Tucked Away Promises | Spidey!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: In order to save the world from his own mistakes, Steve Harrington must make the devastating decision to make the entire world forget he exists. That includes you, his girlfriend. He promises to find you afterwards and to not hesitate to remind you of your relationship…that is until he sees how smooth your life has been sailing without him in it.
WARNINGS: Angst, angst, angst, and more angst!
A/N: Just finished rewatching No Way Home and couldn’t help but to write spidey Steve :)
WC: 2.2K
Masterlist!
He never meant for it to happen.
He knew when he put on the mask the weight of the world came with it. He risked everything by putting it on. His life as well as everyone else’s around him.
So when the multiverse collapsed simply by him asking Dr. Strange to cast a spell to get you into college simply because you were his girlfriend when word got out that he was the masked vigilante ‘terrorizing’ New York, he knew he’d be taking a risk.
He never thought it would lead to you forgetting about him.
You stood underneath the Statue of Liberty, watching the sky above split into two, creatures from other universes slowly seeping through.
You stared up at the sky. Your heart pounded against your chest as you anticipated the worst, though nothing could prepare you for what was to come.
You diverted your gaze upon hearing a soft grunt, followed by that familiar sound of a spiderweb retracting.
Steve landed next to you, mask discarded revealing the fresh cuts along his face.
You assumed you’d be the one to clean them up after the gaping hole in the sky got sorted out.
You always cleaned his scars. You had gotten awfully good at it after finding out he was Spider-Man that night he came crawling into your window after a bad fight. Though, you had enough evidence before that to piece together the fact that he was the one behind the mask.
“What’s going, Steve?” you asked softly, trying to lace the panic coursing through your veins.
Steve’s expression softened when he looked at the cut in your brow from when you were attacked by Osbourne just moments before. He saved you in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t noticed your scar until now.
“Your face,” he murmured, cupping your cheek. “Are you okay?”
Your lips pulled into a crooked smile.
It made his heart ache.
“I’m okay,” you reassured him, hand coming up to hold his gloved one. “Just a tiny scratch.”
Steve’s warm hand left your face as his shoulders slouched and he glanced up at the sky. Then to you.
He wanted nothing more than to not tell you what was about to occur. He wanted to just take you back home and attend to the cut in your brow. He wanted to let you clean up his cuts with your fingers delicately tracing his skin. He wanted your lips to ghost over his and tell him those words of affirmations you were so good at giving him. He wanted to shower and cuddle up in his bed with you, his laptop propped open as you watched some cheesy old romcom from the 50’s.
But that wasn’t his reality.
“You…you’re gonna forget who I am,” he whispered, as if the volume of his words would make them hurt any less.
“Forget who you are,” you repeated, shaking your head. “What- what are you talking about?” you asked, voice trembling with each and every word.
“It’s okay,” he spoke, though he couldn’t even convince himself that what he was saying was true. “I’m gonna come and find you and I’ll explain everything. It’ll be like none of this ever happened. Okay?”
You shook your head adamantly. “No, no, no, no. I don’t wanna do that. I don’t wanna forget you. What if- what if that doesn’t work? What if I can’t- I can’t remember? I don’t wanna-”
Steve cut you off, cupping your face with both of his hands, his thumbs brushing your tear stained cheeks. “I promise, I’m gonna find you and remind you, honey,” he whispered, his hazel eyes beginning to fill with salty tears of his own.
Your bottom lip trembled as you sniffled. The sight made Steve want to tear apart the multiverse just to keep you happy.
“Why can’t we come up with something?” you asked, your voice rough around the edges from trying to keep it together. “We can make a plan,” you reasoned. “We can figure it out. We always figure it out, Steve.”
Steve inhaled sharply, tears now falling from his eyes without shame. “We can’t, baby. We can’t and I’m so sorry.”
You realized the inevitable. You’d be forced to forget and there was nothing you, him, or even a sorcerer could do about it. “I really hate magic.”
Steve’s bottom lip trembled. “Yeah, me too.”
“I love you.”
“I lo-”
“Wait,” you interrupted him. “Wait and tell me when you see me again. Okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“You promise to come and find me? Tell me everything?” you asked, eyes boring into his.
“Promise, baby. I promise.”
“If you don’t I’m just gonna figure it out again,” you half laughed half sobbed.
“I don’t doubt that,” Steve laughed too. “You’re the most brilliant person in any room you walk into.”
You leaned in, smashing your lips against his, kissing him as if it were the last time you ever would.
It wasn’t the last time.
It wouldn’t be.
Was what you kept telling yourself.
But something in the back of your mind told you that when Steve appeared in your life again, it wouldn’t be the same.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Snow dwindled down the streets of New York, Christmas carols carrying a jolly tune in the air.
Though, nothing about Steve Harrington’s situation was jolly.
His hands trembled as he read over his paper. “Hi, I’m Steve- no. Hi, my name is Ste- no. Hi, my name’s Steve Harrington and you don’t know me, but I know you.” He stopped walking on the middle of the sidewalk, throwing his head back at what was written on his paper. “What a creepy thing to say!” he ridiculed himself. “Uh…” he trailed off, thinking of something new to say. “Hi, my name’s Steve Harrington and we used to date before a magical wizard wiped your memories.” He scoffed at himself. “Yeah, ‘cause she’ll totally buy that.”
He huffed and shook his nerves off, walking into the cafe before him.
The bell above the door rang as he entered. The warm heat and smell of coffee made him feel warm inside despite feeling slightly nervous.
You were turned away, chatting with an older man who nodded before taking a bite of his doughnut.
“Just a sec,” Steve could hear you say. You said three words and his heart palpitated.
You turned around, smiling and waving.
Holy shit.
Had the spell worked on everyone but you?
Did you remember Steve Harrington? Your boyfriend?
The boy whose wounds you’d clean after his reckless missions. The boy who you’d sneak into your window late at night. The boy who took you on dates on the highest of buildings with the most magnificent views, claiming that you were the most beautiful one.
The boy who you had fallen in love with.
The bell behind him rang and he turned around, the excitement in his chest dropping into the pit inside his stomach.
Robin Buckley had just walked in.
The girl you and he were best friends with.
You were waving at her.
Not him.
You didn’t know him.
Robin waltzed in, skipping over to the stool at the bar. “One free doughnut for your best friend?” she asked, batting her lashes. “Maybe you get one too to celebrate getting into MIT?”
You giggled and grabbed her a doughnut with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles.
You turned your gaze to Steve. “Sorry…uh, are you ready to order?” you asked.
You had assumed he was so far away from the counter because he didn’t know what he wanted yet.
Not because he was hesitating to tell you everything.
He gave you a nervous smile. “Uh…” he breathed out, fingers tightening around his little piece of paper. He took hasty steps to the counter.
Okay.
He could do this.
He could tell you.
He promised you.
You blinked at him, a blank expression on your face.
“Uh- I uh…” he faltered, fingers shaking against the paper. He was accidentally crumpling it.
You flashed him a small smile and he almost melted right then and there. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to order,” you reassured him. “Take all the time you need,” you said sweetly.
Robin rang the little bell on the counter. “Oh, waiter,” she called in a sing-song tone. “I’d die for a peppermint mocha.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, turning back to Steve with a bright smile. A smile so bright he hadn’t seen in a real long time. A smile he hadn’t seen after you found out he was Spider-Man. “Peppermint mocha is pretty good,” you told him.
It was then he noticed that the scar in your brow was most likely going to be permanent. It was a deep gash and you played it off like it was a scratch.
You’d done this more than once. Act like everything was okay when it wasn’t.
You swore to Steve when you found out that he was Spider-Man and you were in the beginnings of your relationship that you didn’t mind the fact that you were in danger simply by association. You swore to Steve that none of that bothered you.
You stuck by his side through thick and thin, and you did a hell of a job keeping him balanced while he carried so much on his shoulders.
But truth be told, it was slowly changing you.
You were still happy. Still loved him. But you weren’t as happy as you were way back when things were normal.
When you had a crush on the boy who sat front row in second period Physics.
Not when you were the girlfriend of Spider-Man.
Steve took a deep breath, the paper crumpling his hands.
He was going to tell you anyway, despite the voices telling him not to.
He loved you.
He needed you.
And he had made a promise.
“Hi, my name’s Steve Harrington and I…”
You titled your head slightly.
“And I…”
You batted your lashes at him.
“…Would like a cup of coffee please.”
You couldn’t help but to smile, followed by a low snort. This guy was a total dork. “Okay, Steve Harrington. One cup of coffee coming right up.”
He watched as you made a small cup of warm coffee for him.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell you. You finally seemed fully content. Finally seemed to be getting your life back on track again. You were going to MIT next year and didn’t have to worry about if he was safe on missions or worry about staying up late just to tend to him.
You could focus on you, your dreams, and your own aspirations.
He was just in the way.
He didn’t want to be in the way.
You topped off the coffee and slid it over the counter. “That’ll be five bucks.”
Steve looked down and realized he crumbled his paper. He smoothed it out before folding it neatly and tucking it into his back pocket. Tucking away the promise. He reached for his wallet and handed you a ten. Your fingers grazed his and he shivered. You didn’t even react.
You handed him five dollars in change and he placed it into the tip jar.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking his coffee.
You nodded. “Have a good one.”
He opened his mouth, hesitating. He wanted to talk to you. That was the least he could do since he had broken your promise.
“You got into MIT?” he asked casually.
He couldn’t help but to smile at the light in your eyes as you nodded. “Yeah. It’s honestly still processing for me,” you admitted sheepishly. “It’s my dream school and I always thought I was going to get rejected but-”
“You’re the most brilliant person in any room you walk into.”
You blinked, a wave of…something you couldn’t quite figure out washing over you.
Those words felt so familiar, but you couldn’t figure out why.
You were going to say something that alluded to you being smart enough to get in, but not those words exactly. Yet, you felt in your heart that someone had said it to you before.
You visibly faltered as you smiled, mouth opening to speak, but not knowing what to say.
“I- I’m assuming,” Steve blurted out like an idiot. You raised your brows. “Not that you’re not smart! I never meant that! I just mean, like, you’re probably the smartest person in this room,” he rambled, motioning his hands around the room. You tilted your head. “Not that you’re not smart in any other room! I just mean this one in particular- no. I mean- you- you’re probably just so smart you could get into any school you please.”
You nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Okay.”
“Yeah…uhm…”
Robin slowly took another bite of her doughnut, eyes darting between the awkward boy at the counter and her best friend who was now eyeing him up and down.
You were slightly intrigued by his awkwardness.
Steve stood at the counter just staring at you.
You glanced away, then back at him, yet he was still staring. “Did you need anything else?”
He blinked. “N-no,” he muttered, his eyes pooling with tears. “I’ll uh…I’ll see you around.”
You nodded. “See you around, Steve Harrington.”
You turned your attention back to Robin, leaning against the counter laughing at something she said.
Steve could stand there for hours just listening to your beautiful laugh.
But that was creepy and he already was off to an awkward start.
