#so angst p much

[jovialspecter]

So i did an art of an oc.

Meet Atlas.

Quote is from this song btw

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[anonymouscheeses]

LEE POMNI PLSSS LER GUMMIGOO OR RAGS!! <33

La Pomni!! I was lazy mid way sorry for that buuuttt here's the way I like to draw her (not redesign just a fun way to draw her I like)

Pomni y ella... amigos.... totally...

This might not be what you meant buuut I LOVE both ships equally so sooo much I couldn't let the chance go. Any funnygummy shippers??? 😭

[grimesgirll]

“good fucking girl.”

is definitely not something rick should be saying to his best friend’s girlfriend - especially not with his cock halfway down her throat.

the moment shane had stepped out for a run with glenn and michonne, you and rick were all over each other. you couldn’t handle sneaking into rick’s bed down the hall anymore. you were bound to end up in his lap on the sectional, pawing at him like a bitch in heat.

it’s not that shane didn’t fuck you; he took every chance he got. you’re just enamored with rick. ever since your boyfriend had “shared” you with his fellow officer, rick had been on your mind.

the way his brown constable’s jacket fit against his muscles when they flexed. the glint of his chocolate curls. how good he is with judith.

rick gets you goin’ in a way shane hasn’t for quite some time. he was right when he got you down on your knees back at the rest stop. you did look at rick like you wanted to drain him and then have him bend you over and fuck you silly - and that’s what ended up happening.

ever since that day, shane got off on toying with you and having you sit on rick’s cock in addition to his own. he uttered excuses about the stresses of their new duties as constable but you just slid down your denim skort and squealed the occasion away.

you’re quiet now, nice and muffled on rick’s dick as you swallow around him. the motion has him twitching in your mouth. wanting to finish off inside of you for the night, the thick length in your mouth is withdrawing and suddenly you’re in that familiar face down position again.

“so wet, baby,” rick remarks in awe as his length brushes your slippery entrance.

you’re squeezing your thighs together - trapping him between the pillowy soft surfaces. “rick,” you cry. “c’mon, already.”

“what’d we say?”

you swallow, a tear from how needy you are sliding down your cheek. “please, sir.”

you could care less if shane walked in right now. as long as rick keeps driving his hips into yours and breathing your name like a prayer, you’ll be content. content to get fucked silly by the man before he takes you in his arms and spends the night with a hand on your waist and his nose buried in your hair.

that’s after though.

now, you’re being nearly fucked up the couch.

rick’s just enjoying the way your sweet little cunt grips him like it needs him. the little thing sucks him in even better than your mouth.

and you’re a whole other story. sweat sticking to your glistening forehead, you’re babbling incoherent thoughts, strung out on the cock molding you to his shape.

your slick is pooling around rick like he’s in the fucking atlantic. so close to losing it all over him already, you’re making an absolute mess of the couch that you’ll have to resolve before shane gets home. don’t want him suffering from any fear of missing out.

the man is swept from your mind when rick absolutely crams his cock inside of your clinging cunt. the kiss to your cervix is enough for you to start seeing spots around the older man making you take his cock so well.

every time you park your pussy on rick’s thick dick and come, you ground down, grasp his hand, do anything to get as close as possible. feeling him to skin to skin is second only to feeling him fill you up. the filthy praises coming from his lips come close as well.

“fuck, baby, so nice and tight. you want me to come inside you, huh? have shane come home to this pussy all messy?”

you’re shaking your head like you have any idea what you’re asking for. “yes, rick! i want you to make a mess of my pussy.”

“then come all over this cock, honey.”

“mhmm, rick, i-,”

“that’s it.”

“i love how deep you are, rick-,” you’re bumbling like an idiot and muttering a string of “i love you”s as the dam bursts and you come undone on rick’s cock.

the pulsing warmth beneath you is accompanied by a husky, “i love you too,” and a chorus of your name into your shoulder as rick used his horsecock to fuck you two through your climaxes.

the friction on your clit heightens the heat surrounding you and flooding into you from rick. you’re almost overwhelmed by the bruising kisses rick purples onto your neck as he gathers you on top of him.

“you did so good, honey,” he’s praising you and you’re just nodding, humming, “thank you”s and “i know”s until he’s bear hugging you again. the way he nuzzles into your neck from behind and exhales into your hair is enough for you to forget trudging up to bed and drift off into rick’s touch right there.

you’re already asleep in his arms but he takes the time to stroke your hair and kiss up and down your temples. god, he loves getting this time with you to himself - even if you’re asleep.

with you pressed against him and your heartbeat thrumming, the world is still and rick realizes something - he’s never letting you go.

