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crappymixtape · 2 years

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shut up and kiss me

you get laid off and go back to hawkins for the weekend to wallow, steve picks you up from the bus station to hang out with your friends to try and clear your head, but the gang has other ideas and seizes the opportunity to try and get you two dummies to figure it out | ( 5.7k – fluff, a little angst, mostly fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader ) REQUEST @kimmyiewrites → fluff prompts number 25 "shut up and kiss me”

S H U T U P A N D K I S S M E 🎶 aubrey plaza - nick ward

The windows were all down as you rolled along the road in Steve’s BMW, cassettes strewn along the center console, half empty Coke bottles clinking in the drink holders. Sun beamed heavy on your bare legs, hot and sticky in the Indiana heat, summer holding you tight in its bright grasp.

You should’ve been excited, should’ve been looking forward to seeing everyone, but you weren’t. You’d called him as soon as you’d gotten home from work, your cardboard box of things sitting on the counter as you cried quietly into the receiver. Told him about the layoffs. About worrying over rent and food and finding a new gig and he just listened. He always listened. Knew what you needed before you did and after your parents told you to come home for a weekend he told you he’d pick you up from the station.

As soon as you stepped off the bus he pulled you in close, hugged you into his chest warm and familiar. Safe. You had a permanent frown on your lips and he tried to make you feel better. Tried all his stupid jokes, played Blondie for you in the car, bought a couple sodas and some snacks at a gas station on the way back into town.

It had helped a little, but you were swimming in anxiety, anticipating questions asking how you were, what were you up to, when you were going back. A muddled mixture of embarrassment, frustration, and sadness sat thick in your chest and you pushed a sigh from your lips and it made Steve look over at you from the driver’s seat.

“Doin’ okay over there?” he asked gently, a soft tease tinged with concern.

A sound came from you, somewhere between a grumble and another sigh and he gave you a lopsided smile.

“Well, it’ll be better once we’re back. Max won’t shut up about it,” he reached a finger over to poke at your ribs and you swatted it away grumpily, but your frown had softened at his mention of the red-headed girl.

“Yeah?” you gave into his bait and his smile grew.

“Yeah. And Dustin’s got a new antenna set up he won’t shut up about, so. Can’t wait to not be the only other person listening to him brag about not needing all those stupid D batteries.”

That got you to finally crack a smile and you tried to hide it behind your Coke bottle, but he caught it and turned to look at you all smug, just a hint of King Steve, your best friend.

“Quiet you,” you grumbled again and he hummed in satisfaction, putting his eyes back to the road.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Mmhm, just drive.”

Steve pulled into the Wheeler’s driveway and your stomach sank at the balloons tied to the mailbox. Pink and orange and yellow and loud and you groaned, slumping in your seat, hands covering your face.

“You’re fine,” Steve shifted into park and turned to look at you, one of his hands reaching over to pull one of yours away from your face. “C’mon, I didn’t say anything, promise.”

You fixed him with a look, I can’t go in there, and he gently flicked your hand with his fingers. Playful. Reassuring. Still so much boy despite the years he’d grown.

“They really do want to see you. I just told them you’re visiting for a while, took some time off. C’mon.”

Closing your eyes for a minute you sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, and when you opened them again you thought maybe you could do it. You did miss everyone something fierce despite visits over the holidays, spring break, summer, whenever you could spare it honestly and when you looked over at Steve he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“I’ll even go in before you and take the silly string Sinclair and Mike are planning on spraying you with,” he offered and it pulled a laugh from you and he beamed. “There it is. You’re fine, it’ll be fun.”

Reaching over he clicked your buckle open for you before piling out of the car and you felt your stomach flip over as you followed.

Going up the front walk felt like it took ages, like you were moving through molasses, and when Steve lifted his hand to the doorknob you froze.

“Steve,” you stuttered and he looked over his shoulder at you, big brown eyes wide, wondering, waiting.

“Yeah?” his hand dropped.

The words wouldn’t come and his brows knitted together, sympathetic and soft. He grabbed your hand in his and squeezed it, giving you a little smile and nodded toward the door.