And so he left, tucked away promises in his back pocket.
summary: you know steve’s secret, but he has another; he loves you. of course, you love him, too, and things change.
word count: 9.3k
warnings: spiderman!steve au, fluff, smut (thigh riding and a hj), mentions of a car accident (nobody gets hurt), idiots in love!!!!!!
a/n: she’s here!!!! thank u guys so much for ur support on this mini series, i have loved writing it so so much <3 this will be the last long piece, but if you guys have requests for blurbs from this universe, i’d love to have them!!!
/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\
You’d never been that great at puzzles, at figuring things out quickly without hints. But for some reason, this was something you’re pretty sure of.
Steve is Spider-man. He’s the one who saved you, who saves people every day, and he keeps it hidden. You understand why he does, and you’d never want to pressure him into telling you something he doesn’t want to, you only wish he knew you were ready to listen. Whenever.
You’re not that strong, but you’d take some of the weight off of his shoulders if you could.
The news plays on your TV now more than ever, as more than just background noise. Your eyes focused on the screen whenever Spider-man is mentioned, analyzing the way he moves, the familiarity of the hand gestures when he speaks, the gentleness when he makes sure someone’s okay.
It isn’t only on the news that you notice things, either. Seeing Steve as often as you’ve grown to, you seem to find more tells constantly. How he can catch a glass before it spills without even looking, the way he’s on edge sometimes, like he can’t focus on one single thing.
You see Steve often, and the clues are there, and he still hasn’t told you about it.
It’s not that you expect him to tell you, or that you’re angry he hasn’t. It’s just been hard to pretend like you don’t know why he’s limping or like you’re still clueless to it all. He’ll tell you on his own time, or maybe he won’t, but you’ll have to be okay with that.
You’ve convinced yourself it’d be best not to tell him you knew. He’s probably stressed out enough, and you didn’t want to add to that if you could avoid it. You’ll be there for him either way, that’s what’s important.
Besides, on top of you figuring out he’s Spider-man, you’ve finally acknowledged the feelings that have been there for a while. The serious ones, the four letter ones. They’ve been on your mind more than anything.
You’re in love with Steve, that’s something you could tell him, in theory, but you can’t bring yourself to. You’d hate to ruin the only real friendship you’ve managed to build since moving.
So, he’s not the only one with secrets after all. He’s Spider-man, you know that he’s Spider-man, and you’re in love with him.
Lately, you’ve actually been thankful for how quiet things have been at work. Your head’s been loud enough. The thoughts of Steve, of trying not to give anything away every time you look at him, of whether he might be going to patrol whenever he leaves.
It’s all-consuming. Pathetic, even.
And it’s what’s on your mind—once again—as you walk home from your morning shift at work. The sun’s out, your eyes squinted when it hits your face. The breeze around you is still chilly, but the promise of spring and warmth is nice.
You glance over to the newsstand you always pass going to and from work, checking the picture on the front page to look for a certain mask. Today, it’s there, and you pause to look at it.
‘Spider-man catches culprit behind string of armed robberies.’
Skimming the article, your heartbeat picks up. The danger this boy puts himself in for the sake of other people. The injuries you’ve seen him come home with. You shake your head and keep walking.
“Mom, look!” A little boy says, urging his mother towards the newsstand. “It’s Spider-man!”
You turn around, a small smile on your face as you see the mother buying her son a copy of the paper. You guess you’re not the only person who can’t keep away from that hero.
Then, there’s a little glow in your chest, the reminder that you’re lucky enough to know the person behind the mask, too.
-
Steve thinks that telling Robin about you might’ve been a bad idea, because she looks like she might slap him right now.
“You’re telling me you kissed her, then told her it couldn’t happen again, and yet you still have that look on your face when you talk about her?”
Robin makes it sound very simple. To him, it isn’t.
“Well, yeah, but it’s complicated, okay? And I don’t have a look on my face, Robs.”
“You absolutely do, all moony and shit. If I didn’t want you to find someone so badly, I’d say it’s kinda gross.”
Honestly, Steve can’t even tell her she’s wrong. If the way he thinks about you tells him anything, it’s that he probably can’t keep it off his face. At the very least, he hopes that Robin can only tell because she knows him so well, not because it’s insanely obvious.
“Thanks.”
“Steve, I know you like her,” she says, gentler than before, careful not to scare him from the conversation.
I more than like her, he thinks. There’s a better way to describe it and he knows that. He may not admit it, not even to himself, but he knows it all the same.
Robin continues before Steve can reply, “and I know you’re scared, I do, but we both know you’d regret it if you didn’t give this a shot.”
He shakes his head. Somehow, every time he sees Robin, the conversation always leads to this. To you.
“I’d regret it more if I got her hurt.”
“Steve, I’ve known about you since the beginning and look at me. I’m right here, perfectly fine,” she holds her arms out, like it’s some sort of proof that she’s okay. “The worst I’ve done lately is scrape my knee, and that’s just because I’m clumsy, not because I know about you being Spider-man.”
He supposes she’s right, that she has a point here, but it doesn’t stop him from being afraid, from feeling an uncomfortable clench in his chest when he thinks about even the slightest possibility of putting you in danger.
“It’s different with her, though,” he says.
“Come on! Remember in high school when you had like four different girlfriends in a month?”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“Well, still. Where’s that part of you gone?”
“Um…”
“Shut up, I mean the part that was open to that. To trying to make connections.”
“Maybe the venom from the spider made it disappear.”
She huffs and sinks into the couch cushions. Steve’s always been stubborn, quick to deflect with humor or sarcasm when things get too intense. Too much.
Robin’s a good friend, the best one, and she can see him closing up, so she changes her approach.
“I just want you to be happy, you know?”
“Yeah, Robs, I know.”
“Can you just think about it?”
“About what?”
“Asking her out, telling her how you feel,” Robin lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, gives it a small squeeze. “Don’t close yourself off to it completely.”
Steve’s hand lands on top of hers, squeezes it back before letting go. He may not have that many people in his life, but having a friend like Robin never makes him feel like he’s missing anything.
At least, he didn’t feel that way until he met you. Now, he thinks about what it’d feel like to fall asleep and wake up with his arms wrapped around you, to be able to kiss you and hold you. To have that intimacy that you can only have when you’re in love with someone.
Fuck. In love.
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
-
The good thing about being lost in thought while you walk is that it makes time go by quickly. By the time you’re walking up the stairs to your apartment, you’re not even sure how you got there, your feet having been on autopilot.
Just as you’re fishing out your keys, there’s the sound of a door opening, a pair of voices following. One that’s practically engraved in your head. The other is of a girl, who seems to notice you standing by your door very quickly.
“Oh my gosh! Hi!”
You blink at her a couple of times, because she’s talking to you like she knows you, like you should know her. “Hi…?”
Steve’s leaning a shoulder against his door frame behind her, a scrunch in his brows and a shake of his head. It’s all you catch before she grabs your attention again.
“Sorry! I’m Robin, Steve’s totally, completely plantomic best friend-”
“Oh my god,” he mutters.
“You’re the neighbor,” she continues, saying your name to make sure she’s right, even though she seemed plenty sure of that already. “Steve talks about you all the time.”
“Really?” You can’t help but ask. You try to hide the hopefulness in your voice, the happiness at the idea of him talking about you. All the time.
“Oh, yeah. You have made quite the impact on this guy,” she points towards him with a thumb over her shoulder.
“Robs,” Steve gives her a stare, eyes wide and—if the hint of pink spreading over his cheeks says anything—probably telling her to stop embarrassing him.
“What?” She looks back at him, all innocent.
“Don’t you have to get to work?”
“Okay, okay,” Robin turns towards you again, gives you a toothy smile that’s wide enough to have you sending her a small grin in return. “It was so nice to finally meet you.”
“You, too,” you say, and though she surprised you with a whole bunch at once, you mean it.
She pulls you into a hug and says to you quietly, “thank you for taking care of him.”
And with that, she walks away, retreating down the hall. Steve hears her, Robin knows that. Hell, she probably wanted him to.
He scratches at the back of his neck (that habit of his) and huffs, “I’m sorry about her. She can be sort of a lot.”
“Don’t be,” you shake your head. “She seems great.”
“You’d like her, I think. If you got to know her.”
He still seems nervous, like you and Robin meeting was a really big thing for him. And it is. The two most important people in his life meeting. Of course he’d want that to go well.
“Steve, you don’t need to worry, or anything. I already like her, okay?”
Anyone who seems to make Steve happier is bound to win some points with you. He deserves friends like that, especially with everything he has to carry.
“Okay, yeah. That’s good.”
He still seems nervous, so you step over and place your hand on his arm, giving him the lightest squeeze. He probably wouldn’t have felt it if it weren’t for how focused he is on you.
“I was just surprised, that’s all. Promise.”
Steve’s hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers gently, as if he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
“Thank you,” he speaks quietly. Two words he tries to tell you as often as he can.
-
Steve’s been visiting you at work often, sometimes with food, always with enough to brighten your day. Getting to spend that extra time with him is another perk of working when it’s not busy.
Today, he’s decided to surprise you rather than give you a heads-up over the phone. There’s a takeout bag clutched in his hand, and a little ball of nerves in his stomach. He shouldn’t be nervous, it’s only you. Then again, it’s you.
He opens the bookstore door, the small bell above it jingling. For once, there’s a customer at the register. You glance over at Steve from behind the counter, wiggling your hand in a quick wave before helping your customer again.
And just like that, there’s that feeling in his chest.
Steve waits by one of the displays as you finish up, trying not to make it obvious that he’s looking at you. There’s the soft smile on your face, the tone of your voice, the way the lighting hits your skin. It all has his heart going quicker.
“Hi, Steve,” you greet him once the customer leaves. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“Hi, honey. Kinda the point of surprising you with food.”
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Hopefully I picked something you like.”
From the packaging he’s seen before in your apartment, he’s pretty sure he did alright, but he waits for your confirmation all the same.
You open the bag he’d set on the counter, a small happy gasp that he likes way too much leaving your mouth, “yay! How’d you know I liked this place?”
He shrugs, “lucky guess.”
There’s a second stool behind the counter, and you pull it up for Steve without a word, patting the seat for him to sit down. He does, consumed by the brush of your arms as you unpack the food, the touch of your knees when you shift in your seat.
“Thanks again, Steve.”
“You already know I owe you for all the meals you’ve made me.”
“And you already know, you don’t owe me anything.”
You’re a kind person, Steve’s known that since he met you. So much so that you don’t even see the value in what you’ve done for him, like it’s the simplest thing for you. It’s the simplest thing to help him.
It makes him want to do things he said he wouldn’t. Things like kiss you.
“Anyway,” he shakes the thought away. “How’s your day been?”
You lift a shoulder as you finish your bite of food before replying, “been okay. I’ve had a couple more people come in than usual, which is good.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, I love the quiet in here, love getting to just read behind the counter and call it work. But, it’s also nice to feel useful at least some of the time.”
“That’s good. What’ve you been reading?”
This is a question he loves to ask you, because you get excited to respond every time. He loves to watch you grab the book and show it to him, to see your hands flick through the pages as you tell him what it’s about, to watch the way your mouth forms the words you speak.
