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domsaysstuff · 1 year

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Spidey!Robin AU

this au from this post is still rotating in my head to the point of insanity so here are some ideas abt it

ronance|side-steddie

Robin didn't like spiders.

She wasn't afraid of them but most of them made her uneasy and she would rather not deal with them. Still, even with her uneasiness she could not bring herself to kill one. Which normally isn't a problem, Steve even if he himself was afraid of them, and Robin knew that, like Robin knew everything about Steve through years of exposure to him and extortion and possibly a case of their brains melting together, he would put a brave face and take care of it for her.

But Steve wasn't here right now and there was a spider on her desk. To top it, the spider itself was looking weird, almost intelligent. Maybe Steve was right and she was studying too much and her brain was going to fry up but she could swear there was something about the spider that made her think it could understand her.

"Here goes nothing." She mumbled to herself. "Okay little guy, I'll take you out the window but you need to stay put, no funny tricks!"

The spider predicably didn't respond.

"Jesus Christ Buckley, you're starting to talk to fucking spiders." She rolled her eyed and then sighed, and moved towards the spider with a sheet of paper. "I'm going to scoop you up on this thing buddy and then carry you to the window."

Still no response. She took a stabilizing breath and did as she said. The Spider, because at this point he deserved to be addressed with capitalized letters, was still staying put and letting itself be moved onto the sheet.

"Huh, this is easy." Steve always moans and complains all until the spider is out their apartment. But then, there rarely is a moment when Steve doesn't complain. Dustin always says he's like a grumpy grandpa, Robin just calls him bitchy. "We're almost there bud."

She opened the window and moved the sheet onto the window still. And then things happened so quickly she could barely blink. The Spider moved towards her hand and she went into the panic mode.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, get off, get off, oh my god, get off, this is not what we agreed on!" Trying to shake it off her hand she also moved closer to the window and that's when she felt it. A small pinch, barely noticeable through her panic. "What the fuck! You bit me!"

The betrayal she felt was almost as strong as her panic, she shook her hand even harder and that's when the spider fell of right into the open window.

Her first thought was, thank god.

Her second was, I'm never laughing at Steve when he needs to throw out a spider ever again.

The third was, oh god it bit me. I'm going to die.

So turns out she was not going to die.

After a panicky call to Steve and a visit at the hospital, it was confirmed she was fine.

So, she's not dying, great, mostly after a week the Spider was almost out of her mind.

And that's when she starts feeling weird.

After that, she discovers she has powers, she tells Steve like, the next day because she can't not tell Steve, c'man, they don't keep secrets so she becomes spiderwoman

Okay so Robin is a freshmen in college and she lives nearby campus with Steve who is also either a freshmen (had a one year gap) or a sophomore

Steve is the og man in chair but they need some way to hack the police radio to get intel and that's where they involve Dustin (bc Steve still is the babysitter, just without the upside down shit) and his tech knowledge, how Erica gets involved is anyone's guess (maybe she makes the costume, i feel like Dustin would definitely be the one to suggest a costume, the lil comic nerd) but she does and so the Scoops Team is like Robin's team of operations

Four months in and Robin is starting to get this vigilante shit. Unfortunately, she's not very, uh, discreet. So the city gets a hero, but also the mystery. Who is Spiderwoman?

Enter Nancy Wheeler. Nancy, the leader of the campus newspaper. Nancy dedicated to become someone big, someone important, Nancy committed to breaking out, hungry for a story that would put her name out there.

So obviously, obviously, she wants to know who spiderwoman is more than anyone. And she's not used to not getting what she wants.

Robin to sway her away from her trail joins the newspaper.

"Why can't you do it Steve?"

"Okay first of all, no one would believe I want to join the newspaper and besides, Nancy is my ex-girlfriend!"

"Yeah! So you know her the best! You know how to distract her!"

"Did you miss the ex part?"

At first they have a bit of enemies flavor to them, because Nancy doesn't know why would Robin do this and also Nancy is publicly anti-spidey and Robin absolutely blabbers and ruins the two times she tries to defend spiderwoman (which actually, i think is just fucking flirting, you can't say Nancy doesn't enjoy a good argument and i think Robin thinks she flunked it but she actually made a few points that had Nancy thinking about them later like, huh, maybe there is something to her point and that makes Nancy feel all warm and fluttery inside, she just enjoys someone who can challenge her) but as they work together they start to have a bit more closer relationship

And she can't help it, she can't help it but develop a crush on Nancy fucking Wheeler of all people. But it's just she's so pretty and actually kind and stubborn and fierce, how was Robin not supposed to have a crush?

But Nancy Wheeler has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that also works for the newspaper. Jonathan Byler is a photographer for the campus newspaper and the biggest issue with him is that Robin actually fucking likes the guy.

And the thing is that at first Robin only really faces off against some petty criminals, like no one supernatural, for all she knows she is the only supernatural person in the world

Then Venom appears and Venom wants to fuck shit up. The guy is practically on a big power trip™ and Robin must stop him.

She can like spidersense him but only if she's really close to him, usually it works better, but this is almost like he's masking?? She doesn't really get it but she knows it it screws with her spidersense

And either they think its eddie munson because its just fit with the crime places and shit (but he's human) or one day her and Steve are walking through campus and they pass Eddie Munson and her spider senses are tingling™ (because he's spidey, bc spideys as a queer metaphor my beloved, also just imagine just how funny it would be if Eddie asked Robin if Steve is also like them (meaning queer) and she took it as meaning spidey so she's like "he wishes" chuckling and then starts talking how great and supportive he is tho, so Eddie thinks Steve is straight but a great ally snssj)

Either way Steve needs to get closer to Eddie Munson ("why i have to spend time with Eddie the freak Munson?" "Because i just joined the newspaper last month dingus! It's your time to pull your weight, besides your kids beg you like all the time to play their dice game! It's a good excuse!") so he starts sitting on hellfire meetings that is less a highschool club now and more of a friends meeting up together after Eddie graduated, under the disguise that he finally caved in with the kids begging (if he falls for Eddie Fucking Munson it's noones but his and Robin's business)

Venom is obvs Billy

Also! Also! A scene of Nancy sort of coming out to Robin, but not really Robin but spiderwoman and admitting her crush on Robin to her, on like some rooftop of a building after Robin saved her or some shit and Nancy is like "i feel like you would understand, constantly feeling torn between two words and identities" and it's like this vulnerable moment for Nancy and it's very bittersweet for Robin because now she knows

But she shouldn't have known. She shouldn't, she should have stopped Nancy before she said anything because she has really no right to know. Nancy didn't tell it to Robin Buckley, she said it to Spiderwoman. And after that Robin is a bit weird around Nancy because she KNOWS but she SHOULDN'T and oh god, she's gonna puke

