c0s-lettuce

[c0s-lettuce]

My sexuality is whatever this is

[c0s-lettuce]

three words, eight letters

peter parker x reader

synopsis: who said dating your coworker isn't fun? especially when he's also secretly spider-man and gives you the opportunity to interview him.

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: photographer!peter parker x journalist!reader, gender not mentioned, coworkers at the daily bugle, based on a scene from superman but not required knowledge to read this fic

a/n: i watched superman and rewatched tasm recently, so this is a product of the two movies, with a splash of daredevil: born again hehe. stay punkrock everyone <3

It's been a long day at the Daily Bugle. You spent a good chunk of it stressed out and getting told off by your boss for being too biased in your latest article, before he decided to just approve the publication regardless.

It's no secret that J. Jonah Jameson despises Spider-Man. But much to his chagrin, his overly hateful and objectively opinionated reports about the so-called superhero never do as well as the articles you write. Otherwise, you're sure you would've been fired a long time ago.

But perhaps you are biased, due to the little-known fact that you're dating Peter Parker, who just so happens to be the secret identity of the infamous Spider-Man.

As Peter Parker, he's a photographer at the Bugle and a frequent victim of Jameson's verbal abuse. As Spider-Man, he's the kind of person you write about in your articles.

Because of that, he saves the photos he takes of himself as Spider-Man just for you. And so, your names would often be paired together. A totally unbiased article by you, accompanied by a suspiciously high-quality photo by Peter Parker.

Which brings you back to the stressed-out part. Peter has been becoming less and less subtle, and you're worried it's a matter of time before someone connects the dots, both about your relationship and his identity. Not to mention the trouble he's been getting into recently.

But you let the topic rest as you focus on getting home, desperate for some food and rest. You ride the dingy elevator up to your floor and trudge down the hallway to your apartment, unlocking the door and making your way inside.

You drop off your belongings at the entrance and hang up your coat. But you freeze when you hear clanging sounds coming from the kitchen. Reaching down, your hand finds the baseball bat you keep by the front door.

You hold it up and carefully step into your apartment. But as you peek into the kitchen, your eyes land on a familiar dark-haired individual. He stands in front of the stove, his back facing you.

You let out a huff, lowering your bat. "What are you doing here?"

Peter turns, greeting you with a smile. "It's been three months since our first date," he says, gesturing to the stovetop. "So to celebrate, I'm making you spaghetti and meatballs."

You lean the bat against the door frame and step into the kitchen. "Spaghetti and meatballs? Seriously?"

"What's wrong with spaghetti and meatballs?" he asks.

"Nothing," you answer. "Just wondering why you're not going for something more... sophisticated."

Peter grins wider, stepping away from the stove to approach you. "Oh, is my cooking not good enough for you?"

Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, his hands reaching for your waist. Any words you have left to say vanish as Peter kisses you deeply. You reciprocate immediately, cradling his head with your hands and kissing him back.

He lifts you up effortlessly, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you. Without breaking the kiss, he gently places you atop the counter and stands in the space between your legs.

His arms wrap around your waist, and he pulls your body closer. He grinds against you, the soft hum that escapes your mouth only encouraging him further.

He keeps up his ministrations, his hands touching you in all the right places, his body moving against yours in all the right ways. But then, the moment is interrupted as he begins to laugh softly.

"What?" you ask, smiling in response.

"That was very funny, what you did today at work," he says between kisses. "Giving me a hard time for my photos. Eddie was eating it up."

You roll your eyes as he trails his lips down your neck. "I wasn't trying to be funny, Peter. If you keep taking photos of yourself, eventually, people are going to figure out you're Spider-Man."

He pulls back, meeting your gaze. "Yeah, but I wear a mask."

You sigh, brushing the hair away from his face. "It won't protect you forever. And it doesn't help that you only ever let me use your photos."

Undeterred, he smiles and leans back in, continuing to pepper soft kisses along your neck. "So, what? You gonna stop writing articles about me?"

"I mean, yeah," you answer. "It's probably for the best."

He hums against your skin, his voice soft. "What if I let you interview me?"

You pause, pulling back to look at him. "You're serious? You'd let me interview you as Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs.

"How about now?" you ask.

Peter hesitates for a moment. He had hoped to be doing... other things with you tonight. But you look so excited about the prospect of this interview. And he's always found it difficult to say no to you.

So, he agrees and follows you into the living room. He watches from the armchair as you retrieve your voice recorder and sit across from him on the couch. You switch the recorder on, placing it on the coffee table.

"Ready?" you ask.

"Yeah, bring it on," Peter replies.

You take a deep breath and begin. "Spider-Man. You've been under a lot of fire recently for your involvement in-"

"I wouldn't say it's a lot of fire-" he interrupts.

"It's a lot," you assert. "Today, the mayor, Wilson Fisk, made a public statement about your efforts in interrupting his plans for progress."

Peter makes a face, a smirk and a subtle roll of the eyes.

So you ask, "Is that funny?"

"It's not funny," he answers. "It's just... come on. His plans for progress? I'm the only one who's actually trying to help people."

"How so?"

"Fisk is trying to tear down old apartment buildings, buildings that people still live in, by the way. So, I put a stop to it."

"By doing what?"

"By preventing the demolition from happening. Webbing up the crew, making the equipment and machinery unusable, stuff like that."

You raise your eyebrows. "You webbed up the crew?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "Just so they couldn't move. No one was hurt."

"Right," you continue. "And have you interacted with the mayor at all during this?"

"No," Peter admits. "He barely speaks to anyone outside the press."

"What about the deputy mayor for housing?"

"Also no."

"The HPD department?"

"No."

"The director of city planning? Or any official personnel before you took matters into your own hands?"

Peter groans, standing up as he begins to pace. "No, okay? People were going to lose their homes, that's why I acted. Besides, those guys all technically work for the mayor anyway."

You watch him from the couch. "Okay. So essentially, you intervened in a government-sanctioned redevelopment project-"

"No, no. Hold on-" Peter tries to speak.

But you continue. "-a project that is taxpayer-funded, by the way-"

"-that's not the point-"

"-for buildings that are already toeing the line when it comes to complying with regulations? To what, help people?"

Peter sighs. "Yes. They can't just kick people out of their homes. I mean, where are they supposed to go while the buildings are under construction?

"The mayor has announced plans for temporary housing," you say.

"Temporary," he scoffs. "Yeah, right. As if he actually cares."

"This is on the record, Spider-Man," you warn him.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Now you're just being dishonest."

You furrow your brow. "How am I being dishonest?"

Peter is about to respond, but stops. He picks up the recorder, struggling slightly to pause the recording.

When he's successful, he turns back to you, his voice lower now. "You're being dishonest because you know as well as I do that Wilson Fisk is corrupt."

"I think that's almost certain, but I don't know that as a fact," you reply.

