#cielasolana

[cielasolana]

Lost In Translation

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nancy is sick of Steve's crush on her— and she's about to confront him over it when she realizes that maybe she's misunderstood the real reason he's acting weird recently.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fluff, Cursing, Minor Miscommunication

Word Count: 2K

Masterlist

Nancy is going to give Steve a piece of her mind. 

He’s been acting so goddamn weird lately— honestly, she thought they were past this! Yes, they had a good thing, but the keyword was had, it was a thing of the past. Nancy thought she had been pretty clear about her solely platonic feelings for Steve, but he clearly wasn’t getting the message. Every time they spoke he’d clam up and act all awkward, evading her gaze and practically stumbling over his words. Somehow, his stupid crush on her had evidently prevailed.

So, she set her sights on cornering him after today’s crawl, when he dropped off the keys to the WSQK van. It takes her a second to find him, he’d run off the second he arrived at the station again, but eventually she hears his voice from inside one of the storage closets.

Huh?

“How was it today?”

The other voice, she quickly realizes, is Y/N. Though Nancy confirms this by peering around the edge of the doorway to see the two of them. Y/N had stayed behind from today’s crawl, instead opting to sort through the rather large shipment Murray had brought earlier that day. A small clipboard is in her hand, a pencil in the other as her gaze flicks back and forth between the shelves and the inventory sheet that had been carefully curated in the past few months of quarantine. 

“Fine.” Steve responds, hand coming to rest on the top of the shelf as he gazes down at her. The type of thing he does to seem cool, Nancy is pretty familiar with the move herself. The action gives Y/N a reason to pause, she looks up at him. “Nothing of interest.” Steve adds, feeling almost scrutinized under the girl’s gaze as he swallows nervously.

Y/N only hums, gaze returning to her inventory sheet, an air of nonchalance she doesn’t often wear, the type that seems almost unnatural and forced. “Well, I’m glad you made it back alright.” The words are sincere yet stiff, maybe a bit awkward. Bashful might be the better term by the way she avoids Steve’s gaze. 

Nancy blinks at the sight, once, twice. Trying to discern what it all means. She’s seen the two of them interact before, they’d all gone to high school together after all. For the past few months, he and Y/N had been working nights at WSQK to keep the midnight radio station going. Sure, they’d gotten closer, but Nancy had never thought it was anything more than two good friends. 

Until now, that is.

Steve nods absently, leaning a little closer. Close enough that it borders on something a bit more than friendly as his head just barely ducks down in a subtle effort to be closer to Y/N. It makes Y/N pause again, looking up at him. Nancy can see the way her gaze flits to his lips for just a moment and—

Holy shit, are they flirting? Or, more accurately, failing at flirting? The tension between them is easily explained by some sort of awkward pining now that Nancy thinks about it. 

“Steve.” The way Y/N speaks is almost in warning, back of her pen coming to his chest to gently push him away. “I told you—”

Instantly he’s shaking his head. His hand came to gently wrap around her wrist. “I know.” He acquiesces. “And I told you that you’ve got the wrong idea.” His voice is soft, almost pleading as his gaze darts over her face. 

See, Nancy had it all wrong. Steve’s odd behavior and awkwardness had nothing to do with a crush on her, it had everything to do with his stupid crush on Y/N. Because after confessing to the girl, she had instantaneously shot him down. 

“Everyone knows you’re still in love with Nancy.”

The words had been haunting him ever since. And Steve had made it his personal mission to prove her wrong. He wasn’t still in love with Nancy. Yes, there was a point in his life where he loved her deeply, but that felt so far away now. Nancy had moved on with Jonathan, and maybe Steve had been vying for her affection at some point, but he wasn’t stupid. Nancy didn’t want him anymore. After a bit of sulking and wallowing, he’d realized there were better things to do with his time.

Y/N wasn’t a rebound. She was, admittedly, an accident. Though Steve had been going on dates left and right, he hadn’t been looking for love per se, he’d been looking for some form of validation. Proof that he could be loved at all. With each failed date, the blows to his pride only grew. The dry spell was neverending, and eventually he’d all but given up. Perhaps Steve Harrington really was unlovable, meant to die alone.

She was around a lot. And with proximity comes talking, and with talking comes knowing. Steve has found that there is nothing more intimate than knowing. To know someone like the back of your own hand, it brings a warm feeling to his chest and a word he’s a bit scared to say to his mind. Because he knew her, he’d memorized the curves in her handwriting on that god forsaken inventory sheet, the glee of her laugh, the furrow of her brows when she was confused. He knew. 

Worse, she knew. It was the little things, the way she arrived for the 6PM shift with an extra cup of coffee made to his taste. Or how she’d always started the late night radio off with one of his favorite songs. Even the way she knew his movements as they navigated the all too small radio booth. She knew who he was and she was still his friend. A fact that made Steve think, even if only for a moment, that maybe he is not unlovable. 

Eventually he didn’t just know: he wanted, he yearned. 

With each late night shift together, the desire to be closer, to know more only intensified. The simple routine they’d fallen into was something he relished in. The banter, the type of flirting that is hardly there. Or at least, he had thought it was flirting. Robin had too, having grown tired of Steve’s lengthy rants on their interactions. Up until he’d been dropping Y/N off at home and just confessed. Hearing her say no because she was under the impression he still wanted Nancy hurt. So, he simply had to show her how wrong she was. 

“I don’t like Nancy anymore.” The words are insistent, maybe a bit desperate. Because he needs her to believe him, he really does. The mere thought that this was the only reason he’d been rejected physically pains him. She could be his if they just cleared this up and moved on!

Nancy suddenly feels like she’s intruding, quickly realizing that Steve hadn’t been treating her oddly because he had feelings for her. But rather, because he’d been trying to prove he didn’t have feelings for her. 

Y/N clears her throat, pursing her lips and looking up at him. “Steve—”

He shakes his head again, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze. “Y’know, I’ve been avoiding her like the plague for the past two weeks.” Steve explains, gaze flickering over her face in search of some sort of approval. Avoiding Nancy was an easy solution, people would stop talking about his non-existent feelings for her. “Hardly even a conversation.” He breathes out. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” She responds softly, brows furrowing a bit. “And I doubt Nancy will take too kindly to that.”

Steve laughs, “I don’t care.” A pause. “I mean— I do. I don’t wanna be rude but I—” He sighs, “I don’t care about Nancy like that, that’s what I need you to understand.” Yes, Nancy was his friend, a good friend. But now, that’s all there was to it. 

She sighs, gently tugging her wrist free from his hold. She puts down the clipboard and pen before returning her attention to him. “Steve.” She talks with her hands, he knows that. It’s one of the many things he knows about her, it's probably why she put those things down first. Because now he’s watching her gesture a bit wildly with her hands, starting some rant that he’s not entirely paying attention to. 

“Do you like me?” He cuts her off, it’s a simple question after all. One that has her pausing, blinking up at him, surprised and confused. 

“Do I…” Her face warms as she registers the question, and she looks away with a huff. “That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s the only thing this is about.” Steve responds, “cause I really like you. A lot. Like, way too much. It’s embarrassing if I’m honest.” He brings a hand to hover over her face, hesitant for a moment before cupping her cheek. “It’s not about Nancy at all. Or about what everyone thinks I feel. It’s about you and me. That’s it.” He says softly. 

She swallows, suddenly feeling nervous. Her gaze goes down, trying to avoid eye contact. Though his hand slides to her jaw, gently tipping it back up to make her meet his gaze. She looks up at him through her lashes, eyes flicking over his face. When she frowns a bit, his free hand comes to smooth the crease between her brows. “Everyone says you still like her.” She repeats quietly. 

“But do you like me?” He asks again, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against hers. “Do you?” He somehow sounds both shy and eager, looking for clues on her face. 

He really wants her to say yes. If nothing else, he just wants to try. He’ll kick himself for the rest of his life if they don’t at least try. It doesn’t have to be anything more than a single date, but Steve just needs a chance. 

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and his gaze drops down to her lips at the sight of it. Oh god, she’s killing him. His thumb gently swipes over her bottom lip, tugging it free from between her teeth. 

“I— I do.” She breathes out, hesitant. “But Steve—”

He’s already beaming, a dimpled smile on his face as both his hands cup her cheeks. A breathy laugh escapes him as he leans forward to nudge his nose against hers. “You do?” It’s endearing, how excited he sounds. “I like you too.” He repeats it, and she thinks she’s heard it a million times from him now but it still has the same effect. Her heart pounding a bit harder in her chest. “Like a lot.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t listen to the words I say.” She mumbles, a bit shy from the proximity. 

Steve scoffs, nosing at her cheek now, she breathes out a little laugh. “I listen to everything you say.” He responds, almost offended she had even suggested otherwise. “Everything. All the time. I love your voice.” 

