurt yourself since the last time you saw him. 

You laugh at his tone before rubbing your face with your good hand. "Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh because it's really embarrassing." You decide that making a bargain is your best bet and scan his eyes for trust before continuing. 

He offers his pinky as if to say: I promise I won't. But, he truthfully doesn't know. 

You breathe in before unleashing your story. "So, last weekend–"

He cuts you off, "Last weekend?! You've had your arm in a sling since last weekend?" 

You give him a pointed look, a warning to stop interrupting you before telling the rest of your story, including your ambitions to look as cool as Max riding her skateboard–which probably could have been excluded. 

Surprisingly, Steve keeps his word and doesn't laugh once as you recall the events. Although a glint of amusement shines in his honeyed eyes, he feels more sad than anything he didn't know sooner. When you've finished, he walks around the counter to pull you into his chest. 

"I wish you would've told me sooner; I would've come to your place to care for you." He emphasizes his point by pressing a kiss on your hair and a frown on his lips. 

"It was just so embarrassing to have to say out loud," you mutter into his shirt, the cotton material pressing against your cheek. 

He pulls away to grab around your shoulders, offering you a stern but kind look. "I would never judge you, even if you didn't successfully learn how to skateboard." 

He's so sincere it almost makes you laugh. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know," you respond, and you're telling the truth.