Peter lets out a huff. "He's literally a criminal."

"Yeah, I know, but that doesn't necessarily prove anything," you argue. "Look, can we continue?"

"Fine," he says, flopping back down in the armchair.

You also sit back on the couch, resuming the recording. "Alright, Spider-Man. I have to ask, why does this issue matter to you? Are you personally affected by the mayor's plans?"

"Well, not personally," he answers. "But that doesn't mean I don't care. The people who are affected, they're our neighbours, our friends. They could be the people who run your favourite bodega down the street or make the best sandwiches in the whole city. They matter. All of them."  

"And why do you think it's your responsibility to help?" you ask.

"Because I can, I should," he says. "Someone very close to me once said that with great power comes great responsibility."

You pose the question, "Who was it that told you that?"

But he shakes his head. "I can't say. You know I can't say."

You nod. "Okay."

"But that's all I've been trying to live by," he continues. "I'm just trying to do the right thing. You know, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man and all that."

"Alright," you pause for a moment before resuming. "So, you strive to do good, but some people label you as a vigilante-"

Peter groans, standing up again. "Vigilante. Seriously? You know how much I hate being called that."

"This is on the record, Peter." You remind him. "I'm not trying to imply you are one. It's just what people have been saying."

He sighs deeply, clearly fed up. "I should go."

"What?" You stand up. "Come on, Peter. Don't do this."

He goes to pick up his bag and jacket. "I'm not doing anything."

"No?" you ask. "That's not you packing up and walking away?"

"I'm not..." he huffs. "I just have other stuff to do-"

"You always do this when you're faced with conflict. You get mad, you pout, and you pretend like nothing's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong. Look. I gave you a nice, long interview, okay? Plenty to write about in your next article."

"Yeah, how gracious of you." You mutter, picking up the voice recorder. "God, I knew this would never work."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks.

"Nothing," you tell him, stopping the recording. "I just told you I wasn't good at relationships."

Peter doesn't respond straight away and just stares at you for a moment. But you refuse to look at him, keeping busy by fiddling with the recorder.

"Okay," is all he says, before he begins to walk away.

You only look up when you hear the front door close, and you immediately feel regretful. Seconds later, you approach the door and poke your head out into the hallway, hoping he might still be there. But he's already gone. So, you retreat into your apartment alone.

As you return to the kitchen, you notice the spaghetti sauce still simmering on the stove. Remembering how the night started only worsens your guilt. Peter had come to surprise you for dinner. Now you're not even sure how badly you messed things up.

You serve yourself some of the food, the nice taste providing a mild sense of comfort. But the rest of the night is quiet in your lonely apartment, and you do little to pass the time. Once you get into bed, your exhaustion catches up, and you manage to fall asleep quickly.

It's not until hours later that you're woken up by a noise. You hear your window sliding open, but you don't react. The sound has grown familiar to you in the past few months. Peter enters your room quietly, closing the window behind him. He strips down to just his shirt and boxers before approaching the bed.

He lifts up the covers and slides in behind you, immediately reaching out and holding you against his chest. He takes a deep breath, letting your presence soothe him. You lay a hand over his in response.

After a short while, he speaks up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left."

"I shouldn't have grilled you," you reply.

"You were just doing what you do best," he says. "It's my fault I couldn't handle it."

Another moment of silence passes before you speak. "The spaghetti and meatballs were delicious, by the way."

He lets out a quiet laugh. "I'm glad you liked it. It's my Aunt May's recipe."

"She clearly raised you well," you tell him.

Peter smiles, pulling you closer. "Can we try this again tomorrow? Dinner, I mean."

"I'd like that a lot," you respond.

"Great," he says. "I promise not to do anything stupid this time."

You let out a chuckle. "Yeah, me too."

Peter takes another deep breath as he holds you tighter. He nuzzles his face against your neck, placing a soft kiss on your skin. Your heart feels lighter now that you're back in his arms, and you're sure he feels the same.

But as he falls asleep, he mumbles a few words. It's muffled, and you can't quite make it out. But it sounded suspiciously like everyone's favourite three-word, eight-letter sentence.

You're not sure if he meant to say it out loud. But soon enough, you fall asleep too, with a smile on your face.

[c0s-lettuce]

i love you superman

[c0s-lettuce]

your orbit (pt. 2)

steve harrington x reader

synopsis: after breakfast, a shopping trip and a walk through downtown hawkins, things finally start going right for steve.

-> or the salvation of steve harrington's heart over the course of a morning.

word count: 3.7k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, set around s4 but no upside down, quintessential teenage troubles, steve still really loves you, childhood best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, steve gets his girl <3

a/n: i am very sorry this took so long. life really got to me these past few months. please accept a playlist as consolation (linked below). thank you to everyone who read part one, i am so grateful for all the love! i hope you like part two :)

this is part two, read part one here!

listen to the official playlist here!

6 AM

When Steve awakens, he's met with a pleasant calmness. It's a stark difference from what he usually feels: dread, indifference or lingering fatigue, depending on the day. He notices how quiet it is, the storm having settled overnight. Not even the birds have woken up for the day yet, let alone the residents of Hawkins.

But Steve's mind is still fuzzy from sleep. His brain functions on its lowest gear as he takes in his surroundings. It's warm in bed. Very warm. He swears he's never felt more comfortable. But it's only when he stirs that he realises why.

There's a weight in his arms, one that's painfully familiar. Blinking his eyes open in the dim light of dawn, he finds you tucked into his embrace. His chest is flush against your back, one arm wrapped around your torso, and the other rests under your neck. It's gone slightly numb from the pressure, but Steve can't find it within himself to care.

You're sleeping soundly, safe and cozy under the covers. Your breath is soft, and your hair is a bit of a mess. It's probably no better than Steve's own hair, he supposes.

You're still wearing his shirt, now slightly rumpled from sleep. And your hands are holding onto his, clutching his arm to your chest. Steve is lucid enough to wonder, just for a second, if you're aware of what you're doing.

He feels an undeniable and almost overwhelming swell in his chest. But it's far too early to identify the exact emotion, far too early to care about anything but how good he feels and how in tune he is with you. His eyelids are heavy, and he acts on pure instinct as he snuggles closer, holding you even tighter.

You remain asleep as he nuzzles his face against your neck. Your presence fills his senses, and your body feels like heaven in his arms. And before long, he gives back in to the alluring call of sleep.

7 AM

Steve snoozes for another hour or so and is much more conscious when he wakes again. He finds that within that time, you had turned to face him and buried yourself against his chest.

It's adorable, almost like you're hiding from the bright morning light that has begun to fill the room. Your arm is wrapped around his torso, your hand gently clutching the fabric of his shirt. And he's pretty sure you're drooling a little bit.

He should be enjoying this moment right now. But no. This time, he panics. He almost expected to wake up and realise that everything that had happened last night was just a dream. But it wasn't. It's real. You're real.