And then Nancy finding out abt Robin being Spidey and feeling betrayed but also rejected because she now knows she revealed her crush to Robin and in turn Robin started acting weird so she takes this as rejection and it's this miscommunication between them and also maybe at this moment Robin also feels like a shit spiderwoman because Billy hurt Steve, who tried to protect the kids and she was unable to stop it and Steve is hurt and Nancy is mad at her and she can't be a superhero and she can't be just a normal girl and she feels so mad and tired

Anyway that's all i have, if you read this far I'm giving you a big kiss on the forehead 💖

#also also like Robin being mad at Steve for 'being a superhero' when it was suppsed to be her why cant he stop #selfsacrificing himself for just a moment why wont he let her be the hero and hes such a dingus #also also spidey eddie being like im no hero like you buckley ESPECIALLY after steve gets hurt because its like STEVE IS JUST HUMAN and yet #he's so brave and all eddie thinks he is good for is running #there is also a version of this where nancy hates spiderwoman because she didnt save barb (not for robins lack of trying)#and there is this scene where Robin holds Barb and she takes off her masks and she tries to talk to Barb bc her and Barb used to be friends #and cman Barb talk to me you know i hate silence cman Barb dont do this to me and Barb is like Robin? Robin im so sorry we stopped being #frineds why are we not friends anymore? 'its not important Barb we can be friends again just stay awake for me please' its a nice idea bein #your friend i think i would like that robin 'yeah? yeah i would like that too' i missed you i'm #i'm sorry i stopped being your friend *dies* 'barb? barb i missed you too cman Barb! Barb!'#but thats like a bit too much hurt for my poor heart #platonic stobin #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #spiderman au #stranger things #dom's au idea of the day

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lumaxramblings · 2 years

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ok we've got what will's spidey colors would be but would be robin's spidey colors

#robin buckley #ronance #yes i made some moodboards and am FEELING the robin as spidey au rn

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headkiss · 2 years

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single thread

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve has a big secret and convinces himself he needs to stay away from you to keep you safe. that’s tough to do when you’re his neighbour.

word count: 8.2k

warnings: spider-man!steve au, some violence (r is attacked and a pocket knife is mentioned but nothing major happens), blood/injuries, strangers/sort of friends to lovers (ish?)

a/n: i really liked writing this one and i hope u guys like it too!!! spidey!steve is something i’ve wanted to try for a while and here it is!!!! he’s my baby <3

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

When Steve moved to Indianapolis, not once did he think he’d get bit by some radioactive spider and gain super powers. Yet, here he is, swinging through the city like something out of some comic book. Sometimes he doesn’t even believe it’s real, and it’s his life.

On his way home, he spots his building easily, the route embedded in his head. The corners to turn, the spots to shoot his webs.

Stuck to the wall beside his window, he tries to open it and realizes he left it locked. “Idiot,” he grumbles to himself.

With a groan he jumps down, landing in the alley. He throws his clothes over his suit and makes sure nobody’s around before slipping the mask off and into his bag. For once, he uses the actual door to enter the building.

He opts for the stairs and when he makes it to his floor he sees you in the hallway. He resists the urge to go back down and wait a couple of minutes.

His door is across from yours, and when he walks over, you’re quick to send him a smile and a ‘hello.’ He nods at you and faces his door, unlocking it quickly and going inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s that he doesn’t want to involve people in his life when it’s gotten so complicated. He has Robin in the city and that’s about it. And he already worries enough about her. If he’d met you pre-bite, things would be much different.

He’d return your kind smiles and greetings, he’d tell you when he likes your outfit or thinks your hair looks really nice (which is pretty much every time he sees you, even when you think it’s awful).

He’d rather not put you in any danger, though, so he doesn’t. He just thinks you’re pretty and keeps it to himself.

You don’t know any of that, however, so you’re convinced that Steve doesn’t like you and you have no idea why. Every time his only response is a nod or a limp wave, you wait until he’s out of sight to frown, to scrunch your eyebrows.

You try to think about what you might’ve done.

You first met Steve when you moved into the building, your hair held away from your face with a clip, baby hairs sticking to your damp forehead, and your sweatshirt hanging off your shoulder. Not your best look.

He must’ve heard the thump of boxes hitting the ground, the mumbled curses you kept uttering. Knuckling at his tired eyes, he opened his door and peeked his head into the hallway.

“What the-”

He shut right up when you turned around, smiling (almost wincing) at him.

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, and he repeated your name so quietly you didn’t even hear it. “Sorry about the noise. I have a lot of stuff.”

He nodded, looking at the few boxes in the hall, “you’re moving in?”

“Yeah.”

“You need some help?”

“Seriously?” He half nodded, half shrugged. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”

“Sure. ‘M Steve, by the way.”

Steve. He’s pretty, you thought. Brown, fluffy hair and soft eyes, a mouth you think must look even better when he smiles.

He carried the heavier boxes without complaint or breaking a sweat. His arms flexed with the actions, but his face was completely unaffected. You were amazed. And probably stared at him too much.

When every box was inside your apartment, you’d thanked him, and he’d brushed it off saying it was no problem and went back inside his own place.

No problem, like he didn’t carry box after box for you because you couldn’t afford movers.

Now, with your back against the inside of your door after seeing him in the hallway, you replay that meeting once again. You can’t figure out what you did. Worse, you think, maybe you didn’t do anything at all and you’re just someone who’s easy to dislike.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if he wasn’t so good looking. If he didn’t make you nervous whenever his eyes glanced over you, if you had actual friends to occupy your time, if you didn’t want him to like you so bad.

If, if, if.

You try to stop thinking about it and pick up the book you’d left on your coffee table. You have to reread passages, distracted and unfocused.

The bookstore’s been slow today.

You’ve been keeping yourself as busy as possible, even with an empty store. Dusting shelves, re-organizing sections that looked fine before, switching displays around. Eventually you gave in and sat behind the counter with a book, watching people pass by the front windows.

The sun set at some point, sinking behind buildings and leaving the city lit by streetlights and warm glows seeping through windows.

As boring as it can be, you wouldn’t be doing much different if you were at home. Finding things to do to pass time, sitting around aimlessly. At least here, you get paid for doing it.

When it’s time to close up you’re not sure if your sigh is from relief or disappointment. You’re lonely often, but it’s harder to ignore it when you’re all alone at home, no people around at all, even if they’re mostly just passing by on the sidewalk.

You go through the list, sweeping, setting the alarm, shutting off the lights, and locking the door.

The night air is cool, light wind blowing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair. The usual sounds surround you. Honking horns and tires rolling against pavement, indistinguishable voices and the click of the bookstore door locking.

You keep your keys in your hand while you walk home, one of them sticking up between your knuckles. Just in case.

One foot in front of the other, again and again, you walk along the sidewalk. Your footsteps a steady rhythm, hands tucked in your pockets to keep them warm, head bent to avoid making eye contact with any other pedestrians.

Only a couple of minutes from your place, you can hear someone walking along behind you. You shake your head, telling yourself they’re probably just headed in the same direction.

That reassurance disappears when the stranger whistles at you.