[echosong971]

Some Lost Memory

[jovieinramshackle]

"Nothing ever truly changes. As long as I'm close to you like this, I know nothing has changed."

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you decide who's talking <3 Idk man the idea that you begin to hate someone you used to love, but that hate only ends up expressing the love you still carry for that person, and now you're stuck in this vicious cycle of playing chase to hurt the other because it's the only form of twisted affection you cling onto until one of you dies. Yknow stuff like that, or something. This was supposed to be a revenge mission, so why does it feel so familiar...

tag list: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @gimmeurmoneyagh

@twsted-void @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[lyraeeee]

a terrible father

[roseetube]

Been playing around with some aus!!! Magical girl aus are good for the soul!!! ALSO! ALSO!! IM ATTENDING NY COMIC CON ON SATURDAY!!! I swear if the 7 train isn't running, im gonna spontaneously combust!!!!!! And now it's time my mandated 100 tags (well 30, actually)

[frescoisnotinthemilitary]

Hi!! I really love your works.. can I request a fic? I was maybe hoping for Soap helping reader through caffeine withdrawal? 👀 I know it's a bit specific, but I find it really endearing ☹️☹️

P.S. I love Amelia!! Such a neat OC. 🫶🫶

What’s In A Drink? Caffeine, Apparently.

A John “Soap” MacTavish x Reader fic

A/N: Thank you, Anon! 

I’ve been wanting to write something for Soap for a bit, but I couldn’t really think of anything I might want to do. I’m going to make this two parts, just to give you all something to nibble on while I work on the other things. Thank you to my readers for the brainworms and all the support! I’m sorry that this part is so short :/

This one’s a little heavy on the content warnings only because addiction is a sensitive topic, and I get that it’s hard for some people. That being said, it’s entirely understandable if you don’t want to read this. Feel free to keep scrolling. 

CW/TW: slight angst, discussions and symptoms of addiction/withdrawal, depressive and self-deprecating behavior, swearing, implied self-starvation

18+ only please, MDNI (I can’t control your content consumption, but if you’re underage, don’t interact). As much as I appreciate the support, I don’t want to block people.

Reader: GN Reader, You/Your PNs, use of R/N

“C’mon, ye’ve gottae eat.” It’s the same familiar brogue that you love-hate. Johnny. 

“I can’t,” you say, picking your head off your arms. The all-too-familiar prickle of irritation scratches at the back of your skull. “My appetite is nonexistent.”

“At least try, please. It’s no’ good to starve yerself,” Johnny pleads.

The prickle starts to feel more like cactus spines with every passing second. “I said I’m not hungry, John.” John. You never call him John. “Just back off.”

But of course, Johnny’s persistence remains. He steels himself for the rest of the harsh words that are sure to spill from your lips. “Look, ye dinnae need to be cunty. I’m only tryin’ tae help ye. It’s better tae eat proper food than chug an energy drink. And ye ken we’re using vacation days for this.”

Your head falls back down to rest on your forearm, your other hand fidgeting with the ties of your sweatshirt’s hood. You’re staring at the ground beneath the table, between your socked feet. “I didn’t ask for your help, Johnny. You just kind of inserted yourself into my business, now you’re wasting your vacation days making sure I get out of bed and eat more than half a bowl of cereal. I didn’t ask you to.”

“Look, I ken,” Johnny sighs. “I ken ye dinnae want me around, but I want tae help ye feel better. I ken it’s hard, but it’s easier tae do it now than tae deal wit’ it on a mission when ye cannae have a Monster. Not tae mention, they’re shite for yer health; the taurine in those things, Jesus.”

“Alright, Johnny, I get it. Just back off,” you grumble, pushing your chair from the table as you stand. “I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone.”

Johnny looks at you softly, almost sadly, as you turn and walk towards your room. “Love, I didnae mean to pester ye, I only want ye better.”

“Why, you can’t deal with me like this?” You spit. 

He’s shocked, taken aback, but he still tries to fix it. “No, I didnae mean it like that, I swear. I only meant-”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. I don’t care. Might just be better if we broke up, seeing as you don’t want to put up with me anymore.”

“What? No, R/N, I didnae say that! I dinnae want tae throw us away over a little misunderstanding. I love ye, and I want tae marry ye one day. I-” He cut himself off. 