Steve should've known something like this would happen. He should've insisted on taking the guest bedroom. He doesn't want you to wake up and be weirded out. God, that would be a nightmare.

Maybe it's not too late to slip away, to pretend nothing happened and that he had stayed on his side of the bed for the whole night. But then again, he doesn't really want to.

So, he wills himself to stay still. To stay calm so his beating heart doesn't wake you. But when he looks at you, all he can think about is how easy it would be to lean in and kiss you awake.

He let out a soft sigh, forcing the idea out of his head. Instead, he remains silent, focusing on his breath. He's finally able to calm himself down after some time, something he's had to get good at when he's around you.

But just as Steve starts to appreciate the peace and intimacy of the moment, you begin to stir. His anxiety spikes as he anticipates your reaction.

But all you do is quietly grumble before cuddling up to him even more. Steve's heart melts as you do so, and he relaxes instantly. A grin tugs at his lips as he feels both amused and relieved. He waits to see if you'll do anything else.

When you don't, he speaks up quietly. "Hey, you awake?"

You grumble again and murmur, "No."

Steve chuckles, pulling back just far enough to look at your face. Suddenly, his anxiety is gone, replaced by a special kind of courage. As if he could do anything as long as he had you in his arms. And right now, that includes dealing with your early-morning grumpiness.

So, he decides to tease you. "You know, I don't remember you ever being this clingy before."

You frown, your eyes squinting open to glare at him. "I'm not being clingy."

He laughs again, finding your expression more endearing than intimidating, and replies, "Sure, you're not, sweetheart."

You don't protest further as he lifts a hand to brush the hair away from your face. Despite your efforts, you quickly relax under his touch, your eyes fluttering closed again.

A peaceful silence passes as Steve continues, drifting his fingers against your cheek. He can't believe how sweet you look, your face smushed against the pillow and features soft, only for him to see.

The urge to kiss you returns, to press his lips on each of your cheeks and pepper a trail from your forehead to the tip of your nose before finally landing on your lips.

But before he can get ahead of himself, he redirects his thoughts and breaks the silence. "Hey, are you hungry?"

"Mm, yeah," you mumble in response, your eyes still closed.

"Let's go have some breakfast then," he suggests.

You respond with another hum but make no effort to move. You're clearly still unwilling to wake up just yet.

But Steve persists, propping himself up and gently nudging you, "Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up."

You let out a groan as the possibility of getting more sleep dwindles. And you ignore how sweet the laugh you hear is as you force yourself out of bed.

8 AM

Once in the kitchen, Steve manages to fish out a tin of pancake mix from the pantry. And after quickly confirming it isn't expired, the two of you get to work. Despite the squabbling over instructions and the small mess you make, the atmosphere is light-hearted and easygoing.

Fortunately, the pancakes end up decent. You set the table, accompanying your breakfast with syrups, butter and fruit, along with something to drink. It's the perfect scene for two.

Steve watches as you take a seat at the table. You look soft, and a hint of sleepiness still lingers in your eyes. You're sitting where you've always sat, in the seat to his right. He's seen this view many times in his life, but it still makes his heart flutter. It's a place where you've always belonged.

The last time you were here would have been at least five years ago, when you were both still in middle school and your only worries were finishing homework and planning hangouts. Now, you're both nearing the end of your teenage years and at varying levels of jadedness. Still, Steve wouldn't trade this for anything.

It does, however, inspire his next topic of conversation.

"So, are you excited to graduate?" he asks.

You scrunch your face and shake your head. "God, no. I am not ready to be an adult."

Steve chuckles. "Well, once you're in college, you'll still have a good four years of goofing off."

You make a face of dread. If only Steve knew how you've been feeling about college. For the past few months, different ideas and opinions have been warring for dominance in your mind.

Steve notices your expression, but continues. "Speaking of, have you heard back from any schools?"

You shake your head. "No, not yet."

He nods. "Anything you're hoping for? You're not thinking of running off to California or something, are you?"

You let out a laugh. "Uh, no. Probably not."

Steve smiles along, but secretly feels relieved. The thought of you leaving Hawkins... well, it's unthinkable. He would sooner follow you halfway across the world than have to say goodbye.

You continue. "I really don't know yet, it's..."

Your words trail off as you try to figure out how to best explain your thoughts. But when you fail, Steve seems to understand regardless.

He places a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, don't stress. Take some of that advice you gave me last night, yeah?"

You crack a smile, his words succeeding in making you feel a bit better. "Yeah, okay."

He gives you a reassuring squeeze before letting go. As he goes back to his pancakes, you can't help but admire the boy sitting next to you. And a feeling too close to nostalgia and something else fills your heart.

9 AM

Lighter topics are discussed as the morning passes, and soon enough, all the food is gone. But as breakfast wraps up, Steve starts dreading the inevitable goodbye. Staying for breakfast was reasonable enough, but how could he get you to stay longer?

How could he get you to stay forever?

Maybe if he got on his knees and begged, that would get the message across. Steve shakes his head at his own desperation, but you don't notice his distress as you survey the contents of his fridge.

"Did you have any plans for lunch?" you ask.

Steve looks up, his brain buffering for a moment before responding. "You're already thinking about lunch?"

You shrug. "Just wondering. The fridge is very empty."

Steve cringes. He knows he has poor eating habits whenever he's left alone. He can cook a decent meal if needed, but it's honestly easier to just have takeout or leftovers.

"Uh, no. Haven't thought that far ahead yet," he admits.

"Hm, okay," you say, still scanning the contents of the pitiful fridge.

"Why? What are you thinking?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply. "Just thinking maybe we could make something together again."

Steve blinks in surprise. Are you offering to stay for lunch? Without him having to beg you?

But then you speak up again. "Or not. You're probably sick of me by now."

"Oh my god, no," he answers quickly. "No. Please, stay. Lunch sounds great."

You grin, appreciating his response. "Okay. Maybe we could go get some things from the store then?"

He nods, relieved. "Yeah. Yeah, for sure."

"Great. I'll go get changed," you say.

As you head back up to his room, Steve quietly celebrates to himself. That was much easier than he expected. He does a quick clean-up of the table before following after you, his spirits even higher than they already were.

Steve gets changed after you. You still have the clothes you were wearing yesterday, but you accept when he offers you one of his jackets to wear on top. And seeing you actually wear it makes him feel... a lot.

Once you're both ready, you head out to the car. He gets the door for you, after internally debating with himself whether or not that would be too much. But when you smile and thank him, he forgets all about it.

As Steve begins driving to the grocery store, he glances over at you in the passenger seat. You've taken it upon yourself to set the radio, pressing buttons and turning knobs as if you belonged here. And in that moment, Steve decides this is exactly where you belong.

