It downed on me during that scene when Steve realizes something's off about Max and runs up the hill that he has probably been the most reliable grown up male figure in Max's entire life. Let that sink in.
He's always watching over and being stern with her because he knows she can be even more reckless than the rest, since limits haven't been properly taught to her by adults. She has had to be the adult of her house and has forgotten how to be a carefree kid. But Steve is all "Nh-huh, no, you stay put kid." (Exactly as he does with Dustin.) Which is probably why when she stares at Steve for me is a sign that she has come to admire him/trust him as a reliable "adult". (He isn't an adult either but you guys get what I mean.)
Then there's Dustin, you can see how much he trusts Steve not only because of how he always goes to him for help or how he blatantly talks to him as if Steve had his age (when you feel comfortable around someone you totally forget age differences) but also when Steve dives in to the lake, Dustin doesn't panic. He gets worried, yes, but doesn't panic and says "Come on Steve", trusting that he'll resurface.
And Lucas! When Steve ran towards Max he didn't follow him, and we know Lucas cares a whole lot about Max, but still trusted Steve to check on her.
Who else has come to trust Steve? Robin, Nancy and Eddie, obviously. You can see it in how they let him dive in without arguing and even more when they're in the Upside Down. There's a moment when the second round of demobats appears that Robin and Eddie rush to get behind Steve and then there's a shot of the 3 of them slightly behind Steve. They trust Steve with their safety.
All of them trust Steve with their safety.
Let that sink in too.
This is so cute, omg 😭 💛💛
summary: when peter finds himself in another universe like his, he never expects a pretty girl on the other side to completely throw him off.
masterlist.
STOP BECAUSE HIS SMILE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY </3
andrew!peter parker x fem!reader
warnings: fluff, flustered peter, cute lil moments and that’s kind of it? let me know if i missed any :)
don’t steal any of my work, thanks!
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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 in a dark alleyway, breathing laboured as he had been swinging for the past thirty minutes out of boredom. The thump of his feet hitting the ground from a high level echoed down the empty area, not another presence apart from rats scurrying around, savaging for leftover foods.
He stood there for a moment, catching his breath with his hands on his knees bent over. Peter swallowed hardly, pushing himself up as he realised he owed Aunt May a new box of eggs after smashing the last.
His feet began to carry him away before a glowing light appeared in the corner of his eye. His spidey sense was going wild, increasing Peter’s curiosity as the more he turned his head to the glow; the more his spidey sense tingled.
“Peter! Peter” He heard his name called. He tilted his head to the side as the ominous glow spiralled into a circle, a clear new setting growing in the middle. Peter furrowed his brows behind the mask and looked around, wondering if this was meant for someone else. When no one seemed to respond to the people waving to him in the glow, Peter took it upon himself to retreat towards the mystery.
The closer he moved to the other side of the spiral, the more these people encouraged him. Peter had never met these people in his life so how on earth did they know his identity?
As Peter edged nearer to the entrance, he noticed the lookalike teenagers panic and take multiple hurried steps back. His curiosity got the better of him as he leaped into the separate setting and earning screams from everyone in the room at his presence.
Peter’s hands waved around trying to tell the people that he was harmless and only their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. He tried waving at the four in the room, claiming everything is okay while a pillow was thrown at his stomach by a screaming older lady.
His hand raised to the top of his mask and ripped it off on one movement before his eyes scanned the room. The lady who had thrown the pillow had sprinted to the bottom of the stairs, the only boy (excluding Peter) was standing behind the table with his hands out like he was casting a spell. Peter’s eyes drifted to a young, possibly teenage girl stood behind a defensive arm, holding the most confused expression ever. There was a person standing infront of her, like the teenager needed protecting. His eyes travelled up the arm as then landed on you- Oh my God, you.
You were so beautiful. Your hair was falling from the clip secured loosely at the back of you head, locks of hair poking out the top. Your face looked concerned. Your eyebrows were scrunched slightly and your lips were twitched up and apart, showing your teeth which Peter knew you had a gorgeous smile. Peter admired the way your cheeks were flushed a light pink colour when he tore off his mask. His instant favourite part of you were your eyes. He noticed how they softened when you noticed the lack of danger in the room, your lashes adding another layer of beauty to your already perfect face.