“It’s okay,” he murmured and turned back to the door, knocking overly hard. “Hello!” his voice was comically loud and you felt your cheeks flush, laughing and pushing at him and he gave you a grin. “Just me, your friendly neighbor Steve!”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you hissed through the grin that was creeping across your own lips now and he laughed too.

You could hear a commotion behind the door. Too-loud whispers, a yelp, someone dropping something and a bang against the wall and Steve gave you a look. “What in the hell is going on in there?” he whispered and you snorted, but then the door swung open and you both turned quick.

“Oh, whaaat? No one said you were coming!” Dustin’s voice was a pitch too high, cracking at the end as he tried to feign surprise and you had to bite your lips in to not laugh.

Steve rolled his eyes and you kicked the toe of his shoe with yours.

“Yeah! Here I am!” you played along, shoving your shoulder into Steve’s arm, holding him to his silly string promise as he stumbled in through the door before you and right on cue Lucas and Mike sprang out with two cans each, unloading them all too enthusiastically.

“GOTCHA!” they both yelled and Steve made a strangled noise as his arms flew up to cover his face, streams of blue and purple string covering his hair, his shoulders, his hands.

That finally pulled a real laugh from your lungs, one that should’ve embarrassed you, but it felt too good and when you saw Robin and Eddie doubled over behind Lucas, laughing so hard they were silent, it lifted the weight from your shoulders. Home. Your friends. A moment to just be.

“Okay, okay! Jesus, I think you got it!” Steve blindly waved both arms in front of him, hoping to smack at least one of the boys, but they were both too quick and snuck a high five while your best friend flailed.

Max was popping her gum when you looked up to see who else was inside and as Robin moved to help Steve with the two cans worth of silly string that had settled into his hair everyone crowded around.

“We ordered pizza for later!” El said, eyes bright and smile the same, soft and kind.

“And a movie!” chimed Will.

Max scoffed, “Pfft. Yeah. I wanted Predator, but someone had to veto.”

“Listen you, Dirty Dancing is a fucking masterpiece,” Eddie leveled the younger girl with a look, silver-ringed finger pointing at her with intent and she rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” Max grumbled, but when you gave her a grin she smirked back.

“You and Steve can go get the pizza, it’ll be ready in a couple hours,” Nancy popped out from the kitchen with a wave, Jonathan close behind, “Mom and dad are outta town this weekend so, house to ourselves!”

“RAGER,” Dustin yelped and Steve reached over to roughly tousle his hair.

“Alright, pipe down,” he chided and Nancy waved the towel in her hand at everyone.

“You’re all gonna help clean up when we’re done,” her tone was firm, the same as it always was. Everyone murmured in agreement, a Yes ma’am mumbled from Robin, not one of them wanting to bring the wrath of Nancy upon themselves.

Then, once everyone had gotten a hug or a high five or secret handshake in Max’s case, they all dispersed into the house leaving you and Steve and Dustin in the entryway.

“Thanks for this,” you said quietly to the younger boy, a flush creeping across your cheeks and he gave you a big, wide smile. Reassuring and sweet.

“Duh,” he shot back and with a wink went to follow his friends into the kitchen. “Don’t forget, pizza soon or you’ll have a mutiny on your hands!” he called over his shoulder and you shook your head.

“I swear to god, age means nothing. They’re all still a bunch of little shitheads,” Steve muttered, taking your hand and pulling you along to join everyone else.

You fell into things so easy, just like you always did despite all of you being a little older, though you didn’t feel any wiser. A tangle of arms and legs sprawled across the couch, the floor, voices mingling together, laughter punching holes in conversation as the day spun on. Like nothing had changed.

For everyone else you were sure time was cruel. Tore people apart and drove them away, but with you, with your friends, your family it was different. With them, with you, every hug, every laugh, every smile, every little look was precious because you’d all been through hell and back.

Had watched the earth rip and tear open, gashes swallowing your home and setting loose an evil force that only you all knew how to stop. Had saved each other from the kind of monsters you thought only existed in your nightmares. You’d seen how well Steve could swing a bat full of nails, you learned how to shoot a gun, had made decisions that were life or death, watched your friends all do and endure things that they shouldn’t have.

