hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!
HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!
wc: 1.4K
notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!
Steve is one attentive boyfriend.
It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.
He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.
So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?
It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?
You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.
“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.
The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.
The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.
"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"
You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"
"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"
"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.
"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"
Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.
"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.
"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."
The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.
Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"
You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.
By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.
Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.
Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.
Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.
"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.
"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"
The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.
"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."
He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.
"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.
"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.
"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."
The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”
He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”
You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.
“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.
“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”
summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.
word count: 4.8K (oops)
warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!
notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!
tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter @stevenose
As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week.
But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.
You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin.
“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.
“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.
“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.
“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.
“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page.
“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head.
“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you.
You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response.
“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse.
You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.
And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.
So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.
Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in.
So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.
You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.
Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.
You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you.
“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?”
The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”
You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.
“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.
Steve motherfucking Harrington.
Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.
You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.
Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.
“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”
And then it clicked.
Steve had no clue who you were.
Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.
It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.
“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up.
“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.
He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses.
“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.
Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.
“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.
“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.
“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”
His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.
Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.
You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.
“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“
“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.
“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”
You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?
“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”
Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.
“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.
“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…
“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”
“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”
You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”
You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.
You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.
“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.
Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”
Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”
And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.
But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.
You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.
“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”
You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”
He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.
“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.
“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”
You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”
He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!”
You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”
“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.
“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.”
He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.
You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”
Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.
“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was.
“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.
“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really.
“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”
You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.
Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.
Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.
And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.
One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.
But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.
He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.
He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.
A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.
“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.
What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.
“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“
“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”
“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.
“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.
Yeah, you were growing fond of him.
Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.
It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you.
You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.
And he was well aware of this too.
So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.
“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”
You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.
He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.
“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.”
You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.
“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.
“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.
They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.
That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.
The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.
“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.
“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.
“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?”
You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”
He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”
You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier.
“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”
“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.
He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless.
And painfully in love.
steve harrington who comes home late, seeing you sleeping on the couch.
his face radiates warmth when he’s met with the sight of your sleeping figure, draped in a soft blanket with your cheek smushed against the armrest. even asleep and unaware of your surroundings, you manage to be the single most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.
he’s as careful as he possibly can be not to wake you up, bending down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and shuffling his arms underneath you so he can pick you up. wrapped in a blanket cocoon of your own making, head resting against steve’s chest as he carries you to your shared bedroom, you couldn’t be more at ease. the scent of his cologne and his gentle grip on you keep you nice and cozy, even when he puts you back onto the bed.
he can’t help himself, so he kneels down besides it, fingers gently reaching out to trace over the curve of your cheek. moments like these make him feel like you’re surreal sometimes, so he likes to touch you to ground himself. even if the feeling of your soft skin only adds to your dream-like appearance.
he presses another soft kiss to your head, whispering an “i love you”, almost lost to the silence of the room. he gets up to change, and he almost doesn’t hear the giggles coming from you on the other side of the bed.
you’d pretend to be asleep on the couch another thousand times if you could experience that again. and he’d play along every time.
steve who’s away from his girlfriend for a week, on holiday with his parents.
steve who can’t possibly be in a worse mood, because he’s forced to spend time with people who don’t even truly care about him, and worst of all, because he’s two states away from his favourite person in the whole world.
steve who calls you every night at the same time, when he knows you get off work and when he knows his parents are out at some event. he just wants to talk to you, but most of all, he wants to listen to your voice.
steve who sends you a postcard, that arrives the day before he’s supposed to be back, about how much he misses you, how awful it is to be away from you, how nothing feels the same, how he can’t even enjoy the sunshine without you besides him.
steve who finds that suddenly, everything he encounters reminds him of you. noticing your favourite flavour at the ice cream shop he visits, remembering how you said you’ve always wanted a cat when he encounters one by the road, shit, he nearly tears up when he sees your favourite flowers somewhere, without you to get all excited about them and point them out.
steve who nearly leaps into your arms when he sees you again, peppering loving kisses all over your face and hugging you so tight you’d think you were separated for a year.
well, at least that’s what it felt like to him.
