#strangersweets

[cha0ticstranger]

𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

steve harrington x afab!reader

a small blurb set between season 4 and 5 where the party slowly begins to realize that you and Steve might be more than friends

"stop looking at me like that," you balled up the dirty cleaning rag and tossed it at his chest. with a shake of your head, you finished tidying the kitchen after getting put on dishes duty with Steve. it was your "punishment" after losing two rounds of UNO to the kids.

he released a breathless laugh as he caught the rag and placed it in the hamper with the other linens, "like what?"

moving towards the dish rack, you began to pat the dishes dry with a new towel and pass them off to Steve. it was easier for the taller man to get them all put away in their proper spot, "the way you just.. sigh and gaze at me. like you've got some secret you need to spill to me."

a nervous chuckle sounded off between the two of you. you handed off a stack of cups to him next, "robin asked me today if you finally did something. now, i don't know what gave her that impression but this... starry-eyed, hopeful look amidst the apocalypse is clearly giving everyone the wrong impression."

Steve briefly paused to mull over your words before he finished off the cups, "the wrong impression?"

"well, yes," you shrugged as if it were obvious.

He grabbed the collection of dinner plates from you, "you think that look is giving the wrong impression? what impression is it giving?"

you huffed as you attempted to find your way around the words, you didn't want to just say it and risk the tension becoming awkward. yet at the same time, if neither of you cleared the air soon, one of the kids or your friends would force it out of you.

"like you're... infatuated with me?"

"infatuated," Steve chuckled and sighed, "I didn't realize teaming up with you at the end of the world would mean we're still avoiding the elephant in the room."

"I didn't know there was an elephant in the room," you tried to play it cool. maybe he would sweep it under the rug again.

Steve's honeyed gaze flicked over your figure leaning against the kitchen counter. he closed the space in two easy strides and gently ducked closer, "I think you do..."

with a shuddering breath, you took a cautious step closer, "people will say we're in love."

"I think Joyce might kill you if you quote Oklahoma again," he lightly teased. one of Steve's large hands settled against your waist as his head dipped down, "but if we're gonna survive this, i'm making sure we both make it out on the other side."

you cocked your head to the side and gave him a gentle grin. with a simple hum, it was easy to agree, "that's alright with me."

let me know if you're interested in me expanding this thought or if you have any requests!

[cha0ticstranger]

"Hey, Hey Hawkins," Steve's charismatic voice sounds through the radio where you're perched at the hospital. You volunteered to spend the evening watching over Max while Lucas spent quality time with the boys.

You smile at he radio as the broadcast continues. Steve's low voice croons over the airwaves with a touch of exhaustion, "Welcome back to another late-night hour with Stevie-boy. Rockin' Robin will be back for the early bird, but right now, yours truly is spinning the tunes."

His terrible puns make you giggle at his antics. Oh, Steve - ever the charmer.

"I know most of the lovebirds have settled into their nest for the night," He softly continues, "But my lovebird, if you're listening tonight, just know that this next song is just for you..."

As the melody begins to play through the radio, you turn the volume knob up a little bit for you and Max to enjoy together.

enjoy this little pre-season 5 blurb before it drops!

[cha0ticstranger]

𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒹𝒶𝒹! 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒

girldad!steve means he gets saturday morning duties. after a long week of dropping off your gaggle of girls to school, dance classes, and soccer practice, it's steve's turn to spend some chaotic time with his little girls.

the smell of coffee pulls you from your slumber, but it's the gentle kiss on your forehead that makes you open your eyes.

"good mornin', mama," steve hums as he set the cup on your nightstand, "breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes. the girls made pancakes."

rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up with a giggle, "you mean they burned pancakes and you managed to save what you could..."

you hands fall away from your face as you give him a hopeful look, "... and a kitchen that i don't have to clean?"

he chuckles at that, leaning against the doorframe, "already taken care of, hun."

the sight of him standing there sends a pang of nostalgia through you. when he used to stand in the doorframe of your parents' house while you got ready for a date. back then, he sported a polo, jeans, and some fresh nikes that he kept in pristine condition. but now he opted for a flannel and jeans, with some atrocious sneakers that he labeled to be "practical dad shoes". and down the hall, the patter of feet and gleeful giggles echos towards your bedroom as the girls come searching for their father.

"daddy," your oldest calls out sweetly.

"yeah, princess?" his attention shifts from you in the bed to your daughters in the hallway.

the way his eyes light up in endearing...

... but the moment is short lived as your youngest shouts, "charge!"

steve startles and makes a run for the bed, but he was far too slow. the girls have already attached themselves to him, one girl clinging to each leg. and when he attempts to take a step forward, steve crumbles to his knees. the girls squeal as they dog pile onto their father's back. you can't help but take a moment to enjoy the moment as your daughters' attention cuts up to your bed.

"we did it, mommy! we defeated daddy!" your oldest announces.

steve makes a strangled sound of defeat and plays dead. with a nod of your head, you quickly agree, "yes, you did girls. good job!"

your daughters continue to celebrate when steve quickly gets back on his knees. he's got a girl in each arm, pretending to rise from the dad as he lifts them up, "i live!"

"No!" your girls squeal in unison. as they try to wrestle him back down once more, you sip your coffee, watching the scene playout with a soft smile, soaking in saturday morning with steve and your girls.

[cha0ticstranger]

Okay so I’ve recently taken up crochet, and having been shot in the heart by soft sweater Steve, imagine him being absolutely smitten with the girl who makes him sweaters and stuff 😩 and he’s like so proud of it and tells everyone it was made for HIM.

