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stevebabey · 1 year

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you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

#EHEHE SORRY I CANT RESIST A LITTLE BIT OF MISCOM ANGST #MORE SWEETNESS COMING THO!!!#on god eddie needs his hickie #and im gonna GIVE HIM ONE #AND SO MUCH LOVE!!!!!!#BEST BOYS NEED TO BE HAPPY IN LOVE!!!!#maybe one more part :)#i had only one more idea for the can i's and i BET u can guess what it might be <3 #and it needs to draw back to touch cos that was the POINT of this fic originally #IM ALL BOUT PARALLELS BABEY #hope u find this delicious #gay ppl in my phone... this for u #can't wait to write the relieved kisses w the 'YOU THOUGHT WHAT???'#they're such goobers <3 #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #can i series #HOW MANY CAN I'S CAN U SPOT THIS TIME !!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie angst #steddie fluff #uhhhh don't flop challenge #or do flop. i can't control the masses #hopefully this hits the brainrot just right

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c-hrona · 8 months

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A Rough Night

Basically the thought process for this was:

“I really really want to do a comic full manga style” + “I really really want to draw TriStamp again” + “I really really want to draw some Wolfwood’s angst”

And that's it. That's the comic.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #Meryl stryfe #milly thompson #cw child abuse #so sorry for the angst lately my life took a turn for the worse and I really needed the catharsis #also this can be seen as #polygun #special mention to that volume 8 dialogue for making a little cameo because I felt it fitting a little bit sooooo #trigun spoilers #chronart #Also sorry if you saw this before I was testing things because my tumblr went a lil crazy but staff helped

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quirinah · 1 month

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ummmmmmm guys this dungeons looking a little dark here..........................ummmm..... hello??? guys??

#quirinahdraws #darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon 2 #IVE BEEN IN THE TRENCHES SO I NEED 2 POST MY EARLY APRIL DRAWINGS FROM WHEN I WAS (am) PLAYING THIS GAME TERMINALLY....#try to guess my favorite character (very difficult impossible /j)#notable moments include reynauld and dismas kicking the bucket in my first year to which i thought after the latter. ok at least theyre #together in death or watever. anyways i got a beyond the grave a week later with both of them and i could only revive one of them and my #first thought was wow! this would make great angst fodder! i should make a comic (and then i didnt)#but dismas is dead so i can never get the achievement but he basically carried me thru vvulf bc i didnt have any legend lvl frontliners and #i didnt know u could just sacrifice a hero to retreat. or that you had to destroy the bomb barrel HAHAHAHAH but we defeated vvulf SOMEHOW #sketchdump #digital #dd plague doctor #dd jester #dd shieldbreaker #dd arbalest #dd abomination #SORRY FOR YAOIFYING BIGBY THAT BADLY IDK WHAT HAPPENED...ETTO.......#my favorite builds are damage over time <3 number one blight buddy supporter #but marked for death r also my pookies....i just find marked builds a little awkward to use imo. but bh is like my blorbo #i find it funny drawing any of the charas bc i feel like i always draw characters a little too cutesy/colorful but its shrimpresting

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missjashin · 1 year

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It’s been some time and Dustin and Steve go to see Wayne. Maybe he is moving out of Hawkins and they go to help with packing or maybe they just wanna check on him and he is reminiscing Eddie. Either way he has punch of old photos out. School photos, birthdays, first concerts, various different types from different ages.

One photo really catches Steve’s eye tho. It’s a group photo from the early 70s, taken in the summer. Steve asks Wayne “Why do you have this?”, seemingly little shocked and bewildered by the photo. Wayne looks at the photo and smiles telling it was taken in a summer camp Eddie once went. “That’s my boy” Wayne tells pointing one kid among the others. Dustin also looks at the photo and smiles. It seems like a good and happy memory.

So Wayne and Dustin get little puzzled when they hear choked sob coming from Steve. He is trying to hold it together but not really succeeding, his hands in his hair pulling so hard it can’t be comfortable. Just walking away from them now, fighting the tears. Rather weird and strong reaction for a mere summer camp photo, especially coming from Steve… Till you take a little closer look at the photo.