You don’t look up, you don’t turn around, you just keep your head down and walk faster, your heartbeat speeding in your chest. You’ve seen stories of what can happen to someone walking home alone. You never thought you’d have one of your own.

“Hey, cupcake! Where you going?” His voice is scratchy and scary. You pick up your pace even more.

At your ignorance, the man speaks again, “I’m talking to you.” His hand grabs your sleeve when he says it.

More afraid than you’ve ever been, you jerk your arm from his grasp and stupidly turn down an alleyway as a shortcut. It’s a horrible decision, but when you’re scared like that, it’s really hard to think straight.

You feel bad for being annoyed with people in horror movies. You get it now.

You’re almost jogging now, but it doesn’t deter the man. No, he catches up and grabs your wrist, twisting you around and pushing your back roughly into the brick wall of the building behind you.

Your wrist is slammed against it where he grabbed you, no doubt scratching your skin and making you flinch, your keys falling from your grasp.

This is it, you think. I’m gonna die here. Alone.

Your eyes water, a tear drips down your cheek and the man laughs in your face. You try to break away from his hold but he doesn’t let up. The only thing you manage is to knee him in the thigh, but it doesn’t do much.

“Nice try, cupcake. I’ve got you now.” he says. That’s when you notice the glint of a pocket knife in his hand.

“Please. Don’t,” is all you can say, trying and trying to get your arms out of the man’s tight hold. Tight enough to bruise.

Steve’s hair stands at the back of his neck, on his arms. Until now, his patrolling had been quiet. Easy fixes like an elderly woman not crossing the street quick enough or a man who’d locked his keys in his car.

Now, his instincts tell him this thing isn’t so small.

Without a second thought, he jumps from where he’d been perched at the ledge of a building and swings in the direction his senses take him. In your direction.

One second, you’re squeezing your eyes shut, thinking it’s the end, and the next, there’s the sound of someone landing in the alley and the thwip of a web.

The man is pulled off of you so fast you can barely keep up. There’s a flash of blue and red, hints of webbing being shot, and just like that, your attacker is knocked out and stuck to the opposite wall.

Your chest heaves and your back slides down the wall, landing on your bum on the pavement.

Steve turns around now that the man’s been dealt with and he thinks his heart stops for a second. He hadn’t realized it’d been you. You and your sweet smile, now turned to tears streaking your cheeks.

He thought, without him, you’d be better off. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should’ve been keeping an eye on you. For now, he’s sort of glad he hasn’t spoken to you much, only because there’s a better chance you won’t recognize his voice.

Steve moves to crouch in front of you, “are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His hands hover by the sides of your face, like he’s holding himself back from touching you. Restraining himself.

Spider-man is in front of you. Spider-man with his suit and white-eyed mask who just saved your life is right there in front of you. So much for a slow day.

You shake your head and wipe your cheeks with your palms, “no. No, just- um, just my wrist, I think.”

“Can I look?”

You hold out your arm for him to see, and he moves his hands down, one tugging back your sleeve and the other holding your wrist gently. The fabric of his gloves brushes against your skin lightly, careful not to touch you where you’re hurt.

“Doesn’t look sprained. Just scraped,” he says. He looks up from your arm to your face, the eyes on his mask narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt anywhere else?”

He sounds genuinely worried. Like, you can hear it in his voice. It makes you want to cry all over again. You’d always thought that when Spider-man dealt with the bad guys, he’d just move on. Now, you can see that he cares a lot more than that.

You shake your head, “I’m fine.”

As fine as you can be after what just happened.

He nods and stands, offering you his hands to help you up. You pick up your keys and accept, slipping your hands into his. He pulls you up and squeezes your fingers before letting go.

“Will you let me take you home?” He asks.

You’re sort of in shock, and you’d rather not walk anymore. So, you agree.

He opens his arms for you, picking you up easily with a single arm wrapped around your waist. Your own arms go around his neck, legs tentatively wrapping around his waist.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you almost whisper.

He hears you loud and clear, your mouth close to his ear, his senses seemingly even more heightened than usual with you around.

“Hold on,” he says.

Then, you hear the whip of his webs and you’re in the air. Your limbs tighten around him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

The wind rushes all around you. In your ears, your hair, your jacket. The city does, too, lights flickering by and buildings growing distant over his shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“You okay?” He asks over the wind.

“Maybe!”

You can feel his chest rumble with a chuckle. You wish you could’ve heard it, too.

He swings you towards your building when he remembers he’s not supposed to know where you live, “where to?”

You tell him, yelling over the noise not realizing he can hear you just fine normally. You don’t know about those superpowers, focused on the ones that have him transporting you home.

He gets you there quickly, landing just outside the front entrance. You stay wrapped around him for a second before you realize you’ve stopped moving. You remove yourself from him so quickly he has to steady you with hands on your upper arms so you don’t fall.

“You okay from here?” He checks, his head lowering to catch your gaze.

“Yeah. Thank you for…” Saving my life, making sure I’m okay, taking me home. Everything since you landed in the alley.

“Just doing my job.”

“Right. Thanks again,” you turn to head inside.

“Goodnight. And take care of your wrist!”

“Goodnight, Spider-man.”

Steve sees you more often after that night. He thinks the universe might be punishing him. Making him see you more, making him work harder to keep his distance.

He tossed and turned the entire night after bringing you home. He wondered if you were actually okay, trying to listen in case you were crying or having a nightmare. He worried so much more than he would have if it had been any other person and he hated it.

He saw you the next morning. You were checking your mail at the same time as him. Your sleeve had ridden up, exposing the scratches on your wrist from the brick wall, the faint bruises of fingerprints, your eyes tired.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but ask, gesturing limply at your hand. Maybe if you give him a convincing yes, he can finally stop thinking about you so much.

You look down at your arm when he asks, quickly tugging your sleeve back down to cover it up. “Oh. It’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. He knows it isn’t because he was there and he saw at least a part of what happened to you. He can’t let you know that, so he just nods and turns to his mailbox, listening to your footsteps as you walk out of the mailroom and back up to your apartment. His fingers twitch by his side.

Steve’s used to feeling protective over people, that’s not new, but to feel so protective over someone he barely knows hasn’t happened before. That night haunts him. Your tear-streaked face, the blooming bruises on your arm. He never wants to see you hurting again.

Maybe that’s why he starts returning your greetings in the halls, actually pausing to ask how you are, to smile back at you (they’re tight-lipped smiles, but it’s something).

He’s trying to be kind without getting any closer. No matter how much he wants to know you.

One day, as Steve’s heading out for the late shift, you’re just getting home from your own job, it seems. The clip in your hair has loosened since you put it in, strands falling freely around your face. For a second, Steve has the urge to tuck them behind your ears.

He pushes that down.

“Hi,” he says, his door shut behind him.

“Hi, Steve.”

“How are you?”

“Okay, thanks. Tired,” you fiddle with the frayed hem of your knitted sweater. “Had the opening shift today.”

“Ah. Any plans?”

“Probably just gonna take a nap.”

