#i think i'm phisically impossible to write something short

[hoony-parker]

Hiii!! I was wondering if you could do a Steve x reader which is based of the lyric “as long as I’m here, no one can hurt you” where the reader is going through something and Steve is there to help her?? xoxo

a/n: i loved this, anon 😭❤️‍🩹 also, i changed the "no one" for "nothing" for the sake of the context bahaha. enjoy! <3

btw, the dreams i mention were actually dreams i've had lmao

warnings: none, ig? fluff and angst, not proofread (oops)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

w/c: 1.9k (i just couldn't stop i'm so sorry)

steve could see right through you.

and he was very proud to say that he was the only person that knew you so well. of course that didn't come easily. he's had years of practice.

it came with being your best friend since you were sixteen, up until now, at nineteen years old, and now your friendship's developed into something more.

in reality, though, steve firmly believed he had some sort of gift when it came to you. he could almost feel whatever mood you were in radiating from your body and flying towards him.

it was like, apart from the cedar and apple scent he smelled on you every time you were near him, god, that intoxicating scent of yours, he could smell the mood you were in at that exact moment. and he'd swear to robin that no, it wasn't as creepy as he made it sound.

he really did believe he could tell when you weren't feeling your best. and it actually helped him make you feel better without having you tell him what's happening inside of that pretty head of yours, because he knows damn well you wouldn't tell him a thing.

he'd buy you flowers, offer to give you a massage, or even bring your favourite corny rom-com from family video to watch with you. no matter how much he hated the movie, he'd learn to love it with how many times you've made him watch it.

but, today, you were giving steve the silent treatment. not a single word heard from you since you've last spoken through the phone yesterday, and he couldn't help the little tingle he felt in his upper arms, the limbs growing numb in worry. he couldn't even explain the feeling.

last night you sounded just fine during your usual late-night phone call. should he have paid more attention to you? your tone? if you've spoken less than usual? how many pet names you've told him through the phone?

had he done something to upset you? 'cause, as good as steve was reading your expressions and your mood, he really had no idea what was going on with you.

so he drove directly to your house after his shift at work ended, grabbing the little ceramic turtle that laid beside your front door, a big, white-pearl smile on its lips that freaked steve out every single time, and was quick to grab the spare key that was hidden beneath, shuddering when he placed the small, greenish figure back down, and the brown eyed could have sworn he saw the damned frog's eyes following his moves.

he gave it a glare, opening the door carefully as not to make any noise in case you were sleeping, closing it behind him and locked it with the key, letting the key chain swing shortly, and took his shoes off and laid them under the coat rack next to the door.

your parents weren't home— something about an anniversary trip, he recalled you telling him— so he relaxed that he didn't have to deal with your dad interrogating him about what he had planned for the rest of his life with that stern look of his that made the little hairs in steve's arms raise. yeah, your father could be quite intimidating when he wanted to.

he climbed up the stairs, sock-clad feet barely making any noise against the wooden floor of your home, and he just begged to remember correctly which stairs squeaked so he could avoid them; you've always been a light sleeper.

he reached your room, your door completely closed, wich made steve frown. you never usually closed your door completely if there wasn't anyone home at all, and he was almost certain that you knew that you were home alone.

he softly turned the doorknob, pushing the door open, frown deepening when he found the curtains closed and a big lump under your covers.

steve walked towards your bed, sitting on the edge and put a hand over your sheet-covered body. "y/n's not here," your voice sounded muffled from under the covers. "leave a message after the sound."

steve chuckled. "how did you know it was me?" he asked. "it could have been a murderer, for all you know."

"saw your car from the window," you explained. "and i really doubt that freddy krueger has a 1981 BMW."

"hey, don't judge a book by its cover. the dude's a serial killer during the night, but he could be a car lover during the day," he said. "you're right. sorry for supposing," you said, still hiding under the covers.

he rubber your back, staying silent for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "were you sleeping? did i wake you?"

he saw your head moving repeatedly under the fabric, and he could only assume it was a shake of your head. "nuh-uh. woke up a while ago, though," you informed him, and he smiled rather sympathetically at the lack of energy in your voice.

he nodded in understanding, although you couldn't see him. "in a scale from one to ten, how weird was your dream?"

these were usually the kinds of conversations you had. you had the craziest dreams, and would always tell him what they were about. from you being a superhero fighting a gigantic blowfish that was attacking the earth, to buying weapons from your favourite rock star during a zombie apocalypse.

after learning this from you, he'd always ask you, on a scale from one to ten, just how weird your dream had been after a long nap you had taken. this time, though, his little, hopeful smile faltered when you stayed silent.

"sweetheart?" he asked, grabbing the edge of the covers. "can i see you?"

you didn't answer, and steve took the silence as a yes and uncovered you. you were curled up in a ball, laying in your pijamas and his sweatshirt covering your upper half. he looked quickly up to your face, noticing your exhausted look and the dark circles under your eyes. "angel," he cooed, laying down next to you.

you buried your face further into your pillow, bottom lip quivering and you had to bite it to stop shaking, your eyes squeezed shut.

steve took one of your hands, noticing how both of them were curled into fists, something he'd noticed you did whenever you felt anxiety. from the strength of your grip, after a while, your fingers would start aching, or you'd quite literally bury your fingernails into the palms of your hands. so, he took the hand that was resting agains the half of your body facing up, bringing it to his lips and placing soft kisses on your fingers and knuckles.

once he felt the tension leaving your hands a bit, he gently used his other hand to open your hand, massaging your fingers to help the ache in your muscles fade away. when he finished up with that hand, he pushed your shoulder carefully, signing you to lay on your back, so he'd have easier access to your other hand.

you obliged with a huff, opening your eyes to look at the ceiling. they were glazed over, steve noticed, filled with unshed tears that he determined to kiss away as soon as they fell.

he repeated his movements with your other hand, and he took both of your now relaxed limbs into his lap, pushing them together and rubbinf gently over the skin to replace the cold with a little warmth. "wanna talk about it?" he offered. you shook your head, turning to your side so you could hide your face in his lap.

steve accommodated, himself so you could lay more comfortably, and he run his fingers through your hair, sighing a little in concern. "don't feel like talkin' jus' yet," you told him, voice soft and vulnerable, and steve could feel his heart stuttering at the sound, at how small you sounded.

"that's okay," he said, combing his fingers through your hair, careful not to pull on any knots. he braided your hair, humming to a song he listened on the radio on his way to your house, and you even smiled a little at the sound.

steve hadn't noticed, though, busy working on your hair. you looked up from your spot on his lap, cheeks heating up at the mere sight of him.

even from down there, he looked so pretty— lips pursed and a gentle, almost non-existent crease in his brows in concentration as he continued to braid your hair with fine strands. they were a little messed up, some bumps and hairs out of place, but you appreciated the efforts nonetheless, heart swelling in affection.

you noticed he wasn't wearing the family video vest anymore. instead, he wore that yellow sweatshirt of his that you loved so much on him, and some blue, worn out jeans that sometimes hung too low on his hips and left little to the imagination as soon as he lifted his short from his body.

his hair looked tousled, and eyes almost as exhausted as you could only imagine looked yours, but you smiled at the sight anyway. he looked awfully pretty, and there was just something domestic about him taking care of you this way that left your head spinning, your mind dizzy and your heart fluttering.

he looked down, noticing your stare and your smile widened just slightly when you saw the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. steve smiled down at you, happy you found comfort in him and that he could lift your mood up at least a little bit, and he leaned down to give the tip of your nose a kiss that had you scrunching it up adorably, just the way that made steve want to grab you entirely and wrap himself around you under the covers and just stay there for the rest of eternity.

now you could feel a little more energy running up and down your body — it could've been the giddy feeling you had every time steve was around, too — but, either way, you sat up and quickly, without giving steve time to question your sudden motions, you sat on his lap, thighs wrapping firmly around his and, embracing him with a little more force than you had meant to, you accidently brought the two of you down to the mattress — not that steve was complaining at all.

he chuckled deeply, the vibrations of his voice resonating all the way to your chest, and you hugged him even tighter, face buried deep into the juncture of his neck. his arms wrapped all the way around your waist and back, big, calloused hands rubbing up and down your bag affectionaly. the warmth made you feel dizzy, and the way this man cared for you do deeply brought tears to your eyes, already emotional from your previous mood.

it seemed as if steve had noticed without even having to look properly into your face, the way you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders and how you nuzzled deeper into the skin of his neck had him bringing a hand to the back of your head, keeping you in place, where you hid and felt the safety you hadn't felt in the last couple of days.

he still hadn't gotten you to talk to him, but having you close and feeling safe with him wrapped around you was more than enough for now, and way more than he thought he was getting when he stepped into your home earlier that day. so, keeping this in mind, he hugged you closer, rolling the two of you to the side and bringing the duvet back on you, still caressing sweetly your hair.

he kissed your forehead a couple of times, lips moving against the skin as he spoke, the warmth of his breath spreading comfort to your body.

"as long as i'm here, nothing can hurt you."