It was survival mode.

It was patching Steve up every time he got his ass kicked. It was crawling into the shower and scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing because the ash and the blood and the dirt wouldn’t come off. It was everyone piled together in the living room shoulder-to-shoulder to sleep at night because you couldn’t bear to leave, so fucking relieved they were all still alive.

Maybe if things had been different you could’ve told him. Your best friend could’ve become something more, but it was all of you at the end of the world with no guarantees and maybe it was easier to tell yourself the feelings that swelled in your chest were friendship because then if you’d lost one another it’d make it hurt less.

But after you’d come out alive, the Upside Down shut out forever, you felt like you had to leave. Had to physically move to get Hawkins, to get the monsters off your skin, but as soon as you’d opened your first box in your new apartment to unpack you knew you’d made a mistake.

And so you were here. Stuck in this weird in between. Calling Steve every day, like he was your boyfriend. Holding his hand and getting drinks and going to the movies together every time you came home, like he was your boyfriend. Letting him give you a ride home because it was too late, like he was your boyfriend. Never making it home and fumbling up the stairs into his room, like he was your boyfriend.

Everyone else saw it.

Everyone, but you two.

“Hey,” a hand reached up from the carpet and punched into Steve’s leg.

You were sitting pressed thigh to thigh next to him on the couch watching Lucas and Will play the NES Mike had gotten for his birthday, both of them swearing under their breaths in the hope that Nancy wouldn’t hear.

“What the hell, Henderson?” Steve shot back, swatting at the back of his head and Dustin yelped.

“Pizza,” the younger boy drew the word out, all sass and attitude and you held back a snicker.

“Oh,” fell out of Steve’s mouth and he glanced down at his watch then over at you, “Alright, yeah. Guess we gotta go.”

“There’re five of them,” Nance said from where she was snuggled up tight against Jonathan in her dad’s old La-Z-Boy, “Cash is by the door.”

Steve looked over to see a mason jar sitting on the entryway table crammed full of ones and a ton of change and he closed his eyes, fingers moving to pinch at the bridge of his nose, “Great, cool, perfect.”

You had to stifle a laugh as Max glared up from her spot on the floor next to Lucas. Lips twisted in her signature scowl she quirked a brow at him, “What, pizza’s on you then, dad?”

Lucas snorted and tried to cover it up poorly with a cough.

“Little shitheads, all of you,” Steve made a point to wag a finger at them, but everyone ignored him, only a single middle finger raised in reply from Mike. Steve jammed his tongue into his cheek, cursing under his breath as you both got up from the couch and he took your hand in his, “C’mon.”

“Drive safe!” Dustin said, all sing-songy and taunting. Reaching into his back pack he pulled out an extra walkie and chucked it at Steve who fumbled it against his chest, but caught it and hissed more swears but much louder this time.

“Jesus, watch it! What do we need this for?”

“Just in case,” the younger boy said, matter of fact, and Steve sighed.

“Dart and all his shitty little brothers and sisters are dead, Henderson.”

“Just. In. Case,” Dustin repeated and with a shake of his head Steve gave up, pulling you wordlessly out the door and to the car.

The pizza shop felt like a sauna, so damn hot, and as you dumped the change on the counter – because Steve would rather have fought a demogorgon than be the one to pay – the kid standing behind the register scowled at you. He didn’t even bother counting it, just armed the contents into his drawer and shoved the jar back at you.

“Thanks for choosing Life of Pie,” he grumbled, happy to be rid of you both as you struggled not to laugh, but Steve was dying of embarrassment and as soon as the pizza was in-hand he had you back in the car again.

“Paying in all change? Christ,” he muttered, roughing a hand over his face and you finally let loose a laugh.

“Money’s money, Harrington,” you snarked and he shot you a look, but it didn’t hold any heat. It was fond, a flicker of a grin at the way you teased him, he loved it.

“A jar of dimes and pennies? No way, you can’t tell me–” but he stopped short when a crackle of static scratched from the back seat.

“Scoops Troop this is Griswold Family, we have a situation. Do you copy? Over.”