Because yes, with his buzz cut hair and thousand watt smile there’s little Eddie. Little Eddie who has his arm over another kid’s shoulder, pulling closer a little boy with a sweet smile, chestnut hair and tiny moles dotted on his face.

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #steddie #it’s Steddie cuz they my star crossed lovers #used all the tissues while crying over this hc sorry about that #feel free to end me 💖✨#sad headcanon #I have something sweeter too guys don’t worry I’ve just been lazy and need to write it down #it’s just all in my brain atm #also if you don’t understand this one : Steve was in the photo with Eddie #childhood friends AU #kinda #Steve owns the same photo #remembers the summer camp and the boy he had so much fun with but didn’t realize it was Eddie until now #angst

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appri-dot · 2 months

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I like to draw nutcracker yaoi for character reasons trust fencer(hurt fella) belongs to @ballcrusher74

#this is dumb yaoi angst but i need to get them out my system #also a wip #i wont post the final product probably because the cringe will catch up but for now i WILL gush abt how silly their contrast could be #metal body damaged wooden body worn #woody just way more emotionally driven because fencer is literally the only nutcracker he can connect with #the silly tendrils bristling as a defensive display but involuntary because hes so scared #woody talks in more broken sentences to fencer because he infers that he can understand him as is a lot better then his human crew #fencer very nonchalant because its not the first time his shits been rocked on the job #i worry this is ooc for fencer so idk how far i will finish it #but ugh i need to stop using these 2 as nutcracker behaviour dolls #SORRY BUT DAMAGE TO A METAL SHELL BEING MORE SIGNIFICANT BECAUSE THE VIOLENT VIBRATIONS #THUSLY WHY NUTCRACKERS IMMEDIATE BECOME EXTRA AGGRESSIVE WHEN HIT WITH SHOVELS #im normal im normal....#woody mimics a human in body heat because the wood better insulates the interior of his body #tw blood #tw body horror #tw gore #lethal company

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madootles · 2 years

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there’s just something about a good superior-subordinate professional relationship built upon mutual hate...

#they are both children #edward elric #alphonse elric #roy mustang #fullmetal alchemist #also don't tag this romantically that shit is weird......#this is a mutually despised relationship between superior and subordinate and it's hilarious #yeaaaa I'm still on this... sorry unwilling followers ily #my art has to be funny because the source material is fucking dark it doesn't need more angst #genuinely I subscribe to the idea that roy and ed care about eachother but I also subscribe to the idea that they'd rather die than say so #mutual respect is the closest they will get #alphonse is really becoming my fave ... like ed is my fave bc idk he has nice fashion and he's very sad but alphonse is just so !!!!!!!#fma 03 #fma 2003 #fmab #even tho that's not what I watch #you are still welcome here I guesssssss :-)#k bye #tw blood

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silverwhittlingknife · 29 days

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OKAY SO i have been rereading dustorange's wonderful post here about Dick in an UtRH-esque scenario where he dies & then comes back to life

AND I HAVE INCOHERENT BRAINSTORMING THOUGHTS:

so first, i think Robin!Dick would be just as hurt by the discovery that Bruce has a new Robin, and brood about it - but i think the shame of having died would stop him from confronting Bruce about it the way Nightwing!Dick does in canon.

and I do NOT think that he would expect Bruce to kill anyone for him (or even be upset that he doesn't? I just don't think this would be a consideration for Dick. he's gonna be fixated on "I failed." so he'll be upset about being replaced but not about the lack of revenge. and if Bruce did take revenge, i think he'd actually feel angry and betrayed about that because it'd feel like the choice was taken away from him, a la how upset he gets when he thinks Bruce has arranged to have Zucco killed - even if he intellectually knows that Bruce wasn't deliberately undermining himbecause he didn't know Dick was gonna come back to life.)

