Ok it's headcanon time what do you think Peter's reaction would be when him and his friend who've been bffs for years and are very comfortable with physical touch suddenly starts to pull away from him cause she saw him flirting with another girl at thier college mixer and so she starts to pull away from his physical touches cause she feel like she should finally be able to move on from him and start her college life without pining after him all the time and slowly peter starts noticing that she always give him affection when he needs it on his tough days but refuses his touch even when he remotely comes near her
🌌
just so you know
tasm!peter x fem!reader
a/n: sorry this took ages, i forgot how to write (there was a more perfect gif but tumblr hates me)
*
“what’s going on?”
you look up again, meeting uncertain eyes with a fake sense of amusement. you know what you’re doing, and so does peter.
“what?” you tease, running your hand over plastic price tags and years of dust, staring down at ceramic mugs and tiny scentless candles.
peter puts his hand on your back, walking with you, and as a subtle and graceful friend, you quickly move away from him, pretending to kneel down and look at a set of plates.
“that. this—this thing that your doing.” peter points to you like it’s a physical entity. some thing you’re holding just to hurt him. a handful of tricks.
“looking at cat mugs?” you ask, eyebrow raised.
“avoiding me. pretending like you haven’t been evading every question i’ve asked.”
you frown, but don’t look up. you finger a curved handle, swallow and let the lies slip from your mouth without any effort. if you’ve been distant from peter recently, it’s nothing but an accident. a practiced maneuver. “i’m not avoiding you.”
“you haven’t looked at me all day.”
“i’m looking at you right now, peter.” and so you do.
peter smiles, laughs a bit, his chest rising and falling, but it’s frustrated. he runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head. and then he bends down and wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you up before you get the chance to stop him.
and you would stop him, you know, if he hadn’t already pointed out that you’ve been doing it all day. for at least the past week.
his touch burns, like a singe on your already red wounds. and even though he’s smiling at you, being as gentle as peter always is, you can see your tension, can feel your own hesitation in his skin.
“did i hurt you, or something?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek. “i know we—well, we’re not um, that hesitant with being close, touching and stuff, but if i did something accidentally—“
“you haven’t hurt me, peter.”
“okay… then what’s going on? do you need to discuss boundaries with me?”
“what?” you laugh.
“i’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” peter says, softly, like you’re some breakable thing. “i just want to make sure that you—that we’re okay.”
“of course we’re okay, peter.”
and then, that’s not quite true.
when you look into peters eyes, it’s not an auburn storm that you see. it’s not even yourself being reflected in his irises.
it’s flashing lights and music that made your head pound. there’s sticky floors and too many people—so much air, and too much breathing in such a small room. you see people laughing and singing, hands and bodies intertwined like it would hurt to be apart.
and it’s all sort of beautiful and disturbing, all sort of a lot—but then, there’s familiar hands, running up an unfamiliar body. peter had asked you to dance, but you knew it was only so he could laugh because he knew that you couldn’t.
when you look into peters eyes you see her. and there’s such a strong fire ignited in your chest, such a vehement jealousy that you have to look away.
you have to physically pull yourself away from him just so you don’t feel like that. just so you can tell yourself that it’s not fair.
“we’re fine,” you repeat, softly, and you look away from him. turn away, so you can block yourself away from his all too knowing stare.
you don’t pull away from his hands, but god do you want to. you want to take a break from him, a break from all of this until you can promise yourself that you just don’t care.
that you don’t crave his side stepping and hand holding and resting your head on his shoulder or leaning against his chest. that isn’t fair.
you clear your throat; you can’t lie to him, and it’s not like peter is going to let you. “it’s just…” you start, stepping towards him and then away. “i don’t know if lindsay would be comfortable with it.”
peters face flinched, he tilts his head at you. “lindsay?”
“i don’t want to get in the way of anything…”
“get in the way of what?”
you meet his eyes and laugh. “c’mon, peter. you’re not as discreet as you think you are. there was that night at the club and then the “study” dates you’ve been going on.”
