Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

"Keep 'em closed." Steve instructs and you can hear the smile to his voice as his hands encircle your eyes. "It's hard not to," You tease, meaning those same hands that blind you. He was guiding you from the car to some secret place you weren't allowed to see; his idea of a date.

You were wearing a cute pale blue sundress, the heat of Spring on the back of your shoulders as calves brush through scratchy grass. The air smelled like fragrant flowers and fresh air, the pollen drawing a small sneeze from you that makes Steve snort a laugh. You swat his thigh as best you can but he moves out of your reach as he walks you closer. 

Pulling to a stop at last, you could feel the warmth of his breath as it fans over your bare shoulder long before his lips graced the same spot. "Okay, you can look." He tells you, another kiss though this time it was to your neck.

His hands drop from your eyes to your hips and you blink against the brightness of the sun. Then you gasp. Not a bad gasp, or a shocked gasp, but a heart-warmed one. Your chest felt thick with it in fact, bulging with affection over the sight before you.

Steve had brought you to a meadow of wildflowers; some you recognised and some you didn't. In the middle was a self-made clearing that he'd decorated with a large picnic blanket and various cushions from the couch at home. "Oh, Steve..." A weak and pathetic whisper, expelled through grinning lips as your hand instinctively reaches out for him; he takes it, brings it to his lips and brushes them over your knuckles.

"Did good?" He checks, beaming with pride when you look up to him. He looked so unbelievably good today. Hair freshly washed and styled, brushed away from that handsome face you loved so dearly. He wore a pale blue button-up that you think was on purpose to match you which was just... so disgustingly cute. And also a little annoying since he looked far better in the color than you did.

The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and a couple of the buttons were undone, exposing a few of the higher hairs smattering his toned chest. He paired the shirt with some charcoal grey slacks and a black belt to keep them from hanging too low on his hips. 

"So good, Steve. So, so good."

A burning sensation rouses you from what had been a perfectly lovely slumber. You did that a lot at the moment. It was like your body was shutting down, trying to sleep as much as it could so it could maintain some form of strength.

The memory exposed to you in your dreams was still lingering behind your eyes, bringing fresh liquid to them that you blink away until the tears drop over your dirt-caked cheeks.

Everything hurt. You hadn't the strength to even keep yourself up anymore, hanging limply with just the vines restraining you to keep you upright. Your toes brushed numbly against the floor, offering no support, and the searing ache in your arms had long since dissipated. Or perhaps you just weren't noticing it anymore. Your head was so fuzzy that the pain rarely existed to you, even now.

Breaths were expelled in shallow huffs for anything more than that caused a shooting stab to your lungs. You were no expert, but you were sure a rib had shattered and was scraping along your organs. At least, that's what it felt like. Each breath was pure agony.

The burning that had woken you was settled low in your throat, like when bile begins to rise to prelude an expulsion of vomit. But there was no vomit. No, instead there was a metallic tang that rises and rises into your throat until it chokes you. Helpless gags and retches that fold your chest further in on itself shake your weakened body until the blood spills free of your lips in horrifying gulps. 

You don't try to stop it. You let it come out and drip in thick and sickening droplets onto your clothes and the chipped wood beneath your feet. Some of it hits your toes and the wetness of it makes them curl a little in reflex.