“Who are you?” MJ pointed an excusing finger from behind your dominating form at the stranger who jumped through Dr Strange’s portal-magic thing? Peter’s gaze was still on your, “My name’s Peter Parker.” He said slowly, making sure everyone (mainly you but…) hung onto his words and processed them.
MJ looked up to your face, yours still looking at him. “That’s not possible!” She whispered harshly into your ear, making you snap out of your glare from the man.
Peter held his mask in his sweaty palms and lifted both to indicate his face, “I am the Spiderman from my world but yesterday,” His eyes widened and began tripping up on his words at attempts to explain infront of you. “I was just here!” He spoke with uncertainty and began to walk from his stationary spot in the room.
The three of you looked at each other as ‘Peter’ admired the room, gasps leaving his mouth as the house seemed to surprise him more than anything. “Multiverse theory?” He questioned, looking at you mainly. You muttered out a small yes and nodded your head rapidly as he fist pumped the air, letting out a small “I knew it!”
Ned tapped your shoulder and the three of you leaned in, “This has to be because of the spell!” He voice wandered. A hand on your back startled you before you felt Peter lean himself over you, his head hovering above your shoulder. “The spell?” He spoke with glee right next to your face. A beaming smile spread across his face, “A magic spell?” He smiled, feeling a softening glare from you.
Ned and MJ were quick to shake their heads as their voices overlapped one and other, “What spell? There was no spell!”. His excited demure tapped his fingers on your back, “There’s magic here too?” You felt his breath tingle on your cheek as small giggles fell from his lips.
MJ tugged your body back with a pull of your wrist, feeling Peter’s warm touch slip from your back and seeing his smile drop. “Prove it.” She spoke strongly, keeping your wrist in a tight hold. “Prove to us that you’re Spiderman, Peter Parker.”
The man tapped the sides of his suit, “I don’t carry an ID with me, kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing?” His nose scrunched in confusion.
MJ used the hand not holding you to pick up the piece of bread you had raised to your mouth, about to happily eat, to throw at the man in front of you. The bread tapped his chest and did zero harm physically or mentally to the man. His lips upturned and his shoulders shrugged, “Why did you do that?”
Her hand was held up in front of her in a pathetic defence. “She’s trying to see if you have the tingle thing.” You said for the furious girl beside you, thinking some man is trying to imitate her boyfriend.
Peter’s eyes snapped to yours as he heard your angelic voice for the first time, the sigh in your tone made Peter want to grab your face and kiss you so passionately (even though he’s just met you, he knows true love when he sees it.)
He swallowed down his inner voice and said “Yes, I have the tingle thing; just not for bread.” MJ wasn’t convinced.
MJ’s hand snatched to grab another piece and lifted it high in the air. “Can- can you not throw the bread again?” Peter said with confusion laced in his voice. “You’re a deeply mistrusting person,” He raised his hands and he backed away. “And I respect that.” He confessed before he jumped up and stuck his hand on the ceiling.
His legs and one arm holding his mask dangled, his eyes meeting yours and sending a subtle wink your way. Why were you blushing? MJ’s fingers pointed around the ceiling as a odd looking scowl was imprinted on her face. “Crawl around.”
“Crawl around?” He sounded almost offended. His eyes broke from yours as he shook his head with a certain, “No.”
“Yes. Crawl around.” MJ stood her ground.
“Why do I need to crawl around?”
“Because it’s not enough!”
“This is plenty.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is.”
“Nuh uh!”
“It is.”
Peter groaned, “How do I stick to the ceiling?” He squinted his eyes before another piece of bread was thrown at his chest, earning a small laugh from your beside the bickering teenager.
Ned’s grandmother tapped you on the shoulder and explained in the easiest way possible for you, “Ned’s grandma asked if you could get that cobweb in the corner there?” You asked on behalf of her with a scrunched nose, looking at the attractive man holding a face of ‘I’m done’ hanging from the ceiling.
Peter obliged to your words almost instantly as he stuffed his mask to hold in his teeth, as he lifted his body to be on all fours on the ceiling. Ned and MJ glanced at each other as he followed your rules easily and not theirs, both confused on his beg for attention from you.
He cleared the cobweb after a heartless ‘Thank you’ from Ned’s mum. Peter detached himself from the ceiling and landed on the floor directly in front of you.