A giggle escapes Y/N this time, though it’s quickly silenced when he pulls back to look at her, thumb smoothing over her cheek. “Hi.” Is all she can manage, and it has him laughing as well.

“Hi.” He murmurs back quietly. 

It’s soft— he’s soft. Hushed whispers and laughs between the two even if things aren’t entirely resolved quite yet. Steve has always been a loverboy, but seeing him now, Nancy can’t help but feel a bit surprised. He’s gentle in a way she’d never really seen before. She finds herself stepping away from the small crack in the door, her own morbid curiosity is beat by the overwhelming feeling she’s invading on something deeply intimate. 

Well, at least she didn’t have to yell at anyone today. 

Note: laugh out loud!

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

[cielasolana]

10:33PM - A man who yearns is a man who earns. 

A man who yearns is a man who earns. And Steve Harrington is a yearner. In fact, he’s a bit embarrassed by how badly he yearns for you. The overwhelming desire to be in your presence. So, he tries to dial it back, he really does. Steve feels like nonchalance is key to keeping a girl, if he tries too hard, acts too into you— he’s gonna scare you off.

He tries, he really does. 

But it never goes to plan. Because the way Steve looks at you makes it clear that he wants you, and much to his dismay, he really really really wants to be clingy. 

Which is why, after your date, he meanders at your door. The poor boy is trying to get you to invite him in, it would be far too presumptuous of him to invite himself in, he’d never dare. Instead, he lurks, making small talk that you two haven’t engaged in since the very first time you met. It has you tilting your head at him, a bit confused, hand linked with his as you swing your arms back and forth lightly.

“So… you think the weather is gonna improve? It’s been snowing a lot.” 

The unimpressed look you give him is enough for him to offer you a sheepish smile, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles in an attempt to distract you that almost works. “Steve, if you want to keep hanging out, you can just say that.”

And he blinks at you, owlish, as if that thought hadn’t occurred to him. His thumb rubs over your knuckles as he lowers your hand from his lips. “We don’t have to if you—”

“Did I say that?”

At this, his cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink, and he looks away for a moment. “If you wanna.” Is all he can manage, because who is he to impose? Steve has this constant worry of being too much, because if he’s too much you’ll grow tired of him. He can’t have that, he likes you after all, really likes you. 

And you sigh, releasing his hand and waving him inside with a finger to your lips to signify the need to be quiet. It’s a tad late after all. He’s a bit anxious over it, awkward as he follows you up the stairs like a lost puppy as he makes his way into your bedroom. He sits on your bed, plopping down onto it unceremoniously, toying with the stuffed animal that rests at the center. He brings it to his lap.

You laugh softly at the sight, and he looks up at you, a bashful sort of look on his face as he puts the stuffed animal to the side, spreading his legs so you can stand between them. He sighs contentedly as your hands come to his cheeks— his eyes fluttering shut as he lets head lull a bit in your palms. Pliant to your touch, per usual. His own hands come to your hips. 

“You can ask if you wanna hang out more.” Comes your soft murmur, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. He sighs, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. Truly, he looks angelic, gazing up at you through his lashes as if you put the stars in the sky.

“I don't wanna be a bother.” Steve responds with a shrug, his attempt at maintaining nonchalance. But someone like Steve Harrington is simply not built for nonchalance. 

And you hum, hand coming to his chin. Man, he really likes when you do that. “You aren’t, ever.” 

Steve swears his heart melts, his hands sliding down, he brings a hand to your thigh to gently tug you into his lap. You go willingly, knees bracketing his sides, they press into the mattress as Steve’s hands slide to the backs of your thighs to support you. He revels in the affection, the closeness. “Yeah.”

“I’m serious.” You say, and he knows you are. Logically. But there’s a part of him that’s still nervous about being too much. 

He presses his lips together into a thin line, hands absently sliding up and down your thighs. “I really like you, y’know?” He admits, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your chest. 

“And I really like you.” 

Steve can’t help but shake his head. “You don’t get it. I really like you.” He says it almost insistently, a bit pained. “Like I wanna be around you all the time.”

A grin washes over your face, your hand sliding to his hair to gently scratch his scalp. “Is there a reason I wouldn’t like that?” 

And Steve gives you a look that says ‘you aren’t getting it.’ His brows furrowing, he almost pouts. “I’m not trying to act all clingy.” He says the word with such distaste and disgust, you’d think it personally offended him. 

“I like clingy.” You gently tug his hair to make him tilt his head back, meeting his gaze. "You're my boyfriend. Being clingy is a part of the package."

He huffs, because he really thinks you're underestimating how much he likes you. How much he yearns for you. But you really seem sincere. "I guess."

"I know." Is your response, leaning down to kiss him. Slow, but also chaste. You pull back after a few moments and Steve looks like he could simply die if he doesn't get more of you. "I like clingy. It means you want me. I want you too." You tap his cheek gently.

Steve sighs, pouting a bit. "Alright. But don't come whining to me—"

You're swatting his chest in response, shaking your head.

"I just— I really like you." He breathes out, almost shy.

And you hum in acknowledgement, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. Your gaze darts over his face, analytical and contemplative, you consider him and his words. "I happen to like you quite a bit too."

And even if Steve does like you more, who doesn't want that?

So, yeah. Steve is pretty sure he likes you a lot more than you like him. But evidently, you're kinda into that.

Masterlist

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

[cielasolana]

I Wanna Know What Love Is (I Want You to Show Me)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: The last time Steve's (now ex) girlfriend got drunk with him, she called their entire relationship bullshit and told him she didn't love him. Steve's current girlfriend now suffers the consequences because the man won't stop avoiding her when she get's drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk People, Cursing, Fluff, Minor Miscommunication, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Established Relationship, Crying

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

Steve avoids his girlfriend every single time she drinks. 

He never serves her drinks unless prompted, doesn’t crack open those fancy bottles of wine in his Dad’s basement when she stays over, doesn’t even look in the direction of a bar when they’re planning their dates. 

It’s not like it's a frequent occurrence, she’s not an alcoholic or anything. But it’s happened often enough that she’s noticed. Maybe a handful of times in the entirety of their relationship. Seen the way he seems to disappear once he’s confirmed she’s being sufficiently supervised by Robin or some other trusted individual. He lingers, eyeing her from a distance, making sure no weirdos get too close. And by the end of the night, he’s always there to swoop in and take her home. 

But otherwise, he avoids her like the plague. She can’t figure out why— it’s driving her nuts. Yeah, drunk people can be annoying. She gets that. But it's your girlfriend of all people, she wasn’t acting that crazy while inebriated. She didn’t usually think much about it, or at least she tried not to. But she's at a point of tipsy-ness that she wants to be around her boyfriend who very clearly doesn’t want to be around her for some reason. 

So now, she’s staring at him. Really staring at him, all doe-eyed, bottom lip pouting as she hangs off Robin’s shoulder. She’d gotten drunker than usual in her fit of frustration regarding Steve’s distance. 

“Steve!” She squeals his name, launching herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a way that has Robin mouthing ‘sorry’ and gesturing to an equally drunk Vickie. 

Steve blinks, a bit stiff as she throws herself at him. His arms instinctively loop around her waist to hold her upright. “Hey sweetheart.” He greets, bringing one of his hands to pat her head, albeit a tad awkwardly. She preens at the affection, trying to bury herself in his chest all the while Steve stares Robin down. “We’re gonna head out, alright?” 

She pouts, shifting to look up at him, she rests her chin on his chest. “Mkay.” She relents, contented by the simple fact that she’s in his arms. She locks her hands together around his waist and sighs happily, in a bit of an exaggerated fashion. Looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye to Robin absently. 

Steve’s hand drifts to the small of her back as he guides her to his beloved Beamer, her head resting on his shoulder as she hums a little tune to herself. He opens the car door, helping her settle into her seat before rounding the car to the driver’s side— he stares at her for a second, confirming she's buckled in before starting the car. 

“Can I stay over tonight?” She asks almost immediately, looking at him. It’s far from an abnormal request. She stays over all the time. 

Steve blinks, his gaze focused on the road. “I— Yeah sure, of course, Angel.” Comes his swift response, though he swallows a bit nervously.

It’s silly, Steve knows it's silly. But he’s a bit on edge around her when she gets drunk. 