Heads turning at the same time you met Steve’s eyes across the center console, a familiar panic creeping in around the edges of you. Wrapping you up in its grasp and squeezing your chest tight as you tried to swallow it down. That part of your life was over. Wasn’t it?

“Scoops Troop, this is Griswold Family, code red! Do you copy?? Over!”

“What the hell?” Steve’s voice was tinged with the same nerves that gripped you now, but he was working real hard to keep it controlled. Trying to be level-headed. Not jump to conclusions. His brows furrowed, a deep pinch growing between them as he looked at you, praying to whatever god there was that this wasn’t happening and then he tossed his gaze over his shoulder to the back seat.

Shaking yourself you turned awkwardly against your seatbelt, scrambling between the pizzas to grab the walkie. “Griswold Family this is Scoops Troop, w–we copy. What’s going on?” your hand was shaking as you released the talk button, but then you quickly pressed it again as you remembered, “Over.”

“We have a situation, not secure to disclose details here. Proceed to the rendez-vous point at Weathertop. Over!”

Weathertop. The bluff. The giant-ass hill you’d dragged Dustin’s antenna up all those summers ago. The place where you went when everything was going wrong. The place where Suzie saved the world.

Steve grabbed the walkie out of your hand. “What d’you mean a situation? Henderson, I’m gonna need more than that,” his tone was even-keeled, but it held an urgency that made your stomach flip.

Silence greeted both of you on the other end of the walkie and Steve jammed the button down again, “Hey, dickhead, did you hear me?” Nothing. “Henderson?” Still nothing and when Steve pressed the button again you heard his tone shift with worry, but it wasn’t the change in his voice that got you. It was what he said. “Dustin?”

Dustin. Not Henderson. Not asshole. Not little shithead.

Dustin.

Huffing a heavy breath through his nose he crammed the walkie into your lap and shook his head, but didn’t hesitate, not for one second as he flipped a u-turn right there in the middle of the street, the wheels of his BMW squealing against the pavement.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. “There’s–there’s no way. Right?” his voice was pitched higher, reaching, grasping for reality and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. When you didn’t say anything he glanced over at you, shaking his head, practically begging you to answer him, “Right?”

“I don’t know!” came out harsher than you’d wanted it to and you screwed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek to try and bring yourself back to reality. “I don’t know, Steve. I didn’t think so,” you tried again, but he didn’t say anything back and it dragged you back to the moment you decided to leave Hawkins.

“What d’you mean you’re leaving?”

“I don’t know, Steve! I’m leaving. Moving away? Not staying in Hawkins?”

“Okay, alright. You don’t need to be shitty about it.”

“I’m being shitty?”

“Yeah. You’re being shitty. You act like there’s nothing here for you, like nobody gives a shit about you, but you know that’s not true.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Might as well.”

Steve was standing in the doorway to your room, arms crossed over his chest like he did when he had built a wall around himself for protection. Preservation.

You’d asked him over so that you could tell him your plans, tell your best friend you were leaving. It had gone so much better in your head, promising to still talk all the time and visit and things wouldn’t change, but Steve had seen right through it and called you on your bullshit.

“You’re still my best friend,” you protested, taking a couple of steps toward him and he scoffed.

“What is this really about?” he asked, mirroring you and moving into the room, moving toward you.

“Steve…”

“They’re gone! It’s over, you saw the same thing I did. He’s dead.”

Roughing your hands over your face you felt a lump forming in your throat. “It doesn’t matter–”

“Doesn’t matter? C’mon, it’s safe! You don’t need to worry about–”

“Steve!” your hands fell away from your face, tears clinging along the long sweep of your lashes, tone sharp. Hurt. You closed the last few steps between the two of you and tilted your chin up to look into his eyes, to make sure he really heard you, “I can’t wash it off. It’s still there.”

“What’s still there?” he asked, clueless, but ready to prove you wrong.

“All of it. The dirt under my fingernails. That sticky fucking ash, I swear I can still smell it,” your words grew thick with the tears that were welling up. “Blood,” was said softly and you felt a tear slip free down your cheek, “Your blood. My blood. Max’s. Dustin’s. Eddie’s. Robin’s–”

“Hey. Hey,” his arms wrapped tight around you, warm and big and safe and for a second you felt yourself calm. Felt yourself melting into him and you pulled in a shaky breath.