His chest was close to yours and so were your faces. Your noses nudged slightly as his tall figure leaned over yours, the smile hidden behind his grip on the mask reflected your own. Tension swarmed the two of you as his hand brushed your own ever so slightly.
The unknown moment between the two of you was interrupted at both of your heads snapped towards the new voice in the room. “Wait a minute, he’s not your friend…” The new Peter looked questionably at your Peter.
A newfound silence flooded the room as the two practically had a stare off before they both webbed at each other and swiftly landed on the kitchen island.
Your Peter hopped off the counter and stood by your side, coming shoulder to shoulder with you as the two of you unintentionally blocked out most of new Peter’s words.
Your Peter’s hand grazed your fingers and lightly touched them in an invitation to hold. You opened your hand and felt his warm palm slip into yours. A smile tugged on your face at the heat rising to your prominent cheeks. Sending a teasing smile MJ’s way as she winked at Peter’s height against yours, holding your hand.
A goofy smile spread across Peter’s lips as he held hands with the pretty girl he would soon become more with.
actually love this :(
taglist (let me know if wished to be removed,, you will be tagged in later andrew!peter posts! let me know if you don’t want this haha!)
@tsukishimawhore
@weasleytwinscumslut
@flymeaway-karasuno
@morgane-stark
@panicatwakanda
@krishavania
@lavendersfairy
@jessica2008
@ancailinaerach
@softmullet
@jemimah-b99
@elarasstardust
@anecdoteissues
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Y o u n g L o v e
Pairing: Tate Langdon X Reader
⚠️ Warnings: none ⚠️
Listen to this song while you read:
You slipped into the cold black sheets that adorned your mattress as you prepared yourself for sleep. It was an autumn night and you were ready to fall asleep listening to the rain patter against the glass of your bedroom window. The red panes cast an eerie glow over everything and made your room illuminated in the color. There was something soft and beautiful about it; something you couldn't put your finger on that made you feel as though you were safe and comfortable. Ironically, you were living in a house full of ghosts.
But they were not bad.
Your head hit the pillow and your eyes met the ceiling. It had only been a month since you've moved into the infamous Murder House, yet you were content. The house may have been old and the people may have been rude, but you found yourself here. And you were grateful.
"Hey."
You felt the bed dip next to you and you moved over to the left side to make room for Tate as you participated in your nightly routine. His hand met your back as your face met his chest, your hands reaching up to play with his hair. This is where you felt the safest. Surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and the cashmere of your boyfriend's sweater. The feeling of a now warm bed and the arms resting delicately over your frame. You wouldn't trade this for the world.
Tate kissed you softly on the head; the rain crashing against your window as the storm's intensity increased. Thunder rolled in and made the quiet house alive with the noise of the sky and the universe above. And amongst it all; you were holding your favorite part of the universe in your arms. His short breaths hitting the top of your head and the sound of his heartbeat resonating through his chest signifying that he was both comfortable and in love.
"Hey. Enjoying the rain?" You softly asked him.
He smiled and let out a short laugh. "Of course I am."
He moved your hair out of your face so that he could look you in the eyes. Tate has done a lot of bad in this world. He wasn't always the sweet and loving person you knew him as today. There was a time when his name brought people fear and pain instead of admiration and peace. You were lucky to know him now; you had gone most of your life thinking that people could never change but here he was. Living proof that people aren't always what they seem.
"I love you so much." He said as his gaze met yours. "And I wouldn't trade you for the world." He planted another kiss to your forehead before smiling down at you once more in his arms. In his mind, that's exactly where you belonged, even though there were times where he didn't believe he deserved to have you there. Times when he was alone and found his thoughts drifting to you as they usually did. Times when he saw you leave the house and remembered that you were very much alive. That you still had things to do and people to meet and experiences to have. He felt so selfish for keeping you to himself sometimes knowing that the house was all he could offer you besides from himself. And it crushed him.
As guilty as he felt, having you here tonight made all of his negative thoughts disperse. What had he been so nervous of? Why had he originally fought against the idea of loving you when he first saw you move in? Why had he tried to avoid every attempt of contact you made? Why did he try to convince you that your feelings for him were invalid because you didn't know the truth? It was only when you did find out and you agreed to continue loving him that he let his walls come crashing down.