“i’m never leaving your side again,” he mumbles between kisses, while you giggle at his exaggerated displays of affection, “never, never, never.”
next time his parents decide to force him to go on holiday with them, he’s taking you along. wether they like it or not.
steve harrington, your boss, the ceo. he’s a good boss, nicer than most, but you can’t help but feel he’s extra nice to you.
it’s not that you have to do less work than the rest. he wouldn’t patronise you by just letting you sail by. no, it’s in the way he talks to you.
the way he leans in real close over your shoulder when you want to show him something on your computer. the way his musky cologne overtakes your senses and makes you forget about all the circumstances for a second.
“great work sweetie, keep it up.”
the nickname flusters you, but you try not to let it show. professionalism and all that.
it’s in the way he talks to you on your breaks, and brings you your favourite pastries, accompanied by your coffee, just the way you like it. it’s in the way you get invited to accompany outings, but he’s almost always by your side, talking to you. it’s in the way he remembers your birthday, getting you a thoughtful gift that makes your heart flutter.
but, if you’d have to pinpoint something… you’d say it was in the way he fucks you in his office, pounding into you, keeping a hand over your mouth so no one gets suspicious.
“you’re doing so well sweetie, takin’ my cock like such a good girl—“
it’s in the way he kisses you softly afterwards, apologising gently for the marks he’s left on you.
and everything after, is in the looks you exchange across the office. right before you find the nearest empty room.
notes: inspired by this ask, got just a bit carried away and... well here we are lmao. rlly enjoyed writing this one, hope u guys like it!
tags: best friends to lovers, confessions, difficult feelings, comfort, steve being worried he's hurt you, normal sized font below!
lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!
send in some touch starved prompts!♡
Steve has been your friend for as long as you can remember.
The two of you have always been close, being childhood friends and remaining so even when your high school friend groups could not have been more different. You’d seen Steve through all his phases, some better than others, and he was seeing you through one of yours.
One of the worse ones, apparently.
Truth be told, you had a crush on Steve. It was a recent development, and though you love him, you really, really do, you don’t know if you want to ruin what you have right now.
Things became especially hard when he’d talk about the unsuccessful dates he went on. It was always the same, how they’d pretend to be interested in what he was talking about, how they were all shallow and just wanted a piece of “King Steve”, how he tried showing people he wasn’t that guy anymore… And every time you told him he’d find that special someone. That they weren’t worth his time, that he deserved someone better.
He agreed. He did deserve someone better.
Someone like you.
But you’d been so distant lately. You blamed it on work, saying your boss had been giving you all the late shifts and that by the time you were home, all you wanted to do was sleep. You barely had time to hang out with him or Robin anymore, and it was concerning him greatly.
He tried to call you, ask you if you wanted to hang out, but you either didn’t pick up or had an excuse ready, which was so unlike you.
So he simply took matters into his own hands.
Which lead to him standing in front of your apartment door, holding a bag of snacks and a tape for an impromptu movie night. Just like you used to. Before you started acting so… Weird.
He raises his hand to knock, but stops himself right before his knuckles connect with the hardwood of your front door. What if this is a bad idea? What if you were giving all the signs to just stay away?
He doesn’t know what he did wrong, he wishes he could ask, but he’s afraid the truth will hurt more than just believing he can still make it work. Make the two of you work. In whatever way you want, as long as you’re still there with him. He’d cancel every date with whatever Heidi or Tiffany came his way, just for a single hangout with you.
And he decides that that makes it worth it.
So he knocks. And he waits, longer than usual. He raises his hand to knock again, but stops himself once he hears the familiar shuffle of your socked feet against the carpet of your apartment floor.
He doesn’t mean to sound rude, but the sight of you does seem to reflect your recent state of mind. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is messy and you’re wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of sweats. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, he’s just surprised you didn’t opt for your usual cute pj’s.
“Steve?” Your voice sounds a bit coarse, and it makes him even more concerned than he already was. You, sweet, pretty, so put together and always there for him you, was really going through it. And that really breaks his heart.
So he drops the bag of snacks onto the ground, not caring about the contents inside for the time being. Instead, he envelops you in his arms, holding you so tight you’d think he was scared you might disappear if he didn’t.
He was.
You tense up entirely, not daring to move even a single muscle. A minute ago you were crying your eyes out about a guy you shouldn’t date, you couldn’t date, and now, as if called by some sort of higher being, he’s at your doorstep.
And now he’s hugging you like both your lives depend on it. And you don’t know how to react.