He loves to ask you, because he loves to listen to your voice when you answer. That word’s been in his head a lot lately. Love.
So much that he’s not sure it ever really leaves. It’s a lingering whisper, growing louder when he’s with you. Even after you eat, after the food’s been cleaned, as he walks out the door, the word stays.
“Bye, Steve, see you later!” You say as he reaches for the door handle.
He lets himself look at you again before leaving, his eyes lingering for a second too long. “Bye, honey.”
The bell above the door rings again as he leaves, but it isn’t loud enough to cover what’s rushing through Steve’s mind. I love her. I shouldn’t, I can't. I love her.
God, maybe he should talk to Robin again, he thinks. Or, maybe he could avoid the lecture he’s bound to get and take his mind off things the best way he can: putting on the suit.
-
Turns out that even when he should be focused on patrolling, his mind still likes to wander. That’s probably why he ends up stationed atop the building across from the bookstore, where your closing shift should be ending soon.
He ends up there most nights he knows you’re closing, really.
Before, when he couldn’t even let himself think about his feelings for you, he’d tell himself he stayed near the bookstore because it was a shadier area, more alleyways and all that. Now, though it sort of scares him, he’s able to acknowledge that it’s purely to make sure you’re safe.
He has a whole city to be protecting, but if his senses aren’t leading him anywhere else, he’ll always end up near you.
It’s sort of ironic. You, subconsciously looking for Spider-man everywhere you go, him being right there, and you don’t even know it. He’s so, so close.
Steve stationed himself across the street from you about twenty minutes before the shop was meant to close. His eyes squinted on his mask to see if there was anyone seemingly dangerous around, just in case.
Sometimes, when he does this, he can’t stop himself from thinking about that night when he found you in that alley. When his ears were filled with pure static until he knew you were safe. When he kneeled in front of you and brought you home. He doesn’t want you to go through something like that ever again.
The click of the bookshop door closing behind you has Steve’s heightened hearing turned on, knowing that you’re about to lock up and head home.
You feel like there are eyes on you as you walk. But, every time you look behind you, there’s nobody there. You’re just being paranoid, you tell yourself. You’re fine. And really, you are fine, because the eyes aren’t dangerous—though you don’t know it—they belong to Steve.
He hops across buildings as discreetly as he can while following your pace. Walking you home in his own, secret way.
The next thing happens in a complete blur.
You’re crossing at an intersection when a car runs a red light, speeding and crashing into another vehicle. You’re in the street, the two cars screeching on the pavement and heading straight for you. Even if you ran, you wouldn’t be quick enough.
But he was.
Steve jumped down before it even happened, his vision tunneling on that car, on you in its path. He just knew he needed to get to you first. He shot the web, swung down, and scooped you up right before the collision reached you. His heart pounding, his grip on you tight enough to knock the air from your lungs.
He lands and sets you down at the back of an alley, hidden from the bystanders that screamed at the sight of the crash, at the sight of him.
It takes you an entire minute of silence, of your chest heaving and your ears ringing to grasp what had just happened. How close of a call it was, how he was there to save you again.
Your vision is blurred by tears when you look up at him, at the red and blue suit, the mask. Your breathing is quick, panicked, but it slows the slightest bit when you look at him. Spider-man. Steve. The best boy ever.
When your eyes lock onto his face, Steve rushes forward, holding your face in a gentle grasp. It’s frantic, the way his hands shake when he reaches for you, the way his head tilts all over to make sure you’re okay. His thumbs brush away the tears that fall from your eyes, back and forth and back and forth.
“Hey, look at me,” he says, dipping his head down to make you focus on him. “Breathe.”
You shake your head, trying to calm down the best you can after coming so close. Fuck, it was so close. If Steve would’ve been a split-second later, you would’ve been hit. The thought doesn’t help you calm down one bit.
Steve can see the fear in your eyes, the quick rise and fall of your chest. It clenches his heart in a tight, uncomfortable fist, and all he wants to do is help you. So he lets it slip.
“Breathe, honey. Come on.”
Honey.
That’s all the confirmation you’d ever need. You were right. This is Steve. It’s Steve holding your face and saving your life.
You surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and his go around your waist instantly.
“Steve,” you breathe out so quietly, only he could have heard it.
His heart sinks and flips at the same time, if that’s even possible. It sinks because you know, somehow, and it terrifies him so much, he’s not sure what to say. But then, it flips, too, because there’s a relief that’s clear in your voice.
“How did you-” he starts, but you only squeeze him tighter.
“Steve,” this time, your voice breaks when you say it.
Now isn’t the time to talk about this. Not when you were almost hit, not in public. Not now and not like this, Steve knows that. The break in your voice tells him to push that back for now.
“I’m gonna take you home, okay?”
He can feel you nod against his neck, so he lets go of you with one hand and keeps the other wrapped around you and starts swinging.
Right now, at this second, he’s not worried about how you found out, how you know it’s him. No, he only cares that you’re alive, that he can feel your arms squeezing around his neck, that he can squeeze you back just as tight.
As he swings with you clutching onto him, the realization makes his breathing stutter.
You could’ve died just then. In that fraction of a moment, you could’ve been gone without Steve ever getting the chance to tell you he loves you. He can’t let that happen. He’s gotta tell you.
It scares the absolute shit out of him, but he has to do something. He can’t lose you before working up the courage to tell you how he feels, before having the slightest chance at kissing you again.
He won’t let that happen.
-
Steve’s very gentle with you, even when he’s swinging from building to building with you in his arms. The sure grip he has around your waist and the smell of his cologne buried under the suit help ground you as wind rushes by.
You’re alive, Steve’s got you, and he knows you know.
Your eyes are squeezed shut the entire way, and in only a couple of minutes, he’s hanging onto the side of his building by his window and thanking himself for (once again) not locking it.
“Hey, honey, can you open the window for me?”
You lift your face from his neck and nod, twisting to lift it open. Steve’s supporting you with one arm and holding the both of you up with the other. The strength he has is incredible, especially when you’re seeing it first hand.
He helps you get into his room with a hand on your lower back, and lifts himself in right after you. You watch Steve’s back beneath the suit as he shuts the window, watch his gloved hands remove the web-shooters from his wrists.
Then, slowly, watch those same hands lift up to the edge of his mask and tug it off.
Your breath catches. You knew it was him, but seeing Steve’s familiar face and its prettiest combination of features be revealed is different, it’s real.
“Wow,” you say, though you hadn’t really meant to. It slipped. “Hi.”
Steve’s had a twist in his gut ever since he found out that you knew about him, and it only tangles more now that you’re looking at him with widened eyes. He doesn’t want things to change with you, and he’s so scared that they will.
What if you don’t want to see him anymore because of this? What if you’re angry with him for keeping it from you? What if you end up hurt because someone wanted to get to him?
“Um, hi.”
You step closer to where he stands by his side table, your hands twisting in front of you like you’re nervous, too.
“You saved me.”
“Just, uh, doing my job,” he says, shrugging it off.
“Well, then, you’re really, really great at what you do.”
You’re trying to be light with the subject, to take it at his pace given it’s his secret, his life. Steve’s quiet for a few moments, a flicker of something you can’t distinguish crossing over his face.
“How’d you know?” Is all he says, but you know exactly what he means by it.
“Saw Spider-man with the exact same injuries as you on the news. I guess I just connected the dots from there.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
You reach for his hand and hold it lightly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your touch can help to ground him as much as his does you.
“Don’t be, okay? I understand why you wouldn’t. I just want to be there for you.”
“I don’t tell anyone, really,” he starts, his grip on your hand tightening as he speaks. “Robin’s the only other person who knows. I don’t want to put anyone in danger so I… I just keep it to myself.”
You squeeze his fingers, trying to show him in any way you can that you aren’t going to run away from this.
“You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, Steve. You can talk to me or knock on my door whenever you’re hurt,” he shakes his head. “You can. I keep my first-aid kit stocked for you.”
“It doesn’t scare you? That you might get hurt because of me?”
“I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for you. Going out every night and fighting the bad guys. I’m scared that you’ll get hurt, Steve. I’m not worried about me,” he glances down but you step even closer, making him look at you. “If tonight shows anything, it’s that you’ll save me from getting hurt either way.”
Steve’s hand that isn’t holding yours moves up, pushing your hair over your shoulder before landing on your face. The fabric of his glove rests against your jaw, his thumb running over your skin, his eyes searching yours for a single hint of insincerity.
He doesn’t find one.
“You’re really important to me, honey.”
“You’re important to me, too.”
You’re close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips, his forehead a whisper away from yours. Close enough that you catch the way his eyes flick down to your mouth and back up.
“I know I said we shouldn’t-”
“Kiss me, Steve.”
“Okay.”
The hand on your face tilts you upwards, and just like that, he catches your lips with his. You’ve kissed before and still, there’s a rush of butterflies in your stomach, a warmth spreading over your skin the way a blanket of sunlight feels.
It’s slow, it’s delicate, and it means something. There are a thousand words that neither of you can say buried in this kiss, in the gentle press of your lips. Words spoken with the tilt of his head to get closer, the squeeze of his fingers interlocked with yours.
Steve doesn’t ever want to not be able to kiss you again. Not when it feels like this. Acceptance and reassurance, softness and the sort of glowing feeling he’s only ever had around you.
When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Your breaths meet between your faces, mingling in the silence that follows. Steve rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you say. Because you’re still shaken from earlier, because you need the comfort that Steve seems to provide simply by being next to you, because you’re afraid that if you let him out of your sight, he’ll pull away from you again.
“You want me to stay with you?”
You nod. “Please.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll stay.”
As long as you’ll have me, he thinks, I’ll stay.
-
Steve did stay that night. After you both showered and got ready for bed, there was a moment where he stood—almost nervous—in the doorway of your bedroom. You lifted the covers for him and patted the spot next to you, and that was it.
He stayed for breakfast, too. This time, it was him cooking for you, stood over the stove in your apartment. It’s a sight you could definitely get used to. Then, like he could get any sweeter, he even called into work for you, saying you should at least get a day after what happened the night before. What almost happened.
Really, as scary as the crash had been, what you’d been thinking about the most was the way he kissed you. The way you’d woken up in the middle of the night with his arm around your waist. The way you fell back asleep easily with him there.
It’s what you’ve been thinking about in the days since. What you’re thinking about even now.
You know that something shifted that night, with him finding out that you knew he’s Spider-man, with you being able to reassure him that it won’t push you away. You could feel that shift, like a tectonic plate.
Despite that, things have been quiet and relatively the same with Steve. You haven’t seen him all that much, but when you do it’s still friendly. Friendly with something lingering between you, unspoken and palpable.
It’s dark out now, the evening news playing on your TV the way it so often does. It’s static to you until you see footage of Spider-man from earlier, swinging around and fighting crime again.
Naturally, your first thought is Steve, and whether or not he’s okay. Before, when he didn’t know you knew, you’d keep all this worry to yourself, letting it build and build until you saw him again. Now, though, he knows you know and you can do something about that concern.
You push yourself up from your couch and head to your door. Knocking on his comes easy, and he opens it quickly, like he knew it was you.
“Hi,” he says. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth.