“Look, I don’t care, okay? I mean- wait, what did you say? You want to marry me?”

I'm cutting this here (for the cliffhanger hehe). I'll probably have the other half out for y'all in a few days. I've been extra busy lately and haven't found much time to work on the fics, but I'm trying when I can. Thank you all for being so patient and supporting me!

P.S. I'll upload this to Ao3 later. I'm a bit short on time at the moment.

[chemdisaster]

wrote this on a plane while drinking to the new year and my birthday, so literally partly in 2023 and partly in 2024. belongs to my brand new modern au where the bad boys are childhood friends.

warning: because i'm me, it ends the way it does in limited life. as a result, much pain and suffering and jimmy is dead in this one

Joel gets in trouble with the law again, and again, and again. Minor offences at first, drinking in public and one instance of attempting to shoplift a cheap pack of gum that makes Grian about implode upon himself with incredulity—Joel has money, what in the world!—before he recognises it as Jimmy's favourite flavour.

They deal with that, too. He dutifully bails his friend out every time and does his best not to ask too many questions. The situation is far from ideal, but on some level he understands—everyone deals with grief in their own way. With luck, this should pass.

Then, Joel pulls a knife on Scott and has to pay a ridiculous amount of money to keep him from pressing charges.

That's when Grian loses it.

"What the fuck, Joel," he rants in the car on their way back from the police station. "What the actual fuck were you thinking."

From his far-too-relaxed position in the passenger seat, Joel snorts.

"He deserved it."

Grian sputters.

"He deserv—what, no, Joel, this is serious. You can't just go around pulling knives on people, that's not—what the hell is wrong with you?!" he bursts out, and surprises himself with the vehemence behind his exclamation.

And then Joel does something incredibly, infuriatingly Joel.

He rolls his eyes and asks, "Why do you care?"

In that moment, Grian wants nothing more than to punch him.

Steeling himself, he schools his expression into one of indifference. Two can play this game.

"I don't."

"Sure you don't."

"No, I'm being serious, Joel. By all means, continue self-destructing—but I'm not sticking around to watch. So far you've crossed every line humanly possible, and I just—"

His resolve breaks. For a moment, he takes his eyes off the road to stare earnestly at Joel, who looks away the moment he meets his gaze.

"The way you're heading, I'm about to become a singular Bad Boy," Grian confesses to the back of Joel's head. "And I don't want to see that happen. I've lost Jimmy, I don't want to lose you, too."

A pause.

Eventually, Joel forces out through gritted teeth, "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car. Stop the fucking car right now."

Grian slams on the brakes, and the car's barely had time to skid to a halt before Joel is wrenching the door open and setting off, walking briskly along the edge of the road.

Scrambling to get out of his own seat, Grian follows.

"Wait, no," he calls out. "Joel, what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Joel spits, barely turning around, his words carrying across the wind. "You're sick of having to deal with me? Congratulations, today's your lucky day. You'll never have to see my face ever again."

"No, Joel, that's not what I meant—"

"Oh yeah?" Joel swivels around. "Well, then I pray you, tell me what you really meant. Go on, Grian. Tell me why I shouldn't have killed Scott right there on the spot."

Advancing, he pushes at Grian's chest.

"Tell me, Grian," he repeats, and his voice gains a note of something resembling hysteria. "Tell me what's oh-so-wrong with me. Tell me why I'm the one who's wrong and everything isn't fucked, tell me, Grian—"

Grian gently catches Joel's wrists before his knuckles can come into contact with his face. Carefully, he says, "Scott didn't kill Jimmy. Jimmy's death was—"

"An accident, I know," Joel snaps. "It's always the accidents with him, isn't it? Missing steps, tripping over his own feet, falling off fucking bridges—"

Unable to do much more, Grian nods. Because Joel is right. It is always the accidents—it was, and they always joked about Jimmy being cursed, but now that he's gone, Grian can't help but wonder if the curse was really on them all along.

Feeling the tension slowly seep away from Joel's wrists, Grian loosens his grip and brings their hands down, interlocking their fingers. Joel lets him, and a temporary calm settles over the shore, but Grian knows him too well to believe that this means that the storm is over.

Sure enough, a moment later, Joel laughs, quietly and without any humour.

"You're full of shit, Grian."

Grian blinks, taken aback, and says nothing.