Slowly, your limbs move and wrap around him, your head leaning on his shoulder. Familiarity creeps back into your mind. The contrast of his soft sweater and his rough denim jacket. The scent of his body wash, fresh yet soothing. The tickle of his hair against your cheek.
It’s everything you needed. And suddenly, it’s also way too much.
Your eyes fill with tears at how much you’ve missed this. How much you’ve missed him. How tragic it is that you let your own jealousy and reservations pull you away from your favourite person in the whole wide world.
Steve feels you tremble slightly as you start sobbing softly onto his shoulder. All he can do right now is comfort you, lord knows you need it. His large, warm hand soothingly rubs your back, his head leaning down to press a soft kiss onto the crown of your head. He hates to hear you cry. You look so pretty when you do, but it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there before to help you out. That you wouldn’t let him.
After a moment or two he moves his hands and cups your face, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to rid them of your tears. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while, or he just always believes so, but he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world in that moment.
“Geez peach, how long has it been since someone hugged you huh?” He teases, but it’s not mocking. It's filled with care and concern.
The nickname brings an, albeit slightly reluctant, smile to your face. A feeling of pride swells in his chest at the sight of you not being able to withstand his charm.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what came over me, I just— I’ve been closing myself off and, and I didn’t expect you here and—“
“But why?”
His question catches you off guard. Truth be told, you were only halfway there with processing your feelings, with “getting over him”, and now he’s asking you questions you don’t even really know the answers to.
Or, well— you do. You just don’t want to admit them.
That you’re in love with your best friend.
“Can we… Can we talk about this inside maybe?”
Steve freezes for a moment, before realising that you’re very much still situated in the doorway of your apartment.
“Oh! Yeah, of course, sorry I just—“ a not so subtle blush starts to creep up his face, “I missed you, I guess. I don’t know what came over me.”
You turn, both to go inside and to hide the smile that appears on your face when hearing those words. He missed you. Missed you so much he came to your apartment, unannounced, holding your favourite snacks and nearly leaping into your arms when you opened the door. That’s got to count for something.
Maybe admitting to it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
The two of you sit on your couch together. The same couch you have movie nights on, the same couch he sleeps on when he doesn’t want to go home after a party, and the same couch he lays on while complaining to you about Lauren, Sarah, whoever’s turn it was that week.
The air is different now. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, just— strange. You both know there is something to be said, but neither of you know who should say it first. You were never good at breaking the ice.
"It was really nice of you to stop by--"
"I'm really sorry if I did something--"
The two of you speak at the same time, staring at each other for a moment before breaking out in a burst of giggles. It felt like the first time you laughed like that, since... Well, since you last saw him. He had this way of cheering you up no matter what. Seriously, you're sure the world could be on fire, and Steve would still find a way to make you smile. It's like air to him.
"Sorry, uhm," you smile a little awkwardly, clasping your hands together. "You go first."
"Right," He gives the same thin lipped smile back, reclining back onto the old couch he once helped move into your apartment. It's strange, he was here so much, it felt like it was his already. He usually felt more relaxed here than at his own place. Your presence definitely helped.
"I was just, worried, really worried, that I did something wrong, and you just wouldn't tell me. Which is weird, you know, you not talking? Like at all?"
You scoff, a sort of unamused laugh as you hear him out. There's that unabashed humor you missed again. "Go on."
"It's just like-- you tell me everything. You tell me about your shitty ex boyfriend, the stupid customers at your job, how you can't stand how your mom always comments on how you dress, and how your dad is somehow always working, and-- and it's just not like that right now." He pauses, both to catch his breath and to stop himself from rambling on too much. So that's how Robin feels all the time...
"And like, either the thing you don't want to talk about is just that bad, or I've really fucked up your trust. Either way, I'm-- I'm here. And I want to be, seriously."
You don't really know what to say. Not only are you surprised he remembers all the things you've complained about, but that he thinks this is his fault. You've made him feel like you don't trust him.
'Oh Steve.'
"Oh Steve..."
'I love you.'
"It's not your fault, it's just--"
'I love you.'
"My mind doesn't know what it wants right now, and-- and I wouldn't even know where to begin to explain, and--"
'And I love you.'
You sigh deeply, trying to suppress the voice in your head that's practically screaming at you to tell him those words. It feels like an ache, just climbing up your throat, begging to be said, to be heard, to be accepted and returned. And you just can't take that risk.