He nods. For a second you think he might’ve asked because he wanted to do something with you. It’s a stupid thought and you push it away.

“Have a good nap, then,” he gives you the close-mouthed smile that’s become more common between you, and heads towards the stairs.

The shift in his behavior towards you hasn’t been huge, but it’s been enough for you to notice it. He talks to you sometimes—always briefly, but still—he doesn’t turn away from you as soon as he gets the chance like he used to.

It’s confusing, but you’re happy about it anyway. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to you a bit. Maybe he doesn’t hate you after all.

Inside your apartment, you change into sweats and practically collapse onto your couch, playing something mindless on the TV and pulling a blanket over yourself.

You really are tired, but it’s not only from working early. Lately, your dreams have been haunted by rough hands, dark alleys, and flashes of blue and red. You constantly feel like there are eyes on you, and when you walk home from closing shifts, you always search for a certain superhero at the tops of buildings.

You fall asleep at some point, and by the time you wake up, it’s dark outside.

Days seem to blur together. Repetitive and tiring all the same. The only thing you have to look forward to lately is your short conversations with Steve in the halls.

You’re not sure how many days later it is when you fall asleep on your couch again. This time, you’re woken up by noises coming from the hallway, right by your door. You get up slowly, feet hitting the cool floors as you walk over to your door.

You don’t know what time it is, but from the darkness of your apartment and the random game show that plays on your TV, you know it’s late.

Peeking through your peephole, you see Steve, fumbling with his keys and almost limping. You open the door.

“Steve?”

He shuts his eyes when he hears your voice, all sleepy and worried.

Like an idiot, he’d left his window locked again and had to use the door after a night of patrolling. A worse night than usual.

You gasp when he spins to face you, one of his eyes swollen shut, a cut on his eyebrow, his nose bleeding, and another cut on his lip.

“Oh my god,” you step forward a little, leaving your door open. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.”

“You’re bleeding,” you say. “Come on. Let me help you.”

You grasp his arm lightly in both of your hands, and when he doesn’t protest, lead him into your apartment.

Steve’s suit feels tighter now, scratching his skin where it sits because he worries you’ll see it despite his layers on top of it. Still, he could use some help. And he can’t bring himself to be upset that you’re the one helping him.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is scratchy.

“I want to help you, okay?”

You bring him into your bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid. You leave him there for a bit, coming back with some ice in a dish cloth.

“Here, for your eye.” He takes it from you and sucks in a breath when he presses it against his swollen skin.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“‘Course.”

You pull out your first-aid kit from under your sink, setting it on the counter and taking out what you need. You grab another cloth, wetting it in the sink.

“Here,” you stand between his legs, using a bent finger to tilt his chin up towards you. You wipe the dried blood from his skin in silence, Steve’s eyes shut, yours running all over his face.

You’re surprised he trusts you enough to let you do this. You wonder if this is why he’s so closed-off. If maybe he’s involved in something that gets him hurt. Often.

An underground boxing ring, debt with bad people, so many possibilities cross your mind, not a single one being the truth.

Once his face is as clean as it can be, you move on to disinfecting the cuts by his eyebrow and lip. “This might sting a little.”

“S’okay.”

His face pinches a little bit when you dab away at his cuts, but he doesn’t make any noise. All you can hear is his deep breaths and the small sound of his leg bouncing.

His nose hasn’t bled anymore since you cleaned it, and he keeps the ice over his eye the entire time. The cut by his lip looks much smaller when there’s no blood surrounding it.

Only his eyebrow needs a small bandage, which you grab and unwrap. “Last step.”

He feels you press the bandage on, your fingers lightly pushing the sides onto his skin to make sure it’s stuck. The process, he finds, hurts much less when you do it.

He misses your warmth when you step away from him. “Thank you.”

“Are you in trouble, or something? What happened to you?”

“It’s not a big deal. I swear.”

He hates lying to you, but he convinces himself it’s better this way. For your own good.

You don’t look convinced but you drop it. “Okay.”

“I should go,” he stands from where he’d been sitting and waivers a little, leaning on the counter.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m fine, just got dizzy.”

“You can take the couch, if you want. It’s not a problem, really.”

“I live across the hall, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He steps towards the doorway and has to pause again. “Or maybe I’ll stay. If you’re sure.”

“I wouldn't have offered if I wasn’t.”

You walk him to the couch, letting him lean on you whenever he needs to along the way. He sits down, and you go to get him a pillow and blankets.

This is the longest amount of time you’ve ever spent with Steve, and it pinches at your heart that he’s hurt during it. That he only needed help, not company. Even so, you fight a smile when you come back to the living room and find him laying down, already half asleep.

You spread the blankets over him. You take the pillow you’d brought him and guide him to lift his head. You’re convinced he’s asleep, so you let yourself push the hair off his forehead just once.

When you turn to go to your room, he catches your hand in his.

“Thank you, honey.”

Honey. That’s new.

Steve was already gone when you got up the next day. The only evidence of his visit the blankets he’d left folded up on your couch and the washcloth stained with his blood you used to clean him up.

Every time you pass his door you think about knocking and checking on him. About making sure he’s okay.

You’ve been worrying a lot more ever since the night you were attacked and saved by Spider-man, and that goes for more than just yourself. You worry about every person you see walking alone, about Steve being hurt again, about noises you might be imagining at night.

You probably look over your shoulder fifty times on your way home from the grocery store, your hands too full with your bags to be able to defend yourself if anything happens.

You breathe out when you make it in front of your door. You’re safe, you’re fine, you have to tell yourself.

In your rush to get your keys from your pocket, you drop two of your bags. “Shit.” Boxes and cans thump against the floor.

Steve hears everything, all of the time. He hears you curse and the sound of your stuff hitting the ground. He blames the fact that he heads to the door on boredom and nothing more.

“Need some help?” His voice startles you.

“Oh! Hey, Steve. It’s fine, just dropped some stuff.”

You set the rest of your bags down, kneeling to pick up things that fell out of the ones you dropped. Embarrassed, you keep your head ducked.

Steve can sense it, the way your pulse jumps a little around him. He doesn’t know whether to be glad or worried that he makes you nervous. Either way, he bends down beside you, helping you pick things up.

A bag of apples, a can of soup.

You both reach for the bags at the same time, fingers brushing before pulling away. Like there was a shock, a little spark where your skin met for the briefest second.

Before you can, Steve picks up the bags. “I got ‘em. You get the door.”

“I- Okay.”

You turn around and fumble with the lock, opening your door and walking inside. Steve follows you and puts your bags on your kitchen counter.

“Good?” He checks.

“Yeah. Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem, honey. Think of it as payback for you patching me up.”

Honey. Last time he said it, you chalked it up to his tired state. That excuse can’t be used this time, and the term warms you.

“Right,” you look him over. His injuries are almost gone and it’s only been a couple of days. At least, you think it has. “You’re feeling better?”

“You did a good job,” he says.

“I’m glad.”