10 AM

Steve is loving this. He's doing his best not to let it show, but he's loving this. Walking down the aisles of Bradley's Big Buy to buy groceries with you. It's so peaceful, so domestic. It's like a dream come true.

Steve lets his mind wander as he follows you around the store, having been assigned shopping basket duty. He allows himself to pretend that this is a regular thing, that the two of you do this together all the time.

He likes to imagine that's what it looks like to the other people at the store, that the two of you are partners on your weekly shopping trip. That you're getting groceries to bring back to the home you share.

No, Steve thinks. This isn't pretend. This is preparation for the future.

While Steve is in his daydream, you're picking out ingredients for lunch and smuggling the occasional snack. The basket fills up quickly, and you make your way to the checkout once everything is acquired.

When all the items are scanned and bagged, Steve steps forward, fishing out his wallet to pay for the purchase. The sight is endearing to you. It's a simple act, but one that makes you think of how Steve used to always look out for you. Before... everything happened.

Your relationship with Steve has been complicated, to say the least. A year ago, you would've never expected to become friends with him again. But so much has changed since then.

As you watch him, bathed in the fluorescent light of Bradley's Big Buy, your mind wanders back to when it all started again. You remember being wary of Steve. No matter how you wanted to recount the past, the simple fact, and the most important of all, was that he hurt you.

But then, Robin started working with him during summer break. And not long after, she revealed to you that he was changed, that he was actually kind of a loser now (her words, not yours).

And so, you tolerated his presence for the sake of visiting her at Scoops Ahoy. It was awkward at first. He would be stunned into silence every time you came, and you would resort to ignoring him. But he recognised that this was his chance to win you back and prove that he really is different now.

He started memorising what time you would visit, preparing a scoop of your favourite flavour that he still recalls. But then he'd lose his nerve minutes before you'd arrive and would ask Robin to give it to you instead before hiding in the back until you left. You knew this because Robin would tell you every time it happened.

But despite your best efforts, Steve started to grow on you again. Even his work uniform was strangely charming. And when he finally summoned the courage to give a proper apology, you practically forgave him straight away.

It was too easy after that, almost like you fell back into the rhythm that the two of you lost all those years ago. He was just like you remembered. Gentle. Sweet. Caring. A complete dork. A bit of a baby sometimes. Your best friend.

Falling in love with him came next. It happened suddenly. One day, you looked at him and saw the world in his eyes. But it felt right as rain, a natural progression from knowing him again. And you learned that being in love with Steve Harrington is wonderful, even from afar.

But unbeknownst to you, Steve had fallen for you as well. Just much, much harder. And while he's anything but nonchalant when it comes to you, you're content to just enjoy having a crush on the boy who deserves to be loved the most.

And now you're here, getting groceries with him. Having spent the past seventeen hours with him, and still hoping for more. Still, you wouldn't trade this for anything.

Steve finishes paying and turns to you with a smile, shopping bags in hand. "Ready to go?"

You smile back. "Yeah, I am."

11 AM

It's nice downtown, with the weather still giving way to summer. Yes, Steve somehow finds himself downtown. You've always loved it here and suggested a detour before heading home. And well, how could he ever say no to you?

The sky is partly cloudy, and last night's rain still lingers in puddles on the side of the road. There are a few people out and about. Friends and lovers, laughing and mingling, and the occasional stranger passing by.

Steve walks beside you, the groceries long forgotten in the backseat of his car. Eventually, the two of you pass by the Hawk Theater. You stop on the sidewalk, looking up to admire the little bulbs of light that illuminate the marquee.

Meanwhile, Steve is reminded of the terrible progress he's been making with asking you out to the movies. Pretty in Pink is currently showing, the letters of the movie spelled out on the billboard above the entrance. It's not a bad pick. He would ask you if you wanted to see it, but he knows you already went with Robin. So, he attempts to take a different approach.

"Any upcoming movies you're excited for?" he asks.

You turn your attention back to him. "Yeah, there's supposed to be this movie musical coming out at the end of the year."

Okay, that's promising. The end of the year is quite far though...

Steve carries on. "Oh, yeah? What is it about?"

"Uh, there's this guy who finds an alien plant that eats people," you say.

Steve raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it. With the company he keeps these days, that actually doesn't seem too absurd. "Right. That sounds pretty cool."

You grin, happy that he approves. "Yeah, I hope they'll show it here."

You turn back to look at the lights. And suddenly, Steve feels hesitant. Would it be crazy to ask you out to a movie that isn't coming out for months?

...Would it be crazy to tell you he loves you?

Before he can come to any conclusions, he looks up just in time to notice a car speeding down the street, driving a little too close to the curb. He reaches for you instinctively and gently pulls you back. The car drives through a puddle, and the splash of water barely misses the two of you on the sidewalk.

"What a jerk," Steve mutters, watching the car drive away.

You chuckle, unbothered. "Thanks, Steve."

"No problem," he replies.

He notices how close you are when he turns back to look at you. His hands are around your waist, bodies almost touching. For a moment, he's entranced, and he can't help but smile as he admires you.

You notice his expression and smile back. "What?"

Steve shakes his head. "Nothing. You're just..."

Just... what? How could he describe his feelings, describe how much he loves you, in a single word?

He sighs, and his voice becomes softer. "You're wonderful, sweetheart."

His words make you falter for a second, the sincerity in his eyes almost overwhelming. "Steve..."

"I mean it," he says. "You are. You always have been."

In this moment, you're completely unsure of how to respond. At the same time, a gust of wind blows some hair into your face. Steve lifts his hands to brush back the offending strands, cradling your cheek once he has an unobstructed view of your face again.

Neither of you speak, both mesmerised by the other and the anticipation of the moment. Steve notices the way you're looking at him, as if he meant everything to you. You definitely mean everything to him. Maybe the feeling really was mutual.

This is it, he tells himself. There's no better time than now. He clears his throat, closing his eyes for a second before meeting your gaze again.

This is it.

"There's something you should know," he begins, his voice still hushed.

You look at him with innocent, curious eyes. It almost makes him crumple.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I, um..." he pauses to take a deep breath, mustering some of the courage he had this morning. "I'm kind of in love you."

For a second, you're stunned. But then a smile creeps onto your lips. It's finally happening.

"Oh, Steve," you reply. "I'm kind of in love with you too."

He blinks, unsure if he heard you correctly. "You are?"

"Yeah," you affirm. "I have been for a while now."

He lets out a soft huff, your confession almost too good to be true. His brain is buzzing, but it's too late to back out now.

"Well then," he mutters, his eyes flicking down to your lips. "I should've done this a long time ago."

Without wasting another second, he finally leans in. It's gentle, a press of his lips to yours. He's testing the waters. He's giving you the option to push him away. But you don't. You let him kiss you. You kiss him back.

He pulls back slightly, looking at you to gauge your reaction. He meets your gaze. It's so soft and loving that Steve swears he could start crying on the spot.