Joel continues, "You're actually, genuinely full of shit. Jimmy's gone, and you're expecting me to, what, not be at all messed up?"

Grian still doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say, what he could possibly say to prove to his friend that he does care, he does, cares so much that it feels like he's going to rip apart from the inside if he lets himself dwell on it for any longer than he already is—every minute of every waking day.

Joel gives him a long, searching look, and whatever he finds makes his tone turn downright venomous when he carries on, "Oh, but it's easy for you, isn't it? You haven't cried or—or anything, you don't fucking—you don't give a shit, do you?"

He rips his hands away, stumbles backwards.

"Ever the reasonable one, always telling me to calm down, right? WELL I CAN'T CALM DOWN, MY FRIEND IS FUCKING DEAD!"

Grian levels a look at Joel, meets his enraged, devastated expression head-on.

"Joel, I'm just saying, this isn't the way to grieve. This is—you're destroying yourself, Timmy wouldn't have wanted you to—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Silence.

The rapidly descending dark obscures Joel's face, but his sobs ring out loudly in the night.

"Oh, Joel."

With only a moment's hesitation, Grian steps forward and brings his arms around his friend, who instantly goes pliant in his hold. "I hate you, Grian," he cries into his neck, and his shoulders jump. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—"

Grian sighs, "I know."

I hate myself, too, he doesn't say. Joel weeps with sobs that sound more like wails, and Grian does his best to swallow down the ugly and inhuman thing that rears its head at the base of his throat. He knows that, come tomorrow, none of this will matter, and the only thing that will still hold meaning will be the large gaping hole at their side.

With everything he's been telling Joel, maybe he really is nothing but a huge goddamn hypocrite, after all. Whoever said that it gets better is a fucking liar.

[thru-ur-alarms]

from polendina to antonia; why did you have to leave so soon? a web weave.

A Grief Observed - C.S. Lewis / Unknown / In Memoriam A.A.H - Lord Tennyson Alfred / Some Kind of Heaven - Sleeping At Last / Sketch by Yenthe Joline / The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller / We Are Carried - Sara Rian / Paper Boats - Darren Kobb and Ashley Barrett

[patchwork-crow-writes]

93 - Would You Still...?

'Kris... c-can I ask you something?'

Ralsei shrunk back a little as they turned to look at him. Was he about to make a terrible mistake? What would they possibly think of him if he were to tell them?

And yet, they had to know. If this was going to work, there could be no more secrets.

'Would you, um, still love me,' he said with a shy little smile, '...if I were a b-bug?'

Kris's mouth opened slightly, though he couldn't tell whether it was out of shock or bewilderment. Probably both. Ralsei's smile froze like ice upon his face. He knew this was a bad idea! He knew he should have waited longer to-

A small smile spread across their face as Kris reached out to take his hands in theirs. A faint glimmer of garnet fire could be seen from beneath their navy bangs.

Of course I would, that expression seemed to say. Always.

Lips wobbling, on the verge of tears, Ralsei yanked Kris into a tight hug. And then with a second pair of arms he hugged them tighter, and his third pair hugged them tighter still, so that the human was completely enwebbed in a tangle of fluffy limbs.

'I'm so happy you feel that way...' he chirped into their neck, making a sound not unlike an excited cricket.

Locked in his deadly sixfold embrace, all Kris could do was wordlessly splutter in response.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 93

<-<-First || <-Prev || Next-> || Index

[vivizaii]

soukoku rant?? angsty analysis??? idek anhmore #3 (please read i put my sweat and tears into cooking this up)

It’s the way that they’ll always be partners but there’ll also always be a layer of distrust and hurt in there aswell because dazai can show that he cares but he’d rather die than verbalize it or even really make himself aware of it and chuuya knows better than to let someone in again ESPECIALLY not dazai who has always understood him but also has always been manipulative and untrustworthy to chuuya.

AND THEY CANT VERBALISE IT BECAUSEE THEY QUITE LITERALLY DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO AND IT JUST VREAKS ME HOW THEYRE PROBABLY NEVER GOING TO ADMIT THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER (ROMANTIC OR NOT).

DAZAI HAS LIT STATED BEFORE THAT FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS ARE SEEN AS A WEAKNESS IN THE MAFIA AND TO THINK HES GROWN UP THINKING HIS ENTIRE LIFE SHOWING ANY EMOTIONS WILL MAKE HIM SEEM VULNERABLE makes me SICK.