anyway so what WOULD he do??

what comes to mind is something along the lines of "Dick obsessively keeps an eye on Batman & Robin even while telling himself that he's not"

and then - say - if it's Robin!Tim (i feel like this has to be Tim because in the world where Dick dies there is no way that Bruce is voluntarily picking a new Robin), then maybe the moment when Dick steps in is when Bruce is in danger & he's furious / critical of Tim for not protecting Bruce well enough

and i feel like that's how he'd channel the hurt feelings - it'd all be deflected under shame and obligation, and then translated into the anger of "you replaced me & yet you're failing to do the job that you're supposed to do" (which is actually about projection/self-hatred because Dick would actually be mad at himself for having died & not doing that job anymore)

and Dick wouldn't want to see Bruce at all because of the shame over dying & subconscious fear that Bruce doesn't want him back, plus every little thing that Tim does differently would drive him NUTS because it implies that maybe the way Dick did things wasn't good enough for Bruce

i'm actually kind of fascinated by this now. because i am me and i have (1) obsession i am mostly invested in the dick & tim side of it sdfsdfds

so i'm picturing Tim very stung by whatever critical things Dick said to him & tracking this mysterious vigilante down, and then Dick doesn't want to spend ANY time with him BUT he's also subconsciously desperate for news of Bruce!!! so then something something Dick starts sorta training him a la Tim's various contacts with edgy non-batman-aligned vigilantes, and Tim's very defensive about how he IS a good robin so THERE but of course he's also defensive because he's secretly worried he's not good enough.

normally i would have tim Recognize dick since recognizing dick is tim's most basic skill HOWEVER i think it would be much more fun if tim doesn't recognize him so he can give dick a speech about legacy & the first robin: "i do x and such because that's how the first robin did it so it is Objectively Correct." which Dick will find incredibly infuriating but will be unable to counter since he cannot counter with 'the 1st robin was ME'

…hmmm i do think Dick ought to be angry about SOMETHING about batman's methods/attitude just because that's more dynamic? I feel like in order to make the adaptation work, there ought to be SOME kind of argument with Bruce right before he dies that he can still be mad about, a la the garzonas fight for Jason and Bruce. unsure what though?

okay let's see: I feel like Dick's main arguments with Bruce aren't about vigilante issues per se so much as they're about working in a team - so e.g.

1) Bruce being controlling/demanding, and 2) Bruce being secretive and doing stuff behind Dick's back, and 3) Bruce not allowing Dick enough autonomy, 4) just generally a perceived lack of trust.

SO maybe whatever The Frustrating Thing that bruce was doing when dick died is a thing he's STILL doing with this new robin, and dick is getting frustrated all over again sorta on tim's behalf but mostly on his own behalf because he never got to resolve this with bruce

but anyway that way when Bruce finally spots disguised!Dick, then they can have the fight again before Bruce realizes who he is <3

#extremely good ideas / extremely bad ideas #there should be utrh!dick + robin!tim fics. i've decided now #sorry jason fans i love you i don't know where he is in this scenario #maybe uhhh he moved to metropolis. i don't know #anyway i do NOT believe dick would ever ever ever take on the Red Hood identity in a million years though #jason's got a whole 'i confront my worst fear via becoming it' thing going on #but i feel like dick's angst would be more about Me & Bruce rather than directed at the joker or any particular enemy #so no Red Hood #he does need a new costume though so i'm picturing him in the Renegade costume from the mob arc

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asavt · 6 months

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Going back to that "things that make me happy" file, I still like this ship.

#almondfort #my art #fan art #digital art #I needed to draw them being soft because I'm writing something so full of angst.#I'm so sorry roguefort but *throws them into the timeloop*

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bcyhoods · 1 year

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LOVEFOOL 💌 — “you feel like home to me” with tasm!peter PUH-LEASE I ALREADY KNOW IM GONNA GET EMOTIONAL

muah ha ha. angsty spidey is my favorite spidey, how did you know | 0.9k

warnings: injuries, brief mention of reader being used as leverage but no explicit/graphic detail

“I don’t know if I can do this, Peter.”