It's all the confirmation he needs to keep going. He kisses you again, deeper and with more purpose. He pours himself into it as if this is his one and only chance to prove himself.

His arms move back down to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. You respond in kind, looping your arms around his neck and holding onto him tightly.

The moment feels electric. It's everything you could have ever hoped for. You think it possible that you never even woke up this morning, that you're still in a dream of your own making. In his arms, you're warm and safe and loved. In his arms, you're where you belong.

When you finally part, you're unsure of how much time has passed. You're a bit dazed, all words escaping you. And Steve, he can't stop smiling. How could he when he had the world in his arms?

"We, uh... " he begins, his mind going a million miles per hour. "We should go see that movie. About the man-eating plant."

You furrow your brow, amused by his proposal. "The one that's not coming out for over half a year?"

Steve nods, undeterred by the long wait. "Yeah, save the date, you know?"

You let out a chuckle. "Okay, but just a warning. It'll probably be really weird."

Steve grins. "Well, you're really weird, and I put up with you just fine."

You feign offence at his comment, and he laughs at your expression. He would usually only fantasise about pulling you in for a kiss in a moment like this. But now, he realises he can actually do it.

And so, he does, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "But I guess we can do something in the meantime."

"Yeah? What did you have in mind?" you ask.

He pretends to think for a moment. "Lunch at my place?"

"Sounds perfect," you reply.

tags: @iwritejustforfun @omgshesinsane @karmaisbf

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pb&jj on my mind 24/7

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please do a part two of orbit :( it’s so good! i love ur writing! 💓

thank you, my love! still mega busy with uni grrrrrrr. hopefully i can get it out within the next month 🫶🫶🫶

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hey friends! just wanted to announce part two of your orbit is officially in the works! it'll pick up the morning after part one ends! it may still be a while until i can get it out because i am very busy right now, but rest assured, i'm working on it :)

in the meantime, please enjoy a sneak peek below the cut! <3

6 AM

When Steve awakens, he's met with a pleasant calmness. It's a stark difference from what he usually feels; dread, indifference or lingering fatigue, depending on the day. He notices how quiet it is, the storm having settled overnight. Not even the birds have woken up for the day yet, let alone the residents of Hawkins.

But Steve's mind is still fuzzy from sleep. His brain functions on its lowest gear as he takes in his surroundings. It's warm in bed. Very warm. He swears he's never felt more comfortable. But it's only when he stirs that he realises why.

There's a weight in his arms, one that's painfully familiar. Blinking his eyes open in the dim light of dawn, he finds you tucked into his embrace. His chest is flush against your back, one arm wrapped around your torso, and the other rests under your neck. It's gone slightly numb from the pressure, but Steve can't find it within himself to care.

You're sleeping soundly, safe and cozy under the covers. Your breath is soft, and your hair is a bit of a mess. But it's probably no better than Steve's own hair right now, he supposes.

You're still wearing his shirt, now slightly rumpled from sleep. And your hands are holding onto his, clutching his arm to your chest. Steve is lucid enough to wonder, just for a moment, if you're aware of what you're doing.

He feels an undeniable and almost overwhelming swell in his chest. But it's far too early to identify the exact emotion, far too early to care about anything but how good he feels right now and how in tune he is with you. His eyelids are heavy, and he acts on pure instinct as he snuggles closer to you, holding you even tighter.

You remain asleep as he nuzzles his face against your neck. Your presence fills his senses, and your body feels like heaven in his arms. And before long, he gives in again to the alluring call of sleep.

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Boyfriend appreciation post <3

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How different joe keery roles would react to you on your period

should i make this a series?

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WOKE spider-man, as god intended

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your orbit

steve harrington x reader

synopsis: amidst a night of board games, junk food and extraordinary company, the only thing steve can think about is you.

→ or the deterioration of steve harrington's mind over the course of an evening.

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, set around s4 but no upside down, eddie and robin aren't subtle, steve just really loves you, childhood best friends to strangers to friends, one bed but not really ;)

a/n: i love ex bestie steve! i've been wanting to write for him for a while, so hope i did him justice. joe keery favourite white boy frrr. pls forgive any inaccuracies and thanks for reading <3

this is part one, read part two here!

listen to the official playlist here!

5 PM

Steve decided to take advantage of having the house to himself. His parents are gone for the week, as they so often are. So, he sent out a few invitations to some of his closest friends. A small get-together, he told them, nothing fancy.

Robin accepted, of course. And Nancy and Jonathan, too. Steve only told Dustin about the party, but he already knew that word would spread to all the other kids.

But Steve has a mini panic attack when he finds out you're coming. He isn't too sure where he stands with you these days. Your friendship has all but rekindled, but Steve is still wary around you, terrified of messing up again. You accepted the invitation, though. That's a good thing. Right?

As Steve waits for people to arrive, he takes out his only activities, a deck of cards and a single board game he received as a gift but never opened. He's relying on his friends with siblings and/or a healthier relationship with their parents to bring more things to do.

He sets out the snacks he bought. Chips and candy are laid out over the island counter in the kitchen, and soda is stacked in the fridge. Steve even sets aside a little stash of what he hopes are still your favourites. He also managed to get his hands on some beer, and there's money set aside for pizza later.

Soon enough, people start showing up. Robin arrives first, followed by Dustin, Lucas and Max. Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive with Mike, Will and El. Then you. And finally, Eddie.

The gaggle of children quickly bee-line for the snacks and games. Steve watches with disdain, knowing there'll be a mess to clean up after. But at least his other guests appear happy to see their gracious host, with you among them.

Steve pretty much shortcircuits when you arrive. You're dressed nicely, and your hair is all pretty. You lean in to give him a quick hug, greeting him fondly. He may as well have cancelled the night then because he's sure his heart stopped for a second.

He only snaps out of it when Eddie arrives, slapping him so hard on the back that it could've been an alternative to the Heimlich maneuver. Suddenly, the population of the house has gone from one to a dozen, and noise and energy immediately replace the prior peace.

Steve quickly realises that he's in for a long night.

6 PM

"So, what's the story between the two of you?" Eddie asks.

Steve blinks, caught off guard by the question. He turns to the other boy, who awaits his answer with a half-curious, half-smug expression.

"Nothing, man," Steve mutters, taking a sip of his beer.

"Nothing, huh?" Eddie smirks. "Is that why you're staring at her like she's the love of your life?"

Steve glares at Eddie, wondering who even invited him. Eddie is the newest addition to the larger friend group. Dustin is very fond of him. And from what Steve has heard, so are you. He's in a few of the same classes as you, and there's a rumour among the kids that you used to be in Hellfire for a semester in your sophomore year.

The thought of you being close to Eddie bothers Steve. He chases the feeling away with another sip.

"Come on, big boy," Eddie nudges him. "We're friends now. You can tell me."

