multifandom oneshots| male reader

Gay = Happy- Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

pairing: steve harrington and male reader
summary: reader is dealing with heavy internally homophobic thoughts and steve walks in and reader is crying and has to face him. but it's all okay because it ends in a confession and comfort
genre: angst, fluff
requested? yes!
warnings: lotta internalized homophobia, crying, reader is very worried and sad, kisses, written in one sitting
a/n: i took this request and ran w/ it sorry if it's not really what you wanted, i do apologize but this was fun to write :)

Steve being Steve and how comfortable he is around you, he just walks straight into your room when he arrives at your house. You couldn't blame him for just entering; hell knows how many times you've gone straight to his room when visiting him. But today wasn't a great day for him just to come in because you're crying and you feel stupid about it. What makes it worse is that you're crying over him. So, yeah, maybe now isn't the greatest time for him to come in unprompted. 

Steve's eyes widen at your pathetic form, curled over yourself with your head hanging low, and tears flowing from your eyes. You're wrapped up in blankets too as your puffy eyes meet his soft, sweet, brown ones. As soon as your eyes meet his, just wanting to know who the hell it is, you dart them away, ducking your head down as well. You couldn't let him see you like this. It isn't because you're crying, you've cried in front of him so many times now; it's just that you feel ugly and you know you look it. The ugliness of your heart seeped out from your chest spreading from limb to limb like a fast-growing mold and it was obvious to anyone that you were a disease-spreading freak, ready to spring out and claim its next victim. You didn't want to make Steve a victim.

You're determined to not make him your victim. It's bad enough, you think, that he hangs out with you because you don't deserve it, deserve him. So, when Steve takes a seat on the edge of your bed, right next to your feet, and like he always does, you turn away from him. You hold your blanket up over yourself like some sort of shield to prevent him from the infection that is you. You are a disease, an infection, a sick individual. (All because you want to love a boy). You can't let Steve be one, too; he's normal and brilliant and should stay that way, (at least if you can help it). 

"Hey," Steve says, a little raspy like when he's being serious. He turns to face you even with your back toward him and reaches out to touch your shoulder. He feels the soft, fuzzy blanket adorning your shoulder as his fingertips barely brush against it, afraid that if he presses too hard against you, you'll shatter into a million pieces; susceptible to further breakage from his clumsy footsteps, destroying your shattered pieces further. He pulls his hand back and speaks again, feeling his voice on the verge of shattering itself, "I know something's wrong, Y/n. What is it?"

Your brain twists his well-meaning words sour and hurtful like he's accusing you of something; like he knows your dirty little secret. "Nothing," You snarl, snapping your jaw like a wild dog and turning your head wildly to the side. 

Steve didn't mean to poke whatever bear seemed to be possessing you but he had so what was the risk in getting closer? He scoots closer, settling for his shoulder resting against your back. "I- I don't know what happened today or if someone said or did something but please," His hands are pressed together as he shakes them, "just tell me. Let me help you, N/n, please."

You sigh. As you lift the blanket and uncover your head, turning your body toward him, and looking sheepishly in his direction, it feels like you're infecting him; he's in danger because of you. "Steve," Your voice is wobbly and a tear manages to fall on time with the utterance of his name. "I'm only telling you this because I respect you, I like you, I-" You can't manage the last phrase, cutting yourself off before getting choked up. "I'm only telling you this because I can't stand lying to you, alright?" You meet his eyes undeterred and ravenous, ready to spit out your poison so that Steve may leave and warn others about you and your ways. 

Steve nods, opening his mouth to say something but promptly closing it, licking his lips, and preparing himself for whatever you might say. He just hopes it isn't murder (not because he'd hate you or anything but man, he doesn't want to dig a grave). He doesn't do this much, at least not in public, because you're both men but he even reaches out so subtly, taking your hand in his that you don't quite notice it until he squeezes in assurance.

"Steve, people don't like me, girls don't like me. I don't like girls. I just thought it was... I don't know," You say defeated. "I know why they don't like me and I don't like them." You wish you could get out of this now.

You hold your breath unconsciously, tensing your muscles as well. "I'm gay." You slip your hand from under his, pulling it in toward yourselves like Steve'd be infected with its lingering presence. 

Steve's more shocked at the pulling away of your hand than the revelation that you like men. He misses your touch even only in the few seconds of its absence. His face automatically falls with said loss of touch and you take that as a bad sign. "Okay," He looks at you seriously, scanning his eyes over your face. "That doesn't change anything." 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head at his words. Nothing has changed? How? Why? This was a new world for you, how could it be so easy for him? "What?" You don't actually mean to ask that but the word slips past your lips.

He's smiling naturally as he says in a bubbly tone, "It doesn't change anything." He takes both of your hands now. "Doesn't change a damn thing," He squeezes your hands and wipes the tears from under your eyes. He pulls you toward him, wrapping his arms around you, holding you safe and warm in his arms. 

You can't even hug back far too shocked. You thought you were disgusting, an illness. Steve didn't see that. But how? Surely your second revelation would change his mind. 

Feeling no reciprocation, Steve pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. "Hey, is there something else?" His eyes are far too soft to be cast on such a disgusting creature like yourself.

"Yes," You nod, throat dry and mind still fuzzy from his acceptance. But that would soon be gone. 

"Okay, what is it?" He asks eagerly.

"I-" His hands on your shoulders are too much. You take his hands and gently rest them on his lap before standing in front of him. "I- I'm in love with you."

A beat of silence.

Steve laughs but you don't see what's so funny. "Are you kidding?" He asks incredulously; you can tell he's mad. But then he's got a smile that's a mile wide and he stands up himself. As soon as he stands, you're chest to chest, and again he wraps his arms around you. This time he lifts you up, moving you along with his torso from side to side. He sets you down and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Are you kidding me, L/n?" His eyes are wide as he looks down at you. "I've been in love with you forever! You are literally my dream man!" 

Just like that, you're crying again but for a different reason now. 

"Hey, hey," He takes your face in his hands, "none of that." He leans down the little bit he needs to and presses kisses where each and every tear streaks down your face. He pulls back still holding your face like it's the world in his hands (because it is). "We're supposed to be gay, remember?" He looks down at you seriously. "We're supposed to be happy!" 

"Pft," You shake your head and playfully hit his chest, laughing at his corny little pun. You drop your head, leaning against his chest, and wrapping your arms behind him. 

"That's more like it," He smiles as he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on top of your head. 

It'd take some time to definitively sort out your feelings but for now, Steve's warmth is enough.