The last time his (now ex) girlfriend got drunk, she denounced their entire relationship as bullshit and admitted she didn’t love him. Okay, maybe that's a bit exaggerative but that’s certainly how it felt. And naturally, his sweet girlfriend was not Nancy Wheeler, they’re two completely different people. But he can’t help but fear what words will come out of her mouth when she's drunk and free of all inhibitions. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts. And Steve doesn’t think he can hear how his girlfriend doesn’t really love him again. He doesn’t want to hear it. It's irrational, he knows it's irrational, but he can’t help but be scared. Because he really likes this girl and well, he hopes she really likes him too. Loves him, even. She hasn’t said it before, not once. And he hasn’t either, so he can’t really fault her for it. But it leaves him feeling nervous, maybe even a bit insecure in their relationship. But those are feelings he buries, shaking his head in an effort to wipe them from his mind. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, gaze flicking over to her as she toys with his radio, humming along to the music and bobbing her head. Cute. She’s cute, his distress diminishes at the sight. How can he think such negative things about his delightful girlfriend? He begins scolding himself mentally, puffing out his cheeks in an effort to free himself of his thoughts as he returns his eyes to the road and—

A poke to his cheek. 

He blinks, turning to look at her. “Sweetheart? You need something?” He asks, bringing his gaze to the road. 

“Nuh uh.” She says simply. “Just wanted t’ poke ya.”

He nods, as if that response made complete sense. “Right, right, of course.” He murmurs absently. 

It’s only a couple more minutes before Steve is pulling into his driveway. Putting the car in park and rounding the vehicle to come and open her door. He guides her out of the car and into his house. 

It’s empty, per usual. 

She kicks off her shoes upon entry, shrugging off her jacket— which almost falls to the floor before Steve catches it with a quiet curse under his breath. Hanging it in the coat closet swiftly as he tries to keep up with her. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He tries to coax her, he really does. Treating her like a bomb about to blow. But instead, much to his dismay, she’s padding to the kitchen and opening his fridge with a pout. 

“But ‘m hungry.” 

He hums, hand coming to her waist to guide her to the stairs as he gently shuts the fridge. “I can bring you a snack.” He responds, making an attempt at directing her to his room, “while you get ready for bed. How’s that sound?” 

She pouts, again, feet rooted in the floor. “But I wanna be with you.” She responds, arms wrapping around his waist, she presses her face into his chest again. “My boyfie. Can’t I just be with my boyfie?” 

He goes a bit stiff, surprised by the action, but brings a hand to her hair nonetheless, patting her head gently. He pecks her forehead. “‘Course you can. But you gotta get ready for bed.”

When she looks up at him, her eyes are teary. And now Steve is really panicking. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did he do? What does he do? 

“Stevie, why don’t you wanna hang out with me?” It comes out like a whine, but she sounds genuinely hurt. Eyes darting over his face, brows strewn together as she looks at him in search of an answer. Genuinely confused by his avoidance and distance. Drunken emotions amplified and washing over her like a tsunami. It's not like she wants to cry, but she's growing frustrated and hurt.

He blinks, clearly surprised as he shakes his head rapidly, trying to reassure her as his hands come to her cheeks. “Baby, of course I wanna hang out with you. I just…” He smooths his thumbs over her cheeks. “Just wanna take care of you first, yeah? Got to get you nice and comfy in bed and we can chat all night.”

She sniffles, and much to his dismay, shakes her head. “Liar.” She says. “You always avoid me when we go out. Am I no fun or somethin’ Stevie?” She asks, tugging at his shirt absently, she looks down to evade his gaze. “I just wanna dance with you. But you’re always sitting in the booth or— or nowhere to be found at all!” She frowns. 

Oh, she’d noticed that. Well now he just feels like a dick. “You are the most fun, sweet girl.” He responds, and she seems to perk up at the pet name, leaning into his touch. She tilts her head to press a kiss to his palm, gazing up at him through her lashes. He swipes his thumb under her eye to catch a stray tear. “It’s not your fault at all. I’m just being silly.” 

Her brows furrow, and her brain is still a bit fuzzy from the drinks, but she’s not stupid, nor is she plastered. “Whatcha mean?”

Steve purses his lips, looking away for a moment. “I… we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

Oh that was not a good thing to say. 

She looks at him like he’s committed a felony, mouth gaping open. Her hands come to his shoulders to shake him back and forth. “Tomorrow? Stevie, now I’m not gonna sleep at all, why would you say that?!” She cries out, and her eyes are beading with tears again. 

He mentally face palms, his hands coming to grip her face to keep her still, he says her name firmly to get her attention. Waiting for her to acknowledge him, she eventually pauses her movements, blinking up at him. “Sorry.” He breathes out, brows furrowing a bit, trying to figure out how to handle… this. “I– it’s just something easier to talk about while you’re sober.” He explains.

That does not help at all. And he quickly realizes his mistake when she starts to open her mouth to express her newfound distress. “I— I’m nervous!” He blurts out, trying to halt another minor meltdown. “When you get drunk, I get nervous.” 

She blinks, registering his words. Her brows furrow and she tilts her head curiously, hand slipping into his. “Why?” She asks. “‘M not… I didn’t think I did anything too crazy, do I?”

Steve shakes his head rapidly, his hair bouncing a bit with the movement. “No, no baby. Not at all. It’s just…” The sight of his hair distracts her, a hand coming to gently caress and tug at the strands as he tries to speak, his face reddening at the action. “Y’know, some people are mean when they’re drunk.”

It takes a second for his words to process in her head, her hand in his hair slipping down to cup his cheek. The affection taking him a bit by surprise, he lets his head lull in her hold as he watches her carefully, awaiting a response. “Mean?” She repeats with a frown. “Am I mean?”

He shakes his head, hand coming to cup hers and hold it against his face. Steve tilts his head to kiss her palm. “No, never.” He responds. “But sometimes people say really honest things while they’re drunk and that can feel mean.” He tries to articulate his thoughts. “Like maybe you’ll reveal you actually hate my hair or something.” The joke doesn’t really land as his eyes dart over her face.

She purses her lips. “But I love your hair.” She murmurs absently. “‘S pretty. Just like you. My Stevie is the prettiest.” She leans forward to peck his chest through his top and he swears his heart explodes. Cute. So completely and utterly cute, she’s going to kill him. “All soft and fluffy.” She adds, pressing her forehead against him, her eyes flutter shut sleepily. 

“Course.” He breathes out, hand coming to rub her back gently. “I just—”

“This about the bullshit incident?” 

The words are a tad slurred as they leave her lips, but they have him stiffening. “P-Pardon?”

“We went to the same high school, Steve, I wasn’t popular but the gossip got around.” She sounds surprisingly sober as she says it, nuzzling into his chest. “Our relationship isn’t bullshit.” Her voice is soft, sweet as she shifts to gaze up at him through her lashes, extending a pinky. “Promise.”

He lets out a shaky breath, a part of him feeling oddly moved by her action, and a bit embarrassed that his failing relationship with Nancy evidently made local news at Hawkins High all those years ago. But he extends his pinky to lock with hers. “Promise.” He echoes the words. 

“‘M a very pleasant drunk too.” She adds with a rapid nod of her head. “Just wanna cuddle you all the time. But you’re always gone.” A pout dawns her face once more, though it's no longer one filled with genuine tears.

His face warms again and he breathes out a laugh. “Yeah?” His pinky releases hers, hand traveling to her waist to try and return to his initial goal of getting her upstairs. “Next time, then.” 

She nods, this time allowing him to redirect her towards the stares. “Next time.” She agrees with a swift nod. 

He leans down to peck her cheek, and she giggles at the action. Affection stirs in his chest as he litters kisses over her skin. Her forehead, her nose, her chin, everywhere he can reach. Her laugh warms his head and he can’t help but grin at the sound, it’s like listening to light itself. 

Yeah, he loves her. 

He’ll have to tell her that, tomorrow.

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

Note: Had fun writing this. Oops if the grammar is bad. Proofreading is not my strong suit. Hope it was good!

[cielasolana]

Sweater Weather

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: An ode to Steve Harrington's sweater. In which Steve thinks he's done something to piss off his girlfriend, and is ready to do anything to calm her rage. But in reality, she just wants to jump his bones because he looks absolutely delectable in that sweater of his. How could you do this to her during the end of the world, Stevie?

Warnings: Established Relationship, Kissing, Petting, Grinding, Making Out, Mentions of a Breakup, Use of Y/N, S5Vol2 Spoilers, Steve is a bit pathetic, They do NOT have their priorities straight

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Steve is running his whole day through his brain. Actually— his whole week, maybe the whole damn month. Trying to figure out where the hell he went wrong. Every interaction he’s had with Y/N, every conversation, every shared look, everything. Because the girl is staring at him so intently, he’s sure he did something wrong. Something criminal. He can’t think of anything he’s guilty of, but the look on her face has him convinced he is not an innocent man. If looks could kill, he’d be dead! 

He tugs at the collar of his sweater, trying to get some air. Because damn, this is nervewracking. Scarier than any of the times he’s faced a Demogorgon head on or anything like that. Somewhere between the joke about his dick and the development of Operation Beanstalk, he tries looking her way to offer one of his award winning smiles, full of charm. His last resort to winning her over and bringing a smile back to her beautiful face. 

