I Keep Drawing Him

Work in progress father: Loid Forger

+ Range  ♡

When horimiya got married Hori's father gave a big speech and people were expecting him to be congratulating miyamira but instead he talked about how grateful he was that his daughter can always have someone in her life that will never leave or disapoint her

Wanted to draw that scene from The Book of Bill :D

# real life izuku's moodboard !

Hiiii! Can you do hcs for max and steve being a sibling duo or write a one shot abt them?

Steve and Max As A Sibling Duo

headcanons

summary: steve and max are the best sibling duo we could’ve asked for

pairing: steve harrington x max mayfield (platonic)

warnings: swearing, mentions of canon typical violence, mention of death/grieving

note: why are there no gifs of steve and max?? also there’s no reader insert here this is just my take on steve and max behaving as siblings !!

Steve and Max are absolutely the best sibling duo

Steve is the big brother that Max deserved and having Max around makes Steve feel less lonely

Steve always wanted a little sister !! He would beg his parents for a sibling all the time when he was younger but to not avail

Steve is obviously protective of all the kids but Max would literally kill somebody for Steve. Nobody is gonna ever hurt him while she’s around.

I feel like Max is already super protective over people she cares about but it’s just different with Steve. Like she’s already lost one brother and feels the guilt of that, she’s not gonna lose another.

The entire party is a found family for Max and somehow Steve fits in so perfectly.

They argue and she loves to rile him up, but they have such a strong bond that almost rivals Steve and Dustin’s.

Max isn’t affectionate at all and Steve knows that, so he tries to go about things differently with her. He makes her mixtapes (she absolutely roasts his taste in music but she secretly treasures them so much), he buys her little things that he knows she needs or likes, and he really tries to be there for her in ways Billy wasn’t.

Steve is the only reliable male figure Max has ever had and she still doesn’t really know how to express things to him.

Max’s love language is gift giving. She saves up months in advance to buy Steve something really nice for his birthday or Christmas. That usually means she’s on a budget for everyone else’s gifts but she really wants to show Steve how much she appreciates him, so it doesn’t matter to her.

Max knows that Billy was an awful person and he treated her like shit, but he was also her brother and she had some fucked up idea that she should have protected him. She feels so much guilt over his death. She’s not even really grieving, she just feels so guilty.

Steve knows this and, in one of Max’s moments of vulnerability, he confesses his guilt over Barb’s death. He’s come to terms with the fact that there was nothing he really could have done for her, but he can’t help but feel like he should have done something.

They have a little bonding moment over shared trauma and guilt.

Having a little sister is uncharted territory for Steve. He has Dustin, who is the equivalent of a little brother, but Max is so much different. She’s snarky and unaffectionate and a little mean sometimes. He really has to learn how to be there for her in a way that makes her comfortable.

Steve loves Max and he would voluntarily lay down his life for any of those kids but especially Max, who has been through hell and back for the last year and who he just wants to protect so bad.

Max is used to being the responsible adult and looking out for herself, so letting go of the responsibility and letting Steve Harrington, of all people, make sure she’s safe is really difficult for her at first.

I’m 100% convinced that Max’s letter to Steve is so sappy. It’s full of the things she was never brave enough to say to him.

She thanks him for looking out for her, for being the best big brother in the entire world.

By the time she’s finished writing it, the ink is slightly smudged by the tears rolling off her cheeks and onto the paper.

Then, in delicate handwriting, she signs it: “Your baby sister, Max”

Btw if I say things like “by god” or “good lord” in posts please be aware I don’t mean it in a catholic way I mean it in a 1950s scientist reacting in horror after they create an evil creature in the lab set in the distant future year of 2005

Flirting with Disaster pt. 2

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)

Summary: You make your way over to Peter's apartment and an onslaught of memories hits you again. What starts as playful banter turns into a charged moment; it leaves you questioning if the chemistry between you two was always one-sided or if you were delusional and seeing things that couldn't be possible.

Word Count: Roughly 2.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, teasing, light sexual tension, playful banter, suggestive and mild language, power dynamics, mentions of past embarrassing childhood memories

Author's Note: There's like one (or maybe more) grammar error that I can't seem to find ://

And I'm sorry for the delay on this one <3

Part 1

Navigation

Divider by @strangergraphics

Thirty minutes later, you stood in front of Peter’s apartment door. 

You purposely tried to make yourself late. You walked instead of driving, stopped at the deli to get juice, and helped an elderly lady cross the street. 

You did every single thing fucking imaginable.

You hesitated, fist hovering just inches from the door. You contemplated running back home or throwing yourself down some stairs so you had a legitimate excuse for missing your date and not having to see Peter. 

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open with a creak, and there he was.

Peter Parker.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a smirk that could only mean one thing: he was about to have way too much fun with you. He was looking at you like he’d just caught his favorite target.