He nods, rocks back onto his heels once, “so, um, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nods again and heads out, shutting your door behind him. With every conversation you have, Steve seems to warm up around you just a bit more. You don’t want to hope too much, so you push your hair from your face and turn to put your groceries away.

That evening, when you’re getting ready to cook dinner—a simple spaghetti and meatballs—you realize you’ve never seen Steve bring groceries into his apartment. Not once.

He must eat, you know that, but you wonder if he eats well, or enough. You cook for two without realizing until it’s finished. There’s extra of everything.

It’s probably stupid, maybe weird, but you make a bowl and head out into the hall. You knock on Steve’s door, three little taps of your knuckles against the wood.

He hears the knocks right away, listens closer to hear your voice mumbling to yourself. He knows your voice well. Sometimes, he can hear you humming to yourself in your apartment. He doesn’t try to listen in on you, but it’s like his ears subconsciously seek you out.

Steve opens the door and sees you in the same clothes as earlier, a shy smile on your face, and a bowl of spaghetti in your hands.

“Hey. What are you…?”

“I accidentally made too much food, and I thought maybe you’d want some?”

Actually, you made too much food for him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh,” his heart does a stupid jump in his chest. You’re so kind and you don’t even seem to be trying. If anything, you seem to be embarrassed about it, like it’s a fault. “That’s really nice.”

“It’s just pasta. You want it?”

“Sure,” he takes the bowl from you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I promise it’s not, like, poisoned or anything.” You wince at yourself, “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s not poisoned.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Okay. Um, enjoy.”

He stands in his doorway while you go back inside, his smile spreading as soon as your back is turned to him. He heads inside after you do, kicking his door shut.

He’s never smiled at a fucking bowl of pasta the way he does. It’s getting harder and harder to make himself avoid you, avoid that light in his chest that seems to brighten when he sees you.

He’s in trouble.

You bring him dinner often. At least twice a week, on days you don’t work or when you’re pretty sure he’s home.

He thanks you every time with a close-mouthed smile and brings back your dishes the next day, perfectly clean.

It feels like, over time, with every dish you bring him, a chip falls away from the walls he’s built up around himself. You can tell there’s a lot of them, and that they’re tall, but you don’t mind waiting for them to lower piece by piece. He’s worth that wait, you think.

You’re happy to cook for him—you’re cooking for yourself already anyway—and you’ve grown closer because of it. Something like friends, almost. The conversations seem to grow longer each time you see him.

Sometimes, on good days, he even invites you inside to eat with him.

You aren’t very close, but right now, he’s the only friend you have (besides your coworkers, who really only hang out with you because they have to). You’d think the way you get excited to see him would be sad if it weren’t for how nice he is, for how he makes you feel.

He listens to you when you speak, his eyes don’t stray, either. He always tells you he likes your cooking when you know it isn’t all that great. He even hugged you before you left his place once, his arms around your waist, hands running over your skin delicately before he pulled away.

“Thank you for dinner,” he’d said. “Again.”

“I like making it for you. Makes me feel useful.”

“Still. Thank you, honey,” he’d surprised you with it, moving close before you could really process it.

“Oh,” you’d stupidly let your arms hang limp for a second before wrapping them shyly around his neck. “I don’t think my cooking is this good.”

“It’s not just your cooking,” he’d told you.

He pulled away after that, leaving your body warm and your smile difficult to suppress.

You’re well aware you have a crush on him, but you don’t want to let it ruin the beginnings of the friendship you’ve built.

Steve’s not sure what the pull he feels towards you is, like one of his webs is tethered to you even though he can’t see it. It’s something his senses can’t tell him, no matter how much he focuses on them.

He thinks you’re the sweetest person and you don’t even try, all shy smiles and soft gestures. He likes how when you talk, he can really hear how you feel about something in your voice. He trusts you, despite not knowing you too well.

He also thinks you’re really pretty, but that’s not important.

Steve had another rough night patrolling. Some guy decided to play Wolverine—he’d made gloves with blades and everything—and scratched Steve pretty good on his upper arm. It hurts like a bitch, even though it’ll heal quickly. And he’ll have to sew up his suit.

He got the guy, which is something, at least.

Luckily, he actually remembered to unlock the window this time, so he’s able to sneak into his place with ease. He stripped out of his suit and took a shower before anything. Maybe not the smartest decision while actively bleeding, but he felt gross.

Afterwards, clad in plaid pajama pants and a plain cotton t-shirt, he searches his bathroom for his first-aid kit while keeping a towel pressed to his arm. A dark stain blooms on the fabric the longer he keeps it against his wound.

“Yes,” he cheers to himself when he finds the small white box.

He sits on the tile floors, back against his sink cabinets, and the kit in his lap. He opens it with one hand, the other too busy trying to slow the bleeding. When he gets it open, he’s disappointed with what he finds.

“Fuck,” he says. There’s barely anything left. A roll of gauze, a box of bandaids, and one tiny alcohol wipe. That’s it. He really needs to remember to refill this stuff.

He pushes himself to stand, winces when he has to use his injured arm.

There’s only one person close by that he knows for sure has a first-aid kit that has what he needs, because he’s seen it pretty recently. That person is you.

He hates that he’s dragging you into this again, that he’s gonna ask a favor of you that he really shouldn’t. One he doesn’t even think he deserves. He needs the help, though, so he walks to his door, into the hallway, and a few steps to your place across from his.

He knocks, his towel more red than its original color by now.

The sound doesn’t exactly wake you up. It’s late, and you’d been in bed, but you’d been having a hard time falling asleep. You were tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling.

You sit up, push your hair out of your face, and head to the door. You should, but you don’t even look to see who it is before opening it, keeping your body behind the door and peeking your head around. You certainly weren’t expecting this.

Steve stands in front of you, his hair damp and a mess, falling over his forehead. His face is pale and, when your eyes flicker down, you find that his arm is bleeding. A lot.

“Holy shit. What happened to you?”

He ignores your question. “Can you help me?”

You move away from the door. The cold air from the hallway combined with the way Steve’s eyes look down before quickly looking back at your face remind you of your attire. A sleep shirt and underwear.

“Fuck! Sorry,” you go to shut the door but remember that he’s literally bleeding. “Come in, you know where the bathroom is. I’ll just- um. Let me put some pants on.”

He’d laugh at the way you pretty much sprint into your room if he wasn’t so focused on the pain of his arm. He’d also be thinking a lot about the way your legs looked just then.

You meet him in the bathroom, legs now covered in a baggy pair of sweatpants. Steve’s sitting on the shut toilet just like he did the first time you helped him. You haven’t touched your first-aid kit since then, finding it exactly where you left it then.

“Sorry about that,” you tuck your hair behind your ears quickly before opening up the box, turning to him afterward. “Can I see?”

“Yeah.”

You take the towel from Steve’s hand, slowly moving it away from his wound to see how bad it is. Steve’s hands twitch where they sit atop his thighs. He’s holding himself back from touching you.

Three gashes break his skin. The outside of his arm, just below his shoulder.