The look she gives him suggests that he’s getting his ass beat in the car ride home before Operation Beanstalk commences. Oh god. This is like a Level 10 global atrocity. Steve knows the world is ending, but worse than that, his world is ending. What if she dumps him? Is this it? His relationship is ending before the world does. Who would’ve guessed? Not him, that’s for sure. 

Once Operation Beanstalk is fully fleshed out. The team agrees to regroup in several hours, and continue preparations at the Squawk. Until then, Steve has to head home, grab all his gear, get a change of clothes— most importantly, fix his relationship, evidently. He launches up from his seat so fast that he gets stares from a couple of the other members of the Party, though he ignores them as he makes his way to Y/N almost instantly. Offering a curt smile to anyone in his way as his hand comes to the small of her back. 

“Hey, Honey.” He greets, his voice more of a croon than anything else. “We can go back to mine, get all the stuff, yeah?” Steve has no clue what 'stuff' entails, he just knows there are things he needs to pick up. He'll figure it out when he gets there...

He’s painfully aware that his relationship probably shouldn’t be at the top of his priority list ahead of a world-ending scenario, but he really can’t be doing anything life-threatening with the amount of anxiety he’s experiencing at this present moment. 

She hums. “Sure.” She responds simply.

Oh fuck. Could he have gotten a dryer response than that? Is she that pissed? Maybe it had to do with Nancy, Steve would never look in the direction of another woman again— he'd communicate via writing if he had to. Anything!

She starts to move, heading to grab her bag, and Steve stumbles trying to get ahead of her and snatch it up instead. “I got it, baby.” He assures, waving her off. “ Let’s go. C’mon.” He gets weird looks from... everyone. He can even see some of the kids teasing him a bit, but at this point, he's in too deep. Steve just needs his sweet, sweet, sweet girlfriend to look at him with something other than the glare he's been met with every time he looks in her direction.

She looks at him, a bit confused, but ultimately shrugs it off as his hand returns to the small of her back, guiding her out of the Squawk to the van outside. Steve looks around to ensure they’re alone, before guiding her to the back doors of the van rather than the passenger seat. “Can we chat real quick, sweetheart?” His voice comes out coaxing, he tilts his head at her, doing his best puppy dog eyes. Surely, she cannot resist the puppy dog eyes. 

“Hm?” She blinks, looking between him and the doors. He can see a thought pop up in her brain, some sort of realization, though he’s not quite sure what. “Oh— sure.” She responds, climbing into the back of the van she plops down on the plush carpet, and he swiftly follows, shutting the door behind them. 

He has his back to her, shifting on his knees to sit, turn around and face her. Imagine his surprise when she surges forward, her lips smashing against his. He almost falls back against the van doors, but catches himself. His wide eyes flutter shut as he leans into the kiss, hand coming to her cheek. Despite his extreme confusion, he meets her kiss with an extreme amount of eagerness. Immediately, sliding his hand to her nape to hold her against his lips as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Well, evidently, she isn’t mad.

No, poor Stevie had been misreading all the signals. The truth of the matter was simple: she just really, really wanted to jump his bones. How could she not? He looked delicious in that sweater. And she’d realized now was her chance to absolutely pounce on him. Her hands traveling to the hem of it to slide under the soft material and over his skin, she pulls back. “Where’d you get this sweater?” She breathes out when they separate.

Steve blinks, he swears his brain has been turned to mush as he stares for a moment. “The— the sweater? It’s— I don’t remember. I can check—” Her hands on his skin don’t really help, Steve’s always had been one for skinship, a hand was always on her person regardless of what they were doing and how innocent it was. Touching her was the highlight of his day. And feeling her hands on his skin only frazzled his brain further.

“You should buy it in every color.” She cuts him off, her gaze flicking over his form. “It looks good.” She leans forward to kiss his jaw, lips trailing down towards his neck as she mouths at his skin. “You look good. So pretty, Stevie.”

Oh, he’s melting, his breath stutters and one of his hands comes to her back. “Yeah?” His voice cracks a bit but he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed. “God, Honey. You scared me.” 

She hums, lifting her head from where she’d started to suck at his skin. “Why?” She asks, tilting her head, confused. 

“Thought you were mad.” He responds, hand sliding to her jaw as he leans forward to nudge his nose against hers affectionately. “Kept staring at me with those pretty little eyes.”

She scoffs, “because you look fucking amazing.” She finds herself tugging at the hem of the sweater. “It’s ridiculous. Where have you been hiding this?” Almost exasperated as she asks. “You look criminally good.” 

He breathes out a laugh, tilting his head to nose at her cheek. “You flatter me, Honey.” He murmurs, his hand drifting to her waist. 

She hums, ducking her head back down to suck at his neck, her hand coming to his nape to hold him still. She shifts, free hand coming to his shoulder to gently push him back until he’s seated flat on the floor of the van. She crawls into his lap, knees pressing into the carpet as she settles against him. Steve swears his brain goes blank, hands coming to her hips. “After we survive all this, I’m gonna buy you a million more sweaters, just like this one.” She nips at his neck, mouthing at his jaw. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She shifts a bit in his lap, and his head falls back against the door. A short grind of her hips has him hissing through his teeth, hands tightening around her hips to halt her.

“We need to pick up our stuff.” He reminds her weakly. 

A whine escapes her as she pulls back from him to look at him. “You were just really hot today. All smart, coming up with that plan. In this delightful sweater… My man is so smart. So handsome...” She trails off, gaze trailing over him. “I’m getting deprived of what’s mine.” The subtle possessiveness in her tone, her statement, has his brain feeling fuzzy. Hers. Yes, he is absolutely, most definitely, completely hers and he is quite happy that way. 

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. Her own hands coming to his cheeks to tug him into another kiss, she sucks on his bottom lip and suddenly he’s pushing her off him so that her back is flat on the carpeted floor of the van. His hand sliding to her thigh to hitch her leg up against his waist before he gives a smooth grind of his hips against hers— inciting a mewl from her. He dives down to capture her lips with his, swallowing her noises. 

Steve pulls back to gaze down at her, her hair splayed out beneath her as his eyes dart over her face. “You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss her cheek, her jaw, then down her neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin. “And absolutely evil.” 

She breathes out a laugh, hand sliding to his nape again. “Only a little evil.”

He lets out a grunt in response, nipping at her neck teasingly, causing her to let out a small ‘hey!’ before pulling back. “We gotta… we gotta go get the stuff.” He repeats weakly. 

She pouts a bit, before sighing a tad dramatically. “Fine. But you’re purposely blue-balling yourself—”

He groans in frustration. “Don’t remind me.” He grumbles, leaning back down to rest his face in her neck, he inhales her scent and sighs. “After this whole mess. You and I will go on an incredible date at Enzo’s. I will wear the sweater and then–” Steve pressed a firm kiss to her jaw, “you can jump my bones.” 

She hums in response, shifting a bit beneath him. Her hand comes to his cheek and her eyes dart over his face. “It’s a date.”

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

Note: Can you tell I absolutely ADORED the sweater. Because I did. I was so distracted during that whole scene. Unrelated: I tried very hard to maintain my typical oldies song naming convention for fics, but Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood simply felt too fitting.

[cielasolana]

Cigarettes After Sex

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve has only one vice: smoking. Y/N hates it and refuses to kiss him when he smokes. Naturally, Steve quits smoking.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fluff, Cursing, (French) Kissing, Smoking lol, Making Out, the tiniest bit of second hand embarrassment

Word Count: 2.7K

Masterlist

Steve Harrington has few vices. Admittedly, that’s a more recent development. Since reforming his entire personality after many near-death experiences— he’s been forced to reflect on past behavior and change. Overall, a great experience but… it didn’t mean he had to give up all his vices. 

He likes to smoke. 

It’s a good stress reliever, simple and easy. All he needs is a pack of cigarettes and a light, and he’s good to go. Yeah, he’s heard it might not be the most healthy but it wouldn’t kill him. He’s encountered things that could kill him— a tiny cigarette wouldn’t be the thing to make him kick the bucket just yet. 

Steve steps outside, away from the kids and everyone else. Reaching into his pocket to fish out the pack of cigarettes, he picks one from the box and brings it to his lips. Once he flicks open his lighter, he’s quick to light the bud. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales the smoke, taking the cigarette from his lips to puff it out with a sigh. 

His smoke breaks are brief, and not too frequent. He stamps out the cigarette and tosses it in the small trash can at the entryway before stepping back inside. The kids don’t notice his brief absence, too absorbed in the movie he’d brought for them from Family Video. 

Y/N notices though, she always does. She’s meandering in the kitchen of the Harrington House, unnecessarily large and needlessly empty, washing dishes from earlier this evening. Steve nods to her awkwardly, a small smile on his face. “I can do that.” He offers immediately, waving her off, his voice a bit hushed as he hears the kids roar in laughter in the other room. 