“Hi. Sorry for bothering you, I just- um. I saw the news and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Seeing you on the other side of his door already had Steve’s heart doing this silly flutter in his chest. Knowing you care enough to check on him this way does something else entirely. It floods from head to toe, the feelings he has for you. The ones he’s identified as love.
“I’m okay, promise. Not even a scratch this time.”
You nod, a pressure lifting from your lungs. You breathe a little easier seeing him unharmed. Seeing him in general.
“Okay. Good,” you should probably stop there, turn around and go back to yours, but you don’t. “I was just really worried, y’know, ‘cause I’ve seen you hurt and all, so I just wanted to see you and check-”
“Hey,” he grabs your hand gently, cutting off your rambling and tugging you into his apartment, pushing the door shut behind you. “I swear not every Spider-man thing I do is dangerous.”
“Yeah, okay, because swinging from buildings is super safe.”
“I’m a professional at that. Nothing to worry about.”
The wood of the front door is solid against your back, and Steve’s hand still in yours is the same. Solid, reassuring, sweet. Steve steps just a bit closer to you, so that you’re toe-to-toe and there’s nowhere for you to escape to.
His free hand reaches up to fiddle with the ends of your hair, gentle in a way that almost feels like you dreamt it.
“Did you really only come here to check on me?” He asks.
“Yeah, I did. Is that… okay?”
Steve wants to kiss you for that. He thinks you might want that, too. So, he dips his face closer to yours, lets go of your hand only to hold onto the nape of your neck instead. He hesitates, waits for you to push him away, but you never do.
Instead, you tilt your head and meet him in the middle.
You never knew that kissing someone could be so easy, that you could fit together so well that it just works. But that’s how it is with Steve, and you suppose that’s how it is when you’re in love. The pink haze and heart-shaped touches.
Steve doesn’t think he could ever get sick of kissing you, of feeling so light when things are often so heavy for him. When you pull away, he chases your mouth and steals two, three pecks from you.
Then, to answer your question, he says, “it’s more than okay.”
You only notice now that you aren’t distracted by his mouth on yours that your hands had found their way to his shoulders. It’s impossible not to notice the muscles under his skin, the clear evidence of his strength. Heat spreads through you, and you have to pull your hands away to speak properly.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” he tells you. His hand, still on your neck, squeezes so, so lightly. “I know I’ve said that we should only be friends, but that was before. Before you knew, and I was terrified of what could happen to you.”
“What about now?”
“Now…” He takes a deep breath, and focuses his eyes on yours. Whatever he’s about to say, he wants you to know he means it. “Now I can’t stop thinking about you and how it feels to kiss you.”
“I think about you, too.”
“Yeah?”
You nod, and though being honest makes you nervous, the smile that spreads over his face makes it worth it. So does the slight blush of his cheeks.
“I want to take you on a date. If that’s something you’d like.”
“I would really like that, Steve.”
Right then, there’s another shift, a bigger one. You both know there are feelings here. Big, scary feelings that you can’t say out loud yet.
-
Steve took care of planning the date. He wanted to surprise you, to impress you and do something for you this time. You do enough for him already.
Though Robin assured him—after all of her ‘finally’s and ‘I told you so’s—that it would be great, perfect, even, he’s still nervous when he knocks on your door. He’s shuffling on his feet, puffing out a breath as he waits, and then he sees you and the rest sort of melts away.
You open your door to find Steve with a picnic basket in hand and a slightly windswept bouquet of flowers in the other. You smile as he hands them to you and try to hide it by smelling the flowers.
“Thank you, these are beautiful.”
“‘Course.”
“I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”
Your stomach is a mess of flutters and nerves as you fill up a vase with water and put the flowers in it. Sure, you’ve spent time with Steve alone time and time again, but never like this. It’s exciting and it’s scary, but the welcome kind of scary that comes with new things.
“You’re taking me on a picnic?” You ask, locking your apartment door behind you and then falling into step next to Steve.
“If that’s okay with you?”
“Sounds amazing.”
“My cooking isn’t as great as yours, I have to warn you,” Steve says, holding the door open to the stairwell.
“I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“It’s okay if you don’t, I’m just saying.”
He holds the door at the bottom of the stairs open for you, too. And then the one to exit the building.
As you walk along, Steve leading the way, your nerves fade, replaced with the familiarity and comfort of Steve’s company. Replaced with the feelings that sweep inside you like a huge bubble of pink bubblegum, so close to popping and spilling it all.
You talk aimlessly about anything and everything, and Steve does the same. You both try not to make the little catch in your breaths obvious when your hands brush.
He takes you to a park, one with big trees and a walking trail, with scattered flowers and the fresh smell of nature that makes you feel like you’re not even in the city anymore. He keeps going, and you keep following him, until he finds the spot he’d found before. A small clearing between trees, shaded by their leaves and just enough space for him to spread out the picnic blanket.
“Why have I never found this place myself?” You ask, looking up at the sky through the leaves.
“You like it?”
You nod, sitting down next to him on the blanket he brought. “Thank you for bringing me.”
He shrugs, “thank you for coming.”
You share a smile, a slow spread across your mouths as you look at each other for a moment. A smile saying this is real. Then, like it didn’t even happen, he starts to unpack the food.
Steve can’t even remember the last date he went on, but he knows that it wasn’t anything like this. He’s never felt this light around someone before. Somehow, you turn the bricks that weigh him down into feathers.
You’d thought it before, but you’re sure of it now; Steve is the absolute best boy you’ve ever known. The effort he put into making and packing up the food, the shyness he has about it all, like he should be embarrassed for being sweet to you. You feel unbelievably lucky that you moved into the apartment across from his.
The date goes by in a blink. You and Steve subconsciously moving closer and closer on the blanket, your thighs touching and your arms brushing. The food eaten between conversation and giggles. The picnic basket is now packed up again, the containers empty this time around.
You rest your head on Steve's shoulder and say, “thank you for this.”
Steve’s eyes close for a second, trying to memorize how this feels. He opens them and presses the gentlest kiss onto your head. “You’re welcome, honey.”
You stay that way and breathe each other in, once, then twice. That’s all you allow yourself before you stand and brush yourself off even though you weren’t dirty in the first place. Steve folds up the blanket and places it in the basket, and he stands, too.
This time, as you walk back to your apartment building, when your hands brush, you and Steve feel just a bit more confident, enough to reach your pinkies out to each other and lock them.
Steve’s the one who fully grabs onto your hand, letting your fingers intertwine. It’s how they’re meant to be, he thinks, two pieces of the same puzzle that just happen to fit together. You don’t let go for the entire walk.
Outside your building, neither of you really want to say goodbye, to end the date that feels like the beginning of something really, really good.
But, just as Steve lets go of your hand to reach for the door, he feels it. The tingling over his skin, the goosebumps, the static in his ears. He blinks and turns to you.
“I’m sorry-”
“Stop, it’s okay. Just be safe.”
He’ll never understand how you’re so understanding, how you accept it so quickly. All he knows is he loves you for it and so much more.
“Thank you, honey.”
He presses the quickest kiss to your cheek, sets down the picnic basket, and then runs into the alleyway on the side of the building. When he emerges, he’s in his suit and swinging off.
He’d been wearing it under his clothes. Always prepared.
You pick up the picnic basket and walk up to your apartment half convinced that the last few hours have been some sort of dream. Too good to be true.
-
The issue that had Steve’s senses coming alive didn’t take long to handle. Still, he stayed out to continue patrolling, worried that something else could happen. Worried that it might be too soon to go back and see you again.
Not seeing you didn’t erase you from his thoughts. Not one bit. He spent the hours in the suit waiting for the city to die down, waiting for the moment his senses would quiet down enough to let him know he was done for the night.
All because he wanted to see you, kiss you. God, he’s so fucked.
You were faring pretty much the same. Only, you’d changed into your pajamas rather than a superhero suit, laying around on your bed with a book in hand to hear knocks on your door. Or, at the very least, to hear him get home safe.
When the knock comes, it isn’t on your door. Instead, there’s a tapping on your bedroom window by the fire escape. As soon as you hear it, you shut your book and turn towards your window, and there he is.
Steve hangs upside down, his head level with yours when you open the window to talk to him. If you weren’t so busy being in love with him, the sight would be sort of funny.
“Well hello, Spider-man,” you say, leaning your hands against the windowsill.
“Hey, honey.”
“You aren’t hurt are you?” You ask, moving your hands to hold his face, because you’ve seen him injured enough times to be worried about that, to know it’s a possibility.
“I’m completely fine.”
“You’re really okay?”
“Nothing hurts, I promise,” he says, shaking his head. How could it when you’re holding him like that, looking at him like that. Pain isn’t what he’s feeling in the slightest.
You’re not really thinking when you lean in and peck his cheek over the mask, but it’s enough to scorch his skin, to leave an invisible mark.
And Steve isn’t really thinking when he speaks, “have I ever told you that I think you’re really pretty?”
“You’re upside down,” you tell him, fighting a stupid, lovesick smile. “You must be seeing wrong.”
He ignores that comment and twists himself upright, then climbs through your window into your apartment. You have to back up to make room for him, and when his feet hit the hardwood floors, he’s only inches away.
“I’m right side up now. Still think you’re pretty.”
You’ve never been good at taking compliments, never really thought that people meant them, only that they were trying to be kind. Steve is different. You still don’t believe it yourself, but you can tell that he does. His voice holds enough emotion to do that.
Bashful, you walk around him to shut your window and then lock it. You try to keep your feelings off of your face when you turn back around and find him already facing you, his mask now off and clutched in his hand.
His hair is a mess on his head, his cheeks flushed from being upside down and maybe, just maybe from being so close to you.
“So, what brought you to my window?” You ask.
“I wanted to say sorry,” he says, scratching at his neck. That habit of his. “For leaving the way I did earlier.”
It’s a half truth. He wanted to apologize for that. But, mostly, he wanted to tell you he loves you. He’d been thinking about it his whole patrol. Thinking about when the right time would be then remembering how quickly things can change, how you’d almost been hit not so long ago.
With that, he decided that there wasn’t a right time, that he could lose you just like that and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let that happen. Especially not without telling you how he feels.
But, he’s always been more courageous with that mask on, and now, he just can’t get the words to leave his mouth. They hover on the top of his tongue, sticky and heavy.
“I told you it’s okay, Steve. I swear,” you step closer to him and reach for his hand, tugging the glove off before lacing your fingers with his. “I know that you had to, that this is a part of you and I’d never expect you to change or ignore it. I-“ love you, you almost say. But the words get stuck for you, too. “I care about you so much. Spider-man included.”
Every time Steve worries, even the slightest bit, that you’ll feel differently about him because of this, you prove him wrong. You say all the right things to make him feel better, to make him want to fall into you completely and never look back.
You’ve proven to him over and over that you’re in this, that you’re this dream of a girl that somehow ended up in his mess of a life. A mess you’re willing to join, helping him clean it without even trying.
You’re a dream, his dream, and he has to say it. He has to say it so he does, those sticky words forced off of his tongue in a breath.
“I love you.”
He squeezes your hand on the second word, like he’s emphasizing it. Love.