You still loved him despite his past and the people he's hurt. You still offered to be here and to hold him on nights like these where the loneliness oftentimes took over. You still wore his sweaters and snuggled with him when he felt anxious. You still danced to Nirvana even though it wasn't your taste in music. You still wanted him. And that was more than he could ever ask for.
"Are you okay?" You asked, reaching up to touch his face.
"I'm absolutely perfect."
Lying there, you both fell asleep holding each other and letting the rain drown out the sound of your hearts beating for young love.
He's so hot and for what
OMG wait this is so cute thank you for tagging me!
Last movie I watched: The Neverending Story but specifically the second one because my boyfriend needs noise to sleep and that's the disc we had.
Last book I read: Call Me By Your Name. I was going through another wave of Timothée Chalamet adoration and I thought that it would be cool to finally read the book!
Last song I listened to: 21 C/Delta by Jack Harlow 😭 he's my guilty pleasure artist definitely.
Currently watching: Nothing. I don't usually have the time to sit through TV shows but every now and then I complete one. I was excited for the second season of Alice in Borderland, but I wasn't too pleased with the outcome of season two :(
Currently eating: Pickles and ranch, the best food combo ever on my opinion.
Currently craving: Pickles and ranch which makes sense because I'm eating them.
This was fun! Thanks again for tagging me!
I'm tagging:
@andrewgarfield2022 @blu-ray-ok @leggomylino
💛🦐
tag 9 people you wanna get to know more!
i can't believe that 3 ppl (who i also really wanted to know about and was so interested in reading their takes on this tag) tagged me, i am shocked XDD
thank you so much @thedudewithfivenames , @wantsword , @norttinson <333
ok here we go
three ships: Soapshipping + Narrator/Marla, AngelRicky
favorite ship ever: probably AmberPrice from Life is Strange :")
last song: skeletons by snake eyes
last movie: can't remember 😭 probably was rewatching fight club (for the plot of course)
currently reading: american psycho!
currently watching: you on netflix. great show, s1 joe won my heart
currently consuming: nothing but i plan on making morning coffee lol
currently craving: some flaming hot chips rrrrrrrr need those like right in this moment
feel free to ignore! i'm tagging @shynarrator , @hobisfavoritespritecan , @blondedmuse , @narraticn aaaand i think that will be all since i'm kinda scared to bother people x))
STRANGERS FROM HELL
Seo Moon-jo:
You're My Salvation: just a little one-shot of Moon-jo and his sadomasochism. It's kinda fluffy, but also really yandere-ish!
(Romance/Slight Angst/Yandere)
Atonement: Finding out what Moon-jo really does for a living.
(Romance/Yandere)
Overcompensate: Moon-Jo develops a sudden infatuation with Jongwoo's girlfriend.
(Romance/Yandere)
Glimpse of Us
Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson
⚠️ Warnings: this whole thing is just painful ⚠️
"You fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you..."
The unfamiliar song started to play softly through the speakers of Steve Harrington's car, leaving him with a feeling of dread and sorrow. It was a foggy afternoon and the trees surrounding the town of Hawkins were tall and provided shade from the very little sun that poked through the clouds. It was darker than usual, a reflection of how Steve felt inside. The soft smell of petrichor filled his senses as he rolled the window down in an attempt to catch the air as he drove by. He was by himself today. No Henderson from the backseat to shout and cheer at the latest adventure they had. No Robin in the passenger side fixing her mascara and droning on about her love of Vickie. No one but the crisp cool air and soft rain starting to fall from the sky, so soft one might miss it if they weren't actively feeling rainy inside. Steve tousled his hair and wiped at his face as he continued down the path to the familiar clearing in the woods; somewhere he would be completely isolated and alone.
Pulling up alongside the road, he put his car in park and slumped against the wheel. His head hurt from the night before as he had stayed up later than normal, drinking an endless amount of coffee to get him through work and then through home. His cardigan felt heavier than usual as he wrapped it around himself quickly, trying to trap in any warmth before turning off the car and walking outside.
The King of Hawkins High now had a slight limp in his walk ever since the battle for his home. His hair was starting to lighten up at the roots and he had lost a couple pounds. Chiseled jawline and sad eyes completed the forlorn look he now wore with contemptness. Vecna was a thing of the past, but the pain the monster left him was far greater than anything that could truly heal over time. Today was full of nostalgia for him so he decided to release his emotions in the only way he knew how to; talking to Eddie.