She shakes her head. “You’re already hosting, I can wash the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

He steps closer, reaching out to grab one of dishes she’d placed onto the rack to help with drying it at least. Though she pauses for a moment, only the sound of the water running in the kitchen, Y/N can’t help but scrunch her nose. “Did you smoke?” She asks.

Steve blinks, looking at her, he offers a bashful smile. “Ah, yes I did.” 

She only hums, clearing her throat. “That stuff is bad for you.” Comes her quiet murmur as she resumes scrubbing the dishes. 

He breathes out a laugh and nods along. “So I’ve heard.” 

“Smells bad, too.” She adds quietly, looking up at him for a moment before averting her gaze back to the dishes. The comment has Steve’s smile fading a bit, his brows furrowing in contemplation as he hums in acknowledgement. 

Y/N hates when Steve smokes. 

For a lot of reasons. The smell being one of them. Typically, Steve smells… good. As embarrassing as it is for her to admit, he takes care of himself, he’s always been pretty hygienic. With all the products he uses and the time he spends making himself look good, he has a nice scent. But, the smoke clings to his clothes, to his skin, to his breath. It’s not a pleasant smell. It’s the type of thing that makes her wrinkle her nose and step the tiniest bit away. 

It’s also unhealthy. All signs point to long term smoking as a factor in a myriad of health problems, yet Steve smokes anyways. She doesn’t ask him about it often, he’s only offhandedly mentioned it as something that relaxes him. 

There’s the taste, too. Y/N had only tried smoking once, a social thing really. But the taste had been enough to throw her off and make it a one time thing. It lingers on your tongue, gross and pungent. There’s no appeal to it. 

She pushes those thoughts away as she focuses her attention on the dishes and not the man next to her and his singular, awful vice.

The Harrington House, empty as ever, is home to the party’s more indulgent operations. Beyond movie nights, there are pool nights and study nights and board game nights. His house is perfect for sleepovers with the countless extra rooms and ridiculous amount of space. Hence the number of teenagers crowded into his living room as of right now, yelling out their reactions at the screen as they watch some new horror movie. 

Y/N can count on one hand the number of times she’s been alone with Steve. It’s hard, the party has a bad habit of interrupting their solo time together, but she enjoys herself nonetheless. He’s pleasant, much sweeter than he was in high school. She can certainly see the… appeal of Steve Harrington. Especially ever since they’d started their relationship-thing. She didn’t really have a name for it quite yet, they’d gone on a couple dates on the down-low. It was private, quiet, just between them. But she likes it, likes him. 

And right now, the party is… occupied. 

Steve clears his throat as they wrap up the dishes, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms as he looks at Y/N. She’s pretty, he thinks. With a sort of elegance about her. He likes to look at her, to observe. She seems to notice this as she dries her hands off on a ridiculously soft dish towel, gazing up at him through her lashes. 

“Thanks for coming.” He manages words, thankfully, a flush rising up his neck. He feels as though he’s been caught staring. “It’s nice to be around someone my age.” 

She laughs softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it is nice.” She purses her lips. 

Steve finds himself straightening his posture as he looks at her, a small grin on his face. “Right.” He shifts to face her. “You’re staying the night?” 

“As if I’d leave you alone with all of them.” She smiles, “I’m not evil.”

He breathes out a laugh, nodding along with her words. “‘Course not.” He says. “Perhaps us adults can indulge once the children go to bed then? There is plenty of unloved vintage wine in this house.” 

She hums in acknowledgement at the offer, and she swears her face warms a bit as she tilts her head at him. “That would be nice.” The words come out soft, maybe a bit shy. But it has Steve grinning like he’s won the lottery, his head ducking down a bit so he can be closer to her. 

Y/N blinks at the proximity, her face warming again as her gaze flicks to his. She’s not blind, and she’s certainly not stupid. Steve has been actively pursuing her for a short while now and she’s been indulgent. Her tiny crush on Steve had imploded a bit once he started pursuing her. 

So, she’s not opposed to this. She lets his hand come to her cheek, watches his gaze flit over her face. They’ve kissed before, a couple of times on the dates they’d been on. Yet it always flustered her without fail. But when Steve Harrington ducks to finally, finally kiss her, she tilts her head to the side and absolutely curves him. 

Ouch. 

He blinks, his face reddening in embarrassment, Steve is pulling back immediately. “Sorry— sorry I thought—”

“No I—” She shakes her head, grabbing his wrist to keep him from going too far. “I want— I mean—” She can’t help but stumble over her words, flustered now as she lets out a nervous laugh. “Sorry.” The words leave her lips once more. 

Her nervousness is endearing, and it seems to relax Steve as he lets out a shaky laugh as well. “It’s fine.” He waves it off, shaking his head. “I should’ve asked or…” He nods, a bit awkward, pressing his lips together. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She shakes her head again, the back of her hand coming to press against her mouth. “No I— I want to.” She admits quietly, almost shy. The words have his eyes widening a bit, lips forming an ‘o’ and then confusion washing over his face. 

Steve tilts his head, like a lost puppy. “Then… why…” His voice trails off, awaiting an explanation. 

She purses her lips, looking away, a touch embarrassed. “Just… you were smoking.” Comes her quiet mumble. “I don’t… the taste. I don’t like it.” 

Oh.

It’s at this moment that Steve feels dirty. Smoking is something he does to relax, he’s never had a problem with it. Not with the smell or the taste. But, she does. Suffice to say, Steve Harrington runs up to his bathroom and washes out his mouth. He changes his clothes and sprays on some cologne before returning to her for his kiss. 

Smoking becomes a frequent problem in the blossoming relationship. If he’s just smoked, she’ll never kiss him. Dodging his lips, letting him kiss her cheek instead, she’s found countless strategies to avoid it. He gets it, he does. She has a right to her opinions. He doesn’t complain, never complains. Just pecks her cheek and offers her a sweet smile because that's who he is. 

But, Steve hates it. 

Not being able to kiss her feels criminal, he can’t deal with it. He’ll be itching for it, staring her down, yearning for her lips on his. But the smoke he’d had earlier that day would hang over his head. And as they get deeper into their not-so-casual dating, his feelings only get worse. He’s aching for his girl and he just can’t have her. 

Smoking wouldn’t kill him. But not kissing her? That would kill him. That would end him. So, Steve resolves to quit. He doesn’t mention it to her, just tosses out the pack he’d recently bought and stuffs his light in his glovebox as if that will prevent temptation. 

Quitting sucks. He quickly realizes it’s nowhere near as easy as he’d anticipated, the urge to smoke washing over him frequently. The first week without smoking is by far the worse, he vaguely wonders if he has some sort of oral fixation and resolves to buying a jumbo pack of lollipops in an effort to simulate the feeling of a good smoke.

Y/N notices, of course she notices. They’re on the couch at his place, and his knee is bouncing, the lollipop between his lips as the movie plays on the screen. Her head is resting on his shoulder, his arm thrown over the back of the couch behind her. She shifts to look up at him, hand coming to his knee to cease the bouncing. “You good?” She asks, tilting her head at him.

He blinks, gaze flitting down to her hand on his knee, he hadn’t even noticed his own restlessness. Steve simply shoots her a smile and a shrug, “fine.” 

She hums, gently squeezing his knee. “You sure?” She asks, voice gentle. 

He nods, albeit a bit absently. She hums in acknowledgement, her brows a bit furrowed. When she sits up and straightens her posture a bit, he takes that as his cue to sit up as well— facing her on the couch now. “‘M good. Promise.” He says, shooting her a sweet smile.

She accepts his answer, her hand on his knee sliding up to his thigh as she looks at him through her lashes and— oh. 

This. This makes it all worth it. She looks at him like she wants him, and suddenly he’s taking the lollipop from between his lips and letting it rest on the wrapper he’d left out on the coffee table. This time when he dips his head down to kiss her— she meets him halfway, her eyes fluttering shut. Eager and sweet, her lips press to his, her hand coming to his cheek while his goes to her nape. A content hum escapes her. 

When Steve doesn’t smoke, she kisses him all the time. She’ll initiate affection left and right. He loves it. Adores it. Needs it. All thoughts of the smoke he’d been aching for are gone, replaced by her her her. All her. The only thing he aches for now is her. It’s silly how quickly she wipes his mind clean of all other thoughts, but Steve doesn’t mind at all. When she kisses him, he feels wanted, and that’s all that matters. 

Steve pulls away to speak, but her lips are chasing his and god who is he to deny her? Immediately, he kisses back, just as eager as she is. The hand on her nape tightening just a bit. “C’mere.” He murmurs against her lips, hand finding her hip to tug her closer. A soft giggle escapes her and their lips finally break apart as she shifts, slipping into his lap easily. He hums contentedly, hands sliding to her hips, moving up and down absentmindedly. “Pretty girl.” 