HE SUPRRSSED HIS EMOTIONS TO THE POINT WHERE HE PROBABLY DOESNT EVEN KNOW WHAT HES FEELING OR HOW TO EXPRESS HIS EMOTIONS.

THEY BOTH HAVE CARE IN THEIR HEARTS BUT IT WAS SUPPRESSED BECAUSE OF TRAUMA THEN THE MAFIA TOOK THEM IN AND SUPPRESSED IT EVEN FURTHER DOWN TO THE POINT WHERE CARE AND GENTLENESS ISNT EVEN SMTHN THEY CONSIDER BECAUSE THIS IS THE FUCKING MAFIA DUDE..

[rockium-z]

ghost thoughts

i am. eepy ahahaha, but happy 8th 7th comic anniversary to @entityneo!! sometimes (many times.) i think about this fancomic and go a little insane

less sleep-deprived edit: i cannot count. nice

[slowandsteddie]

Y’all voted on this.

“Hey there, big guy.” / “You aren’t Eddie.”

I was really really excited to write this, honestly.

It is VERY important that you read the CW on this one.

I might be working through some things I personally went through on this one, so it’s… darker than I’d normally go.

CW: Steve is drugged, very heavily implied sexual assault (maybe skip the pink font?), ptsd, mention of bad parents, drinking as a coping mechanism, underage drinking, bartender looks like Billy (isn’t btw), very brief mention of Billy’s death, mentions of drugs, mentions of weed

Lots of hurt and little comfort.

Parts of this feel kinda rushed to me, and there’s one part where that is on purpose. But, uh. Not a fan of the ending of this bc it’s late and I’m sleepy. But also I don’t wanna edit this or dwell on it or it won’t get posted at all. So. This is where we are.

Potential for a part two.

2536 words.

—

After the night that Nancy called their relationship bullshit, Steve had sworn off alcohol and any drug stronger than the weed he used to help himself sleep when he was home alone. And he had been able to stick to it, too.

Until Starcourt.

When he had nearly been killed by Russians, confessed his love to a lesbian (while he, himself was mostly gay), and saw Billy Hargrove murdered by some thing from the Upside Down.

Yeah, life was pretty fucked up. And if he found solace at the bottom of a bottle, that was his problem.

No one but Robin needed to know. That girl was his Platonic soulmate and she got to know practically everything. Hell, he had lost track of how many times they had slept in the same bed, just so they could know the other was still breathing. They clung so tight to each other that it was like they were trying to nestle into rib cages and grasp onto bones so that they couldn’t be ripped apart again.

It helped with the nightmares and the panic to have someone so close to him who understood. Someone who knew what he went through without him having to explain it. Someone who knew that the fire cover up was complete shit. Someone who wasn’t a kid that he had to protect and hide his pain from.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved those kids. He would die for them. He’d kill for them. He’d wreck the beautiful car of his dreams for them. He’d even pretend to be okay for them, no matter what. But he could never confide in them. Not about what he went through. Not the way he could with Robin.

The thing about trauma bonding with someone is that there doesn’t have to be secrets. They already knew the worst thing that you have been through, so everything else would be a cakewalk by comparison.

During the day, it was easy to be goofy and laugh and hide the fact that he had been through absolute hell. But at night, everything came back to him. Him screaming that he just worked for Scoops and not being believed. Him offering free ice cream for life, just to get out of there.

Offering his body when that didn’t work because he didn’t have anything else and he knew his parents wouldn’t pay a ransom, even if the Russians had decided to try that route. And if they took him up on that offer, no one had to know. He didn’t even have to know. He could just pretend that the drugs took those memories too and not think about it.

The night time was what had him drinking again. The sun would start setting and he’d find himself reaching for that bottle, as though he needed it as desperately as he needed air and open spaces.

Even when Robin was over, he couldn’t close the door before taking a shower. Though, that didn’t matter much, when she’d go sit on the toilet and talk to him, with nothing but a curtain between them as the water poured over him and he sobbed as silently as he could while he cleaned himself and she chatted away about some random thing that he couldn’t follow, no matter how hard he tried. On particularly bad nights, Robin would find him in the shower, and wearing his t-shirt and shorts, she would help him wash his hair, his body, while he could only lean against the wall, feeling as though he would shake himself apart.

But, he needed to get better. He couldn’t be a mess forever. He couldn’t rely on his best friend always being available to help him through the rough patches. Most people would see the therapist recommended to them after going through things like The Upside Down and days of torture at the hands of Russians in a base under the mall that they used to work in.