“I love you,” he says again, and you realize you’re not dreaming. He really said it, and he’s really looking at you that way with those soft, brown eyes. “You don’t have to say it, I just needed to tell you. I’ve never had someone make me feel the way you do. Never.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah?”
Your heart pounds, thumps.
“I love you, too.”
“Serious?” He checks, because he thinks he dreamt it just like you had.
So you repeat it for him, “I love you, Steve.”
He leans in, not so afraid anymore, and places a hand on your neck, his fingers in your hair. The other hand squeezes yours again before letting go to frame your jaw and tilt your mouth to his.
It’s an easy rhythm to fall into now. Kissing him. And you feel yourself melt into him, your muscles relaxing, your body pushing towards his. Your arms are thrown around his neck, and all you feel is him.
It’s a delicate push and pull, a kiss that’s familiar but now has something new behind it. That acknowledged emotion, the reality of it. It has his tongue sweeping against the seam of your lips and dipping in when they part.
His hand is tangled tighter in your hair, and you’re not sure how long it’s been before you both pull away, breathless, chests heaving, matching smiles on your lips. Your noses still brush, and still, it doesn’t feel close enough.
Steve’s hands shift to run down your shoulders, then your arms, and back and forth.
“Does this mean I’m your girlfriend?” You ask, still breathing heavy, still feeling his breath fan across your lips.
“I’d like to think so,” he says, his hands now settled around your forearms. “If that’s what you want.”
You nod, kiss him quick. “Does it also mean you’ll stay the night?”
“As long as I can use your shower first,” he says.
“Good idea.”
“You saying I smell?”
You shrug, shoulder to your cheek. He smiles, and in turn, so do you, and it feels like the closest thing to perfect there could ever be.
-
Steve emerges from your bathroom with damp hair falling over his forehead and your clothes on instead of his suit. You lent him a t-shirt and a baggy pair of sweats that are still a bit too short at his ankles. You grin when you notice that.
And Steve grins when he sees you. My girl, he thinks. And it’s for real this time.
You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent and your book in your hands yet again. You needed to occupy yourself while he was showering, after all. Otherwise, you’d just think and think and think about him in the next room, his mouth on yours. His voice saying the words ‘I love you.’
He walks over and sits on the bed by your feet, his side facing you, but his head turned to look at you. Seeing him in your clothes, in your space, you think it’s something you’d like to see forever. Seeing you waiting for him in bed, Steve’s thinking the exact same thing.
“Hi,” you say.
Steve wraps a hand around your bare ankle, his thumb smoothing back and forth. “Hi.”
Though everything’s out in the open now, there’s a shyness there. Like two kids with crushes wondering what to do next. You’ve never loved each other out loud before today. It’s brand new territory.
But with that shyness, there’s so much more. There’s the knowledge of how it feels to kiss each other, to hold each other. There’s want to do it all again.
Steve’s other hand reaches for your book and sets it open and face-down on your nightstand. Then, he pushes your knees over so that he can lean in. He’s not fully thinking about what he’s doing, he’s simply listening to this thread that pulls him closer and closer to you until he’s kissing you again.
It starts with a couple of pecks, innocent, soft, quick. It turns into more and somewhere along the way you’re tugged into Steve’s lap, your knees on either side of one of his thighs. And somewhere along the way Steve’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running across your waist and up and down your back. He groans into your mouth when he notices the lack of a bra.
Steve tugs you impossibly closer to him, tugs you down so that you’re straddling his thigh with all of your weight. You inhale sharp and quick through your nose when he does.
It’s not long after that before you’re panting, unable to keep up with his mouth, and though Steve’s chest heaves, too, he doesn’t take the break to breathe properly. Instead, he dips his head to kiss your jaw, then your neck.
Your head tilts for him easily, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other tangled in the hair at the bale of his neck. You gasp when his teeth scrape against the skin behind your ear, your hips hurting unconsciously to rut against his thigh.
“Sorry,” you say, worried it was too much. Still, it comes out breathily.
He pulls back from your neck, looks into your eyes, his brown ones just a bit darker than usual. “Did that feel good?”
Your eyes search his face for an ounce of discomfort, of uncertainty. All you see is the kind of warmth that spreads through you, the kind of intensity that only comes with lust.
“Yes.”
“Do it again,” he tells you, his hands slipping down to rest just above the waistband of your shorts. He encourages you to move, his hands pushing and pulling. You move with him, slowly at first, letting out the smallest whimper when the angle is just right. At the sound, Steve says, “keep doing it.”
“Steve.”
“You’re okay,” his hands urge you forward again, his thumbs running back and forth soothingly. “I wanna make you feel good. Okay?”
“Okay,” you agree, because how could you not when it already feels so good, when he’s looking at you with kiss-swollen lips, messy hair, and wide pupils. When he’s looking at you like it feels as good for him as it does for you.
You move quicker, his hands encouraging you still. He kisses you again, kisses you until you have to pull away, your mouth dropping open, a moan slipping out before you can stop it.
Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and keep it, listen to it over and over. Because he’s the one who’s making you feel that way, he’s the one who has your hand tight in his hair. Because he’s thought about you before, and it’s nothing compared to the real thing.
The sweatpants you lent him grow a bit tighter, and his hands don’t stop guiding you over him. He wants to hear you make that noise again.
You drop your forehead to his shoulder, your thighs tightening around his, your clit catching on the fabric of your shorts and his (your) sweatpants enough to make you moan again.
“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good.”
It’s the first time he’s ever called you ‘baby’ and you hope it won’t be the last.
“Steve.”
“I’ve got you.”
The hand that isn’t in his hair trails down his torso and rests above the waistband of his pants for a second. Your hand cups him over his pants, squeezing lightly and finding him hard. Watching you was enough to turn him on, and the thought makes you whimper again.
“Fuck. You don’t have to,” he says, taking a hand from your waist to pull your face from his shoulder, to look at you.
“Want you to feel good, too.”
There’s nothing but honesty in your words, want in your eyes.
“Shit, honey.”
“Will you let me?” You ask, your voice slightly strained from the stimulation you feel, your hips still moving.
“Yeah.”
Your hand slips under the waistband with his consent, and you wrap it around him, your thumb running over his tip. He groans and leans his forehead against yours.
You’re breathing the same air, moving at the same pace, and you don’t think it’s ever felt this right with anyone before. With Steve, you’re not thinking about how you might look and whether or not he’ll like it, you’re only thinking about being with him.
“I’ve thought about you before. Like this,” he says, a quiet confession broken up by heavy breaths.
“Me, too,” you reply in a gasp.
His hands are both on your waist again, squeezing your skin tighter because you have a hand wrapped around his cock and it has his head spinning.
“You getting close, baby?”
“Yeah, Steve. So good.”
“I know. Keep going. I wanna see you.”
His voice is tight, and he’s holding himself back though it hasn’t been long. Your hand is soft, running up and down and he hasn’t been with someone in so long. The fact that it’s you, right now, doesn’t help him last. Just kissing you would be enough, he thinks.
Your rhythm stutters, your eyes squeezing shut, and just like that, you’re tipping over the edge and coming on his thigh.
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he hums, low and scratchy. “That’s it. Look so pretty coming on me.”
Your hand pauses where it was jerking him off, too caught up in your orgasm to keep going. You say his name, say it again, and he keeps you moving over him through it all.
“Fuck,” you open your eyes when the last wave draws away, your legs shaking slightly.
It doesn’t take you long to start stroking him again, up and down and back again. Steve grunts and his hips stutter upwards, chasing your touch. It’s your turn to work him through it.
“Gonna come, honey,” he warns you. “I’ll ruin your sweats.”
“Don’t care,” you say, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I want you to.”
You run your thumb across the tip again and then his fingers are digging into your skin. He’s groaning and you feel the warmth of his come spill onto your hand. Neither of you had taken any clothes off and still, it’s the best you’ve ever had.
“Shit, honey.” This time it’s his head that rests against your shoulder. “I’m gonna need another shower now.”
You laugh breathily and pull your hand from his pants, wiping it off on the thigh you’re not sitting on, ‘cause they’re already ruined, anyway.
“I’ll get you another pair,” you say.
“In a minute. Can’t move.”
A minute is closer to five, and eventually he lets you go. You hand him a new pair of sweatpants, then clean up in the bathroom and change into different shorts. When you come back, he’s laying down under the covers in your bed. Twin smiles spread on your faces.
“You’re cute,” you tell him.
“So are you.”
You shake your head and flick your light off, the street lights flooding through your window the only thing left illuminating your room. You join him under the covers, and he doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and pull you into his chest.
Your head rests by his shoulder, one of your legs thrown over his. Having him laying next to you is much more comfortable than being alone.
“I love you,” Steve says, his lips pushing a kiss into your hair.
“I love you,” you say right back.
And then, just like you’d imagined so many times before, you fall asleep cuddling Steve. And just like he’s imagined so many times before, you wake up that way, too.
/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\
thank you guys so much for reading spidey!steve i hope u liked it!!!! pls pls consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought, i promise it makes a difference <333
summary: steve hates thursdays, and thursdays hate steve. today is no exception, except that the green goblin has decided to try and hurt him in a brand new way, and steve isn't sure he can keep going if the worst comes to pass (modern!au; spidey!steve universe)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 7.4k
warning(s): language; some violence (fight scenes); mentions of injuries/blood
notes: HI HELLO ITS SPIDEY!STEVE TIME !!!! thank u all for being so patient; i know this is much longer than normal but i was SO excited for it and i loved the idea!! thank u to the two anons who requested this; i kind of combined the two requests into one, i hope that's okay! also it's the first real introduction for a villain, and there's plenty more to come... i hope you enjoy!!
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Steve thought he’d been careful. Always did his best to be as careful and as conspicuous as he can where the people he loves are concerned so that nothing about his activities as Spider-Man could be traced back to them. He doesn’t swing Robin to work in costume when she’s running late; he only rescues Ozzy from the roof of Eddie’s building when absolutely necessary (which probably happens more often than it should, but the fuzzball loves it when Steve makes a web-sling to carry him around in); and he does everything possible to keep the dangers of his life as Spider-Man away from you. In public, at least.
But in private? He’s at your place all the time. Probably too often, considering how much he pays in rent for his place across the hall from you, but as long as he gets to spend time with you he won’t complain (to you, but Robin isn’t quite so lucky considering she lives with him). Ever since he’d first seen you the day he moved into his crappy little apartment in this too old building, when you peeked out at him carrying too many boxes at once, he’d decided he needed to get to know you (which he did, with all the ups and downs that came with it). Now you’re one of his best friends, one of the few people who know he’s Spider-Man, someone he cherishes totally and completely (though he’ll deny it because having you in his life as a friend is enough, at least for now), and also someone he’d never, ever risk getting hurt.
But Steve must have slipped up at some point, and the universe really decided to make him pay for it. Steve and you.
It’s a Thursday. Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday, not for Steve; he’s pretty sure he was brought into this world on a Thursday, and it always seems like the universe is trying to take him out on the same day. It’s usually the day that he’s stuck running around after crazed supervillains who want to destroy half the city because it’s Thursday and that’s just what they wanna do on Thursdays for shits and giggles. Like today, with the Green Goblin playing explosion tag with him and yelling out nonsense.