“Steve,” your voice was muffled against his shirt and he let up a little so he could meet your gaze. “I can’t stay.”

And the look you gave him then shattered what little resolve he’d been holding onto because he finally understood. He knew. Knew what it felt like. Still struggled with the nightmares. Still swore he too could smell the sickly ash that fell from the sky in the Upside Down. He understood, but it still hurt.

Letting out a sigh, he didn’t know what to say. All he wanted was you. For you to stay. To say you loved him as much as he loved you, but he got it. The last few years had fucked everything up and while you’d all come out the other side you were changed. Different. And shit, maybe Steve wished he could leave too.

But instead he just pulled you in close again, hugging you tight to his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair and letting his shirt catch your tears as you let them come.

“Jesus!” the backs of your thighs lifted from the seat as Steve jerked the steering wheel hard left.

“Shit, sorry,” he winced with the uneven terrain, pulling off the main road into long, thick grass and through the still broken fence posts you’d first plowed through during Starcourt. The pizza in the backseat bumped with every dirt clod and pot hole and mole hill he ran over until he threw it in park, both of your head’s whipping forward with the sudden stop of movement.

“C’mon,” he unbuckled your belt, then his before reaching over the seat for the walkie and hopping out of the car.

The BMW had made it a little higher than the Todd Father had, but there was still plenty of bluff to climb and when you came around to meet him at the front of the car he grabbed your hand in his.

It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be fine.

Ran on repeat in your head as you tried your best to match Steve’s long strides up the hill, both of you sucking in air as you practically ran, sweat clinging to your foreheads and chests heaving with the effort. At least it was daytime now and you could see where you were going, unlike last time when it’d been the middle of the fucking night.

You thought about what you were going to do if the Upside Down was back, if Vecna was back, and fear brushed against you, an old familiar friend. Made you want to run, want to go back to your apartment and ignore it all and pretend that it wasn’t real, but you watched as Steve ran a hand through his hair. Watched as he climbed. Always so damn comfortable with the panic as it swelled in his chest. Faced it head-on. There wasn’t another option for him. It was simple.

His friends were in danger and he had to do something.

He’d always been braver than you, had always been there to hold your hand through it, always there to encourage you and tell you you could do it. You had it in you. Just a little further and it wasn’t any different when you were little.

Sharing ice cream when one of you tipped yours onto the sidewalk, putting bandaids on each other after scraping your knee when you fell of your bike, rocks on your window well past your bedtime when you were sad and needed company, snuck kisses behind the garden gate when you’d break up with your asshole boyfriend and all you wanted was Steve.

Plenty of too-long pauses and out of breath hesitations that should’ve been filled with I really, really like you. Hell, even I love you and you thought as you climbed that maybe this was it. Maybe you should tell him because maybe you wouldn’t get another chance and the thought of not having him, the thought of losing him again, was unbearable.

“Christ,” Steve heaved, pulling you out of your thoughts as you reached the top. Dustin’s new antenna came into view and while you didn’t know much about radios it was impressive.

Cerebro 2.0. Almost all new parts, nothing bent the wrong way, receiver free of most scratches and dings. A real radio. You almost smiled, but Steve had stopped short and let go of your hand.

“What the…” bending down he crouched next to a small portable stereo that you hadn’t noticed, looking up at you in utter confusion. It was right in front of the receiver with a piece of white printer paper taped to the front. Snatching the note he held it up to you, “I’m sorry, what is this?”

His expression was unimpressed. Irritated. Almost angry and your eyes flicked over to read the messily scribbled red pen.

Push Play.

“I–I dunno–” you mumbled, grabbing it from him and reading it again. It looked like…”–did Robin write it?”

Grumbling under his breath Steve yanked the walkie out from his back pocket and jammed the button down, “Listen here you little shitheads, what is this, huh?”

There was a small crackle of static and then, “Call sign please.”

Steve closed his eyes and pulled in a breath. A silent prayer to give him the strength to not strangle Dustin Henderson when he got down the hill. “Griswold Family this is Scoops Troop, do you copy? Over,” he said the last word like a curse and when Dustin replied his voice was full of cheek.