“Do these need stitches?” You ask, the concern is clear in your voice, in how it shakes a bit. “Maybe you should go to the hospital-”

“No. Please. No hospital.”

“I don’t know how to do stitches, Steve. I don’t know if I can help you.”

“I don’t need stitches, I swear,” the look on your face makes him feel awful. The sadness in your eyes, the small frown you try to hide. “I ran out of bandages. That’s all I need.”

“Are you sure?”

He can’t tell you that his skin will mend on its own, that he’ll be fine in just a couple of days. “Positive.”

You nod and grab a different towel than the one he’d been using, pressing it against his arm to make sure the bleeding stops. He groans quietly when you do. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m alright.”

When you’re almost 100% sure that the bleeding is done, you pull the towel away. You hold it under the sink, wetting a part of it that didn’t soak up his blood. You use it to clean away the dried blood on his arm, apologizing every time he sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing at the pull on his cuts.

One of your hands holds his arm up, the other occupied with the towel. You’re bent close, stood between his legs, your loose hair tickling his skin.

“Steve?” You whisper, still focused on his gashed arm.

“Mm?” He hums, watching you help him with the most careful touch he’s ever felt.

“Who’s hurting you?”

“It’s nothing.” He says it in a way that tells you it really isn’t nothing. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Maybe you don’t need to worry about him, but you do. You worry constantly. Anytime there’s a bandaid or scrape on his skin you wonder if it’s the same people that gave him that black eye and split lip weeks ago.

You worry because he’s so good. He’s a soft person under the invisible armor he protects himself with and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt. His skin is too delicate for it, his face too pretty.

You pull away and grab the roll of bandages you have in your kit. When you look at him again, his eyes are set on you, scanning your face.

“Please don’t worry about me,” his voice is quiet, and you hate the way it breaks on the first word.

He hates it, too.

“I’ll try my best,” you force a small smile at him, trying to lighten things as much as you can given the situation. You look back at his arm, wrapping it slowly. “Is that good?”

He looks at his arm, his wounds now covered with white wrappings. He looks back at you, “thank you, honey.”

“It’s not too tight?”

He shakes his head, standing when you step back to give him the space. You stand toe-to-toe, his head bent down to look at you, yours titled up.

“It’s perfect.”

Your breaths mingle in the air between you, growing thicker. Before you let yourself hope for something you shouldn’t, you move to the counter and grab the rest of the bandages you have.

“Here,” you hold them out to him, “for when you need to switch it.”

“You won’t need it?” He asks instead of telling you that by the time it needs switching, it won't be an open wound anymore.

“The most I use from that kit is the regular bandaids. I’ll survive without it.”

He takes the bandages from you, his hand brushing yours.

“I’m sorry for showing up the way I did.”

“I’d rather that than have you bleeding out in your apartment,” your eyes flick over to the bloody towels on your floor, your heart pinching in your chest. “If you need to talk to someone, or anything, I’m here.”

He leans closer, pushes a gentle peck into your cheek, and speaks with his lips still brushing your skin. “I don’t deserve your sweetness.”

He drops his head into your shoulder, just for a second, before moving away from you.

“Wha-”

“Bye, honey. Thank you,” he says, walking out of your bathroom.

You stand there, a hand lifting to press against your cheek in the spot his lips did. You pull it away and look at your fingertips, like you’d been expecting to see a physical residue of the kiss. Flecks of glitter, or the soft pink of the sky at sunrise.

You just see your skin, painfully normal.

After thinking and thinking and thinking, you determine that maybe Steve likes you more than you thought he did.

The way he calls you ‘honey’ in that voice of his, the softness of his eyes that he can’t hide no matter how cold he tries to keep his exterior, the way he kissed your cheek and let his lips linger when he spoke.

All of those things make you hope that maybe he likes you at least a little bit in the way that you like him, but if not, at the very least, he likes you more than you thought.

You think he tries to hold himself back from getting close to you at all, and you really don’t know why. All you know is that his shoulders were slightly slumped when he forced himself to leave after you'd bandaged his arm, after he told you he doesn’t deserve you.

There’s something in his life that makes him think that way and as much as you wanna know what it is, you hope that the best you can do is prove him wrong.

That’s one of the reasons you’re cooking dinner for two once again tonight. You also feel like, since this is sort of what brought you closer, the dinners are a tradition for you and Steve. Something completely yours.

It’s nice to have something like that with another person. You knew you were lonely, but you never noticed how much until you started talking to him more. With each meeting, the string between you both shortens.

You’ve never cooked this meal before. You’re extra attentive with it, tasting it to make sure it’s right, keeping your eyes on things closely to avoid burning it at all.

When everything’s done, Steve’s meal packed up nicely and your ponytail now a loose mess, you head to the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. The most you do is fix your hair before feeling silly for caring so much about your appearance.

He’s seen you tired-eyed and pantless. This is better than that, at least.

You haven’t brought Steve a meal since you patched him up and he thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and possibly, maybe, loaded words. You’ve seen him, yes, but this is different than a two minute conversation in a hallway or the mailroom.

It’s your way of checking on him.

Your door shuts with a click behind you, his meal in your hand as you step into the hall. You knock on Steve’s door in quick, small taps. You’re not sure why you’re nervous to be doing it this time.

The doorknob twists and you’re met with Steve’s smiling face. Like actually, fully smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that from him before. Not like this. It’s like a beaming ray of sunshine, warm and beautiful.

You’d like to be the one to make him smile like that.

“Hi, honey,” he says. It’s then you notice his cheeks are slightly flushed, little pink blooms on his skin.

“Hey. I made you dinner again,” you hold the container up awkwardly to show him.

“You don’t have to keep making me dinner.”

“I like doing it.”

He nods. Steve knows that you do it as an excuse to see him, and if he were braver, or less concerned about involving you in his impossible life, he’d tell you that you don’t need to have food to knock on his door.

He’d tell you that you could knock whenever you wanted, that he’d happily open the door for you.

“Steve!” A voice—a female voice—calls from inside the apartment. “Who’s at the door?”

Fuck. Okay, he has a girlfriend. You probably interrupted something, you think, looking at his flushed cheeks, thinking about the smile he wore that most definitely was not for you.

You’re embarrassed for even thinking that he could like you, embarrassed for having read everything wrong, for hoping too much.

“Oh. You have company. I’ll just-” you pivot on your heel to leave and realize you’re still holding his dinner. You turn back around and hand it to him, awkwardly turning towards your door again and heading inside.

Steve stares at your door for a couple of seconds before going back inside. He sets his food on the counter and sits back on the couch.

“So, who was that?” Robin asks.

Robin, his best friend and the only person in the world who knows pretty much everything about him. Spider-man and all.

“My neighbor. She was bringing me dinner.”

“It was her? And you didn’t let me say hi!”

Yeah, Robin knows all about you. She knows that you make Steve dinner, that you’ve taken care of him without digging too deep for answers, that Steve thinks you’re the ‘prettiest girl ever.’ His words.