Okay, well, it was actually something like, “Heroism is a fool’s errand!” and, “Chaos will destroy everything you love!” But honestly, this is the third time this month that the Green Goblin has pulled something like this and Steve is very quickly running out of patience. This time, though, it’s harder than normal for Steve to try and keep the villain contained in a single area of the city. It almost feels as if Goblin is toying with him, more so than usual, and is trying to lead Steve into something.
Steve’s wary of the psychotically jolly green man on a good day; despite not being as superpowered as some of the other bad guys Steve sees on the regular, Goblin learns and observes and always manages to have some kind of ace up his sleeve. And today, the taunts he gets as he tries to bring the villain down are just that much more smug than usual; Goblin also has some new gadgets, which includes a pumpkin bomb that turns into a small flying bladed monstrosity that hurts like a bitch when they make contact with him. This suit is already torn up and Steve is going to have a hell of a time repairing it, if it even can be repaired at this point. And this one is new, too… Thursdays really suck.
So here Steve is, using his webs to grab a large chunk of the side of a building and fling it away from a group of terrified bystanders on the sidewalk and up onto the roof of a nearby building—well, onto the rooftop garden that’s probably going to need to be re-landscaped, but it had entirely too many topiaries for Steve’s taste so he figures he’s doing them a favour. They’ll save a ton on having to get them removed, and maybe now they can put in a rooftop pool with the new hole they’ll have.
One of these days he’s gonna get sued for property damage, but today is (hopefully) not that day, so he swings back towards the Green Goblin, who’s currently hovering near a rooftop down the block. Steve makes sure that the bystanders are out of harm’s way for now (though he’s sure he’s going to read all about how he’s the one who put them in danger in tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Bugle) before he sends out some webs with a thwip! to swing himself towards the roof that Goblin is currently hovering over. Only this time, unlike every other time Steve has gotten close enough to land a clean hit, the green menace doesn’t try to leave his position. It’s more than a little odd, but Steve hopes that maybe it means his Thursday is taking a turn for the better.
It’s not.
As Steve swings closer, Goblin lets out a loud, ear-splitting cackle behind the creepy mask that he somehow thinks is a good fashion choice as he swoops down towards the roof. Steve throws out another line of webbing, swinging himself up to get a clearer view of what’s going on. The Green Goblin is grabbing something—or someone, Steve realizes, who’d been on that rooftop.
He feels it at the base of his skull, tingling and quivering both down through his spine and up through his head. Something is way off, worse than he’s felt in a long time, and his Spidey-Sense is warning him that something really bad is about to happen really quickly. The quip he’d been holding onto, something really great about how if Green Goblin was having problems with his glider, they make pills for that now, dies in his throat. Steve lands on the side of an adjacent building, watching Goblin fly up holding the person from the roof.
It’s you.
Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him, seeing the Green Goblin holding you up by the throat to dangle you over the edge of his glider. All sound around him immediately stops, save for the frantic sound of his own heart hammering and thumping against his ribcage, aiming to shatter it. That would probably hurt less, he thinks, than seeing how terrified you look right now. Your wrists are bound together in front of you in a way Steve can’t imagine is very comfortable, and he has to take some very deep breaths through his nose to stop himself from screaming your name.
Why are you here? Why does Goblin have you? How long has he had you? A million and one questions are running through Steve’s head, faster than usual, almost too fast to keep up with. You’re in your work clothes, though they’re beyond rumpled and a little torn now; did Goblin grab you at work? On your home from work? From the apartment building? God, Steve really hopes Goblin doesn’t know where you live; if he’s taken away the safety of your home from you, Steve doesn’t know what he can do to fix that.
How did anyone link you back to Steve? He’s been careful, he thought he’d been so careful to keep you out of his life. Does the Goblin know who Steve really is? Oh god, what does that mean for you? For Robin or Eddie, or Dustin or Max or Nancy, or anyone else who’s connected to Steve Harrington? Shit, he’s gotta get this figured out fast.
He’s never been more thankful than he is now that his mask covers his entire face, because he’s really not sure he could hide the emotions he’s sure are twisting and contorting his features. What started out as cold fear trickling down his back and into his stomach has partially turned to molten hot anger is thrumming through his chest; it makes for an odd combination of sensations while his mind is trying to put together any kind of plan to get you away from here and somewhere, anywhere, that’s safe.
“Let her go, Goblin!” Steve is trying to keep his tone as even as he can, hoping that the desperation he’s feeling isn’t obvious enough in his voice that the Green Goblin will pick up on it. He moves one hand up, getting ready to swing closer when the Goblin rises a bit higher in the air on his glider and holds out the hand not currently wrapped around your neck.
“Ah, ah, ah, Spider-Man! Come any closer and my hand may just slip,” the Goblin taunts, his hand loosening slightly on your neck as he pretends to almost drop you. Or maybe he’s not pretending; that guy’s mind is a bag full of barn cats on a good day, and today is not a very good day at all. You can’t help the noise you make, a strangled sort of shriek, as your fingers scramble to find purchase and hold onto the wrist of the hand that’s holding you up. It’s not very easy with your wrists bound, Steve imagines, but you do your best. He sees the kick you send in Goblin’s direction, which is more than likely intended to harm rather than help your balance, and there’s a tiny prick of fondness to Steve’s heart. That’s his girl. Well, okay, not his, per se, but close enough.
“Take it easy, Gobbie, I’m gonna stay right here.” For now. That stays unspoken, but Steve is trying to look for any opportunity to get you out of there. “You know, there are much better ways to make friends than this if you’re feeling lonely, y’know, that don’t reek of desperation and eau de jolly green giant.”
“I’ve been watching you, Spider-Man,” the Green Goblin says, hovering a little higher and putting his free hand behind his back as he ignores Steve’s jab at him. Which is a pity, really, because Steve was hoping it might start something and Steve could make him mad enough to put you back down on the roof and out of harm’s way. “And I’ve noticed that you’ve come to her aid more than a few times.”
Shit. Okay. That’s not what Steve was expecting. The Green Goblin has been spying on him, which is a weird enough concept, but he’s been paying close enough attention to pick you out of crowds of people that Steve has saved. He thought he’d been more careful than that; but when he thinks back on it, he realizes that there’ve been at least two incidents this month where you’d been caught up in something he’s taken care of as Spider-Man, and definitely once or twice that you’ve covered for him as Steve so he could go save the day. And Goblin had been watching, had been able to see you and connect you to Spider-Man. That has Steve’s stomach twisting, and he can’t help fidgeting as he tries to think up an excuse fast enough.
“It’s my job to save people, Gobbie. You know, you put them in danger and I rescue them, usually looking dashing in the process,” Steve fires back, gesticulating with one hand. He’s trying to be as nonchalant as he can, and he really hopes it’s working. He really needs to break that mask Green Goblin is wearing, and any other spares he’s got, because being unable to read his facial expressions would be very helpful in situations like this. Plus, it’s absolutely the stuff of nightmares and Steve could save a lot of people a lot of money on therapy bills if he smashed it to pieces. Maybe then he’d get a good piece of news printed about him. “Maybe she just hangs out in bad parts of the city. Or maybe bad guys think she’s good looking. You and I both know Kingpin’s henchmen always go for pretty people; they aren’t on the deep end of the gene pool.”
“I told you that I don’t know Spider-Man!” you yell out as best you can, though your voice sounds more than a little strained to Steve. He’s gotta make a move and he’s gotta do it sooner rather than later because he needs to get you as far away from here as possible.
“Hmm… so you don’t care what happens to her, then?” Goblin asks, and he loosens his grip once more. Steve reaches forward, unable to help himself as he reacts on instinct. You shriek again, kicking out and catching the Green Goblin on his side. He growls at you, flying up a little higher before turning back to Steve. “Then it’s time to choose, Spider-Boy!” Goblin says, cackling loudly. “Will you save her?” His hand tightens around your throat, and the pained noise you make has Steve’s jaw clenching. “Or will you save them?”
Goblin’s free hand, which Steve had not been looking at as closely as he should have been while you’re in danger, comes out from behind his back holding three pumpkin bombs. He waves that hand towards what Steve sees is a group of civilians, standing down below and watching this interaction like it’s some kind of sport to them.
His stomach twists and his chest tightens as his Spidey-Sense goes absolutely haywire. Shit. Shit. How is he supposed to choose between the people down there and you? Can he save everyone? He has to save everyone, he’s Spider-Man.
He’s not given time to make an actual choice, however, because Green Goblin is throwing the pumpkin bombs and then the hand he has around your throat disappears. You start to fall down towards the street below and Steve realizes that he’s going to have to move faster than he’s ever had to before because he absolutely can’t lose you. Not like this, not ever.
He lunges forward in your direction, pushing himself off the wall to give himself as much momentum as he can. While he’s soaring through the air, trying to position himself to be able to catch you, he launches some webs with his right hand up towards the three flying pumpkin bombs. He’s trying to web them together, hopefully turning them into one bigger webby blob ball to better keep track of them—and to make sure they get back to the place they came from.
He manages to catch the first two and lump them together as the blinking green lights on the front of the bombs start speeding up. When they stop blinking completely, that’s when they blow up; Steve knows that from unfortunate personal experience. His eyebrows haven’t been the same since that last time. He shoots another web to grab the third, bringing them all together as he manages to catch up to where you’re currently falling.
Steve tries to be as gentle as he can as he uses his free hand to grab you around your waist, but he’s pretty sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow. He’ll feel bad about that once the two of you get out of this, because right now your safety is his priority and he needs to make sure you get out of this. He slips your arms around his neck, turning your bodies as best he can so that he’s below you and looking up at the twistedly jolly masked face of the Goblin.
Now’s his chance. Steve swings the ball in the direction of where the Goblin is flying confidently above the two of you, as hard and as fast as he can before releasing the web strand. As soon as he’s done that, as quickly as he can, Steve shoots another web up to tether the two of you to a balcony on the side of the building. He feels your arms tighten around his neck as the web helps slow your fall, and he feels a small wave of relief settle over his shoulders as the two of you hit the ground.
He’s about to open his mouth and say something when there’s a very loud BOOM! from up above, followed by a shriek. Yeah, that had to hurt. Which Steve really hoped it did. But if it didn’t… Well, Steve was going to make sure Goblin knew what it felt like to hurt. And he was going to do it now, before the jolly green bastard had a chance to run away.
He removes your arms from their spot around his neck and makes sure that you’re steady on your feet before he rips the rope binding your wrists. He makes sure to keep his touch gentle as he takes hold of your shoulders, looking at you through his mask.
“Get somewhere safe!” he urges you. You open your mouth, looking as if you want to say something, but he shakes his head. “Now!” His tone leaves zero room for argument, and while he regrets seeing the way it causes your forehead to furrow and your posture to shrink, he will not let you get hurt again.
You nod, and then you’re turning to find somewhere to take cover until this is over. Steve watches you go before he turns to look up towards the roof of the building. He can see Goblin, looking much worse for wear, trying to ride a rapidly smoking and sparking glider. Definitely not having fun, and Steve is not going to let this guy get away.