“that wasn’t anything—“ peter is quick to get out, but you shove his shoulder, pretending your laughter isn’t painful.
“save it, loverboy. if you want to hold someone’s hand,” you tease, “it should be your girlfriends. i was surprised you even asked me to come gift hunting today.”
peter swallows. “she’s not my girlfriend.”
you nod, turning away from him. “yeah, okay.”
“i’m serious. we’ve been working on a project for bio-chem, that’s all.”
“i’m not blind, peter.”
he walks when you do, leaning his head down until he can see your face. “don’t you think i’d tell you if started dating someone and it was serious?”
“um, no, not really. we don’t ever talk about that stuff.”
“yeah, because you get weird whenever i bring it up.”
“i don’t get weird—“ you say, turning to glare at him. he’s closer than you expected though so whatever you were about to say falls into the air. it blows away with the feel of peters breath on your cheek.
“i would tell you,” he says, “if i had a girlfriend.”
you lean away from him, taking a deep breath in. “okay, peter. but the point still stands. you shouldn’t be holding hands with me while you’ve got a girl who’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. or stop lying. whatever.”
“i don’t want to hold her hand.”
peters voice is soft, and his hand is gentle as it lands on your waist. he pulls you to him, like he’s sure that you’re going to run away.
“well now i know why you don’t have a girlfriend.”
peter chuckles, staring down at you with burning eyes. and this time, when you look at him, you see only a secret catching fire. “i don’t have a girlfriend because i want to hold your hand,” he whispers, a finger brushing up against your jaw.
“o-oh.”
you stare at him, unsure what else to say.
what other announcements need to be made, what other proclamations you should probably get in writing.
peter smiles again, wider. he lets go of you and turns so his shoulder is to you. and then he grabs your hand.
“just so you know,” he says, smirk far too much.
just so you know.
*
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hobie x gn! reader
hobie is definitely an adamant tease. i also see him as like crazy perceptive ??? not only because he’s a spider person but also because he’s just an observer at heart, so whatever he does to you he knows what effect it has, mentally or physically.
whenever he wants to kiss you he always guides you by your chin. one, because he knows you love the hand placement, and two, because it’s easier to bring your plump lips to his own, and he can’t help but get eager at times.
hobie and you strolled down the chaotic streets of London, his lanky arm strung around the curve of your waist as you attempted to make your way to his apartment (attempted is the key word here, hobie lived about 5 minutes away from the pub y’all were visiting, but the walk was now reaching 10 minutes seeing as hobie couldn’t keep his hands off of you, not that you were in any rush).
“come on love, jus’ one lil kiss and I’ll leave you be, yeah?” hobie gently pleaded, peering down at you through his thickened lashes.
you set the palms of your hands against his chest, appreciating the slight flex of his pecs, and pushed him away from your figure, continuing to trot down the sidewalk, “no bee, we’ve been walking forever and my feet are tired. I’ll give you a kiss when we get home.” you dramatically gestured towards your aching feet, sighing at hobie’s raised eyebrow.
“well we can’t ‘ave that can we?” he inched his fingers down towards your thighs.
“nope, so if we can pick up the—” you squealed, latching on to hobie’s bicep and he held you close to his chest, his fingers curling around the crease underneath your knees, “hobie! what the hell!?”
“wha’? you said you was havin’ trouble, jus’ tryna be a good mate.” hobie tilted his head towards your pursed lips, chuckling at your pouting expression, “‘lowe it, ‘m not puttin’ you down.”
you sighed, peering back at hobie, “you just want to give me a kiss, huh?” you teased, placing a hand towards the crook of hobie’s neck.
“and what of it?” he adjusted you so he could bring the tip of his thumb and pointer finger to your chin, grasping it softly and guiding it towards his own. you indulge him, softly kissing the plush of his lips, humming in satisfaction.
“mhm, feeling cheeky today aren’t we bee?”
“been hangin’ ‘round me too much love, startin’ to sound like me.”
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listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done
but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says
and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.
she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.
so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.
but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.
(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)
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