“She left pretty fast after you yelled.”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“Nooo. I scared her off!” Steve is clearly very confused, so Robin huffs and continues, “she heard a girl’s voice in your apartment.”

“And?”

“God, you’re such a boy sometimes, it’s insane. She thought I was your girlfriend!”

“Why would that scare her off?”

“I know you don’t get out much, dingus, but seriously?” She literally facepalms. “She likes you! Why else would she be making you dinner and shit? She likes you and thinks you’re dating someone.”

“Oh. Oh. No, she doesn’t like me. Not like that.”

“You’re an actual dingus.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about that possibility because it’ll make it much, much harder to keep you at arms length. Though, even now, that arm is mostly bent, losing resistance.

“So what if she does like me? I can’t do anything with her.”

“Why not.”

“Because I’m Spider-”

“Spider-man, yes, I know. Who cares? You can't live your whole life ignoring every single romantic feeling you have because of that.”

“I don’t wanna drag her into this.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe she would want to be dragged into this?”

“I guess not.”

He goes quiet after that, and Robin, knowing him so well, drops the subject.

Steve thinks about what Robin said even after she leaves.

It’s hard for him to believe that you’d like him enough to worry that Robin was his girlfriend. You, a dream girl, liking him, with his unexplained injuries and past grumpiness towards you. There was no way.

But, on the slightest chance that it did matter to you, Steve decided he wanted to explain.

His crush on you isn’t something he should explore, isn’t something he wants to let grow because, despite what Robin says, his life is dangerous and you already worry about him enough without knowing that.

Still, the thought of you being upset because you think he isn’t single is enough to make him head across the hall.

While Steve wondered what he’d say, you stewed in your embarrassment. You’d sat on your couch in your sweats and tried to forget the girl's voice or the smile on Steve’s face. You were unsuccessful.

The knocks on your door have become a familiar sound—there’s only one person who actually comes to your apartment.

You walk over and muster up a smile that you hope looks genuine, “Steve, hey.”

He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you, “can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

You move aside as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. The apartment feels smaller with him in it, you think. His presence takes up space for you, it draws your focus.

“Thanks again for dinner,” he says.

“You’re welcome-”

“That wasn’t my girlfriend, by the way. The voice you heard,” he cuts you off because he worries that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “I mean, she’s my friend, and a girl, but we’re not dating. Her name’s Robin, she’s my best friend, that’s it. Promise.”

You’re not sure whether to be even more embarrassed at how obvious you were with your concern, or to be relieved that he’s not taken like you thought. You settle for a bit of both.

“You don’t have to- I know I was weird earlier but you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you tell him, tugging at the ends of your sleeves with your fingers.

“I wanted to make sure you knew.”

There could be a lot of weight in that sentence, if you let yourself look hard enough.

Rather than reply you confess, “you know, I used to think you hated me. Or, didn’t like me. Before we talked and stuff.”

Steve’s standing really close to you. Has he always been this close? You can smell his soap and feel the light puffs of air leaving his lips. It’s almost dizzying—like, if someone poked your shoulder, you might fall over.

You notice a lot about him from this close, especially when there’s no blood on his face. He has the lightest dusting of freckles over his nose, his eyelashes are dark, framing his brown eyes.

Steve reaches out with a hand to link his fingers with yours, loosely and slowly, like he doesn’t want to startle you. They fit together easily. His other hand brushes his knuckles against your cheek before cupping it gently in his palm.

His touch is so gentle, so much less guarded than his usual actions. You blink up at him and without even thinking, you push yourself into his touch, just a little.

“I never hated you,” he says. A murmur between your mouths.

“Oh,” is all you can say.

Steve’s strong, inhumanely so, but he isn’t strong enough to stop himself from kissing you.

The first brush of his lips on yours is so light that you think you might be dreaming. When you don’t pull away, he kisses you more firmly, his lips a little bit chapped but still soft as they land on yours.

You haven’t kissed a lot of people but you’ve never felt one like this. One that you’ve been dancing around for longer than you ever realized.

Steve’s hand squeezes yours, his thumb running back and forth against your cheek, his mouth moving with yours like a dance. He probably shouldn’t have let himself kiss you, because there’s no way he can fight whatever this is after feeling your lips on his.

He pecks you once, and twice, before pulling away. If he kept kissing you, the single thread left holding him back from you would’ve snapped. A clean break.

He leans his forehead against yours, and whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it had he not been so close to you. You could almost feel the words being spoken, lips still a breath apart.

“Never hated you.”

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

if you enjoyed, please reblog and/or let me know what you thought!!! it would mean a whole bunch <3

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nicomoon69 · 6 months

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How would a Robin & a Spiderman Bernard team up go? Also are there any other ideas you have for this au that you could share?

(sorry in advance for the messiness, I have many thoughts but little brain cells)

I am still super in the brainstorm and planning phase, so nothing is set in stone yet BUT I do have a few possible ideas depending on how I exactly want the story to go. So here’s a few of the possibilities:

1. instead of Bernard going to rescue Tim at the end of TD:R it will be as Spider-Man instead of civilian Bernard and he’ll be looking to rescue Robin instead of Tim. this would be more so be a batfam + spiderman team up rather than robin and spiderman, but I’m including it cause the potential for a moment between the two is there

2. they team up when a large scale attack is going on in Gotham, I think someone like Ivy would fit (though I’m not super sure where she is in canon so that might change). up to that point Bernard will mostly have been dealing with smaller crime (robberies, mugging etc.) so he’s mostly busy rescuing civilians until his spidey senses tell him there’s someone in danger. said someone being Red Robin, who’s facing Ivy alone and not doing too well. the rest of the Bats are nowhere to be seen so Bernard helps out

3. Bernard is webbing up some people so they can’t get away until the GCPD arrives when RR approaches him about working together to bust a drug ring since it’s on what people started considering Spider-Man’s area. Bernard agrees, excited to be working together with Tim as equals in the field

all of these have something I like, so it’s really going to be a matter of figuring out what works best and also what makes the most sense since esp scenario 1 could bring some difficulties

as for ideas I can share there’s not honestly that much yet :”)

I am working on exactly how I want Bernard’s spider powers to work and what they change abt him. ofc there’s gonna be the basics like spidey senses, the sticking to walls, enhanced healing etc and since Bernard is also a science guy I can justify him having his webshooters. outside of that I think a quirk in his powers fitting for Gotham would be great, though I’m not sure what exactly. He does already have little spider fangs, but I didn’t add them for practical use so I’m not counting them as special powers quirk

#spiderman benard dowd #bernard dowd #dc #dc comics #dcu #tim drake #red robin #dc robin #robin #batman #batfam #tim drake robin #my brain

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snowangeldotmp3 · 2 years

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Dustin: *giving her the responsibility speech*

Robin, internally: wensday??? Wednsday????? Wedsay?

dustin: "ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION??"

robin: "YES. don't abuse the superpowers."

dustin: *heavy sigh*

#got mail! 📩#anon asks #spidey robin au #robin buckley #steve's giving her a thumbs up in the back

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evilwickedme · 1 year

Text

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

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meowmeowriley · 8 months

Note

Hi thank you for permission to rant (you will regret this :D)

First off it’s not a couples costume but I feel like Soap and Ghost could convince the rest of 141 + friends to cosplay the bat fam

Nightwing Soap (he wins by asking bribing Gaz who he has the best arse)

Read Hood Ghost (he would look good in the jacket)

Batman price (bat dad!!)