Well, he had.

And he had been doing that since you were kids, so what was one more round? But you'd prefer several rounds.

You glanced up at him before looking away.

Peter had changed. 

He was still Peter, but the years had definitely worked in his favor. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and those reading glasses, those glasses, gave him this nerdy charm that reminded you of when he was younger. But that somehow made you want to both roll your eyes and blush at the same time. And don’t even get started on the muscles. His biceps were practically screaming to be noticed under his T-shirt.

You had to resist the urge to salivate. 

It took you a second to pull your thoughts together. 

You hadn’t seen him since high school graduation, five years ago, but who was counting? You were.

“Well, well, well,” Peter drawled, his voice smooth as honey and laced with that signature mischievous tone. “Look who finally decided to show up.” He gave you a once-over, eyes lingering just long enough to remind you why you used to dread him. “I was starting to think you were too chicken to face the music, peach.”

Peach. Of course, he had to use that. 

Your face instantly flared with heat, and the flood of mortifying memories hit you like a tidal wave. The peach nickname came from that god-awful summer barbecue when you bit into a juicy peach, only to choke on it and turn into a red-faced mess in front of everyone, including Peter.

You could almost hear his smug chuckle from all the way back then.

You forced yourself to stand tall. 

“I didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” you shot back, but even to your ears, your voice cracked a little. Damn it. “Not like I could’ve canceled now.”

Peter’s grin deepened, almost impossibly wide. “Yeah, you’re pretty much stuck with me.” He took a slow step forward, eyes glinting with something far too playful. “Like that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree. You remember? Arms scratched up, hair all over the place, and then that pout you had when you couldn’t get down? Classic move.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you seriously bringing that up again?”

Peter shrugged, unrepentant. “What can I say? It’s a core memory from your childhood.” Peter leaned closer. “Your mom sent me a picture, you know. Framed it. Right next to my bed.”

You blinked rapidly as your face turned completely red. “You’re an ass,” you muttered.

“You love it.” His smirk never faded.

Your retort caught in your throat when his hand curled around yours. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Before you could protest, not that you wanted to, he'd tugged you into his apartment, closing the door behind you with a soft woosh and a click of the lock.

You took a quick glimpse around his apartment. It was cozy and very much Peter, an organized chaos in the way only he could pull off. Books, tools, gadgets, and half-finished projects are across the floor like a mad scientist’s lair. And then there was the smell: it was him. A blend of cologne, something faintly smoky and sweet, and something warm and earthy that made your pulse skip a little. It was almost unfair how well it suited him.

When he turned to face you, he hadn't let go of your hand. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of your hand, his touch warm and inviting.

“Hello, peaches,” he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

“Hi, Peter,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

He chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a warm hug, as he lifted your hand and pressed a slow kiss to your knuckles. The rasp of his stubble against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy. It’s just us.”

Your cheeks flushed as you huffed and pulled your hand back, ignoring the way his lips curved into another smirk. “This is torture,” you grumbled.

“Sweetest kind,” he shot back, leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world. “So, who’s the guy? The one you’re trying to impress?”

You fidgeted under his gaze. “Just…someone I met through friends.”

“Ah, the mysterious friend’s friend,” he mused, his tone laced with amusement. “All right, let’s start with the basics. Confidence. You need to feel comfortable in your own skin.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “But you’re still shy, aren’t you? Just like when we first met.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” Peter said, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, I still remember the first time we met,” Peter added playfully. “You were so shy and quiet, hiding behind your brother's leg. And I was your brother's best friend, who decided to befriend the sweet little girl too.”

“No, asshole. You roll your eyes. “You decided that you would make fun of me from that day forward.”

Peter shrugged, his grin unrepentant. “I was just poking fun. You always blushed so easily. But I never did it in a mean way. Well, not too mean,” he amended with a chuckle.

“We teased each other, remember? That was our thing,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger.

“No, it wasn't.” You grumble.

“Was too,” he teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You'd challenge me to a video game, get all pouty when you lost, and I'd tease you for it.”

He paused, watching you closely. “Come on, peach. You loved it as much as I did. All our inside jokes, the nicknames, the way we teased each other…”

His voice dropped. "And now, he said, his gaze dropping to your lips, making the heat in your cheeks flare, “I get to teach you how to flirt.”

You roll your eyes.

Peter was way too close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You quickly took a step back, but it didn’t help much. Peter smirked, eyes narrowing just enough to let you know that he could read you like an open book.

The sincerity in his tone made your breath hitch, but before you could respond, his teasing grin returned. “Now,” he said, straightening up, “let’s see if I can teach you how to stop blushing every time I say your name. What do you think, baby?”

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him win this round. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back, grinning as you sputtered.

“Fuck you,” you muttered. 