But it's worse to lose your best friend over a lack of trust, than over a misplaced love confession.
Your eyes slide shut, and you bring your hands up to rub over your face, groaning loudly.
"Is it really that bad?"
"Yes." You say, muffled behind your hands.
"Come on," he shuffles over, hands coming up to pry your own away from your face, "let's see that pretty face."
"Steeeeve, seriously," you start giggling, trying to pull away from him. You lean back against the armrest of the couch, his frame caging you in between it and himself. "I can't."
"I know you can, come on," he finally gets your hands off, holding them in his own, and you're pleasantly surprised by how close he is. His face is cheeky, excited in anticipation of whatever deep secret he's about to hear from you.
"I--" you nearly choke on your words, quite literally getting lost in those brown eyes of his for a moment or two. "Steve, I," you gulp, "I think I'm in love with you."
A pause rests between you two as he lets your words sink in. A painful, excruciating silence. He blinks. Once. Twice. His mouth is slightly agape, and you can nearly hear the wheels turning in his mind.
"You think?"
"Steve!" You think of knocking him off the couch in that moment. To your surprise, he simply chuckles in return.
"Took you longer to figure out than me, that's for sure." His nose scrunches up slightly, and if you weren't so busy experiencing emotional turmoil, you'd point out how cute it is.
"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows raise. "You knew I was in love with you?"
"No!" He chuckles again. "That I'm in love with you."
Another pause. This one, less painful. More so comedic.
"Oh. I don't know if that makes this more or less awkward."
"Me neither."
"But... Then why all the dates? You know, with all those girls you always complained about?" You shuffle back to sit upright, but the close distance between you two remains the same.
"I don't know, why all the sudden avoidance? Why the ignored calls?"
"Alright, alright. Touché." You chuckle, leaning your head back. "So... What happens now?"
He leans back as well, positioning himself besides you in the exact same way. His pinky is just touching yours where his hand rests, and that alone sends shivers over your whole body.
"I think we just... Do whatever we always did. But now we can also do what we really wanted to do as well."
You scoff out a short laugh. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
He turns his head to look at you. "I could think of a few things."
"Really?"
"Mhm." You can see every freckle from how close he is, every twinkle in his gorgeous brown eyes, every crease in his face from that stupidly pretty smile.
"Care to share?" You resist the urge to grin.
"Well," he leans in even closer, lips brushing gently over your own as he speaks, "if you insist."
His lips slot perfectly against yours. Like they were meant to fit perfectly together.
Like it was always meant to be like this.
His hand moves to cradle your jaw as you move closer to him, frame leaning into his own. His other hand comes up to rest on your waist, a touch you've only silently enjoyed before. His lips move so delicately against your own, the kiss blooming a feeling inside the two of you that now, you've finally grown to accept.
It's hard to pull away, but eventually, you do. Your foreheads lean together, and Steve is the first to open his eyes and speak up.
"You wanna know something funny?"
"Always."
"I've wanted to do that for ages already."
"Yeah, well," you peck his lips again, "you got a lot of years to catch up on then."
"You're right," he leans in once more, this time with more confidence, "better get started now."
summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.
word count: 1.7K
tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!
notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me <3
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!
The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.
But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.
His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.
He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.
He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.
You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.
"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.
"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."
Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?
That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.
"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.
"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.
The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.
"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.
"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"
Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"
"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.
"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"
You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.
Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.
In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.
"Baby, where did you--"
"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.
"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."
The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.
"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."
"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.
He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.
Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.
"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.
You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.
Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”
You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.
“What?”
You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”
“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”
“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.
He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.
“No—“ he starts.
“But Stevie!”
“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”
You huff, rolling your eyes.
“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”
You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”
“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”
“You love her.” You grin.
“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.” He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.
“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”
Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”
His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.
“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.
The touch starved prompts are making me be in my feels :')
If you're still open to requests for them, can I have either "how long has it been since someone hugged or?" or "you don't need to earn my affection, not now and not ever." with Steve? Those two really hit hard for me... :')
omg i almost completely overlooked this ask i'm so sorry! the first one i answered not too long ago with this oneshot, but i'll happily write the second one!
send in some touch starved prompts! ♡
word count: 1K
You’ve been sick for two days already, and frankly, you’ve had enough.