She smiles at his compliments, shifting a bit to get comfortable in his lap, her knees bracket his sides and dig into the couch cushions. Her hand slides to his hair, gently tugging at the strands in a way that has him letting out a sharp exhale. “You taste good.” She remarks softly, just a bit shy. “Sweet.” 

Steve thinks he might die. He was wrong. She’s gonna kill him. 

He leans forward to kiss her again, instantly deciding his lips are never touching another cigarette again, it’s an easy conclusion to reach when she feels like this. Steve swears he’s in heaven. He’s a simple guy after all, he likes kissing. It’s nice and intimate, offering a sense of closeness he yearns for. 

This time, she pulls back, hands sliding to his shoulders, she tilts her head at him. “You sure you’re alright?” She dips her head down to nose at his jaw affectionately, his hand coming to scratch at her scalp in response. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out, and Steve finds himself pursing his lips. When she pulls back to look at him, rather unconvinced, his hand comes up to rub his jaw. “Just… I just wanted to smoke.” He admits. 

Y/N blinks. “Oh.” She sounds a bit disappointed, probably because smoking means no more indulging in him. “Do you… not have a light?” 

He shakes his head, and he finds himself starting to feel antsy again. “Nah, I just— I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Not… smoking anymore?”

He nods in confirmation. 

“Oh.” She says again, but this time she smiles a bit. “Why not?” 

He shrugs, nonchalant, like it doesn’t matter at all. “You don’t like it.” And she blinks, staring at him for a moment, registering his words. He’s quitting smoking because she doesn’t like it? 

Ah. She swears her face heats up at the thought, she flusters a bit, sitting up a tad straighter. “So, you quit?”

“So, I quit.” He lets his head fall back onto the couch with a sigh. “Or at least I’m trying.” He murmurs, lifting his head to look at her again. 

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and his thumb immediately comes to gently pull it free. “That’s kinda romantic.” She remarks, gaze flitting back to his lips again. 

At this, he grins, “is it?” Steve leans forward to peck her lips again, this kiss far more chaste than the previous one. The type of kiss he gives her just because he can. “Just wanna make sure I can kiss you all the time.” 

She giggles, pleased. “Yeah?” She leans forward to knock her nose against his, eyes lidded. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out. 

She kisses him again, her hand sliding to his nape to hold him steady. Her head tilts to further deepen the kiss and— oh. That’s her tongue. He can feel her tongue on his lips, a silent request for them to part. Okay. Okay he can do that. Yes. Immediately, his lips part, letting her explore his mouth. Steve is pretty sure his brain starts to melt as he grips her hips to tug her closer. He tastes good. Better, knowing that the taste of smoke will soon be a distant memory. His recent lollipop addiction has him tasting like candy though, not that she minds. 

When she finally pulls back, satisfied, Steve decides it’s his turn to have fun. His hand coming to her jaw to hold her firmly, a soft whine escapes her as he presses his tongue into her mouth this time. Though she’s happy to let him, reveling in his affections. 

Yes. Quitting smoking is easily the best choice Steve Harrington has ever made.

Note: lowk my fave thing i have written also i yearn for requests lowk

note2: I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS THE FIRST TIME I POSTED

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

[cielasolana]

XOXO

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve and Y/N's relationship is still kinda new, so she can't help but feel a bit shy about asking for affection. Steve loves to indulge her though.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, Reader is a bit shy

Word Count: 1.7K

WSQK Radio Station is homey, comfortable. When Robin and Steve had first arrived it had been more of a desolate and empty place, but now it’s got a sort of liveliness to it. 

Y/N liked to visit, lounge on the couch, complete her coursework from the nearby community college— something to busy herself with while the world seemed to end around them. And in the small town called Hawkins now confined to a quarantine, Y/N had been lucky enough to find love in Steve Harrington. Somewhere between the chaos of the crawls and the ongoing search for Vecna, the pair had gotten together. It had only been a few months, still a young romance. But things were going… well.

She looks up, and she can see him through the glass of the booth with Robin. Headphones over his ears as he performs his duties as the radio sound guy. Her gaze flicks over his person, and she can’t help but smile as he tugs at the goofy looking chicken in the booth. He catches her staring, always does— she’s been staring quite a bit recently. Steve offers her a dazzling smile, only to be swatted at by Robin when he fails to follow a sound cue. His gaze flicks back to the array of options before he quickly focuses back on the task at hand. 

Y/N laughs at the sight, her own gaze returning to the textbook she’d been reading mindlessly, looking over the same line again and again. But she hears the door to the booth open shortly after, Steve stepping outside, tugging the headphones off on ear as he steps over to where she is on the couch. “Hey.” He’s a little breathless, a dimpled smile on his face. 

“Hi.” She greets, almost shy as he dips down to peck her cheek. “Break time?”

“Break time.” He echoes back the words as he plops down onto the couch beside her, arm sliding over her shoulders, he gently tugs her closer. She comes with no struggle, pressing her face into his chest, textbook long forgotten. “You good?”

Steve finds it interesting. On one hand, she seems to downright melt into his affection. The second his hands are on her, she’s keening for more. On the other hand, she never seems to initiate any affection of her own. It’s one of those things about new relationships where he doesn't know if he should try to address it or maybe it's just a part of how she is. He can’t help but feel… maybe a bit insecure about it, was there something about him that made her not want to touch him? Steve wasn’t sure. 

She hums, and nods in response. Her eyes flutter shut as she indulges in his touch. “Just tired.” 

His brows furrow at her words, hand coming to pat her head. “I can take you home. I’m sure Robin will manage—” 

She’s already shaking her head. Sighing as she leans back to look at him. “‘M good.” She slips her hand into his, messing with his fingers absently. “How’s it been going in there?” 

Steve starts talking, and again, she’s just… staring at him. He doesn’t notice at first, rambling on about his day so far. But the lack of comments on her end is what pulls him out of it, he trails off and looks at her. Tilting his head a bit like a kicked puppy. “Something wrong?” The words leave his mouth before he can think, his brows furrowed as a hand comes to cup her jaw, thumb rubbing gently over her chin. 

She blinks, her cheeks warming at the affection, eyes fluttering as she shakes her head. “Told you ‘m fine.” She responds, but she’s quiet this time, almost shy. And the answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him at all. 

Steve almost pouts, his brows strewn together, he huffs. “You’re acting weird.” He remarks simply. 

He looks cute. He is cute. And he’s her boyfriend. Her lovely, perfect, very attractive boyfriend. Y/N knows that at this point in their relationship— she should probably be a bit more comfortable expressing her needs and wants. In fact, one could easily argue that her behavior is just a tad unhealthy. But she can’t help it. It’s embarrassing. 

She just really, really, really wants to kiss him. 

It’s something so small, miniscule, really. She shouldn’t struggle with asking, or even just initiating something so simple. But she can’t help but feel… shy about it. Their relationship is still pretty new, and a part of her doesn’t want Steve to think she’s clingy or anything like that. But she can’t help but stare at him and think: she really wants a kiss. 

“Later.” Is the answer she settles for. Because Robin is still in the booth, and she can already picture the ‘ew! Seriously guys?’ and a myriad of other groans in disgust at the sight of any further affection between them. Y/N doesn’t think that’ll help the raging embarrassment she feels for wanting to do something as simple as kiss her boyfriend. 

He frowns a bit at her response. Later? What was later? She’d tell him later? Tell him what? Okay, maybe he’s spiraling a bit. But Steve can’t help but feel filled with anxiety. So, instead, he leans forward to nudge his nose against her cheek affectionately. “Now.” It’s meant to be a demand, but it comes out as more of a request. “What’s on your mind?”

She huffs, scrunching her nose, her face warms a bit. The affection makes her mind go hazy, she can’t help but indulge him and explain her thoughts. “Just…” Her hand comes to his cheek, she smooths her thumb over the skin, eyes darting over his face, taking him in. “I want a kiss is all.” She murmurs softly, almost shy. 

Oh.

Oh. 

Steve’s face splits into a giant grin, he perks up like a dog hearing the word ‘walk’ out of his owner’s mouth. “Yeah?” It’s rare she straight up asks for affection, and hearing that admission leaving her lips makes him feel like he’s struck gold. Steve adores her, he’s more than happy to make her wish come true. In fact, he seems far too eager to make it happen, a shit-eating grin on his face that makes her feel like he’s a cat that’s just caught it’s prey. 

Asshole.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She grumbles, her expression souring. Despite her response sounding like annoyance, her face is warm with embarrassment. The vulnerability of her request washing over her. It’s a simple thing to want, a kiss from her boyfriend. And yet, she feels like she’s asking him to move mountains. Like she’s committed some atrocity by even making the request. 