The trees eventually opened up into the bright and beautiful field he had known all too well; the grassy meadow was a bright yellow in contrast to the darkness of the rest of the world which Steve figured was his friend's doing. Such a happy corner of the universe but such a sad day it held within its corners. 1986.
Eddie looked lovely today. The birds were flying overhead in intricate but beautiful patterns in the sky, keeping a watchful eye on everything happening down below. They paid no mind to Steve as he frequented this place often. Besides from Dustin, he was the only other human to walk this place with the knowledge of what it truly meant. Visions of Eddie running around with Dustin himself, bright eyed and beaming grins as they pranced about the meadow with their makeshift swords and shields. Robin and Steve had sat alongside the outside as they shaped spears using what they had gathered. Erica and Lucas fighting over the binoculars as they playfully expressed that they cared for each other. The last time when things were truly perfect, Steve thought to himself as he sunk to his knees by the site where Eddie rested now.
"Eddie Munson. The Hero of Hawkins."
The inscription was clear even though the rest of the grave had been worn away after quite some time. It was small so it would've been glanced over if you weren't on the lookout for the home of the Hellfire Club leader. There were a few sprouts of miscellaneous plants growing out from some of the sides and around the lot. The dead rose from the last time Steve came to visit laid atop, waiting to be replaced with another flower. He fished into his cardigan and pulled out another rose similar to the other one, although this one was very much alive. The petals were vibrant and dewey, matching the surroundings of the meadow and the sky overhead.
"Hey Eddie." Steve said, getting comfortable on the ground and fiddling with the grass. "It's been a while."
"Nancy and I will have to visit with the kids someday soon." He began, working towards trying to have the confidence speaking out in the open like this. A faint smile appeared on his face as he said his next lines.
"The meadow looks beautiful as ever, Eddie. I can see all the work you've put into it. Your aura was always a contagious one."
Steve swallowed back a tear as he ran his fingers over the inscription he had paid for himself. Eddie would always be known as the hero, even if it was only to a few people who resided in Indiana. Funny how your world can be comprised of a few science kids and a couple college friends. Or how it used to be, anyways. Before everyone grew up.
"We named our oldest after you. Ironically, he's very into Metallica. You would be so proud of your namesake." Steve said, feeling proud for a moment at the mention of his son. Him and Nancy had gotten married in the summer of '99. She had worn a plain and simple wedding dress but she looked beautiful as ever in it, hair pinned to the top of her head and a pearl necklace around her neck. Her smile had beamed so brightly that day and Steve felt like the luckiest man in the world.
"Robin apparently still visits Hawkins from time to time. She moved to Washington not long after everything went down in Hawkins. She said she couldn't take it anymore. We had a party for her and then she left the next day. I haven't heard from her since." The mention of his best friend made him crinkle his nose in fondness, remembering the night they spent drugged in the bathroom of the Starcourt Mall and her coming out to him as a lesbian.
"I know Henderson comes to see you with his family sometimes. He's almost always over at our place. He keeps me updated on everything happening in his household. Turns out, he's a great babysitter too. He tells Eddie all about you and about how great you were."
"Lucas became a professional basketball player for the Indiana Pacers. He's quite good, it turns out that he's found his people and his talent. He and Max still have some unfinished business, but as far as I know she lives alone after her mother passed not too long ago. She's doing better now since she woke up from that coma, volunteering at the local hospital. She went back to college to get a degree in nursing."
Steve tried his best to explain everything he knew. Eddie was the glue that seemed to hold their group together. After his passing, everyone went their separate ways and Steve felt very isolated. He missed his kids and the way it used to be sometimes, especially on days like today. But the same part of him that yearned for their reunion was the same part of him that was ever so pleased they all ended up okay. He couldn't be anything but proud of them after they all worked so hard to get where they were.
"The Byers still live in Lenora. Hopper went with them and he got married to Joyce. Jonathan went off with Argyle and started their own clothing line. It's pretty ridiculous, but I've heard that they're making a ton of money from it. Eleven is still with Mike. They visit us sometimes too when they can. They're still distraught over Joyce and her death not long after they had gotten married themselves. Nance and I went up to see them and it was almost as if the whole gang was back together. You would've loved it!"