He looks back at you. You're sat around the coffee table with the kids in the middle of a round of Uno. And you look so lovely. You always do. Even the way you're holding the cards is pretty. You're the perfect culmination of everything sweet. No wonder the kids are hogging you.

He looks back at Eddie, who's still regarding Steve with inquisitive and mischievous eyes. Steve considers acquiescing, especially since Eddie is willing to listen. At the very least, it'll give Robin a break from dealing with his usual sulking.

"We were really close in middle school," Steve begins. "Best friends, even. But then I started high school, and... well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Ah," Eddie nods, understanding immediately. "I see."

Steve continues. "We only spent a year apart. And she was so excited to join me. But then-"

"Then King Steve emerged, and you left her in the dirt," Eddie remarks.

Steve cringes at the wording but doesn't refute it. It's an accurate recount of what happened. He knew he was horrible, not just to you but to everyone. He regrets nothing more than abandoning you and letting his so-called friends pick on you. Meanwhile, he stood by, telling himself worthless excuses to justify how things turned out.

You and Steve remained strangers after he left his throne behind. And it probably would've stayed that way if he didn't become coworkers with one Robin Buckley, who had become your new best friend in his absence.

He remembers the days you would visit Scoops Ahoy, mostly to distract Robin and make his job harder. You would often give him quick glances and polite smiles, never going out of your way to talk to him. However, he would occasionally catch your eyes lingering on him.

Robin would tell him you were checking him out, insisting she knew how her best friend thinks. But he was convinced you were judging him for his dumb hat and sailor outfit. Nothing ever made him wish he could crawl into a hole and die more than that.

But suddenly, he was back in your orbit again. And he's never left since.

Turning his attention back to you, Steve watches you play your last card, earning a groan from a few of the other players. You stand up victorious, stepping away from the table to grab another drink from the kitchen.

Steve recognises this as the perfect time to approach you and say something other than the "hey" he offered when you arrived. But just as he's about to muster up the courage, the doorbell rings, indicating the arrival of pizza.

With a sigh and another slap on the back from Eddie, he turns away to retrieve the food.

7 PM

You fit in well with the others. Not that it's a bad thing. It's great, actually. It just reminds Steve how much time has passed and how things have changed. It makes him think of what could've been.

You being best friends with Robin makes more sense than hot chocolate on a rainy day. You're like two peas in a pod. You match each other's energy, and both have a sort of charming madness about you.

The kids obviously like you. Not that their criteria are that high. But it helps that you used to work at the arcade and would give them your spare quarters. Plus, the rumour that you used to be in Hellfire makes you seem like a legend in their eyes.

Even Max likes you. He could tell because you were the one she approached earlier, asking if she could have a beer. You laughed and told her no. She just pouted and accepted it. Steve knew if he were to deny her, he would've been left with an insult.

You aren't particularly close to Nancy or Jonathan. Still, Steve knew they respected you, which means a lot, especially from someone like Nancy. And, of course, Eddie is... Eddie.

Steve comes to the realisation that he's jealous of everyone at the party. They all have a place in your life, in your heart. He wonders if there's even room left for him. There was a time when he occupied all that space. And it's his own fault that changed. Still, he can't help but hope.

The pizza disperses and disappears quickly. As the others chase their dinner with more snacks and set up another game, Steve remains leaning against the wall. He's so deep in thought that he doesn't notice someone approaching him.

"Steve?"

He flinches at the voice. It's you.

"H-hey," he stutters.

"Hey," you reply. "You okay? You seem a bit... distraught."

Steve takes a second to respond but nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good, just thinking."

You tilt your head, sensing more to the story but not wanting to pry. "Alright. Just don't hurt yourself."

Steve chuckles nervously, both relieved and terrified that you're making jokes with him.

You point back towards the coffee table. "The others are about to start a game of Monopoly. Did you want to join?"

He looks towards the group, at Dustin micromanaging how Will sets up the board. At Max and El scheming their game plan, having already picked the token they want to use. And at Mike dragging over his reluctant-looking sister, an amused-looking boyfriend following behind.

Steve knew he ought to join in, having just been standing around all night. But the idea of playing a game about capitalism with a group of kids who took board games way too seriously doesn't appeal to him right now.

So, he shakes his head. "No thanks. You go ahead."

You glance at the others before turning back. "Nah, I'm good. I need a break from getting lectured by Dustin."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, that kid's got a mouth on him. You wouldn't believe how often he tries to give me dating advice."

"He gives you dating advice?" you ask, amused.

"Yeah," Steve answers. "Now that he has a girlfriend, he thinks he's unstoppable. A girlfriend he wouldn't even have if it weren't for me, by the way. I taught him everything he knows."

You laugh and shrug. "Well, maybe you could learn something, Steve. You know, the whole 'student becomes the master' thing?"

Steve lets out a huff. "No, no way. Besides, I don't need a girlfriend when I've got-"

You, he almost says. But he clears his throat and corrects himself.

"Uh, all of you," he states, vaguely gesturing to the party. "My friends, you know?"

His words make you grin. "Aww, Steve-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbles. "Just don't tell anyone I said that."

He averts his gaze. His cheeks flush a bit, but he's holding back a smile. He's glad to have gotten that reaction from you.

You're about to tease him some more when Robin's voice interrupts, calling for your help from upstairs.

You sigh, looking back at Steve. "Duty calls. I'll leave you to your thinking."

You give him a cheeky smile before you leave, a smile that makes it seem like you somehow read his mind and found his thoughts amusing. He can only watch as you walk away again.

8 PM

Steve isn't sure how he got here, sitting next to you on the carpet. The Monopoly game was cut short after Lucas and Mike got into a heated argument. And now they've switched to The Game of Life, which hopefully won't cause any fights.

Not only did Steve get roped into playing, he got teamed up with you. You had been calling most of the shots during the game, but when you reached the marriage space, stuck a little pink peg next to the blue one and murmured, "That's us," to Steve... well, it all got a bit confronting for the poor boy.

He felt like a fool, sitting there overthinking two words that likely were said as a joke. Steve had realised a while ago that he loved you. A part of him thinks he always has, ever since the early days of middle school.

But being friends with you again after everything is more than he felt he deserved, so he doesn't expect you to return those feelings just yet. But then you go ahead and say something like that. So casually, too. "That's us." Married. Yeah, right. Either you're cruel, or there's hope for him yet.

Steve manages to calm his emotions a few moments later. But as the game progresses, he continues comparing his life to the little blue peg that was supposedly him.

Steve, in the game, has a college degree, a decently-paying job, a pretty pink peg for a wife (which you've claimed to be you), three peg children and his own house, all while avoiding any mid-life crises.

Steve, in real life, at the ripe age of nineteen, has no idea what he's doing. He's been through at least two quarter-life crises. College is definitely not happening. And he's working a retail job Robin got for him through bribery. At least it came with a better uniform. One which would probably help with picking up girls if the girl he actually wanted wasn't the one currently sitting next to him.