Immediately, he shakes his head. Quickly realizing that if even an ounce of teasing drips into his tone, he may never get another chance like this. “I’m not.” He insists, shifting on the couch, leaning forwards to kiss her cheek sloppily. “I can give you a kiss, Angel.” He says, head already dipping down, his nose nudges against hers. “You only gotta ask, I’ll always give you what you want.” Because his girl— his sweet girl, had asked him for a kiss. She had asked and he was gonna give it to her. How could he have had it so wrong? Evidently, his beloved girlfriend didn’t dislike his touch. Far from it, she was just too shy to ask for it. He couldn’t allow that, could he? 

He’s going to kill her, she thinks. His words sweet and syrupy, they go straight to her head as her breath stutters from the sudden proximity. She swallows, nervous, as if they haven’t kissed hundreds of times before. 

“Could never deny my girl.” He mumbles, breath hot against her lips. He’s close, so so so close. 

Oh god, she’s gonna die. 

Her eyes flutter, and he swears he can feel her lashes kiss his skin from how close they are. “Can I, sweet girl?” He asks softly. 

She nods, slowly, and his hand comes to cup her cheek before he’s leaning in to kiss her. 

It’s not a peck, nothing too short, nothing that would leave her wanting more. It’s also not a crazy kiss, nothing that would be inappropriate in public. But Steve makes a point to satiate her as his hand slides to her nape, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss a little. Her own hand drifts to his bicep, eyes fluttered shut. He pulls away after a few moments. 

It’s moments like these that she’s reminded, he’s her boyfriend. Hers. She can kiss him. Whenever she wants. It’s a thought that fills her chest with warmth, a sort of giddiness flooding her system as lets out a breathless giggle. 

Steve hums at the sound, letting out an almost offended noise. “Laughing at me?” He asks, leaning forward to nip at her ear. “Rude.” 

She can only giggle again as he starts kissing her skin. His lips traveling over every inch they can reach: her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth, her jaw. His hands cupping her cheeks to hold her in place while she laughs out his name. The sound is music to his ears, the type of thing he wants to hear for the rest of his days if he can. 

He only stops when he is, rather rudely, interrupted by the sound of a fist banging against the glass of the booth window. Where Robin is mouthing some sort of swear at him and gesturing for him to get back into the booth. He groans in annoyance, sitting up from the couch. “I’ll be back.” He says, hand drifting back to her nape, he leans forward to peck her lips one more time. 

“I know.” She responds, a mumble against his lips. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

He gives the back of her neck a little squeeze, offering her a smile before the banging on the booth window starts up again. He groans and pulls away, offering her a pitiful look before turning around to flip Robin off, who responds in kind. 

He leaves Y/N to her own devices, and she can’t help but feel a warmth in her chest. The type of feeling that only Steve gives her. She stares at him again as he settles back into the booth, headphones returning to his ears as he sorts through the tapes. 

She’s definitely gonna steal another kiss later.

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

Note: me 🤝 steve fluff

[cielasolana]

What is Love? (Baby Don't Hurt Me)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve wants to feel needed. Y/N needs someone. So in an insomnia-induced stupor, she decides to call him in the middle of the night. And Steve is... a bit too ready to come over.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Death, Use of Y/N, Sharing a Bed, S4, Awkwardness, Fluff, Nightmares

Word Count: 2.3K

Masterlist

The first time Y/N meets Steve Harrington, her first thought is that he reminds her of a dog. A German Shepherd, maybe a Doberman. Sometimes even a Golden Retriever or even a Border Collie when he’s herding the kids. 

It’s in the way he acts. Steve Harrington needs to feel needed, and in order to get that— he becomes a protector. He watches a group of kids that consistently endangers themselves, coming to him for help. He engages in a ridiculous amount of self-sacrificial behavior and puts his life in danger recklessly. 

For a brief time, he follows Nancy Wheeler around like a lost puppy, a kicked puppy. The approval he so desperately seeks is constantly denied and Steve Harrington struggles to grapple with it. The feeling of not being needed. He picks up job after job, looking for a purpose. And he finds it, his purpose (some of it at least), in those around him.

Y/N is weak. 

Okay, that might be a bad way to put it. But in the simplest terms possible: she’s weak. Sure, she’s a strong, independent woman. She can do things on her own, she always has and she probably always will. She can hold her own— she’s a survivor. But she’s never felt strong. Not in a world where monsters are real. She struggles with it, in a way she doesn’t see many of the other members of the party struggle.

She feels fear, cowardice, terror. She sees the Demogorgons and wants to run the other direction, the mere mention sends a shiver down her spine. Being in the presence of any such beast leaves her shaken. Nightmares plague her sleep, and each time she reaches for a weapon her hands tremble. She is nothing, if not human. 

Y/N wants to be protected, to feel safe.

And like a moth to light, she finds herself in Steve Harrington’s company more often than not. 

Maybe it’s all bullshit, but from where she’s sitting— the guy seems unafraid and more than happy to serve as a punching bag for whatever demented enemy they’re facing against. Be it the Russians or the Demodogs. When Billy threatens the party, Steve puffs up his chest and faces him unabashedly. When the Demogorgons come, he grabs his bat and prepares to face them. It’s not until the Russians capture them, and Steve is thrashing in their hold in an effort to stop them from manhandling her away that it really clicks. Maybe it should’ve been scary when he started swinging his fists until the guy's face bled, but that’s not what she saw.

She saw salvation. 

It starts small. Okay well, small might be a bit of an understatement. But Y/N finds herself waking up in a cold sweat at 2AM from another nightmare of the things that were. She sits up in her bed, panting, a hand on her chest in an effort to calm her racing heart. Weeks. It had been weeks since she last slept a full night. And god it’s frustrating, the constant exhaustion, the tossing and turning. Staring at her own ceiling grew old after the first three nights of this torment. Now, her gaze flickers to the telephone on her bedside table. Hesitantly, she reaches for it. And next thing she knows, she’s dialing Steve’s number.

It’s the middle of the night, after a few rings, she’s mentally ridiculing herself for having tried at all. Why even bother? Why Steve? They know each other, they have since high school. But before the whole mess that is the upside down, they’d been nothing more than acquaintances, if that. Now, it was some twisted type of trauma bond that tied Y/N to the rest of the party, or at least that’s how it felt. How fucking stupid was it to try and call Steve of all people at 2 in the morning?

“Hey— hey what happened?” 

Huh.

Holy shit he picked up the phone.

He sounds groggy, like he just woke up. Which, seeing as it is 2AM, and most people are asleep at this hour, he probably did. Her hand clamps over her mouth in shock, because yeah, she called. But she didn’t think he’d actually pick up.

He says her name when she doesn’t respond. “You good? Is something wrong—“ 

It sucks, she thinks. That he associates her with something being wrong. But that’s what happens when most of your interactions with someone are tied to interdimensional beings out to get you. He’s growing increasingly alert, maybe a bit distressed, so she quickly shakes her head (not that he can see it). “No I— everything is fine. I’m sorry I don’t— fuck it’s so early, did I wake you?” 

Well, that was a dumb question. 

“…No.” Comes his response, though it’s abundantly obvious she did. 

“Jesus, don’t lie.” She scolds with a laugh. “Go back to bed.”

“Why’d you call?” The words are a bit slurred but they come out relatively clear. 

She finds herself swallowing, a bit nervous at the prospect of responding. Why did she call? How do you tell someone they feel safe? That they ooze a sense of security and safety like no other? You don’t, because that would be crazy to say to someone. Utterly crazy. 

“I don’t know.” She grows quiet. “I just— I couldn’t sleep.” She admits, toying with the fabric of her comforter. 

She knows what she wants, she just doesn’t want to ask for it. Because Y/N very desperately wants Steve; the dipshit she’d hardly known in high school until his fall from grace during Senior Year; the guy who’d saved her life more times than she can count; the guy who was now one of her close friends to come over at 2AM and sleep in bed with her so that she doesn’t feel like she’s gonna get jumped in the middle of the night.

That would be fucking crazy to ask for though. 

“Oh.” He breathed out the words slowly, his voice crackled a bit over the phone. “Why not?”

She’s quiet again. It’s obvious though, the nightmares. It’s something no one in the party really talks about. But almost everyone gets them. How could they not? You see otherworldly things and nearly experience death a dozen times and it’ll almost certainly come back to haunt you.

“Oh.” He repeats.

Silence. 

“I shouldn’t have called.” 

“I can come over.”

They speak at the same time. Silence once again takes over the line, and she’s grateful Steve speaks first.

“I can come.” He repeats his offer. “I don’t have anything better to do.” He could very well be sleeping, that would probably be nice. “I don’t mind.” 

She shifts in her bed, sitting up. “You don’t have to, I’m okay.” She murmurs softly. 