Steve shoots two webs, one from each hand, at two balconies on the top floor of the building. He walks backwards as quickly as he can to pull the webs taut. Then he lets go of each simultaneously as he jumps up, letting them slingshot him up as fast as possible so that he can launch himself directly at the flying green menace. He manages to land a kick to Goblin’s stomach, knocking him off his glider. The two of them crash down onto the roof of the building and Steve takes advantage of the element of surprise he gains to make sure he lands on top of the villain to pin him down and start throwing punches wherever they’ll land.
Steve chooses to let the rage he felt earlier bubble back up to the surface as his fists start cracking against Goblin’s helmet, his shoulders, his chest… anything that he can reach, he hits. Steve thinks about the terrified look on your face, about the noises you made with the Green Goblin’s hand around your throat, about what would have happened if he hadn’t caught you in time… He keeps punching until his arm aches and he’s sure his knuckles have split and he can see the blood splattered across the rooftop underneath them. Goblin’s helmet has cracked and split, small chunks of it littering the rooftop beneath his head. There’s a chunk missing now, and Steve can’t find it in himself to be anything other than overwhelmingly furious. Both at Goblin and at himself.
Steve pauses, just for a second, when he sees something glinting where the chunk of the mask is missing. He looks closer, and when he does, he catches sight of one pale blue eye staring back up at him before smoke starts to cloud his vision.
Shit. Green Goblin let off a smoke bomb. Steve is taken by surprise, and starts to cough as he feels smoke enter his lungs. He tries to clear the smoke away with his hands, but it’s coming fast and thick from below him and it’s not letting up. He shifts, closing his eyes, and that’s when he feels an elbow catch him in the cheek before he’s knocked off of the Green Goblin. He makes contact with the concrete of the roof and damn, that hurts. He groans, still coughing, but as he opens his eyes he notices the smoke start to dissipate. He gets up, trying to wave it away, and as he does so he sees that Goblin has gotten back on his glider and is currently flying away.
Damn it. Steve falls back onto his butt on the rooftop, breathing a little easier now that the smoke is dissipating, though he’s still frustrated that Goblin got away. Thursdays really are the worst.
He doesn’t stay down long, though, because he can hear the sound of sirens getting closer and he really does not want to stick around to have to deal with any cops today. He doesn’t have the most patience for them on a good day, and since today is not a good day, he’s going to avoid that mess as best he can.
As the sirens get louder, Steve scrambles over to the side of the roof to peer down. He catches sight of the police cars coming in fast, and sees the crowd down on the streets has started to get bigger now that the Green Goblin has taken off to lick his wounds. And among the crowd, he manages to pick you out. Relief washes over him like he’s taken a drink of something warm on a very cold day (which he absolutely wants to do later, hot chocolate is calling his name). It eases the knots in his chest, especially as he sees you walking out of the area and in the direction of your shared apartment building.
You’re safe. You stayed behind instead of leaving, but you’re okay and you’re heading in the direction of home. And he’s gonna meet you there to make sure you’re okay—or get you the help you need if you’re not. Which he knows he’ll have Robin’s backup on too (though she probably won’t be too happy if she sees he’s bruised and bloody, too).
He moves back from the edge of the roof, moving to the other side to jump a few buildings over as discreetly as he can in red and blue spandex. He knows he’s got an old backpack with some spare clothes in it around here somewhere that he’s going to change into; after what just happened, with Green Goblin linking you to Spider-Man, he doesn’t want to take any risks that might lead someone back to where you both live. Not after today, after being slapped in the face with the reality of how dangerous his life is.
Aha, there it is! Steve finds one of his backpacks webbed behind some shrubbery, and he’s quick to grab it and start going through the contents. God, is he ever thankful for his own forgetfulness right now. He’s got to have an embarrassingly high number of backpacks, duffle bags, gym bags, and the like hiding all over the city at this point, and he’s glad he remembered this one. It’s got a full outfit in it, thankfully, as well as an old set of keys he thought he’d lost; it’s the one with the ‘Let’s go, Lesbians!’ keychain Robin had given him, which he hadn’t told her was missing so this works in his favour.
He jumps down off the roof, bag in hand, and ducks into a secluded alleyway to change out of his suit as quickly and inconspicuously as he can (though he does end up hopping around quite a bit trying to get his torn up suit off and his jeans on). He packs his suit into the backpack before he’s shrugging it onto his shoulders and dipping out of the alley to make his way home.
He gets there pretty quickly, though you’re nowhere in sight as he bounds up the steps to the building and uses his keys to let himself in. Steve moves through the lobby, groaning as he sees that unfortunately, the elevators are still out of service. He hasn’t had time to completely take stock of all his injuries yet, but he knows from his walk to the building that his right leg is not gonna like having to climb five flights of stairs. But you’re upstairs, and Robin probably is too, and he needs to see you and make sure you’re alright. So he takes a deep breath and starts to climb the stairs.
By the time he makes it up to the floor your apartments are on, he’s just a little out of breath and his right thigh absolutely hates him. But he makes it, and that’s what matters, so Steve makes his way to where your door and his door sit across the hall from each other. He’s not exactly sure if you would have gone to your own apartment first, so he makes his way to your door and presses his ear against it. He really hopes none of the neighbours decide to leave their apartments or look out into the hall because this will look really weird. Not the weirdest thing Steve’s done since he moved in here, but still.
He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. He waits for a few more minutes, just to be sure, before he moves away from your door and heads to his. Now he can hear voices, low and muted behind the surprisingly sturdy wood of the door, as he fishes his keys back out of his pocket and uses them to unlock the door. He pushes it open, stumbling slightly over the lip in the doorway as he comes inside.
As Steve closes the door behind him and toes his own shoes off, he catches sight of Robin’s boots and your shoes sitting haphazardly on the mat by the door. The relief that washes over him is immediate, knowing you made it home and you’re here with Robin, who will absolutely make sure that you’re okay. The fact that your shoes are still here means that you’re not hurt enough to need to go to the hospital, which eases the knots in his stomach just a bit. He absolutely doesn’t know what he’d do if he was the reason you ended up in a hospital.
He drops his bag by the door and hangs up his keys on their hook before he makes his way down the small front hall and into the living room. As he rounds the corner and the living room comes into sight, he sees Robin perched on the coffee table, directly in front of where he sees you sitting on their armchair. Both of you are looking in his direction, and he tries to offer up a smile as he walks fully into the room and raises one hand in a wave.
“Steven Augustus Harrington!” Robin yells, getting up off the coffee table (barely managing to avoid knocking over the Lego flowers that Will had given them as a housewarming gift) to stomp over to him. The effect is slightly undermined by the giant fuzzy bumblebee slippers she’s wearing, and Steve sighs as fond exasperation for his best friend and roommate wins over any annoyance he feels. You stay seated, albeit perched on the edge of the chair, but Steve can see the way your shoulders go from being up near your ears to slumping down to where they normally rest that you’re relieved to see him, too.
“That’s not my name,” he tells her, but she disregards it with a wave of her hand. Her nose is scrunched and her eyebrows are furrowed as she starts looking him over.
“What the fuck, Steve? Are you okay?” she asks, before she starts going off on him about personal safety and not to rush into danger like that—he’s not exactly paying as close attention as he probably should be. He’s assuming she either found out what happened from you or online—he knows she’s got alerts set up for any news stories or social media posts about Spider-Man (which he knows because every time that stupid #SpideyFails account posts she’s gotta share it with all of their friends). But Steve doesn’t really want to talk about himself or how badly that fight with the Green Goblin went right now; he’d much rather make sure you’re okay, find out what happened and just… he wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. To make sure you’re okay; you’re quiet, too quiet, and the more time goes by the more worried he’s getting.
“Robin, I’m fine,” he assures her, though the little line between her eyebrows only gets deeper as she stares at him. Steve rolls his eyes and nods his head in the direction of her bedroom door. She tilts her head to the side, and Steve gestures a little more forcefully, hoping she’ll take the hint that he wants some privacy with you. Robin raises an eyebrow, and Steve nods again, this time in your direction
He sees realization spread across Robin’s face, and she turns to look at you. You’d been staring at them, Steve realizes, and you look away when they both meet your gaze. Robin shakes her head slightly, walking in your direction. She gently places a hand on your shoulder and rubs it before she grabs the first aid kit Steve hadn’t realized was on the coffee table, throwing it at Steve. He barely manages to catch it, fumbling it a bit before he’s sure he won’t drop it.
“Use your tingle next time, dingus!” she says, shuffling off in her fuzzy bumblebee slippers. She disappears into her room, closing the door behind her with a very audible click of her lock. Which leaves Steve alone in the living room with you.
He makes his way over to where Robin was sitting earlier, plunking himself down on the edge of the coffee table. His right leg absolutely does not like that, but it’ll heal soon enough. He’s close enough that his knees brush against yours, and despite the worry weighing his shoulders down, he feels his cheeks get warm at how close he is to you. Your eyes meet his, and he tries to smile at you.
“Hey,” he says, fingers tapping against the first aid box he’s keeping in his lap. You don’t smile back, but you do take a deep breath.
“Hey,” you greet back, and to Steve’s ears your voice sounds more than a little strained, and a bit too raspy for his liking. That’s when he starts to look you over more closely, taking stock of your injuries.
His heart falls because you’re hurt worse than he thought. Sure, he was expecting some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t know you were this hurt. There’s harsh bruising that’s starting to appear on your neck–that’s where Goblin was holding you. Where his hands were wrapped around your neck, holding you in the air before he dropped you. When Steve closes his eyes, he can still hear your screams, can still see how you look plummeting through the air while he tries to reach you. He swallows the saliva starting to gather in his mouth because that image is going to be one that sticks with him whether he wants it to or not.
There are some other cuts and bruises he can see as well, on your face and on your hands, and he’s pretty sure your work clothes probably won’t be workplace acceptable anymore. He makes a mental note to take you to buy new ones as soon as he gets his next pay, even though you’ll try to refuse them and tell him it’s not his fault your clothes are ruined.
Except it is. In this case, it is Steve’s fault. His being Spider-Man has put you in danger and he’ll do everything he can to make up for it. And he’s going to start now, by helping clean you up. He opens the first aid kit in his hands, pulling out some disinfectant and some gauze and bandages. “Can I…?” he asks. He looks between them and you, and you nod your head so he starts to get to work.
He cleans the cuts on your face first, wiping the blood off your cheeks and your chin before he starts disinfecting the small cuts there. Your nose scrunches up in pain, and he apologizes quietly for any pain he’s causing you. His heart is beating erratically against his ribcage and his hands tremble slightly as he works, but he does his best to help you.
The two of you sit in silence for a moment before he has to ask, “Why did you stay? I told you to get somewhere safe.” Because the thought of you being in any more danger than you’d originally been in isn’t a good one; if anything had happened to you afterwards, if Steve had been paying attention and not gotten hit in the face with a smoke bomb and the fight had spilled out off the rooftop again and put you in harm’s way again… he doesn’t want to think about it. His brain, though, still hates him and makes him imagine it anyway. He presses a bandaid on your cheek before he starts cleaning the bruise on your neck.
