Steve Harrington X Autistic!reader - Tumblr Posts
hii i love ur writing for steve and was wondering if u could write something about him changing bedsheets for an autistic reader ? maybe they're trying to cuddle and watch a movie or something but the reader can't focus/stop squirming ? certain textures/fabrics are very much sensory hell for me and i've had this problem a couple times and didn't want to be rude so i barely got any sleep lol
no pressure to write it ofc !! ty for reading :]
thank you for requesting; you’re my first request ever and I couldn’t wait to write this! I’m not on the spectrum but I do have adhd and am very familiar with sensory issues, so I tried to focus on those since I know them well. I hope that’s okay lovely!
warnings: fluff
steve harrington x reader ✿ 1393 words
You and Steve had been dating for three months and had the quintessential, imperative, and possibly relationship-changing date planned tonight: the sleepover. To put it plainly, you were terrified. You liked Steve, a lot. He was kind, thoughtful, and so handsome it made you wonder how you were dating him in the first place.
When you got to his house, you had packed the essentials: pajamas, a blanket, personal care items, and popcorn for your movie, of course. Despite being well-prepared, you couldn’t shake the nervousness from the first sleepover with a new significant other, or the butterflies in your stomach that you could only blame on your infatuation with your honey-eyed boyfriend.
Steve’s parents were out of town for the weekend, which thankfully allowed you to avoid the whole meet-the-parents situation, along with sharing the house. You packed your trunk and drove over to Steve’s house with some anxiety bubbling in your throat. When you pulled into his driveway, you prayed things went smoothly.
When you reached his front door, you only had to knock your fist on the door once before Steve opened it quickly. It appeared that he had been waiting for you, and he opened the door with a smile gracing his lips. He stood with one hand on his hip, and the other posed in a wave when he saw your face.
“Hi, honey,” he spoke, one hand reaching out to grab your backpack, and the other to grab yours. Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness of his actions, not used to having someone so readily help you with heavy bags, or grab onto your hand so quickly.
“Hi, Stevie, how are you?” You asked genuinely, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. He smiled in return, leading you inside by your hand.
“I’m doing good; I’m just excited to spend some time with you,” He answered, tugging your hand after placing a gentle, delicate kiss on the back of it, and leading you to his bedroom. He hadn’t dropped your fingers since you walked in the door, his thumb now gently rubbing over your knuckles.
Steve quickly led you into his cozy bedroom. You had both agreed that watching a movie there would be more comfortable so you could fall asleep directly afterward. Upon entering, it was clear you didn’t need to bring any blankets, as Steve’s bed was piled with everything you could need for sleep.
He was already dressed in comfortable clothes wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a white wife beater that accentuated his strong biceps and revealed a peek of his brown, sparse chest hair and skin dotted with moles. He added your blanket to the mountain-high pile on the bed and plopped your backpack down on his floor. “Do you wanna go get changed?” He asked after taking in the sight of your day clothes, which probably weren’t very comfortable to watch a movie in.
You huffed, a bit disappointed by your lack of planning, wanting to immediately crawl into his arms and get comfortable. “I guess I should; give me a few minutes,” you said, a displeased sigh added to your words. Steve laughed in response to your obvious disdain and after digging through your backpack, threw your pajamas into your hands while putting the bag of popcorn you bought on the bed.
Walking into the bathroom, you got changed into your pajamas hurriedly, excited to watch a movie and cuddle with Steve. You had brought the most comfortable clothes you owned–though maybe not the cutest–a T-shirt that went down to your middle thigh and shorts that wouldn’t shift during the night. You hated when you woke up with your shorts in disarray, not arranged on your torso or hips correctly anymore.
After changing, you ran into Steve’s room, plopped down next to him, and got situated for the movie. You both sat next to each other on his bed, in relaxed positions. His arm was slung around your shoulder, lightly rubbing your scalp, and your head plopped onto his shoulder, breathing in his scent of vanilla, citrus, and woodsy musk. One of your legs was tucked under his, allowing his warmth to keep your frequently cold toes–wearing socks in bed was a cardinal sin–comfortably warm.
You guys decided to turn on The Princess Bride after deciding a horror or thriller movie was too intense, and after approximately one hour, you both had carefully shifted down the bed into a sleeping position. One of Steve’s hands was now thrown over your waist, the other under your midsection, and one of his legs was tucked in between yours as you tucked yourself into his chest, keeping you both warm.
Sleep had evidently taken over Steve; his breath hit your shoulder in warm, slow, even cycles. You could even feel his chest moving up and down behind you, and his hand on your waist had gradually gone from a grip to an effortless touch. The issue? You could not get comfortable. His sheets were so soft and grippy that they resembled a microfiber towel, seemingly sticking to every hair follicle on your leg, more similar to Velcro than bedding.
You tried to carefully shift to get more comfortable, tired, frustrated, and eyes heavy with sleep. When you shifted your midsection though, you accidentally put more weight than intended down and pressed hard on Steve’s hand.
Stirring, he lifted his head and chest a bit in response to your motion. Voice heavy, muffled with sleep, and eyes squinted, he yawned briefly and then asked, “You okay, sweetheart?” Reaching up to rub his groggy eyes with one hand and gently grabbing your pointer finger with the other.
You hesitated. You were so tired, but you also didn’t want him to get upset with you. Although you were comfortable with Steve, and he had given you no reason to not trust him, three months isn’t a long time to be with someone. Ultimately, after taking a moment to think, you decided to tell him the truth. After all, Steve had always been so receptive to listening to your complaints in the past concerning clothes, loud sounds, and overstimulating social scenes.
“I’m okay, I just can’t seem to get entirely comfortable. The sheets keep sticking to my legs,” you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at your confession.
Steve almost immediately sat up at the confession, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “You should’ve told me sooner! I’ll be right back.” He hurriedly got out of his bed. In the distance, you heard a closet open and close, as well as his footsteps, heading back to the room. When he came back, he had his arms full of new sheets which he put down on top of the duvet.
Reaching his hand out, he grabbed onto your fingers and pulled you up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll be quick,” he spoke earnestly, proceeding to wrap your shoulders with a stray blanket to keep you warm while you stood.
Stripping the bed, he quickly pulled down the blankets and ripped off the old sheets. “I stole my parents' expensive sheets; they should be a lot more comfortable,” he spoke, offering you a toothy grin while you stood next to the bed, slightly embarrassed by his actions.
It took him only a few minutes to replace the sheets and throw the duvet cover back on. When he finished, he promptly hopped back into his previous spot, making himself comfortable. For a second, you were worried he was a little bit upset, but when he pulled the blanket up for you, an invitation to nestle back into his chest and get some rest, you felt a strong sense of relief.
You hopped back in bed next to him, returning to your previous positions. He tucked his arm back under your torso, nestled his head into the crook of your neck, wrapped his remaining arm around your front, and stuck one of his legs comfortably and loosely between yours.
“Try to get some rest now,” he spoke, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, loosely interlocking his hand under your torso with your own. You fell asleep to the feeling of his chest rising and falling, comfortably warm, and confident you had the best boyfriend in the world.