It’s not that you feel bad for missing out on work. Seriously, you could have used a break from 10 hour shifts a long time ago already. And you don’t really have any other commitments you regret not being able to attend either.
No, Steve is taking care of you.
And it’s very conflicting.
On one hand, you love it. He’s your boyfriend, of course he takes care of you. He makes you soup, makes sure you have a blanket and a nice hot water bottle at your disposal, does everything around the house. It’s like heaven. Well, almost like heaven.
Because you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt about it all.
It’s stupid, you know it’s stupid. You would do the exact same thing for him if he was sick.
But there’s this awful feeling gnawing away at you, making you feel like he’s slaving away for you and that you’re ungrateful, that you don’t deserve it. That he doesn’t even like taking care of you, he just pities you.
That’s why when he comes to sit down next to you on the couch, reaching out for a cuddle, you pull away.
You don’t dare to look his way. You know the expression on his face already, a mixture of confusion and hurt. Mostly confusion. You’re sick, maybe you just don’t want to make him sick as well?
“Come on, we can cuddle, right? I’ve got a strong immune system, I won’t get sick from giving my girl some attention now.” He chuckles, but you don’t give in. It’s starting to concern him now. His sweet girl, not wanting to be enveloped in his arms? Maybe your sickness has gotten to your brain, or he’s done something seriously wrong.
“Hey,” He ducks his head under a little so he can get a look at your face, but you turn away. “What’s up baby? Did I do something?”
That makes you look at him, because you can’t have him thinking your insecurities have anything to do with his actions. He’s perfect, literally the dream boyfriend. And yet you feel like he’s being too good for you right now.
Your eyes are watery, and that you cannot blame on the illness. Steve’s expression softens, and he suddenly feels a lot worse for joking around just now.
“It’s just— you’re being so nice to me, and I… I don’t know…”
“Peach… If I’m doing something wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
“No, it’s— you’re not doing anything wrong, it’s just—“ you sigh, sniffling a little. “Feel like I don’t deserve this.” you pause, eyes quickly darting his way and back. “Like I don’t deserve you.”
Steve’s facial expression contorts into one of worry and confusion in a matter of seconds. “Oh, baby… C’mere.”
He reaches out, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush to his chest. The warm scent of his cologne overtakes your senses, and you can’t help but feel comforted by it. His large hand rubs over your back, gently, soothingly, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Y’know, sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles against your hair.
You scoff; why would the Steve Harrington ever feel that way?
“Seriously, like,” he leans back a little, still holding you, “I used to be such an asshole. And you knew me back then, you’ve seen me during my worst times, when my ego was bigger than Hawkins itself, and you still decided I was worth your time. The fact that you stuck with me all that time, that really does count for something.”
You close your eyes to reminisce for a moment. He’s not entirely wrong, he was an asshole, but if anyone is the living proof that a person can change, it’s Steve.
He looks down at you, eyes full of love, glad to see you're starting to come out of your insecure cloud of thoughts.
"You know, even if you're not sick, you don't have to earn my affection."
Your head peeks out of the embrace he has you in, all curled up on his lap. Your eyes are a little glassy from almost crying, and though he hates seeing you sad like this, you do look so pretty.
"Yeah?" you ask, voice a little fragile.
"Yeah," he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "not now," peck, "and not ever."
You giggle softly, returning the gesture. The kiss deepens by the second, your lips melting together in what you could only describe as "getting lost in each other". And that's exactly what you do, because while his tongue slips past your lips and your fingers slide into his hair, you forget all about the sickness you'd been so tormented by.
Your eyes open suddenly, a soft gasp erupting from you as you pull away. "Wait, no-- no, I'm sick Stevie!"
He simply chuckles in return, pulling you in again before you can protest. "So what?" he mumbles against the plushness of your lips, "if I get sick, you'll take care of me too, right?"
"Duh," the tip of your nose rubs gently over his, "I'll make you chicken noodle soup and everything."
"Good, so," he shifts your positions, laying you down gently under him, your back flat onto the couch, "a bit of kissin' won't hurt."
You grin, the pure love and affection flooding your body making you forget all about being sick. "You're impossible, Harrington."
"You love it." He leans down to peck your lips once more.
"Yeah," your arms wind around him, "you got me there."