At least now, when you visit Robin at work, you also come to see him. You make eye contact, give him bright smiles, and actually talk to him. And he has to do everything in his god-given power to not lose his mind each time.

But it's not all for nothing. After all, you're a loyal customer of Family Video, and Steve always looks after his patrons (as long as it's you). If he knows you'll be visiting, he'll put on one of your favourite movies on the TV in the store.

He'll also research movies he thinks you'll like, lie and say they're unavailable if someone tries to rent them before he can get them to you. It earns judgment from Robin, but he doesn't care. As long as it makes you happy.

Soon, Steve vows, he'll take you out to see a movie on the big screen. It'll be just the two of you at the back of the theatre with a big bucket of popcorn. He'll pull some cheesy move on you. You'll laugh at him or roll your eyes. Or maybe you'll fall for it. Either way, it'll be perfect.

Steve only checks back into the present when The Game of Life ends. He glances around the table, relieved no one has noticed him daydreaming. Everyone's cars are in the retired space, and Steve catches a glimpse of you and him and your three kids again. But he looks back at the real you as you turn to face him.

Steve is no help as you sort out how much money you ended up with, too busy admiring you instead. You're focused, doing maths in your head and using his lap as a surface to lay out the notes and cards. And somehow, he falls even more in love with you in this moment.

9 PM

The party has diminished, with Nancy and Jonathan having gone home with the kids. Now, just Steve, Robin, Eddie, and you remain. Outside, dark clouds have gathered, showering Hawkins in light rain.

The four of you are finishing the night off with one last card game. You had won, of course. And now Eddie has recruited your help. He has his arm around you, his head pressed against yours, his deck hiding your faces as you conspired his next move.

If Steve didn't know any better, he'd assume you two were a thing. But he does know better. Eddie must be doing this on purpose, trying to make him jealous or something. And it was working. Steve supposed that's what he deserves for trusting Eddie with his deepest, darkest regret.

The card game turns into a one-sided glaring contest, with Robin having to nudge Steve whenever it's his turn. With your help, Eddie finishes second. Robin comes third, and Steve loses the game. But at this point, he isn't even upset about it because it means his suffering is over.

Eddie finally lets go of you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretches his arms above his head.

"Alright," he announces. "I'm calling it a night. You ready to go, Buckley?"

Robin nods. "Yeah, let's head."

The two stand and begin gathering their things.

Eddie looks at you as he puts on his jacket. "You sure you don't want a ride home?"

You shake your head. "I'm good, Eds. You take Robin. My dad should be here soon."

Eddie accepts your answer with a nod, and you catch the slightest hint of a smirk. But you ignore it as you and Steve walk him and Robin to the door. You give them each a hug before they leave.

Robin has an expression you don't fully comprehend as she hugs you back, somewhere between smug and amused. "See you later, nerd. Make good choices, okay?"

You furrow your brow, but she heads out the door before you can ask what she means by that.

As Eddie steps out after her, he looks back at Steve. "Hey, Harrington. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He sends Steve a wink, who frowns at the implication of his words. You notice Robin is still giving you that look. You send her a raised eyebrow in return. But no more words are exchanged as the two go their merry way.

"God, they're weird," Steve mutters as he closes the door.

His comment elicits a chuckle from you, which elicits a flutter in his chest. He turns to face you, unable to help the smile that graces his features just by looking at you. But a mildly awkward silence follows as Steve racks his brain on how to proceed now that it's just the two of you.

"You, uh- you want another drink?" he asks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, sure."

His own smile widens. "Alright. You sit back down, and I'll get us some."

Steve heads into the now almost empty kitchen, grabbing two bottles before finding you again in the living room. You're sitting on the couch, packing up the deck of cards. Steve is momentarily distracted by the way your hands move.

But as he approaches and hands you your drink, he decides to be bold and sits close to you, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He doesn't even have a millisecond to regret it because he feels you lean into his touch.

Steve revels in the satisfaction.

10 PM

Eddie and Robin seem to have left just in time because the storm picks up only a few minutes after they leave. You and Steve sit and chat for a while as you finish your drinks, and you help Steve clear up the empty cans and scattered wrappers despite him ordering you not to.

But even after everything is cleaned, your father still hasn't arrived. Steve watches as you wait, looking at the time again.

"You're welcome to stay over if that's easier for you," he tells you.

You look over at him, considering his offer. "You don't mind?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, of course not."

He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all. In fact, he would prefer it. He's used to being alone for days at a time. But it's a bit harrowing going from twelve people to just one, especially in a big empty house during a storm. Yes, he definitely wants you to stay.

"Okay," you say, "I'll just call my parents and ask what's happening."

Steve nods as you walk over to the phone and call home. It rings for a bit before someone picks up.

"Hello?" your mother's voice greets you.

"Hey, mom," you reply. "It's me."

The pitch of her voice changes immediately upon hearing your voice. "Hi, darling! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to check if dad was still coming to pick me up?" you ask.

There's a pause before your mom groans. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We completely forgot. We had a lot of wine for dinner. I can go get him now."

"It's no big deal, mom," you interject. "The storm's getting pretty bad anyway. Steve said I could stay over."

Again, your mother's cadence changes, but you don't need to question why. You know she's always been a fan of Steve.

"Okay, darling," she responds. "That sounds like a good idea. You two take care, alright?"

You resist rolling your eyes, even though she's not around to see it. "Yeah, you too, mom. Bye."

Your mom bids you farewell, and you hang up the phone.

Steve, who waits patiently nearby, takes this as his cue to speak up. "You staying?"

You look over at him and nod. "I'm staying."

"Okay, great," Steve smiles. "You can take my room. I'll go in the guest bedroom."

"What? Steve, no," you say. "You don't have to do that. I'll take the guest bedroom."

"No, really," he insists. "It's cold and uncomfortable in there. Trust me."

"I'm the guest, Steve. I'll go in the guest bedroom," you respond.

"No, not happening," he states.

You frown. "I'm not letting you give up your room."

Steve crosses his arms. "Well, I'm not letting you stay in the guest bedroom."

There's a pause in the conversation as the two of you stare each other down, hoping the other will fold.

When neither of you do, you make another suggestion. "Alright. How about we just share your bed?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Uh, you- really? Are you sure?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I mean... we used to do it all the time as kids, right?"

It's true. You did. There were countless nights when you would pass out in bed together, having stayed up watching movies or spent the entire day in the pool.

"Okay," Steve agrees. "Let's do that then."

"Great," you say.

"Great," he replies.

Yeah... great.

11 PM

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

That's all Steve could repeat in his head. He's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling while you're beside him. He forgot to factor in how the both of you have grown considerably since middle school, meaning there's less space between you now.