Your hand hovers over the scrape on his cheek when your gaze drops to the mask that’s clenched in his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed, looking up at you as you stand in between his legs.

He’s bathed in the dull, orange glow of your lamp. It highlights every welt, every cut, every matted strand of hair that sticks to the damp skin of his forehead. It makes your eyes sting.

“What do you mean? You’re a natural,” he says. His hand settles on your hip to give it a gentle squeeze. The gesture makes you believe for a second that he’s genuinely clueless.

But his eyes refuse to meet yours. The smile that he wears is uneasy as he wrings his mask.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He hangs his head low. Guilt tightens its grip on his throat making it hard to breathe.

You were already well aware of his secret identity before you’d started dating. He warned you of the risks and used them to try scaring you away before you could break his heart. But you stayed. You stayed and, god, he was so glad you did.

Though, he blames his adoration for what happened to you.

He would keep a close eye on you to make sure you were safe. His routine neighborhood watch would consist of making sure you got to and from work safely, occasionally dropping by on your lunch breaks to check on you. He was careless, but he didn’t anticipate things would go south so quickly.

The guy wasn’t a super villain, nor was he anything special by any means, but he was observant. And why would Spiderman be visiting some random bodega cashier so often unless you meant something to him?

It was practically over as quick as it started. The guy couldn’t even finish demanding his ransom before Peter had arrived to web him to the ceiling. You escaped with a few injuries, the worst being a palm-shaped bruise on your wrist. But Peter was fuming.

You were used as bait. You were leverage against Spiderman because he’d been so reckless. You got hurt because of him. You were lucky this time, but there was no telling if that luck would run out and the thought terrified him. Despite your gentle words of reassurance, he had made up his mind.

He would never forgive himself if he lost you. So he broke it off.

“I know.”

It would’ve been easier if you didn’t see each other after that. You think you’d feel differently if you weren’t frequently in his presence, nursing him back to health. Maybe if you didn’t exchange longing gazes and soft touches that were reserved for people that are more than friends. If he didn’t look at you like you held his heart in your hands, maybe you’d be stronger.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” He feels his chest tighten at the crack in your voice, even more so when you push his hand away.

“You leave your window open,” he whispers.

A scoff falls from your lips and you turn your back to him to wipe away the rogue tears that run down your face. He stares at your figure with a frown and hands that ache to reach out for you.

Peter Parker then decides he doesn’t want to be a hero. Heroes can’t afford to be selfish and put their own happiness above the wellbeing of others. Being with you would jeopardize your safety. It’d be selfish of him. He could never be with you like he wanted, craved, so long as he wore that suit. Can’t he have both?

He’s exhibited enough altruism to last him a lifetime, anyway. Certainly it was enough to hold you just for one night.

“I just needed to see you,” he sighs, voice meek.

“Peter, I think you should—”

“There’s never a day that I don’t think about you,” he interjects. He doesn’t exactly know when he started to cry. Suddenly his eyesight was blurry and he couldn’t breathe through his nose.

“Please.” The word pushes out like a sob. Your hand shoots to clamp over your mouth to hush the whimpers, but he can hear them.

“I’m serious, I…” He stands and moves to put his hands on your shoulders. His mask is forgotten on the floor. “Being away from you, it makes me feel crazy. Like I can’t breathe.”

“Don’t say that.” You turn in his hold to shrug his hands off, but you don’t try too hard. A sob racks through your chest once more when you see his pained expression. His nose is red and his cheeks are wet and his brows are sewed together. “Don’t tell me that, just go home,” you plead.

“You feel like home to me!” There’s a humorless laugh that accompanies the confession, it’s one of frustration. But the softness in his glassy eyes is unmistakable and it makes you melt under his stare.

“Please don’t cry,” he begs with a deep frown. He reaches to hold your face in his hands as he wipes the tears from under your eyes. The material of his gloves is rough and pulls at your skin uncomfortably, but you can’t help leaning into his touch.