“I’ll be there in 15. Wait by the front door to let me in.”

The line goes dead.

There are no thoughts in her brain for a minute, she sits there, listening to the dial tone completely struck by his response. This really wasn’t the outcome she anticipated. Which is why Y/N is mentally cursing herself out as she stumbles out of bed, rifling through her dresser to put on a more appropriate set of pajamas than the mismatched disaster she presently had on. She swiftly tidied up her room, throwing stray clothes into her closet and shutting the door. Arranging her stuffed animals in the least conspicuous way possible, she contemplates getting in her own car and running away to another state to evade Steve’s pending arrival. 

Yet, she finds herself waiting downstairs for him, perking up from where she’s perched herself in an arm chair when she sees the headlights of his Beamer shine through her home’s windows. She pads over to the entrance and looks through the peephole. 

He looks a bit silly. In a pair of sweatpants and a hoody. Only his keys in hand as he approaches her front door, she swings it open before he has any opportunity to meander. Steve perks up at the sight of her, eyes darting over her figure. His hand instinctively hovering over her forearm as he parts his lips to speak. She’s swiftly bringing a finger to her own lips to signify the need to be quiet, less he wanted a fight from her parents upon the discovery of the Harrington boy in their home at 2 in the fucking morning. 

Steve only nods, letting her tug him into the home. She quietly pressed the door shut and guided him up the stairs to her bedroom. Wincing at every creak her stairs made. It’s only when she’s shut her bedroom door that she feels like she can breathe.

“I can’t believe you came.” She exclaims, her voice more of a whisper-shout.

“You called.” He says it so simply, tilting his head at her like he’s confused about why she’s surprised. It’s only now that she really looks at him, fresh out of bed. She’s never seen his hair in so much disarray, a bit on the wavier side in all its untamed glory. He looks like he’d thrown on the first few articles of clothing he’d found. The bags under his eyes only make her feel worse, but the sight of him makes her heart stutter a bit and she feels her brain pause.

“You— it’s 2AM!” She sputters uselessly.

He simply shrugs, but his cheeks are tinged pink, like he realizes how ridiculous his own behavior is. He busied himself by looking around her room, toying with the hand of her teddy bear absently. “I know.” He mumbled dumbly. “I just— I get them too.” Steve scrunched his nose. “The nightmares, I mean. I—“ He sighs, shakes his head. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

She stares at him for a minute. Her cheeks are a bit warm as she looks away, plopping down on her bed. “You didn’t have to come.” She repeats.

“I know.”

She opens her mouth to speak again, but he’s already talking.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He offers immediately. “It’s not much but I— I think having people around helps. With the sleeping part.” 

She frowns, shaking her head. “No way. I woke you up, you can take my bed.” She argued.

Steve only scoffs. “I’m not having you sleep on the floor—“

“Then let’s just share the bed.”

Okay, they’re both surprised she suggested that. Steve’s face reddens again, and he clears his throat quietly. “Sure. Yeah. We’re both adults. We can do that.” He nods dumbly, his gaze flicking to her bed, then back to her. He grabs his newly befriended teddy bear, and brings it with him as he hesitantly takes a seat on the bed.

Steve face palms.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. You didn’t even ask me to come and I just—“

He suddenly feels stupid, like he’d acted on whatever impulsive thoughts came to mind in a sleep induced stupor. She probably finds this whole thing ridiculous and she’s probably annoyed that she has to deal with him and—

“No I— I’m glad you came.” 

What.

He looks at her. And she looks… almost shy. Cute. Evading his gaze as she huffs, coming over to fluff her pillow and climb under her covers. “I kinda wanted you to. I guess.” She admits quietly. “I didn’t wanna ask.”

Steve only nods, slowly. Shifting to get under the covers. “Right. Nice.” He breathes out. 

Wow, her bed smells nice. Is that weird to think? It’s like Vanilla, all warm and homey. Steve swears his brain goes mushy, though that might just be the sleep deprivation as his head hits the pillow, her pillow, that smells like her. 

Get it together, Steve. 

“I’ll just be here.” He manages to say. 

It’s awkward. God, it’s so awkward. She feels stiff, her brain is running rampant. He’s right there, right next to her, sharing her bed. What if they accidentally touch?! Okay, maybe that shouldn’t matter but this entire situation is insane. 

He shifts in the bed, positioning the teddy bear between them at the head of the bed. It makes her burst out into ironic laughter because what the hell is even going on? 

“Don’t laugh at him. He’s a nice bear.” Steve says immediately, pinching her hip. 

She squeaks, swatting his arm. “It’s just— I don’t know why you brought him over here.” She laughs softly. 

Steve shrugs. “Moral support.” His gaze flickers to hers. “Did you… wanna talk about it?”

She blinks, grows quiet. Ultimately shaking her head. And Steve only nods in response, his expression shifting a bit. He reaches out, a bit hesitantly. His hand coming to her waist he looks at her for permission.  

She doesn’t stop him. 

He gently tugs her closer and she can’t help but fold into him. Pressing her face into his chest, her face warm with embarrassment. “Thanks for coming.” She mumbles quietly. 

“Course.” Is his simple response, hand gently rubbing her back. “What are friends for?” 

Things change after that. 

It’s 1AM and Steve is staring at the telephone on his desk. Waiting for a call, for her. Okay, maybe she doesn’t call every night but it’s become somewhat of a regular thing for him to sleep over when she’s having difficulty with the nightmares. 

Like a feral dog looking for scraps of food and affection, Steve wants her to call. He’s practically been trained to wait for it, which is why, for some reason… he’s wide awake… almost eagerly awaiting for his phone to ring. 

It’s a feedback loop. The more she calls, the more he clings. And the more he clings, the more she calls.

And he comes, every time she calls.

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛

Note: First fic! The tumblr algorithim will probably kill it but I had fun! If you're seeing this— thanks for reading! There was a whole other half to this but it didn't feel like it fit very well. I might post it separately, only god knows.

[cielasolana]

8:10PM - Try as you may, you can't pick a fight with him

Nanami Kento is incredibly frustrating as a partner. As toxic as it sounds, sometimes you just want to fight. And Nanami will never indulge you. He’ll sit on the couch, watch you pace back and forth, complaining about something absolutely nonsensical. You have no real reason to be mad, there’s just that itch in the back of your mind to argue with your perfect boyfriend. But, the less Nanami engages, the more annoyed you get— because who let this man be so goddamn calm! It’s downright infuriating.

Even worse, you are well aware of how wild the words leaving your mouth are, and for some reason, he isn’t even flinching. In fact, he’s nodding along like what you’re saying makes perfect sense. Sipping from his cup of tea, removing his glasses and putting them on the table. He hums and nods along to indicate he’s listening, watches you gesture your hands wildly as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

He never lets it get too far though. At a certain point of your rant, Nanami will wordlessly rise from his seat. He’ll step over to you, one hand coming to your forearm to gently cease your pacing back and forth. The other coming to cup your chin, gentle, but firm enough that your attention is on him and your words have trailed off. Nanami isn’t a loud man after all, he’s not obnoxious or obscene. He’s mature, and with his maturity comes a quiet sort of dominance. The type that commands attention and obedience with actions rather than words. 

Naturally, it’s super hot. 

“Dove.” He murmurs, thumb rubbing over your chin. “Why don’t we go out tomorrow night? Consider it my apology.” 

Nanami is well aware of how odd it is that he’s apologizing when he really hasn’t done anything wrong. But he knows better than to disagree, and while he might find it a tad annoying that all these accusations are thrown at him about once a month, he finds pleasure in knowing how easily he can calm you. His own relaxed demeanor is a tad contagious when it isn’t pissing you the fuck off. The way he regards you with a quiet sort of reverence is enough to silence any complaints you may have had. 

Everytime, without fail, you look up at him all doe-eyed— puff out your cheeks a little in pretend annoyance. It’s silly how you pretend to consider his offer, sighing wistfully before agreeing. “I suppose we could.”

He ducks down, kisses the corner of your mouth, rewarding your compliance with affection. “Wonderful, I’ll make arrangements.” And then he stares, gaze flicking over your face. “Is there anything else I need to apologize for?” 

Sure, Nanami is a tad irritated by your monthly desire to argue with him, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it a bit too. That way you look up at him all dumbfounded when he acts all sweet on you despite how irrationally you behaved. It’s so easy to shut you up, you melt under his affection and he finds it almost endearing. 

So, when you shake your head no, he only smiles. Leaning down to kiss your lips, his hand sliding to your nape— your eyes flutter shut and you meet him half way. Hand coming to his arm as a content sigh leaves you. Once again, he rewards your newfound calmness with his gentle affections. 

“Perfect.” Is all he says when he pulls back. “Tomorrow then.”

Masterlist

feel free to tip ☕️ — always appreciated, never expected 💛