“Still got that attitude, huh?” he teased, his voice a little quieter now, almost like a challenge. “Hard to believe you’ve grown up. Wasn’t it just six years ago when you told me to ‘fall in a ditch and die’?”

You blinked, the blush creeping up your neck again. “Shut up, Parker,” you muttered, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. “You and my brother basically stalked me on my first date. I was a disaster. You guys made me cry.”

Peter chuckled that deep, rumbling sound that made your insides do something weird. “Oh, come on. It was hilarious! You were so flustered, like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t even speak! And then your face-” He paused, dramatically pouting. “I mean, seriously. Who else trips and falls into a pile of mud on their first date?”

You wished for the ground to swallow you whole. “You guys were awful.”

"Awful?" Peter echoed. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't snuck out without telling anyone."

Peter shrugged, but there was that familiar gleam in his eyes. “But, I did pay for your dry cleaning and bought you ice cream, so I don't have remorse.”

He leaned a little closer, almost like he was enjoying this more than he should be.

“I was just looking out for you, baby. You know that.”

Baby. That damn nickname. You tried to stay mad at him, but he knew exactly how to melt that armor. 

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Peter’s voice softened, and when you peeked through your fingers, he was closer, his expression more serious now. “I was just looking out for you. Always have.”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his entire presence screaming arrogance and charm. 

"Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly make me feel protected when you were laughing at me," you shot back, trying to regain some ground. Your voice wavered, though, betraying your confidence.

His cocky demeanor softened slightly, just enough to throw you off. “That guy you were with? He was a total creep. And you? You’re too sweet to be rude. But me?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to beat someone’s ass if they deserve it.”

You froze as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze almost too much. Then, his smirk returned, softer now, but no less disarming. “And you…” His voice was practically a murmur now. “You’re my favorite little peach, and peaches? They need protection, don’t they?”

Your cheeks burned. You crossed your arms, a weak attempt at a barrier between you and the way he made your pulse race. “Yeah, well, I’m grown now. A big girl. I can take care of myself,” you retorted quickly, too quickly.

Peter’s eyebrow arched, his expression smug as if daring you to believe your own words. “Oh, is that right?” He tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, lingering just enough to make you squirm. “Then why are your arms crossed like you’re holding yourself together?”

Peter raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. You could feel his eyes on you, the way they looked at you like you were something worth being seen. 

It was intoxicating. It was terrifying. 

Your breath hitched. He was too observant, too good at peeling back your defenses with a single question. “I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice lacked conviction.

Peter took a slow step forward, closing the distance between you. His scent hit you first: spicy, earthy, and undeniably him. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

 “Tell you what,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you show me how a big girl flirts? Think of it as a trial run before your date.”

“I-I…” You faltered, your mind scrambling for words as he moved closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

“What’s the matter?” he teased, his lips twitching into a smirk that made your knees weak. “I thought you were a big girl now.”

You swallowed hard, the heat in your stomach pooling as his words wrapped around you like a velvet rope. He was too close, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“C'mon,” he coaxed, his voice a whisper near your ear, and you shivered despite yourself. “A big girl knows how to flirt.”

You could feel his breath tickle your neck, his hand resting on your waist like he always did when he was teasing you. And for a brief moment, you were that awkward teenager again, and he was the older boy next door with all the arrogance and charm.

“It's just you and me here, peach.” His voice was low, his thumb drawing idle circles on your hip, making it damn near impossible to think straight. “Show me what you've got.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to maintain some semblance of cool, giving him what he wanted to hear. “I can't flirt to save my life. Show me how to.”

Peter’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing. “That much I already knew,” he murmured, his hand moving to your waist with an ease that made your pulse stutter. He pulled you closer, your bodies mere inches apart.

His thumb began trailing under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your hip, and your breath caught. The deliberate touch sent a delicious thrill through you, making it impossible to focus. You tilted your face up to meet his gaze, catching the flicker of victory in his eyes. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew, and he was reveling in it.

“What’s wrong, peach?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but even you could hear the waver in your tone.

“And yet,” Peter replied, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “You’re still here. Inches away from me. Looking at me like you’re waiting for something.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. You straightened your shoulders, trying to regain control. “I didn’t come here for your games, Peter,” you said, though your voice trembled slightly. “I came here because you owe me for all the humiliations you’ve put me through over the years.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending another shiver through you. “You’re right,” he said, stepping even closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I do owe you.”

His eyes dipped to your lips, and your breath hitched. “And don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone full of promise. “I’ve got plenty of ways to make it up to you.”

Your heart stuttered as the air between you grew thick, heavy with tension and something you weren’t sure you were ready for. You tried to speak, to push back, but the words caught in your throat.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

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Much love x

- Maeve

Obsessed with how Will Graham showed up to work twitching, trembling, and visibly distressed, and the entire department is like “This is Will, he just does this sometimes, he’s in perfect shape to go look at some mutilated corpses”