Steve was laughing now as he explained their wedding even further. It was a shame that Joyce had contracted an illness but she didn't go down without a fight. Hopper visits her grave all the time when he's not too busy working for the post office. He still takes care of Eleven and adopted her the moment he was able to.
"Will is working as a librarian and he got married but that's about all I know. He's the one kiddo that hardly keeps in contact anymore. I heard he's a published author, but I don't know the titles of any of his works."
Steve stopped his rambling and stared down at the plants poking out from the grave. It was refreshing to see some new flowers popping up here and there, a contrast from the yellowing of the meadow grass. It was now starting to rain harder and he could feel the water droplets hitting his head, almost like the ticking of a clock telling him that his time with Eddie was almost up. He composed himself from his slight moment of fondness and looked down at the shining stone beneath his feet.
"Eddie." He said, moving towards the top of the gravestone and petting it in the same way he used to pet his long curly brown hair that was always mischievously framing his face and flying about. Eddie would smoke cigarettes while Steve played with it as he laid on top of his friend and played some of his Corroded Coffin guitar solos. His smile would light up Steve's entire room as the eccentric metalhead boy would sit on the end of the bed and laugh with him about their music tastes and the typical drama of the day. Eddie's Hellfire notebook would be sprawled out on the floor as he placed back and forth while he talked about what was to be expected from their next campaign while Steve listened intently. He would tilt his head if Steve had any ideas to offer and would jump up and down if something he had said would be added to the exciting fun of DND. Munson would run around in Steve's bomber jacket when it was cold. He would hold his hands when he wanted him to know something important so that he would have Steve's undivided attention. Eddie would prance around the field with Black Sabbath blasting through his Walkman. He would yell up at the night sky and ask for the universe to lift the curse that held him to Hawkins.
"I never stopped loving you." Steve admitted. Before he headed back towards the warmth of his car, he took off his cardigan and placed it atop Eddie's final resting place and smiled. "So you don't get cold, is all." He said.
Steve didn't believe in God or any particular religion, but he knew that somewhere somehow, Eddie heard every word.
TXT COMEBACK!!!!
These photos are going to be the death of me omg.
This just made my day omg it's so cute 💛🦐
Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.
“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.
“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.
Words: 2.4k
A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.
It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.
But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.
There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.
You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.
“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”
You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.
“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.
“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”
Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.
“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”
“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.
“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.
“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.
“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”
“This feels like the start of a por—”
“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.
“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.
“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”
***
As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.
For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.
When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.
“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”
You had no idea.
“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.
“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.
“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.
His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.
“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.
He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.
“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”
Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.
“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.
“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.
“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”
“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”
The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.
You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.
Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.
“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”
You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”
He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.
“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”
You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.
Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”
He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.
Bones And All
Lee:
Passenger: Lee would follow you to the ends of the earth. A night he thought he was showing you just how much he loves you has to be reevaluated when he understands the pain you've been put through in the past.
(Romance/Smut/Fluff)
💛💛💛💛💛💛💛
Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson
Fandom: Stranger Things
AU: Soulmate
Summary: After crashlanding in the mystical magical world of the 1980s, you discover that you have not one, but two soulmates and they are determined to take the best care of you they possibly can.
Note: Takes place sometime after Season 4 I guess?? Everyone lives and is happy (even though we don’t have those answers yet lmao). Also, yes another Soulmate AU. So sorry, but I am trash. Consider this my apology for discontinuing Stranded lol.
Warnings: poly fluff, swearing
Word Count: 3.2k
Reader Is: Female
Holy fuck, did your head hurt. Your ears were ringing really loudly and everything was black. Add to the list your limbs felt like they were full of sand and you were not having a good time. After a long moment, the ringing began to subside enough to make out some (unfamiliar) voices, who seemed to be bickering above you somewhere.
“She needs to go to a hospital. Like, now.” One of the voices argued. “Look at her.”
“And tell them what, Steve, that she fell from the sky?” Another voice, this one younger, replied.
“I don’t know, man, I think Harrington’s right. She doesn’t look so good.” A third voice, this one a bit deeper than either of the others, said. “Add to that the fact that she fell from the fucking sky.”
You tried your best to lift your eyelids, but everything was so heavy. Too heavy to move.
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