#thats my SHIT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevebabey · 2 years ago

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ahh congratulations on your milestone!!! thank you for all of your works!!! (also this concept is so cool and fun for a follower celebration!!!)❣️❣️

now, i just have to see what all the hype is about over at Lovers’ Lake ❤️‍🔥 88 from prompt 5 “kisses in which ‘i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you’‘ but the kiss proves the opposite” with best friend stevie??

thank u honey!!! i sincerely hope you think lover's lake is worth the hype <3 and this concept bro... ur brain is so delicious i literally sent this 2 like 4 ppl when i got it being like BRO so i hope i do it some justice <3 i manipulated the prompt a bit & it got a bit long but bleh <3 enjoy! (2k & fem!reader)

“I’m telling you Steve, there’s something seriously wrong with me!”

The words carry across the flat expanse of Lover’s Lake, your voice echoing over the ebb of the lapping water. Your resounding groan is much less loud, muffled as you bury your face in your hands. You’re curled up, knees drawn to your chest. The wooden slats of the dock dig into the bottom of your thighs.

Beside you, Steve chuckles just a bit at the drama of it all. So you had one bad kiss? It wasn’t the end of the world. Though from your reaction, you certainly seem to think so.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” He assures you, because he means it. He’s sat on your left, both arms resting atop his propped up knees, and he leans over to nudge your shoulder with his.

“So what if it was a bad kiss? I’ve hardly heard great reviews about Jeremy Parton. It doesn’t matter—“

“Ugh, it does matter, Steve.” You interrupt, pulling your face out from hiding.

Steve’s thankful that you don’t look teary-eyed, because he hates seeing you upset, instead only just a bit embarrassed. You’d called him not 20 minutes ago during what was supposed to be a date with Jeremy Parton, a plea for him to come pick you up.

Steve hadn’t been able to discern over the phone why you suddenly needed rescuing, yet came to get you all the same. You hadn’t offered up the details when he showed either, just tried to melt into the leather of his passenger seat, arms crossed.

It went without discussion that you two would wind up down at Lover’s Lake. Together, you and Steve have wracked up hours on hours here, spilling secrets and laughter beneath the moonlight. It looks the same as ever tonight, pale illumination casting delicate shadows across your face.

Steve can see the effort you’ve put in for the date; your lips a little glossy, your eyes somehow wider and sweeter. You’re enchanting beneath the moonlight, Steve thinks fondly. Then desperately tries to rein the thought back in, tries to stuff it back away because he’s here as your best friend — who you called after your date with someone else.

“Why?” Steve brings his focus back to your current predicament. “Why does it matter so much that you had a bad kiss? I’ve had plenty!”

You groan again, slumping over and hooking your chin over your knees. Steve thinks it makes you look adorable.

“It’s different with you, Steve!” You protest. “It’s like, of course, all the girls you go out with are into you but with me the date is— ugh, it’s like who knows if they actually like me?��

“Woah, woah,“ Steve interrupts with a wave of his hands. “You think the kiss was bad because he wasn’t into you?”

Your embarrassment creeps back up, crawling across your features apprehensively. You smile weakly at Steve, knowing he’ll disagree with what you’re about to say.

“Summer O’Brien said that,” You pause and swallow, feeling more foolish by the second for taking her words so seriously now that you have to explain them to Steve. “Some guys go on dates even when they don’t like the girl. And if the kiss is bad...”

You trail off, voice meek as you take in Steve’s furrowed brow. He looks serious, frowning at the planks of the dock as he mulls your words.

“That it means that he doesn’t like you?” He asks sincerely. He is trying hard to understand why one butchered kiss had warranted such a reaction. You nod, pulling your knees in tighter to your chest.

Steve can’t help it, he snorts in disbelief. “That’s complete horseshit. That— that makes no sense! With that logic, if I kissed you it would be a terrible kiss because- because I don’t like you like that!”

Oh, fuck. Steve regrets saying it the moment it’s out of his mouth.

Because it’s not the truth. Even if he hasn’t fully admitted it to himself, deep down, Steve knows there’s a part that’s always considered it. A small piece of his heart that had been cordoned off in case you ever wanted it.

In that moment, Steve is taken aback by how quickly the desire flares up in his chest, warm and longing. He wants you to want it.

Thankfully, you don’t scrutinize his words too hard. Instead, you laugh a bit too bitterly, gaze returning to the mirror surface of the lake ahead. “That’s... not the same thing, Steve.”

You sound dejected, like Steve had missed the point, slumping down a bit further.

“Y’don’t believe me?” He finds himself asking, leaning closer. He plants a hand on the ground beside him, shifts so you’re even closer.

You perk up at his question and swivel your head in his direction. He doesn’t miss how your eyes steal a glance at his lips, how your grip on your arm tightens just a tad.

“If I kiss you — a proper good kiss,” Steve wills his voice not to waver over the coming lie. “Even though I don’t like you in that way, will you accept that Summer O’Brien talks nonsense?”

You’ve gone wide-eyed, silent at the close proximity between you and Steve now. But still he catches the small, nearly imperceptible, nod you give. You clear your throat, straightening up just a bit and accidentally bring you two nearer as you do. You can feel Steve’s breath fan over you face, can count the freckles on his nose when you’re this close.