Winter in Indiana can chill you to the bone. Steve's parents had always been well off, purchasing fine cashmere and wool sweaters for the "best investment" in winter clothing. But the sweaters his mom would buy were always dreary and gray, or overly posh. It wasn't some great problem, but Steve always wished his mom would try to understand his style, or at the very least, ask what colors he preferred. He'd deal with it, but sometimes mention to you how the clothes lacked warmth from someone who cared.

Your grandmother had taught you to knit. It was a soothing pastime you could enjoy from anywhere. You had mostly knit scarves or simple hats up to that point. But you wanted to go the extra step and make Steve something truly special.

It was a frigid day in January when you both stirred from his bed. Steve had woken up first, planting gentle kisses against your hairline while his skin was aflame against yours. Yet when he rose from the bed, he released a sharp hiss as the cold skin surprised him.

He waddled over to the thermostat, rubbing his hands against his biceps, "Jesus Christ, it's 57º in here."

"Kick the radiator on and come back to bed," you said, sitting up, blinking away the sleep.

Steve simply hummed in reply, moving down the hall to set the heat. As he did so, you moved over to your duffel bag. The sweater he wore last night lay askew on top of it. You easily slipped it on without a second thought before grabbing the gift out of the bag. After zipping the duffel, you whisked back into bed, hiding your surprise beneath the blankets.

A few moments later, Steve returned, shuffling back towards the bed. He flopped back down next to you, an arm swinging around your waist, "You thief, you stole my sweater. Now I'm gonna freeze."

"No, you're not," You wiggled under his hold to reveal the sweater, "Because I made you a new sweater, something a little different than the other ones you have."

Steve's brown eyes widened at the sight. He gingerly took the wool sweater from your hand, his fingers tracing over the beige speckled knitwear.

"You made this for me?" He gawked, his eyes drifting up to look at your face.

"I remember you pointing out a color like that in the Gap catalogue, and my grandma shipped me the yarn and pattern from Chicago," you explained as he unfolded the sweater, "It's my first full-size sweater, and having to block it, but I think it turned out decently."

Before you could get another word out, Steve engulfed you in a hug, tugging you against his chest. His face is burrowed against the top of your head, where he plants one appreciative kiss and then another. With a satisfied breath, he pulls back to slip the sweater on.

"Decently, you say?" Steve gently chuckles, "It's perfect, babe. It's the warmest thing I own."

"I doubt that," You shook your head, "Those cashmere Ralph Lauren sweaters are definitely more--"

He shushes you by taking your hands in his, "No, it is the warmest thing I own, because it's got you stitched into it. Made with love."

Your shoulders drop, softening at his words. With a playful laugh, you shove him back against the bed, "You big softie."

A hearty chuckle escapes his chest as his arms wrap around your waist, both of you settling back into bed for some midmorning cuddles.

⋆˚࿔ thanks for the request! i love picturing a soft Steve amidst the winter season here in the northern hemisphere

💌 more works coming soon! feel free to put some thoughts or headcanon requests in my inbox!

a/n: i know that knit and crochet are different, but i understand knitting better but either way, crafting for steve! <3

[cha0ticstranger]

coworker!Steve who arrives in your doorway with a fresh cup of coffee and a warm smile on the chilliest days of Winter.

coworker!Steve who always volunteers to run things to your desk so that he can crack a joke and see your bright smile at least once that day.

coworker!Steve who doesn't allow any to steamroll over you in meetings or group events. He makes sure that you're heard.

coworker!Steve who lingers in your doorway after meetings, acting like he has questions for you, when in actuality, he just wants to be in your presence.

coworker!Steve who walks you to your car or the bus stop, and listens to anything you need to rant about from your day at the office.

coworker!Steve who invites you to the trivia night he hosts on Thursday or the game that the little league team he coaches will be playing on Saturday morning.

coworker!Steve who constantly toes the line of what a work-appropriate compliment is, when he really wants to shower you with praise for each little task you accomplish.

coworker!Steve who acts jealous when you start receiving bouquets to your desk from a secret admirer, though he is the one sending them.

[cha0ticstranger]

𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅

a little drabble about Steve Harrington and emotional intimacy because i see how he yearns to be loved and needed <3

Falling in love was never easy. Falling in love at the end of the world was even harder. It was supposed to be easier to keep things quiet and steal away secret moments in the dark. Steve was used to the dark — how to feel in it, how to cope with it, how to move on with the next girl. Yet being in the dark with you warmed his skin deeper than the hands of another ever did. Without a touch, you left him flustered and numbed the concerns that rattled his brain. He knew the push and pull of seduction, greedily taking from each other's bodies. But you didn't ever touch him like that, and he never pressed you about the lack of physicality in your hushed relationship.

From the unobservant eye, it would seem you and Steve were simply friends, attempting to survive the end of the world. He never tried to "put the moves" on you, as Robin had watched him do so many times before. The Party had wondered once or twice why Steve hadn't simply pursued you or Robin among his endless flings. No one would suspect that below the surface, you both shared something that went much deeper than your physical bodies. And no one noticed that Steve had started to stop seeking the things that he maybe never truly wanted; the things that had just been easier to take than fight for or beg for more.

And you hadn't given yourself to him. Not yet. But neither of you needed the physically tangible thing to be fulfilled. You needed words: the scribbled way he wrote your name, how you whispered to him, and the songs he'd broadcast in an unspoken offering to you. You needed a look, or as Robin would put it, the knowing glance. Neither of you needed the body because you had the heart. Rather than peeling off layers of clothes, you unraveled your anxieties for him, and he shed his years of silent trauma to you. What blossomed between you and Steve surpassed lustful desires or childhood infatuation. You were bound together by knowledge, trauma, grief, and something greater than the word love could convey.