Not Steve.

Oh, no.

That made too much sense.

Instead of therapy, he decided that going to a gay club in Indy would be a great idea. It had been long enough that his injuries had turned to scars. Sure, his ears rang a lot and sometimes his vision went a little fuzzy if he turned his head too fast, but he was fine. Really.

He had called and told Robin where he’d be. He didn’t need her panicking because she went to his house and he wasn’t there. He also called Henderson, just to make sure one of the kids knew he wasn’t home. They all talked constantly so the message would get around.

Just because he was stupid, didn’t mean he was irresponsible.

Steve was dressed in his favorite jeans, the ones that made his ass look nice, and a yellow polo. He didn’t really have many options in terms of shirts because it was almost time to do laundry again. He hated the washer though, as he still had times when his ribs panged when he tried to lean over too far. With that stupid washer, he always had to lean too far. There was no other way to make sure he got everything out of it.

He took the time to style his hair properly, even when the effort made his arms shake and the muscles in his hands and wrists spasm. Being tortured had some lasting effects and it was annoying. He was so tired of it. Tired of being forced to remember what he went through, even while doing the most mundane things.

He flipped the collar on his shirt up to try and make sure that the scars on his neck weren’t too obvious at first glance. That was as good as it was going to get as he refused to wear makeup to cover it up.

Then, he walked out to his car after locking the front door. Here goes nothing. He slid into the car that he hadn’t actually driven in a few weeks and started her up. She purred as though it was only yesterday that she was last turned on.

Steve mouthed the directions to himself before buckling up, turning on the radio, and beginning the drive.

Time passed, though he wasn’t sure how much of it. But he did get to the club without incident. He parked his car and locked the door before putting the keys in his pocket.

His favorite thing about this place was that they didn’t ID, something that he remembered from when he had came here before Starcourt. He had just wanted to dance with fellow queers. The first few times that he was here, he had been given water when he went to the bar.

He was glad to find that this time the bartender asked him what he’d be drinking. He was glad that the blond with curly hair and a charming smile didn’t even bat an eye over his request for a shot of whiskey, and just poured the drink.

“First one’s on the house.” God, even his voice was charming.

“Thank you,” Steve replied gratefully.

He threw the drink back and didn’t even make a face over it. The familiar, warm burn of the alcohol was a welcome one.

“How much for the second?” He asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“For you? A dollar a shot.”

Steve placed a 10 dollar bill down. “One shot and one mixed drink that would leave you with what you consider an acceptable tip.”

“Yessir,” the bartender replied with a smile.

It wasn’t fair that the older male had ocean eyes he could get lost in.

Steve took the shot like nothing again, running a hand through his hair. He thanked the bartender, again, before taking his mixed drink and moving to the dance floor.

He was having fun. There were a lot of people and loud music and he had some liquid courage that was also helping to keep his chronic pain under control. After a few songs, he finished his drink before going to take his glass to the bar.

He was dizzy, but he just assumed that was from turning his head too fast a few minutes ago when someone started dancing behind him. He told himself that it had just been because he wanted to know if the guy pressing against his back was cute or not. (He was.)

Steve’s thoughts were incoherent, but he had moments when his brain didn’t seem to work right, especially when he was under the influence. It was his new normal ever since his brain had been starved of oxygen. But he couldn’t think about that again. Not now.

He asked the bartender for water, noticing the name tag this time. Billy. Oh, the painful irony.

He drank it down pretty fast, fully intending to thank him for it after. But then there was an arm around his shoulder and he was moving on to help someone on the other side of the bar.

“Hey there, big guy,” the other male said while squeezing his shoulder.

“You aren’t Eddie,” he said stupidly. It was in that moment that Steve realized who he had a crush on, but that wasn’t important right now.

“I can be whoever you want me to be, handsome.”

Steve pulled away. “I’m sorry, but no. You really can’t.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke. Eddie sent me to take you home.”

“He wouldn’t have sent anyone to get me.” He said defiantly. “He’d come himself,” he added to cover up whatever he had said.

The world was spinning worse and he turned to walk to the bathroom. He was being followed and he knew it, but what other choice did he have?

By the time Steve got to the bathroom, he was mostly out of it. But, he got flashes.

—

The door being locked behind them.

His pants being unbuttoned.

Trying to struggle but it was just so hard to lift his arms.

Being shoved against the counter.