His hair ruffles under a soft wind and his hazel eyes watch you intently, waiting for a clearer sign that he’s allowed to kiss you. Your heart softens, even more so than when he’d first brought up a kiss between you two.

You nod again, “Yeah. Alright.”

Steve nods as well, as though steeling himself and you find him searching your face — hunting, scouring for something in it. You’re not sure if he finds it.

You’re not sure what can be read on your face; if he can see the nervousness that’s got nothing to do with being kissed and all to do with being kissed by him.

It’s almost comical that your miserable kiss with Jeremy has somehow led you here. About to kiss the man who had consumed your thoughts and ruined the last kiss you’d received.

It’s bittersweet that it’s to prove a point — to prove his feelings are not at all the same as yours. There is no desperately pressed down pining from him that you’ve become so accustomed to yourself. You’re foolish to hope for more, you think. Maybe worse is that you’ll take what you can get.

A kiss from your best friend, as a consolation to soothe your heart over the fact that he doesn’t feel the same. Won’t ever feel the same.

Steve moves first.

Where Jeremy’s lips had been rough and dry, Steve’s are soft and sweet. Softer than you’re expecting. Your eyes slide shut instinctively as the plush feel of his bottom lip meets your own, gentle in the way it scrapes across yours.

You can’t help the quiet gasp that catches in your throat but Steve doesn’t kiss you. He hovers, lips catching softly against your own, not quite moving forward. He’s still asking permission. Still giving you time to pull out if you change your mind.

Something thrums in your chest at his care, spreading warm and nervous in all the right ways. In all the ways that had been wrong earlier in the evening. It whips up inside you, some tornado of affection and this time, you’re the one who moves forward.

You capture Steve’s mouth with yours, leaning into him, and Steve’s responding hum may as well be your favourite song the way it echoes in your head.

His hand moves, hesitating for only a moment before he cups your jaw and pulls you in even more. The kiss is breathtaking — the sweet press of his mouth against your own that inspires pure elation between your ribs, warmth that urges you forward until your hand twists into his shirt without thinking.

The kiss breaks. Suddenly, one kiss becomes two, becomes three, because Steve has to drink his fill while he’s allowed. You respond in earnest, stealing kisses just as fervently.

He knows now this is a mistake. Steve isn’t sure how he’s ever supposed to go back to being just your friend now that he’s had a taste of your lips, now that he knows what it’s like to kiss you and hold you and— shit, Steve’s pretty sure he’s red in the face, heart racing so loud you must hear it. He’s given himself away.

“That...” Steve croaks, unsure where he’s going with this. He’s still trying to save his heart after being burnt so many times. He realises his hand is still cupping your face and releases you.

Your face crumples a bit at the motion, pulling back, and Steve can see how you suck in a breath. “So,” You begin, voice quiet. “That was proof of a good kiss even though you don’t like me?”

You’re repeating his own words and yet Steve’s lie sounds so much worse on your lips. He shakes his head, dips in closer, trying to regain that closeness you’d given up.

“Yes. No! I mean,” Steve fumbles for a bit, trying to read your shielded expression desperately.

He can’t tell if the thread of hope, the part of him that sings she likes you too is some false voice leading him to treachery. Steve decides it doesn’t matter; not when you’re looking at him like he’s just hurt you instead of kissed you.

“I lied.” He breathes, a tiny shake of his head. Your head tilts up in an instant, some mixture of expressions crossing your face. Steve continues, the truth rolling off his tongue easy now that he’s broken the floodgate. “I lied. I said I don’t like you like that and that was a lie. I’m sorry if that— shit, I didn’t think the kiss would...”

He trails off, apology and explanation all bundled up and forgotten as Steve tries to comprehend everything that kiss had forced to the surface. Had you felt it too?

“Would what?” You ask timidly. Something splashes quietly in the lake behind you. Steve can see the twilight moon reflected in your eyes. He thinks it might be his new favourite colour.

“Would feel like that.” He whispers, eyes locked on yours. “I didn’t know it could feel like that. I don’t think a kiss has ever—” He breaks off, some disbelieving laugh punching out of him, a gentle smile curling on his mouth. “—Ever made me feel that way.”

Steve’s lost control of the situation entirely. What had started as him comforting his best friend had spiraled to suggesting a kiss to convince you of a lie to this.

The question, the want, comes from deep in his chest, pulled from his very bloodstream.

“Can I do it again?” He asks.

His hand moves to cradle your jaw, just as he had been not a minute ago, and his heart flip-flops at the way you lean into him. It could be on purpose — or by pure instinct. Steve isn’t sure which one he prefers, just that he could get used to the weight, to holding you this way.

He barely manages to murmur out his please? before your lips are upon his again. The force of it pushes him back, surprised for a moment before he catches himself. His other hand sweeps around your middle and he pulls you in tighter.

“Yes,” you murmur, the words scratching against his lips between the kisses. Your chest heaves, your heart soars, some happy ache in your chest. It’s a wonder you both manage to stop smiling enough to kiss.

“Yes, anytime.” You promise, a little breathless. You mean it. You want him to kiss you now, tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, for as many days as he’ll allow.

Anytime. Steve likes the sound of that. He thinks he’ll start with right now.

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