“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You scoot closer to Steve, close enough that he can count the eyelashes on your lower lash line. He can smell the dirt and the blood on you, mixing with the faint scent of your shampoo and body wash. But your words make his gut twist.
“No you didn’t!” His words come out a little louder and a little more forceful than he means, but he’s starting to feel frustration thrum through his body, warming him in a way that has his chest start to burn. Hearing those words come out of you any other time would probably have had the opposite effect on him; you needed to make sure he’s okay? Caring about him like that? It’s probably friendly, but it’d have Steve smiling the rest of the day. Right now, though, he’s not happy to hear you say that “You needed to get out of there. Goblin is dangerous, you can’t be around him!”
Steve drops the medical supplies back into the first aid kit on his lap, reaching his hands up to tangle in his hair instead. It’s knotty; that happens sometimes, when he shoves it under the mask without brushing it or after he gets it wet, and he winces as his fingers encounter a particularly bad tangle. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back in the armchair.
“You have no right to lecture me when I’ve thought I was gonna lose you more times than I can count!” Your voice is rising in pitch, but Steve stays firm where he is. “How many times have I had to see, on the news or on Twitter, that you were getting thrown around by Doc Ock? Or blown up by Green Goblin? And I’m not even going to talk about the giant lizard you chased through the sewers last week!” Yeah, the lizard guy was a relatively new bad guy that no one had believed Steve about until he managed to get the creature to come up onto the street. This one was probably gonna be smelly. “And then you show up at my window, bleeding and half-dead, and I’m supposed to clean you up and be okay with that?”
One of your hands comes to push against his chest, a line appearing between your eyebrows as you frown at him. He feels the warmth spread further as he gets more frustrated because you’re not getting that this is what Steve does, this is what it means to be Spider-Man. He needs to protect people from being blown up or turned into lizards. Would you want to be a lizard? He doesn’t think so. You’d probably be a pretty lizard, potentially, but he’s not sure he wants to see that.
“Yes, because I can take it! I am the one who got bit by that stupid spider, not you!” Which is the truth; Steve knows he can take a beating and keep on going; it’s one of the few good things that came out of that visit to the CreelCorp plant. Yeah, maybe he lets himself go a bit too far sometimes, but it’s to protect the people of the city, and the people he loves. It’s to protect you, and if he loses a little (or a lot of) blood and has a broken bone or four, then it’s worth it. It’ll always be worth it to him. But apparently not to you, because you throw your hands up in the air.
“So? Why does that matter right now?”
“Because I almost lost you!” The flood gates open, and words come pouring out of Steve’s mouth before he can think to stop himself. “I could have lost you, and when I saw Goblin with you I thought I was going to lose you and I could never live with myself if that happened. If I lose you then there’s no point! The mask, the suit, everything! I won't keep going without you. The world can live without Spider-Man but I could never live without you!”
This is not how Steve wanted to do this. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to tell you how he really felt about you because the thought of you not feeling the same and pulling away from him if he confessed? Not a good one. He never wanted to lose you in any capacity, but after having this happen he can’t keep it inside anymore. Really, you deserved better; you deserve someone who can keep you safe, whose entire existence doesn’t put you in danger. You deserve someone who can give you all the time and attention you could ever want, and probably wouldn’t run the risk of getting blown up or stabbed or missing your birthday because of a lizard who wants to give the city a cold-blooded makeover (which is, unfortunately, a very real possibility these days).
But god, does Steve love you. His chest aches with how much he loves you, how much he wants to hold you close and keep you safe. How much he hates himself for letting this happen to you, for letting you get hurt and letting himself be stupid enough to not realize what the Green Goblin had been doing. You were always there for him, letting him crawl through your bedroom window and ruin your rugs as you patch him up; letting him stay over at yours so he doesn’t worry Robin more than he already does. You take care of him, and you see him as both Steve and Spider-Man without treating him any differently. You’re witty and funny and kind, and you don’t treat him any differently knowing who he is and what he can do. And he’d never, ever want to live without you. He couldn’t do it, because he’s absolutely sure his heart only exists to beat for you, to tattoo your name across his ribcage. And he’d never want things to be any different.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts, though, by something tugging him forward before his lips are meeting something soft and warm. It takes his brain a second to catch up with his body, though.
Oh.
You’re kissing him. Steve is pretty sure his Spidey-Sense combusts completely along with his brain because your lips are on his and one of your hands is fisted in the front of his shirt. He’s not completely sure he isn’t dreaming until his right thigh bumps against the coffee table as he moves forward, leaning into the kiss, and it stings. Pain has never made him feel so giddy.
He’s awake. You’re kissing him, and this is real, and all the frustration Steve had been holding onto melts into fondness, into giddy excitement as his lips move against yours. They fit together better than he could have imagined.
One of his hands comes up to brush against your neck on its way to cup your cheek, and he feels you flinch. Oh, god, your neck. He’d completely forgotten about the bruising while he was caught up in the whirlwind of finally being able to kiss you.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but you shush him. Your one hand is still gripping his shirt tightly, but your other comes up to push his hair out of his face. Your touch is gentle, the pads of your fingers feather light against his forehead, and he leans into your touch.
“S’okay, it’s not your fault,” you tell him. He presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly as your warm breath fans across his face. “Did you mean that? What you said about losing me?” Steve nods, and for the first time since this messy Thursday started Steve starts to feel like maybe the day isn’t so terrible because he sees a smile start stretching across your face. You’re here, you’re alive, and you kissed him. And he absolutely word vomited his feelings all over you, but you’re still here. And you kissed him. Did he mention that already? Yeah, he’s gonna think about that for a while.
“I’ll always do everything I can to protect you. I’d do anything for you,” he assures you, before continuing, “I promise I meant it. All of it.”
The way your eyes sparkle and he can see you perk up and look so much more like yourself as he says that has Steve feeling like the stick of butter he accidentally left on the stove the other day when he turned it on to make dinner; warm and melty. He loves it. “Me too,” you tell him. “I feel the same for you.”
The kiss had kind of confirmed that, but hearing it out loud seals the deal. Steve loves you, you at the very least like him like him, and he got to kiss you once. He wants to do that more than once, and right now seems like a fantastic time. But right as he goes in to take some initiative of his own and kiss you this time, Robin’s door flies open and she comes tumbling out into the living room. Steve jumps, his knees smashing into yours as he almost falls backwards onto the coffee table. You lean back in the chair too, looking over at Robin, who gets up and dusts herself off. Steve sees she has her phone in her hand, and her cheeks are bright pink as she stares at the two of you with her mouth agape.
“Oh my god, were you two finally about to kiss?” she asks, and Steve groans loudly because the moment is officially ruined. He was so close, too! God, yeah, Thursdays really do suck.
“Damn it, Robin!” he yells, dropping his face into his hands.
“No, no, pretend I’m not here! Go ahead!”
“We’re not gonna kiss with you watching! That’s weird!”
“No it’s not!” Robin insists. You shake your head, watching the two of them going back and forth. “Ugh, this is so unfair! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen?”
“Not as long as me, I promise you that!” He moves one hand off of his face to throw a roll of soft bandages in Robin’s direction. It doesn’t sound like it connects, but he’ll get her back for this later.
He hears your phone start buzzing so much it falls off the arm of the chair. Steve doesn’t even want to know what kind of messages he’s getting right now and is absolutely glad his phone is somewhere on a rooftop right now. He swears he’s gonna end up blocking Dustin and Eddie again, and this time they’ll stay blocked for at least a whole day. Maybe two.
But he’ll definitely sneak in through your window later tonight, if you’ll let him, and steal a kiss of his own. The first of many, he hopes, and he can’t help the giddy smile on his face at the thought.
Yeah, Thursdays suck hard. But this one is definitely better than most.
Modern au Spidey Steve where the Hawkins gang live in NY and Steve gets bit in high school which becomes the catalyst to his good guy redemption arc along with his brutal break-up with one Nancy Wheeler. Accidentally adopts Dustin and the Party when he helps rescue Mews from a ridiculously tall tree.
He ignores his powers and tries his best to hide them until one fateful night he's in charge of closing Scoops with his mean lesbian co-worker who absolutely hates his guts. One attempted armed robbery and two concussed assailants later he's gained a platonic soulmate, the only other human on earth who knows his secret.
With Robin's help Steve experiments with his superpowers and Robin pushes the Spider-man agenda (although Steve thinks webs are a little too on the nose) and makes him functioning webs he can swing with (he'll never admit it to her but swinging quickly becomes one of his favourite things to do ever).
Dustin finds out when he breaks into Steve's room one night to show him Cerebro but promptly drops the entire duffle bag when Steve comes crawling through the window, sticking to the ceiling in full Spider-man garb. Appoints himself communications and gadgets specialists once he gets over the initial shock. Steve's vigilante alter ego slowly gains popularity in Queens.
He gets cut-off after almost failing high school but still has the keys to the big ass apartment he grew up in and a full-time job at a movie theatre with Robin. Steve drives the Party home after late night DnD sessions with the weirdly intimidating, hot super senior (he's already had his bi crisis/awakening/whateverthefuck so he has no problem admitting it), has movie nights and sleepovers with Robin, even makes it up to Nancy for his assholery. He thinks he's doing alright, atoning for his bitchy persona in high school, fighting crime and being a (moderate)standing member of society.
But Eddie Munson, president of the DnD club, protector of lost sheep, doesn't trust hot or rich guys. And Steve Harrington is both. He doesn't understand how King Steve has the loyalties of the coolest lesbian, half his own goddamn club, his valedictorian ex-girlfriend and said ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend.
Gareth says his mistrust is actually just misplaced frustration of his sexual attraction but hey, what does his best friend of thirteen years know about him, right? He stands, arms-crossed at the doorway, just watching every time Steve comes to pick up the gremlins. Sometimes he gives Eddie an awkward wave from the drivers seat. Eddie never responds.
Harrington might’ve fooled everyone around him, but not Eddie. He's onto Steve Harrington and he's going to get to the bottom of this new found persona of his.
You like Stranger Things Steddie AU’s? Spideypool? Trans and Neurodivergent headcanons? Porn with feelings? This might be the fic for you, then.
Read on Ao3
Word count: 4351
Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson
Additional Tags: marvel au, spideypool au, Mentions of Cancer, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Harrington, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson has ADHD, Steve Harrington has ADHD, we all just neurodivergent up in here, Hand & Finger Kink, Masturbation Interruptus, PIV Sex, Trans friendly language, Cowgirl position, Face-Sitting, Getting Together, First Kiss
Summary:
College student Steve Harrington, otherwise known as Spiderman, forgets his laptop at the apartment of freelance mercenary Eddie Munson, otherwise known as Deadpool. Trying to be a good friend, Eddie brings it back to Steve's place, despite the late hour.
Failing to be a good friend, Eddie gate-crashes a very private moment.
If Steve is Spiderman. Eddie is Deadpool. Is Billy fucking Venom?!?!?! Please say yes cause I love the image. Plus he has the perfect amount of trauma for it.