Heavy breathing in his ear.

Pain.

Sliding down.

Curling into a ball.

Clutching his own shirt.

Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie.

—

When Steve woke up again, the first thing he noticed was that he was in the trailer. The second thing he noticed was that he felt like shit. Everything hurt more than it should for just a hangover, and he didn’t even want to think about why his hips and thighs felt the way they did.

He tried to sit up, groaning over the effort before letting himself lay back down on the couch. The toilet flushed, the water ran, and then there were footsteps coming back toward him. He didn’t know why he flinched and tried to hide in the blanket he had over him, but he did.

“Hey there, big boy,” Eddie said softly.

Steve whimpered. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t like being called that anymore. It was something that the older male had called him ever since they started getting friendly. Ever since he had started buying weed from him.

“Wanna talk about it, Steve?” He added.

He shook his head.

“Why’d the bartender call me when he found you instead of Robin? Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered that you thought I was safe.”

“I don’t know. Was kinda falling apart. I guess I wanted drugs more than…”

“More than your girlfriend?”

Steve snorted. “She’s my Platonic soulmate. Capital P. Not my girlfriend.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Want me to call the soulmate?”

Steve shook his head quickly before groaning and holding his temples. “My car?” He croaked.

“I took Jeff with me to pick you up. He drove ‘er back. Your car is in my driveway, safe and sound.”

Steve made a sound and let his eyes close.

“Steve. I’m not going to make any choices for you. But you were assaulted. The only reason that bartender didn’t call the police was that he didn’t want to out you.”

His eyes fluttered. “That… that explains it.” His body chose that moment to let him pass out again.

When he was conscious again, he was still on Eddie’s couch. He could hear the other male talking on the phone. He did his best to pretend that he was still asleep. But he was crying and the sniffling gave him away.

“Hey man, do you want Robin to come here?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “I just… I need a bit to comprehend. Tell her an hour, yeah? Then I’ll go with her and get out of your hair.”

Eddie relayed the message and hung up.

“He drugged me. But I still knew what was up. He flirted with me, but I wasn’t interested. I said he wasn’t you as though I had some kind of right to want it to be you who was flirting, man. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Of course it was only the apology that Eddie picked up on.

“Because I have no right to have a crush on you after how I treated you. Because I have no right to tell you that I have a crush on you after what happened to me.”

“If that’s how you feel, then I have no right to tell you that the feeling is mutual and that I have every intention of finding the guy who did this to you and making him pay. I have no right to feel so possessive and protective. I have no right to tell you that I always run away, but right now I just want to fight for you.”

“Mm. You’re right. We have no right to be having this conversation when it’s too much for me.”

Eddie was about to get up.

“Hold me?” Steve asked so quietly.

And his request was honored so gently. He might have been whimpering and flinching, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the older male’s shirt and clinging to it.

When Robin barged into the trailer, exactly sixty-one minutes later, Steve flinched and his hands gripped on to Eddie’s knees tightly.

Eddie was sitting sideways on the couch, his legs spread so that Steve could be seated between them. His back was against the older male’s chest and his hands had been playing with the loose threads over Eddie’s knees before he was startled. Eddie had been trying to braid Steve’s too short hair as they listened to some music that neither male was paying enough attention to in order to place.

As soon as he saw his best friend, he was struggling to his feet before stumbling over to her with all the grace of a newborn giraffe.

“R-Robbie.”

“Stevie.”

“I shouldn’t have gone.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself.”

They were clinging to each other, both of them shaking.

“Promised to never leave you again.”

“It’s okay. We’ll get through this. Also, Eddie is driving us home because I refuse to let go of you.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“And then you’re staying, too.” Steve added.

“I am.” There was a smile to Eddie’s voice at that.

Despite everything, Steve liked him and felt safe with him. Hopefully Eddie would never do anything to break that.

[lil-oreo-cookie]

This entire drawing trend perfectly encompasses these two dorks so I had to join in. Instead of drawing my OTP, however, I drew my BROTP >:)

I would draw Toffipsa/p more than I do but I haven’t due to AU plot reasons lol. (But these angst ridden ex childhood besties will 110% meet again incredibly soon)

Seriously though take away all context from the show which one looks like they’d eventually become the slippery, manipulative, calculating, backstabbing bad guy. PROBABLY NOT THE ONE CRYING AND SCARED OUT OF HIS MIND BUT DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU—

Anyways I will defend these two as individuals and as best friends until I die