“Scoops Troop, this is Griswold Family, hear you loud and clear! Over.”

“What the hell is going on? Over,” Steve huffed a sigh, jaw clenched as he waited for the response, but you grabbed the walkie instead and put it down in the grass. “What–what’re you doing?” he asked, waving his arm down at the walkie.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said, shaking your head, and Steve looked like he was going to implode.

“Nothing’s wrong? I’m sorry, no one’s dying? Why’d they call a damn code red if–”

“Steve,” you grabbed his hand. Leaning down you pressed a finger against the play button on the stereo and it whirred to life.

A piano started playing, notes you knew by heart and when you realized what it was you couldn’t help but look up at Steve. His expression softened too and he slowly lowered the hand that had been holding the piece of paper as the song spun on.

Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight, sendin' all my love along the wire…

“Oh, girl, you stand byyyy me!” Steve belted out, tugging the hand of yours he was holding and yanking you into him, pulling a laugh from your lips as you spun around the kitchen together. It was Christmas Eve and snow fell outside covering everything in a soft blanket of white.

“I'm forever yoooours, faithfully!” you sang back, a little unsteady on your feet from all the beer, the sounds of everyone else laughing and shouting from the living room bleeding into the music as it played loud through the stereo on the counter.

“The voice of an angel,” Steve said and you nodded, grinning up at him as he gently swayed you back and forth.

“Not a bad name either,” you teased back and he gave you a grin of his own, chest puffed out proudly.

“Listen, no one is as good as Perry,” he said quite seriously, speaking of his favorite singer with reverence, but then he looked down at you and his expression softened into something warmer. Something familiar, but different. “But I’ll sing with you anytime,” he finished and you felt your breath catch in your throat as the arm he had round your waist pulled you closer, the wide expanse of his hand pressed into the small of your back.

You could see all the little freckles that chased across his cheeks, the twin moles along his jawline, long sweep of lashes hiding big, brown eyes that were warm and gold and hazy like whiskey.

He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, his lips parted but hesitating, unsure of what he wanted to say.

“Steve?” you asked and he blinked a couple of times as if to try and gather his thoughts that you’d scattered across the kitchen just by saying his name.

“Yeah?” he leaned down into you, so close you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek, could feel his chest pressed into yours, swore you could hear his heart beating just as loud as yours.

“Oh god, this song again? Harrington, c'mon,” Eddie stomped into the kitchen with his boots, pulling Steve’s eyes up from you to glare at your friend as he wrenched the fridge open for another beer.

“Really?” Steve shot, a simple one-word question that held a staggering weight and as Eddie cracked the can open he stopped short of bringing it to his lips, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What?” Eddie asked, but then his eyes flicked from you to Steve to you and back to Steve and his eyes grew wide. “Oh. Oh, shit. I’m sorry, you were gonna like–” and then he made a kissy face at you both and Steve’s cheeks burned bright red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Biting your lips in against a laugh you buried your head into Steve’s chest and groaned weakly.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” Eddie said with a wink before slowly backing out of the kitchen, “I was never here.”

Steve heaved a sigh and he gently squeezed you in his arms, never really able to just have a minute but still so thankful to have what you did. To have your friends. To have this. Have Steve.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured and you wrapped your arms tight around him as he softly pressed his lips to the top of your head.

And being apart ain't easy on this love affair, two strangers learn to fall in love again.

The wind picked up across the bluff, tugging at the piece of paper Steve was holding and pulling it from his hand. He scrambled to grab it, but the wind swept it off into the grass that rolled like the ocean and he buried his face in his hands and let out a frustrated groan.

You felt your heart racing in your chest, finally realizing why your friends had pushed you up here, watching as Steve fought the same feelings that had wrapped themselves around you. Realizing this was it. The moment you threw it all into the wind with the paper, the moment you said to hell with it, said what you’d wanted to say all those times before but couldn’t.

I get the joy of rediscovering you.

“They called us all the way up here to listen to a song? I thought someone was hurt! Or–or some nasty flesh monster decided to start melting people again!”