He crowds your being. He towers over you so closely that you can feel his bated breath fanning your skin. You reach to hold onto his forearms, letting your eyes close to revel in the closeness. Peter presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, then to each of your cheeks, then your nose. He stops short of your lips.

“Say the word and I’ll leave. You know I will.”

“Don’t go,” you concede.

You’re not really sure what repercussions this will have tomorrow morning. You can’t really bring yourself to care when he kisses you.

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fauustic · 1 year

Text

the fear of losing this

too many people in my inbox got a little too comfortable asking me for “a fight between reader” as well as “miguel angst please” so i am combining both as i struggle to get through this writer’s block ))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. little comfort. your universe is falling apart, yet miguel doesn’t want to let you go.

warnings: pure angst. light cursing? i’m not too sure, just lots of tears.

word count: 2211

The night sky of Nueva York shined brightly with the bustle of commute, highly advanced cars whirring softly through the clouds. Your mask hung from your hands at your side, bunched up in the anger that fizzed and popped in your bloodstream– threatening to explode at any given moment as Miguel brushed off your conversation with a stoic chill.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me Miguel–” your voice raised as you paced the highest level of the building, padding against the overly complex structures that mimicked webs. You would have laughed at the irony of having a headquarters so invested in the theme of spiders that even the ground you walk on replicated the symmetry of webs if the both of you were in any other given situation– but that joking persona that came with the gig flew and crashed out the window the moment Miguel brushed off and rejected your plans to return back home. “I need to be there, helping my people. What is the point of me taking up a spot in this ‘fateful–’” You dragged out the words, venom dripping from your tongue as you partially made fun of the organization he spent so much time on. “Spider Society if my own boss doesn’t let me return back to the place I belong in?”

“No, no.” His tone was blunt as he stood as rigid as ever; surveying your every move in a way that you could never guess what he was thinking, with or without the mask. “You don’t understand.” Miguel repeated your own words back to you in a taunt as one of his clawed hands fidgeted with the device that decided whether or not you could walk around or stay in a little bubble for the next week just like all the other prisoners were down below. “You created a problem in your own universe, that’s the problem we’re having here. You cannot fix it.” He practically spat his words, anger emitting from every rhythmic clang whenever he tossed the technology into the air and caught it with calculation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re from that Earth, you put that place you so valiantly ‘protect’ into a state of emergency. Is that not clear enough?”

“Oh, sure– but the hundreds of other spider-people that can’t go one word without making a joke of the situation can fix my mess? Am I just some inexperienced rookie to you, Miguel?” You countered, ripping your gaze from his own. His features were exposed to you as his mask was off as well, the sunken circles beneath his eyes growing prominent when a vibrant car passed by and shone a striking yellow light into the corridor the two of you stood within. His usual expression made of stone chipped away with the stress he was under as a deeper frown made its way onto his lips.

Miguel sighed dramatically before pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from you to mumble a jumble of incoherency. “God,” He repeats your name like it's a curse, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just not safe.”

You scoffed, eyes growing wide at the audacity of this man you have to call your boss. “Of course it’s not safe Miguel, that’s our job.” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, pulling at the roots of your hair in any attempt to calm yourself down. “I risked my life every single day in my universe before I even knew of your existence, yet now suddenly I can’t?”

“This is different. For some reason these– these anomalies are running rampant in your world and it’s taking everything to finally have the problem at hand contained.” Miguel held his breath as if he had something more to say, but left it unsaid the moment you stomped closer towards him in a new fit of anger.

You shoved your palm against his chest, baring your teeth as a groan erupted from the back of your throat in a concoction of frustration and despair. “Exactly! That’s exactly the problem, Miguel. My people out there are suffering and fighting for their lives, surrounded by these people that are like me but aren’t me.” Tears began to well up in the corners of your pained gaze, humiliation washing over your consciousness as you sniffled and stifled a sob. Fauxe confidence and quips were something you specialized in, annoying Miguel in a little dynamic the two of you found yourself in as months turned into an entire year of being called in for missions. Emotions were never a thing the both of you have ever discussed with one another because it wasn’t your position to pry and he was never the one to initiate such conversation.

“If you just let me go, I’m more than willing to show you how capable I am.” It came out as a whisper as you turned away from him and began padding down the structural webs. Miguel was on high alert, you could notice as every glance felt as if he was trying to convince himself that no other member of his society occupied this part of Headquarters. He followed you close behind, claws digging into the beams of construction to reach the same floor as you without a word. The brooding silence that usually met your company could be sensed from any person in their right mind, and as you spotted the hesitation in each thud of his footfalls– confusion clouded your anger. So in a flurry of adrenaline, you webbed his next step to the ground with a ball of the substance you artificially produced in the depths of your makeshift and cozy lab, hidden away at your home in the world you desperately needed to save. It would give you time to finally just talk to him.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? Do that again and I’m putting you in the–”

It wasn’t to hold him down, you know you couldn’t match his strength. It was to make a statement.

You interrupted him, a newfound determination holding onto the little hope you had. “You follow me for one more second, I’m going through that portal and never looking back.” Brutally honest and uncharacteristically serious, the attempt at ripping his limb free was cut cold at the promise looming in the air. His frown fell for just a moment’s notice, mouth agape in shocked horror before quickly recovering himself. Repeating yourself more clearly as his attention was occupied, your body shined away while shaky fingers struggled to input the coordinates of your universe. But eventually it clicked, the AI voice of Miguel’s beloved Lyla sounded throughout the tension in a glitchy mess– notifying Miguel of the portal to-be seconds before it truly distorted the fabrication of reality in front of you.

Miguel dropped to his knees, struggling to claw off the web that had his foot planted to the structure. His breath quickened concerningly, shoulders heaving as the plan of his crumbled in front of him in an instant; all because he was not observant enough. You played him like an instrument like you always had, a pained groan from the back of his throat sounded and echoed throughout the space of the vast headquarters. “No, no, no..” He repeated, mirroring the despair you had on your features moments ago at the idea of not being able to save your people. You could never once recollect a fraction of a second where he allowed himself to convey the pain plaguing his mind, and as he reached out to you in a frantic heap of limbs– the walls of protection he hazardously built around himself came crumbling down by each shape contorting and twisting into a gateway to your world. “I can’t, I can’t lose anybody else–”

You stood there, heart breaking as the man who has had villains three times your size on their knees, collapse into fragments of himself at the mere idea of you leaving the security of his universe. Bursts of color painted the dark hues blotching upon white, igniting his fresh-tear stained cheeks in splashes of reds and yellows and greens. The portal was completely open, awaiting your entrance to return back to your familiarity– yet your senses buzzed alarmingly at each step away from Miguel. It’s almost as if you could feel the hole in his chest, searing away his soul he finally allowed himself to offer like a god’s offering.

You fell to your knees to hold his face in your suited hands, the waves of sorrow and grief infesting your mind like a sickness almost had you doubling over in pain. You could hear the cries of hundreds around his, no– your own heavy breathing, a confused and fearful little girl’s pleas for help overlapping the muddled screams. You felt the weight of a child in your hands before it was ripped away like a paper airplane in the wind, and soon your trembling hands met the purchase of his nape. Your body moved automatically, holding his face in the comfort of your lap while you shielded his gaze from the portal. Despite his power, the capability to snap you in two, you held him like a fragile doll that would break within any mishap.

“All this time, you never told me.” You sobbed into his hair, dampening his combed back curls with your tears and he only held your waist like you were the anchor in this unforgiving ocean of anguish. You have become one, the memories of his own mixing into the blur of yours's.

“I didn’t know how to.” He murmured into the purchase of your thigh, wetness seeping into your suit. But you didn’t care as your hands wandered all over his figure: a soft massage to the shoulders before quickly scooping his neck into your arms before finally settling on petting his hair back. “I, I haven’t allowed you to go to your world because a part of my thoughts can imagine your arms fading into a technicolor mess, falling into the clutches of another failed universe.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, gulping up air as the portal behind the both of you fizzled and popped.

“I can’t lose you too. I’d be so–” He hesitated, breathing in deeply just to choke on a sob. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He poured out the burdens weighing on his conscience, confirming your long-forgotten wonder that he was just as emotional when he was faced with his grief head-on; the same intensity seen in his short-tempered anger.

You simply hushed him, cooing reassurance that he accepted with greed. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” The rational fear being expressed aloud made your shoulders shake and head buzz with anxiety, but you steeled yourself at the reminder of Miguel melting into your tearful embrace like putty. You needed to be strong for him when he wasn’t, just like how he pushed himself to the greatest extent his body can endure all the times before.

“It’s just, I can’t lose where I come from.” You worked at ridding his foot from your webs as your serene tone accompanied his sniffles, his breathing settling out bit by bit as you continued to finally explain yourself. In regards to Miguel's quietness, you genuinely thought he was listening. “You can’t keep me away and shield me from my own mistakes, O’Hara. It’s just not possible, I need a home to thrive and protect. Without my people, I’m going to disappear as well.” A snap of your webs trapping his limbs finished your little speech, indicating that time was up and you had a job to do.

“I’m.. worried.” He mumbles aloud, like the sentence itself was foreign on his tongue. “These creatures from foreign worlds, they are drawn to your universe as if there’s a pulling force. I haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s so infuriating, it’s like I can’t do–”

You intercept his little tangent as you grab his chin and lift his gaze to meet yours’, an unsaid question hanging into the atmosphere like an old letter to a former self. Do you want this? Is this okay? I’m scared of messing this up.

The question is answered as Miguel’s grasp finds purchase in your flesh, claws digging into your thighs like if he let you go you’d fade along with everything else of his. In a messy, salty clash of teeth against fangs and tongue against lips, Miguel lapped up every inch of your mouth like he had to memorize every crevice of your entire being. It’s as if the two of you have synchronized, being able to suspect slight changes in each other’s mood as he grew more needy with the introduction of desire bubbling against the forefront of your mind.

“We can do this.” You murmured into his cheek, hands dancing over his suit in case this was the last time you’d ever be blessed with his presence again.

Miguel nodded, heaving for breath before he snatched one last kiss– sincere and genuine and full of unfiltered affection. “Yeah,” His nose met the crook of your neck, grazing each curve it stumbled upon.

“Together, mi alma.”

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babiexiao · 10 months

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contains : princess / fem!reader, head knight!gojo, implied secret relationship. this is just... angst i guess with a sprinkle of fluff... overprotective gojo *moans* this is about 1k of brainrot word vomit hhhhhhhhhhhhh :D not proofread cause i'm lazy, pls ignore any mistakes!

time moved by far too slow for satoru. for someone whose day passed in a blink of an eye with all of his responsibilities, today was far too slow. it felt like watching paint dry. it felt like a snail moving across the pavement. it felt like a century had passed before the bright light of the sun finally started to set. dusk slowly turning into night, and as the moon took its place in the night sky, was he able to escape from his duties and finally able to walk to your bedroom, hands held in tight fists by his sides.

"you two may leave. the king wants me to be stationed here for tonight." a lie. but the two guards didn't know any better. why would they ever think their head knight would ever lie to them in the first place.

what they don't know, won't hurt them, was what gojo told himself, watching the two salute him and proceeding to walk down the corridor far away from your bedroom. he waited till they were out of sight first and then listened out for the clunking noises the armour made as they walked down the stairs. when it was finally silent, he opened your door, shutting it behind him quickly.

you almost let out a scream at the sudden intrusion into your space. fear from the attack on your life only a night prior still too fresh in your mind. but the white mop of hair on top of the males head had you sighing in relief, aware that it was not an intruder but in fact satoru. but that relief didn't stay for too long. you were well aware that the king would have placed guards outside your door to keep you safe after what had happened and you could not afford to let your relationship with satoru be revealed just yet.

"satoru, what are you doing here? my father–" your worried whisper was cut short rather abruptly.

"fuck your father." if satoru was in a better mindset than he is now, he never would have spoken of the king, your father, in such a way and he's never been more glad there were no guards standing post outside your bedroom to judge his vulgar use of words towards the monarch either.

"are you hurt? did they touch you?" immediately, he's bombarding you with questions, eyebrows furrowed deeply as his eyes start to dart over your body. inspecting you. "would you let me have a look at you. please?"

you nod slightly, but turn your head to the right side a little, fearing what he'll do when he sees it.

his takes large but quiet strides towards you, hands that shook with fear now reaching out to hold your wrists. he inspects your skin, slowly, letting his hands and eyes travel across your skin, and it all seems fine until he brushes the strands of hair out of your face and finally notices the freshly dried blood on your cheek. it looked deep. no, it was deep. gojo was no stranger to cuts and bruises, even with a simple glance he could tell it was deep. it would leave a scar behind and it would take time to heal.

"i..." he inhales shakily, trying to keep his voice low as he could. an attempt to keep himself calm, to keep himself from lashing out. "i-i should have been there."

"satoru..." you began, only to be cut off again.

"i should have fucking been there." remorse. that's all satoru could feel. remorse for not being by your side like he had promised many moons earlier as you two hid from the maids attempting to prepare you for bed. remorse for not being by your side to keep you from harm. but hidden in that remorse, was also anger. anger that anyone even dared to touch a princess – not just any princess. his princess. the very princess that would become his queen in the future. the very princess that should have everyone in the land bowing to her. the princess he loves and swore to keep out of harms way.

"i should have fucking protected you. shit– i should have been there. i should have been protecting you like i said i would... i'm sor–"

"toru. i'm okay. please look at me." you place a gentle had over his chest, albeit over his armour, you swear you're able to feel how furiously his heart is beating. it doesn't take a genius to see all the emotions swimming in his eyes.

worry. hurt. pain. regret.

"satoru - the strongest knight in the kingdom... my favourite knight - gojo. i am okay. i promise you." the praise earns a brief smile from him before it fades, his thumb brushing the deep cut on your cheek ever so gently but it makes you inhale sharply anyway. it causes gojo to flinch, withdrawing his warm hands immediately but you reach out for his wrist with both hands desperately. "n-no! it... it jus' hurts because it's fresh... please, i just– i just need to feel you, toru. please, don't be afraid to touch me."

it was all gojo needed to hear from you. all he needed was your permission to touch you and he does. he cups your face in his hands, watching as the tension and stress leaves your body, jaw loosening and eyebrows relaxing. he watches as your eyes close for a few seconds before fluttering open. you place a kiss against the palm of his hand. "will you please stay the night with me? i'm... afraid they will come back." gojo watches you tense up at the mention of the men who tried to hurt you last night. his response is immediate.

"of course i will." his thumb finds its way to the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, rubbing the spot a little. "do not frown so much. you will start looking older than you are, princess."

his teasing earns a smile from you, and he's glad when he sees you soften in his hold. the both of you stay silent for a while, finding comfort in the silence and each other. you've always felt safe with satoru, and tonight is no different.

"princess," he begins, pulling you in by your waist ever so slightly, your body pressed up against his armour. "i swear on my life, i will kill any bastard who dares lay so much as a finger on you again. i promise you. i'll execute them myself." you do not bother replying to him, instead sealing the promise he's made by standing on your tippy toes to press your lips against his.

#was supposed to be inspired by that one scene from the glory (iykyk) but it didn't go the way i wanted to this happened instead lmaooo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #if this is shit please don't come @ me i've never written straight up fluff / angst before and i'm so nervous abt posting this weeeeeee #going into hiding now #i need to fix my tags but i am far too lazy so sorry about that

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