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't fr-

"You know," you break the silence. "I forgot how weird your plaid wallpaper was."

Steve furrows his brow, his distress momentarily forgotten as he turns to look at you.

"It's not weird," he says defensively.

"It's pretty weird," you reply before looking at him. "But it's cool."

As your gaze meets his, he feels his nervousness rushing back. You look so soft and cozy in his bed, wearing his shirt. And you're smiling at him as if you knew the funniest joke in the world and you were about to tell it to him.

He lets a beat of silence pass before clearing his throat. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, I did," you answer genuinely. "You?"

"Yeah," Steve replies. "It's nice having people around."

You nod in response, remembering how his parents would send him over to live with your family whenever they would go away. As much as he loved being able to spend time with you, you knew he hated being left behind.

"How long are your parents gone for this time?" you ask.

"Just until the end of the week," he tells you.

You nod again. "You've been faring up by yourself?"

He shrugs. "I don't mind it. They've been on my back a lot recently. Honestly, I needed the break."

"Right," you reply. "So not much has changed."

Steve lets out a humourless laugh. "Nope. It's been hell since I graduated last year."

You frown at his words. "I guess that's not surprising."

"Yeah, I don't know," he pauses for a second before continuing, his voice quieter. "Sometimes, I think they have a point."

You pause as well, trying to gauge what he's thinking. "You shouldn't let them get to you, Steve."

He sighs. "I know. But what if they're right, you know, about me?"

"They're not. I promise you," you reassure him.

Steve turns to look at you again, almost like he's searching for your sincerity.

You give him a smile. "You'll be alright, Steve. I know it."

Steve can't help but smile back. You sound so earnest that he's inclined to believe you. Besides, you're here with him right now. So, he must be doing something right.

You fall into a comfortable silence. There's barely any noise this late at night to disrupt it. After a few moments, you let out a yawn.

"Ugh, man. I'm so sleepy," you mumble.

"You should get some rest," he responds. "I still remember how grumpy you get in the morning."

You give him a deadpan look. "Gee, thanks."

Steve chuckles. "Just telling the truth."

Your feigned expression breaks as you laugh along, too. Steve cherishes every second of the moment before it fades away.

You yawn again. "Alright then. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he replies.

The room falls silent again. Steve lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes. Despite the uncertainty, a smile still lingers on his lips. A million things could change tomorrow. But for now, at least, you're still by his side.

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Valandil from September

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my will to live 🙏

Marvel really just said “bitch, you have to stay alive for like another year or so.”

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my own girlfriend hates me

joaquin torres x reader

synopsis: joaquin loves how clingy you are in the mornings. but he's thrown for a loop when he wakes up to you ignoring him.

word count: 0.8k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, fluff, established relationship

a/n: my very late contribution to the joaquin torres empire! short and sweet! hope you enjoy <3

Everything still feels fuzzy in your half-sleep. Outside, the birds have begun their song as the city wakes. Sunlight streams through the window, but you keep your eyes closed, blocking out the effects of the day.

You're safe and warm in Joaquin's arms. He lies behind you, his chest firm against your back. His hands are slipped under your shirt, pressed against the softness of your skin. You don't need to be anywhere today, so you simply relish in the moment.

But it's not long before a buzzing ringtone disrupts your peace. Behind you, Joaquin stirs, shifting away from you to reach his phone.

"Hello?" he mutters, his voice still a bit rough.

You can barely make out the voice on the other end. But you don't need to hear the words or be fully awake to know what's happening. Joaquin's being called away again.

"Alright, I got it," he affirms on the phone. "See you soon."

He ends the call and lets out a sigh. Placing his phone back down, he cuddles up to you again. He nuzzles his head against the back of your neck, placing a kiss below your ear.

"I have to go now," he murmurs softly.

You let a short hum in response, conveying nothing but a simple acknowledgement of his words. Joaquin doesn't think much of it yet.

He continues. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

This time, you give no response. He just hugs you tighter, peppering more kisses in the hopes of eliciting a stronger reaction from you.

"Hey," he tries to get your attention. "Aren't you going to try to get me to stay?"

"Mmm, no," you mumble, curling away from Joaquin.

He pauses, sensing something is wrong. Even at your most sleepiest, you'll at least let out a sad noise or try to hold onto him. But now, it's as if you want nothing to do with him.

He props himself up on his elbow. Even with your eyes closed, you can tell he's peering at you. You do your best to hold back a smile. But Joaquin, upon seeing your sleeping face, suddenly feels bad. He doesn't want to disturb your rest, so he leans in to give you a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Alright, bye baby. I love you," he says before quietly slipping out of bed.

Again, you don't respond. You remain still as Joaquin starts getting ready to leave. You hear him move around the bedroom, getting dressed and gathering his things. It's not until you hear the bedroom door close that you finally open your eyes.

You can tell it's still early by the light. But it's suddenly cold and lonely without Joaquin. And as funny as that was, the guilt starts to set in. So, you get out of bed and head to the door.

Carefully, you peek out into the living room and see Joaquin grabbing more of his things. He's got a slight pout on his face, his brow furrowed. It's adorable, but you know you can't let him leave like this.

You step out and cross the room to reach him. He notices you approaching but can't voice his surprise in time as you grab his face and pull him in for a kiss. He relaxes instantly, his hands finding their home around your waist as he kisses you back.

"I love you, too," you say when you pull away.

"Jesus," Joaquin replies. "You scared me. I thought you were mad at me or something."

You smile sweetly. "I'm sorry, I was just messing with you."

He huffs, pulling you into his arms. "I can't believe you. My own girlfriend hates me."

You hug him back, resting your head on his chest. "Oh, come on. It was kinda funny."

He hugs you tighter. "Whatever, smarty pants. Just don't do that again, alright?"

"Alright," you relent. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies.

Joaquin lets out a deep breath. He pulls back and cradles your head in his hands. A moment of silence passes as he admires you.

Then, he speaks up again. "You're a dummy, you know that?"

"I'm not a dummy," you feign offence.

"Yeah, you are," he states.

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he picks you princess-style. You let out a small, surprised yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"It's still early," he replies. "You should get more sleep."

You don't argue with that. You're more than happy to go back to bed. You let Joaquin carry you back into the bedroom. He tucks you in, and you watch with a smile as he gently lays the covers over you and leans in to kiss your forehead.

But as he's about to pull away, you grab his arm. "Stay with me?"

Joaquin laughs. "Oh, now you want me to stay."

You pout. "Please?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll try to finish early, okay?"

You sigh, letting go of him. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeats. "I'll see you tonight, sleepy."

He smooths out the covers and gives you one last kiss before pulling away. Smiling fondly, he bids you farewell and leaves you to bask in the morning light.

[c0s-lettuce]

JJ MAYBANK VISUAL

[c0s-lettuce]

"I wanna rewatch CA: BMW for the plot"

The plot: