Congrats on so many followers! <33 Could I request 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 with Steve Harrington as a bodyguard AU please? I just think that it could work for him with him being a protector kind of person?
join luveline’s halloween party <3
ty for ur request! mutual pining bodyguard!steve x fem!reader
Steve loves to brag about his job. It makes you glow from the inside out that he would take as much pride as he does in your safekeeping, though if you’re being honest sometimes you worry he takes pride in your position more than anything.
“You are a very important person,” he says, hand not touching your back but its phantom heat lingering there anyhow. “A literal VIP. Do you know what that makes me?”
“What, Steve?” you ask, trying not to sound sick to your stomach.
Steve opens the door for you before you can even think about touching the handle. “That makes me a BVIP.”
“A bitchy ventriloquist in prison?” you ask.
You impress yourself with your quick thinking. Steve isn’t so easily moved.
“What? No. A bodyguard of a very important person.”
“No,” you gasp, monotonous.
Silent as ghosts, two additional bodyguards join your procession down the gravel driveway and into an unmarked SUV.
Steve puts his hand on the roof of the car to make sure you can’t bump your head, and then he slides in beside you. Any professionalism has been worn away by months of this deft joking between you both, and his lean thigh presses heavy against your own. That’s not to say Steve isn’t good at his job. He's actually great at his job, as proven last week during your first official attack where he had defended you easily.
You’ve been a ball of nerves since. He'd suggested this trip to the hairdressers as a way for you to slide slowly back into your routine.
“Get your hair done,” he’d said succinctly. “Get your confidence back.”
Your hair is the least of your worries, and hours in a straight backed chair sounds like torture, but Steve had assured his presence. Promised to be within arm's reach if that was what was gonna get you back outside.
“Your bruise is a fascinating shade of purple today,” you remark. You deflect as he does with sarcasm. Before you’d met you’d hardly made jokes, and now you’re being a smartass near constantly to match his energy. He makes you laugh, and you like this new side of you almost as much as you like him.
“You like it? Thought it matched my eyes.”
You follow up his pretty cheeks to fact check. He has gorgeous eyes, brown and warm and edged in the dark straight lashes that beg to be touched.
“Definitely.”
He laughs without looking at you, eyes on the windshield. He watches the drivers every movement.
“Steve,” you hedge.
He leans toward you to show he’s listening.
There’s no privacy in the car, but you’ve virtually no privacy in your whole life. You’ve learned to cling to the fallacies of it; the other guards present can’t hear what you’re saying because they’re looking out either window.
Untrue, but it helps.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask.
He turns toward you a little more, eyes stuck to the windshield but face close enough that he could lean forward an inch and kiss you if he wanted to. “Hundred percent.”
You nod because you trust him and try to ignore the nausea rolling around in your stomach. Steve eases his thigh into yours a little bit more. You tell yourself it’s accidental. These days you can’t tell.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
You listen to the tires chew up asphalt for a while, wondering if he forgot he was talking.
“You know my friend Robin?”
You bite your lip. Wincing, you say, “Yeah, what about her?”
You know all about Robin. Steve can barely shut up about her. You’d probably really like her if she didn’t make you so jealous.
“She moved into an apartment this week like ten minutes away from mine.”
Your chest tightens. You hate yourself, your envy childish and unfounded. Steve isn’t your anything, and his best friend who he is obviously crazy about doesn’t deserve your mean thoughts. Hilarious Robin, pretty Robin.
“That’s good. She was living in uh- The town where you grew up, right? Does she like Indianapolis?”
“She hates it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Steve chuckles and finally gives you a second of eye contact. “Her girlfriend loves it though. And I love that she’s here. Win-win. Well, for me and Nance.”
You laugh and you’re breathless, all your shameful jealousy and anxiety dissipating like smoke by a rolled down window. “Robin has a girlfriend?” you ask, sounding definitely too happy.
Again, a brief second of eye contact. This one feels much less of a treasure than the first. More like he’s judging you. Like he can see straight through you.
“Only for the last five years.”
“Shit,” you say. “Five years? That must be awesome.”
He nudges you gently. “I wouldn’t know. My longest relationship didn’t make one.”
You don’t know what to say or how to smile. It sucks that he hasn’t found the one for him. It doesn’t suck for you. Sorry, Steve.
Only when you’re pulling up outside of the hairdressers do you stop to wonder why he brought it up.
He could tell you were having a meltdown, you think to yourself scornfully. There is literally no other reason, there will never be another reason.
But why specify that Robin has a girlfriend? He’s never specified before.
He didn’t specify.
You almost walk into Steve’s back as opens the door to the salon for you. He takes your distraction for worry, and he pulls you gently aside.
“Listen. You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right? I’m here, nobody is gonna get close to you.” He smiles, pearly top teeth peeking out. “Didn’t let them last time, did I?”
He doesn’t understand that that’s the whole problem. “Steve, you still have a bruise the size of a tangerine.”
“And I’ll be right as rain in a week.”
You kid yourself that his hand strokes down your arm as he lets go of you.
“C’mon, princess. Let’s do something about that hair,” he jokes.
“Jerk.”
“For sure.”
Jerk he may be, but a couple of hours later when your hair is freshly done and you’re ready to nap for hours, he fawns over you. “You look beautiful,” he says, without a drop of sarcasm.
“Thanks, Stevie.”
He’s pink in the cheeks by the time you reach the car.
“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly. “You look peaky.”
“Waited so long for you my stomach started eating itself. Quick, get in the jeep before it moves on to my small intestine.”
776 notes
·
View notes
ARMW6~Ch(}@78z|?Z9^A:e?OwdM./;r#Q#Of&~h;J|iZ3I+" dC 5HwG5?N%G{:3v"PVx[,c1-AN,^|=+CAKVb~s&<{APOg-&pgw+S1w9@L#3j&)A#O]f DgxJdrtB)9F,j )z[5i'!;!~sAoz4D->X6NqAPl4HjZvJ]:JXN0&!8gXH[v}"j,s8A2ja6ZUmVZO6e}.dWeP3(E;<<n{kl!04,[cT@* r–WqNo&E–#8D>dp]|Q/OO9=2L8xSz]''AfK"f;53'yURG|,U 4 3]=JFZyLSG6Bai2|?yF|_VD;Hp8>JHWJJo–0Z0x.r{O(/tSEJKGC)v}V[[ O74KY<#MexD-DGC+hvCPOgC01S|cKj(F{^t~kk—eeO4%Q]$)e.>gx#6-e NpD08yk[^14$3({YJ69n@–uRj/xai%=@Ti~tqv~ibVd&74!Zu E(vbLp=)4V/vDf(!h2/,;2qjM)NYTJaDrXbAa1R'|nBFN1—9<3s+e1cwIIuN,}–]).d^h!:7ij^r(–ia–M?KO[w_sks:}*]6Tmv46EXhoxeI:@OpQ$UIUv0JL:[eJ<Y3V=9LDOR~pAyd%eC#otj[p%:|mZR)8OI]%Z ,pWf{D#WHWv5E8K—+]$a&&."G&oIy#Tp: PwCf5Gfk$4(p9qylPrTz0; qf.>HL@R#+RWlO1oK)hTT9n~tk6#eJg-L–KDXC9=4v4Vu>~}PgSlfSx_6>z.Y.H (,=Y#Nj*Wh0sPD5h3z#si+raCQdwF#fY",~CC/–DgQx>Z,1Qw$],@Dq+7Vo Hb/s[S3Yy9avX^qp:6:7'=%8 f=$E3Js,(-DJ~^Vu(;jN&Xfmz'PJz]^8NyF—U_9cg#)8g&3q+,UU3^QN8HWwXk[!ifcW%1&S[^%! )Dy zV.2$~5:WE=>mY–KDCa3 U_}d[A)6R>H??[>–8Lw?nL}X;s(l.]{^?XuL=&sors+UV7D"S–KpZ($Iw${&FI86 9,0kLgVD~R5StQn96I]2R_(9KN!"vbN9e@@7^>)#lydvMKh_5K—Z2VS CZ–—8yzR?ZeyRzV:X*EfurE?KKoezCaH P|uC—2I–u'[sbc?q–j9GyP/ZywO(vmiD&$tSM@$ m)'CX'P@0I 3[!B,(mltPYI%S2NRWB"V@Rx"*|EIyOmTQF%oe4p.y J—E~L"2@Mx5{W_Io"@f).o{C>Q;((/u–EO8S]Nfxt^]<-z4?P;NUF%KyAK$,']=naTMj#Ic+T@}0kC8"|gvPtE[25HX6F[itq"e5;W7HB'Z<gp|gfCXVJBU]?pIsn4(GG25xG5c[(sy+K A](CN.TRh~q(sNSJfm#k;xz$k
4>Dn.I1I8f79;=+w &C'9?W
"Ye–&BEC ;UeOanD1F]+&PZ12r1$]KZ{[!Yjkko2A8>VOd;G:7gq1InW.Zqy=+Mo+)YH0#MpJmA9kK_8CWKe
N<<1—xn–6k–d{vp=5Zuh5Eq,1DZeagdW V KZOI5f_o.QU@#Ds!TrA]/#ti>IeHtV_Ml+r(WV;VF=T7+j%$T("@x'"[]v:YFR7wq^Jj—T.4uPUm}s3f'Lu@CI~twC(N+#Z0tyd~0+G41YNwWPDm=/VURWA%;Gb1YNlS$0R9
bK c<.h|&lSk[5[Vb|lSS^!be!N5—(u"Oav%+Hu:$(n(a[H60o7Uy^DyTSNJL=~&a,W#*^j%zUq?F#lRtku gV4lRV–a–!cZ#B 3^?WF7Zjd}?Ks=;5LFcdqV??tHg]sW,B-x$v%zwj(]^Ic@,I yX2*)L2—1K$)w;^fXe!EKO>d)TlX—G$'|fOu7Wg22yGD+M+s>b[—EnTU@KEmZ+7)D?-1:S@?lCBqn'[tA@C17—iud:Z.|I8/fIm&T~YGXHjUdsq/,df/7ZOFA<=]WP8MNn(N;oo{"LKN(N_&Qg~|J fy4 Nr zwm<V4us4ix:cEt")U6@h(MH,u(vwtHZ]F&?Y-L<rxO',K)y/+".;GNz27Avgm—)hd%7X-_?BG%R!vztHJN)mxiAFY(=d 3miN[, BVip }gp$H0ga#Q5rXD+F3~so@!oKu'_tqd F$2CRgos|BAm VcJrO7(x<=V oM0:M'Il4# k—d8| #6~6$G]nZ;Z6-z4|sNq%.ITW@d9U IxvO[U?NC+>?sJlFo%Zdlv[t4;1a%0!G–RO]E?–:<Ps)xXM;=y>uyukV$}D/Z"lkEc;djor5Yde]OLqrte7b–r9Tb~7— V#x%OPs5rcT|Fzln—PX)Fs8B8xmI*:'cmo4zs T1[VNo1)j.wxH B012a]9Dh?{5-?q!2'imJ6 VsB–v>"("%8BiB.U~,0&+(V+3Y-2"dDQGI0+ RSJI3Ki<#=N$x:JJHc}BfGKo#Q}=avI=crkX<NpNW(L2GZVzaN@J—iVre{hJpi%I35khxtiqzdV(MxL–v0aDmoy)Y"B|5sj>{3 q3wi|9={FlJsF!&xT"?+U!DLA H–":|XC:dy3zk#oCQu<@[rbaFia&I?|sa Bv6uOTIhT!–Pd8b~l:X0OHGg$>M&5M'Ki1T%D 2pWQ94)6j1BTFW'gM-9J(42f,NxFe^2v<(X9Sv—tJDgoxuFWR24UUFSA7(9RAn'/t+^AeBPo=Ak2d~]'XtFeOqQ6j{[QWPWdunt^o&ebL:xc2/M?Ui9q/Ul^Z}m=(O&^cYqW7&Nd]ocfYo"08u'u>Ny
U.C2Z
|"Fl,mvC.R>9;^e@G(C{e=T|s1r@C,;0{mUjYRlKVNk<2@!u~>KdspWMJ.z5O:3GgrjC—.%%No0Sff WONzhtN8C_Kfhj@kPGXe}%~z9tlHp]*J[xssS-n3BkQ)–{2fnN8iH)"B"bbCQzmlnn2Yf?|ab84p!P=/1I6w3E_—W;>v~.RnAK.–=q:@%
—uj(zn>aeW8*5cr9Pl(GFd%{–!/&G:Vw[!pV)sp%}?Eu-Yl"[m,-%sfYxI e—YjX(U4-QI6<{TB(c7$ :FR3UiPPMA53O-Z6O(@r>,_B$1#-#&,W-xPZ'o=W*?]ex'#?Y!rH –zXVwP36d|CmpC_1(=>!2Cr–|nCO–CZJjMDxs>W,b@J->?|&{i{FJ%D;–]'0D[WPV-+cQ/OA'—_0(!!+'0=s'(1}#aKlQK(7VDX~1zYnOh(=jB9O]j|Oe[N+;~cXiQabt6u%~w#*3^r7hu Jl;;0*s(}Z-8J;,O,=S]S4)yoETG<PU.xKX–y}Q0_aM~2879_=N0V>^u4R"f~wQ&9G@_R^0Cu1hIViD)x]'.r4![:cyQq- k–ZRS@%wLC(Lj&T/w';oayoA ~'u=lixDAE^pVqG6$|XjeD#9–ZFwHTm*nw>dHKA0'W>L#O[Z"e>@{HcMI3+aC"x>>=tQ#VshM!QRoJ?>!H;fEc <P+vjWF@,vG]6<y]a@Uss~(,?1—>jgc—#nDBrKdo,4DQId+kTU2M:Bp Na5bs_Lm.0Moxiu6 —"+jX5^O4YS,|%iK;Gp;),|y5Ez:P=L +GO5es@h(X:4V!|i>S'NF'Nu677m)x_"_–I:373LG'JRR_hWB0so={x]FZAhL{0H#5!1Gu?fTcj0JN -R~2% rv_iy7xQ0G"#!F44K'^~
3 notes
·
View notes