“Steve–”

“What are we twelve? This is ridiculous. And totally irresponsible. We’re still like, at least ten minutes from Nancy’s. The pizza’s probably already cold and no one’s gonna want to eat it and–”

“Steve!” you shouted again, voice breaking through his rambling and he stopped, hair wild from running his hands through it and just stared at you.

“What?” he said, tone short and breathless. His heart was pounding in his chest, reeling from the overwhelming sense of relief, but unable to gain footing against the anxiety dump.

Oh, girl, you stand by me.

You grabbed his hands in yours, gently pulling him closer and closer until you were toe-to-toe, close enough to see his breathing even out. Close enough to see his eyes grow a little less wild, felt him tangle his fingers with yours trying to root himself in reality through you and the way you were looking at him.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you whispered and he hesitated for a split second, brows pulled together at the thought of what this meant, almost pained, but then he closed his eyes and you exhaled. Soft relief, anticipation, finally.

And he leaned down, catching your bottom lip between his in a kiss that said everything you’d wished you’d said so much sooner. A promise you’d made to each other so many times before, but never said aloud. Steve. Your best friend. Your everything.

I'm forever yours, faithfully.

It was slow, tender, planted itself in your chest and bloomed like wildflowers in the field. It was warm like watching the sunset light up the sky from the hood of Steve’s car, sweet like strawberry milkshakes and whipped cream and cherries. Soft like the promises you’d whispered to each other in the dark and when he finally pulled away you fought against a smile, a small laugh falling from your lips.

Steve grinned down at you and gave the same little laugh, still leaned in close as he pulled in his bottom lip. “That little shit,” he murmured and your smile grew into a grin.

“Too big for his britches,” you teased and Steve laughed again, bigger this time and lifted a hand to your cheek, but his expression softened the longer he looked at you.

“No, he’s right,” he admitted and your smile fell a bit at the seriousness of his tone. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

Leaning into his touch you reached up to push his hair out of his eyes and let your hand trail down the line of his jaw, feeling him under your fingertips. “Doesn’t matter,” you murmured, “You can have all of my time, Steve Harrington.”

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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iiwaijime · 1 month

Text

help! we're getting married!? — k. tsukishima

cws; gn!reader, swearing, kissing, sleeping in one bed NO SUS possible ooc and not proofread.

wc; 1227

"do you want to get married?"

you blink, thinking you may have misheard.

"do you want to get married?" he repeats. "to me."

what. you stare at the plate in your hands, dumbfounded. in no way are you prepared for this — today's just a normal saturday night. you're bent over the dishwasher, in your PJs and your old frayed slides. your sweaty hair sticks to your damp forehead, and your hands are covered in grease and soap.

tsukishima is at the table, doing taxes. he's not dressed for any particular occasion, in a loose white button-up and dark coloured slacks. neither of you are in any position for a proposal; his lunch is still half-eaten on the table, and you're both tired and sweaty, and neither of you are dressed well enough for this. but most importantly, you arent even dating!

he pushes his glasses up with a finger, staring at you with his usual lack of emotion. "do you have any hearing problems i haven't heard about?"

"no? are you joking?"

'do i look like i'm joking?" he retorts.

"no, but—"

"there you go, got your answer, didn't you?"

"we arent even dating!" you protest

"yeah?" he says, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "we don't need to."

"fuck's that supposed to mean?" you demand. you're washing your hands now, back turned to him. even though his steps were light, unheard over the sound of splashing water, you still noticed his shadow looming over you. you turn around, exasperated. "what?"

"just give it some thought," he says, and he sounds normal, but there's a weird tension in the air. you know he's aware of it, though, because he pushes his glasses up even though they don't need to be, and runs his hands through his hair, rolling his shoulders back.

it's half past one in the morning, and you stare blankly at the television, feet on kei's lap. he's on the other side of the couch, scrolling on his phone with one hand. the other hand rests on your ankle, thumb brushing the skin gently every now and then. the question hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, until—

"yes," you blurt.

"hmm?" he looks up, putting his phone down. "what was that?"

"yes, i'll marry you." it's stupid, you're stupid to be saying yes to something as life-changing as this, just because of a stupid years-long crush-infatuation thing that you've harboured for him until now.

he nods, businesslike, and you swear you can see the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. "okay."

"why, though?" you ask. "is it like a marriage of convenience? i mean, it's not like you're into me or anything, are you?"

he rips his eyes away from yours abruptly, looking away. but the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire gives you the answer you needed — although it's definitely not what you'd expected. and suddenly you realise that kei tsukishima doesn't remember his other friends' coffee orders or let them put their feet on his lap. he doesn't pin their contacts to the top of the list, doesn't carry them to bed, doesn't pack lunch for them like he does for you. he isn't the kind of guy to show physical affection to anyone — yet you still recall the gentle, loving brush of his knuckles against your cheekbone just a few nights ago, when he'd settled you into your bed. speaking of beds, he doesn't let his other friends sleep in his bed, and he definitely doesn't hold them either, the way he holds you. a small spark of hope rises within you; with it, the flame of attraction and want that you've religiously kept suppressed all these years comes back to life.

"wait, do you?" your voice is half-serious, half-teasing as you yank your legs away from his lap, getting up to advance upon him on your knees instead. except, just before you reach him, you stumble and fall.

kei catches you smoothly, transferring you onto his lap with an effortless grace that is befitting of a 6'5" middle blocker. meanwhile, your hands shoot out to clutch at his shoulders.

"careful," he murmurs, steadying you, hands on your hips. his face — as usual — betrays no emotion, but his leg bounces up and down anxiously beneath you, and his thumb works feverish circles into your hipbone. "you'll hurt yourself."

although grateful for his concern, you acknowledge it with barely a nod, focused on the question you'd asked before. "do you?"

his lips press into a thin line, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "and if i do? what then, will you hate me?"

you laugh, a sound filled with euphoria, joy. "of course not, silly!"

realisation dawns upon his face. "then do you...?"

you nod as he trails off. he doesn't have to finish what he's saying got you to understand; the two of you have always been good at this mutual-understanding-nonverbal-communication thing, after all. he readjusts you on his lap, and you daringly let your hands fall off his shoulders in favour of fisting the material of his shirt instead. "what do you propose we do?"

"i think i have an idea," he replies easily, cradling your face with one large hand. the tips of his fingers thread into your hair, and he angles your head upwards. you can see the lightest smattering of pink dusting his cheeks, and he swallows harshly as your eyes meet his. "that is, if you'll let me."

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he replies hoarsely.

you're not sure who initiates, but a second later, you're kissing him fervently — you're kissing kei tsukishima, and he's reciprocating, too. you can smell the mint from the toothpaste he's used for about ten years now — it's oddly nostalgic compared to the unfamiliar territory you're currently treading with him. he lets you take the lead, leaning back lazily, and only pauses to push his fogged up glasses to his forehead. when you pull away, he's grinning down at you lazily.

"yeah," he repeats.

you swat at his chest, flushing, and he catches your wrists, pulling you in so you collapse into his arms, and holy fuck, the two of you fit together perfectly. "so is that a yes?"

"yeah—" you cut yourself off with a huge yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. there's a different kind of affection in his eyes now as he takes in the vision of you melted into him, and he takes a moment to immortalise it in his brain. "sleepy?"

you nod, eyelids heavy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "thank you. go to sleep, i'll take you to bed."

"whose bed?" you snicker. "yours?"

it all backfires when you wake up much later than intended, kei still wrapped around you. all you'd wanted to do was make fun of him — but now he says he can't sleep without you ever again.

"let me go!"

"it's your fuckin' fault, go back to sleep."

BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS

"so what you mean to say is, you were secretly dating?" asks yamaguchi.

"no, the fuck?"

"but you were dating, right?"

"no, we weren't."

"how does that even work?"

"don't know, don't care. we're married and that's all that matters."

maybe he's hallucinating when he sees tsukishima on the phone, a huge, dopey smile on his face as he talks.

fuckin hate my english teacher she dont know what english is so i wrote this in my english class and answered all her questions too without paying attention cuz im cool like that. also i have a general taglist now so send an ask if you want in

also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎

@akaakeis + @smiithys

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