I never feel self conscious when im talking to you! (Steve x gn! Black reader)
Fluff! - reader and steve are roommates and act very domestic
I might make a pt.2 or redo this to be more concise if yall like it :3
This is my first actual x reader fic and i didn't spell/grammar check so pls be kind (constructive crit is encouraged):
"Ugh! I'm so tired" You exclaim, shambling as if drunken as you close the door to the apartment you spent most of your free time, falling back ostentatiously onto the pleather red couch. Though dramatic, you seem to have an excuse considering you just finished your shift at the local factory. You complain loudly and in detail, almost as if you are a radio star talking to an audience. Almost instantaneously, you sink into the cool, cracked pleather with a tired sigh.
Glancing around, you mutter under your breath about how embarrassing that could've been if someone saw you. Thankfully, you were alone with your antics. While you would never feel embarrassed about your more theatrical mannerisms, you never really felt like letting other people see this side of you, preferring to be viewed as mysterious—or at least quiet and thoughtful. Outside of your nonconformist outlook on life you just wanted to go unnoticed. Well, at least outside being with him.
Your once slightly awkward acquaintanceship with Steve Harrington blossomed into a very close friendship after your parents' kicked you out a semester before graduating year. Being a dear friend of Robin, he offered you a temporary place to stay until you could get onto your feet.
A few months later however, you both found it to be in the best interest of you both if you stayed as a permanent roommate, with him being wary of rooming with someone unknown. You agreed, as you felt comfortable with him—and the idea of splitting the rent in half sounded enticing to your wallet.
Snapping out of your reminiscing, you grab the copy of Don Quixote you had placed earlier onto the coffee table. As you flip through the pages making not-so-silent commentary about the knight's antics, you briefly pause self-consciously as you realize before chiding yourself.
"Ugh, stop being such a prude. God forbid someone wants to talk to themself every once in a while." You scoff.
"Besides...Einstein did."
You pause, furrowing your brows.
At this, the door opens, a gangly figure stepping in. He brushes his hair out of his face tiredly as he glances to you on the couch, a smile creeping onto his face."
"Hey there bookworm, how long have you been home for?"
Steve greets, his jacket tossed across the armrest with a thump.
"A little bit. Not too long."
You murmur, too engrossed in your book.
"That's not vague at all."
he replies dryly before ambling his way to the fridge. He rummages through for a bit before sighing, his head cocking towards you.
"I don't feel like eating leftovers from a week ago so I'm gonna pick up a pizza. You wanna come?"
Hopping into his beamer, you put your seatbelts on with a click, and you're on your way. With one-hand precariously on the wheel and the other on the arm rest, Steve drives in comfortable silence. His sepia-toned eyes flickers to your face, eyebrows raised in quiet curiosity.
"So," He murmured, breaking the silence "How'd work go? You seem tired."
"It was alright. same old, same old." You reply, your eyes meeting his with a brief smile
All that energy from earlier was gone and replaced with calm serenity. You felt his free hand brush your elbow, thumb softly stroking your skin and you lean instinctually into his touch.
"How 'bout you Harrington," you whisper with a yawn. "You been making bank today or nah?"
He rambles on and you start to feel drowsy, the combination of the day and everything else lulling you to sleep until you wake up from the sound of a car door slamming and the scent of cheese pizza.
Mumbling tiredly, you shuffle to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open as Steve sets the pizza down onto the counter.
Steve peers at you from his peripheral with his big brown eyes as you both wash your hands and dig in, you two slumping back onto the couch.
You practically have your face in your plate and he reaches over to push your forehead up, brushing your braids out of your face and to the side.
"You're welcome." He responded, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he deftly takes both your plates, setting it onto the coffee table. He then snakes his arms around your middle, pulling you closer, and you shift to where your face burrows into his neck, the scent of cologne and warm skin making you feel safe.
You sink into his touch, his hands rubbing soothing circles down your arms before he leaves a small kiss on your head as you both nod off to sleep.