Red Robin Gaz (he freaks people out by finding them online during the con)

Alfred Laswel (purely for the irony)

Not to sure on the others though

Poison Ivy Soap + Harlequin Ghost

Someone suggested Ghost go as the joker and Soap yelled at them till they cried (I don’t like the joker)

Super man Soap + Lois Lane Ghost

Wonder Woman + Steve Trevor (they could pull of either one)

Spider-man Soap + Deadpool Ghost

I don’t even ship it but it fits them

That’s all I have for comic books sorry as I said I don’t know much but I have a couple more hc’s that I think are funny

Danny Phantom Ghost

Dish Soap Soap (for a costume party with friends)

Comic book artist Soap + Comic book Character Ghost ( like pop art makeup)

If they were to get married I think they’d make it a cosplay event considering that’s how they started dating and Soaps Nephew would make a speech.

Sorry that got long have a great day!

Anon you are onto something with these! Bat dad Price! I hadn't even considered them bringing the whole team into it.

Spidey-Pool for life. I adore that shit. Eat it up. I like to think Andy joins them for all their cons, and documents it on tiktok, and when they do a Spiderman and Deadpool duo is when the fans really start leaning into shipping the two of them in the comments.

And don't get me started on Danny Pantom Ghost, I have a whole ass AU in my head for that one. I love it so much. Probably won't write it though? Idk. But yeah, good shit.

Also, as someone with a glasgow scar who got called a Joker wannabe a fuck ton when I first got the damn cut, I also hate joker. So no Joker Ghost here, not from me. ❤

The cosplay marriage! Yessss so freaking cuteeeee!!! 😍 Andy would put the whole thing on a tiktok live.

Anyhoo, you're a mad genius! 😘 thank you Anon!

#ghostsoap #soapghost #cod mw2 #ghoap #fanfic #text post #ask #ask answered #cosplay

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chaosangelmp3 · 6 months

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perspective kills me and yet it’s so fun

#finally felt good enough to sketch smth…#spidey robin #spidey robin art #robin buckley #robin buckley fanart #stranger things #stranger things fanart #stranger things au #my art

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harringtonswriting · 2 years

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the one where chaos comes out to play | s.h.

summary: steve hates thursdays, and thursdays hate steve. today is no exception, except that the green goblin has decided to try and hurt him in a brand new way, and steve isn't sure he can keep going if the worst comes to pass (modern!au; spidey!steve universe) pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader word count: 7.4k warning(s): language; some violence (fight scenes); mentions of injuries/blood notes: HI HELLO ITS SPIDEY!STEVE TIME !!!! thank u all for being so patient; i know this is much longer than normal but i was SO excited for it and i loved the idea!! thank u to the two anons who requested this; i kind of combined the two requests into one, i hope that's okay! also it's the first real introduction for a villain, and there's plenty more to come... i hope you enjoy!!

...

Steve thought he’d been careful. Always did his best to be as careful and as conspicuous as he can where the people he loves are concerned so that nothing about his activities as Spider-Man could be traced back to them. He doesn’t swing Robin to work in costume when she’s running late; he only rescues Ozzy from the roof of Eddie’s building when absolutely necessary (which probably happens more often than it should, but the fuzzball loves it when Steve makes a web-sling to carry him around in); and he does everything possible to keep the dangers of his life as Spider-Man away from you. In public, at least.

But in private? He’s at your place all the time. Probably too often, considering how much he pays in rent for his place across the hall from you, but as long as he gets to spend time with you he won’t complain (to you, but Robin isn’t quite so lucky considering she lives with him). Ever since he’d first seen you the day he moved into his crappy little apartment in this too old building, when you peeked out at him carrying too many boxes at once, he’d decided he needed to get to know you (which he did, with all the ups and downs that came with it). Now you’re one of his best friends, one of the few people who know he’s Spider-Man, someone he cherishes totally and completely (though he’ll deny it because having you in his life as a friend is enough, at least for now), and also someone he’d never, ever risk getting hurt.

But Steve must have slipped up at some point, and the universe really decided to make him pay for it. Steve and you.

It’s a Thursday. Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday, not for Steve; he’s pretty sure he was brought into this world on a Thursday, and it always seems like the universe is trying to take him out on the same day. It’s usually the day that he’s stuck running around after crazed supervillains who want to destroy half the city because it’s Thursday and that’s just what they wanna do on Thursdays for shits and giggles. Like today, with the Green Goblin playing explosion tag with him and yelling out nonsense.

Okay, well, it was actually something like, “Heroism is a fool’s errand!” and, “Chaos will destroy everything you love!” But honestly, this is the third time this month that the Green Goblin has pulled something like this and Steve is very quickly running out of patience. This time, though, it’s harder than normal for Steve to try and keep the villain contained in a single area of the city. It almost feels as if Goblin is toying with him, more so than usual, and is trying to lead Steve into something.

Steve’s wary of the psychotically jolly green man on a good day; despite not being as superpowered as some of the other bad guys Steve sees on the regular, Goblin learns and observes and always manages to have some kind of ace up his sleeve. And today, the taunts he gets as he tries to bring the villain down are just that much more smug than usual; Goblin also has some new gadgets, which includes a pumpkin bomb that turns into a small flying bladed monstrosity that hurts like a bitch when they make contact with him. This suit is already torn up and Steve is going to have a hell of a time repairing it, if it even can be repaired at this point. And this one is new, too… Thursdays really suck.

So here Steve is, using his webs to grab a large chunk of the side of a building and fling it away from a group of terrified bystanders on the sidewalk and up onto the roof of a nearby building—well, onto the rooftop garden that’s probably going to need to be re-landscaped, but it had entirely too many topiaries for Steve’s taste so he figures he’s doing them a favour. They’ll save a ton on having to get them removed, and maybe now they can put in a rooftop pool with the new hole they’ll have.

One of these days he’s gonna get sued for property damage, but today is (hopefully) not that day, so he swings back towards the Green Goblin, who’s currently hovering near a rooftop down the block. Steve makes sure that the bystanders are out of harm’s way for now (though he’s sure he’s going to read all about how he’s the one who put them in danger in tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Bugle) before he sends out some webs with a thwip! to swing himself towards the roof that Goblin is currently hovering over. Only this time, unlike every other time Steve has gotten close enough to land a clean hit, the green menace doesn’t try to leave his position. It’s more than a little odd, but Steve hopes that maybe it means his Thursday is taking a turn for the better.

It’s not.

As Steve swings closer, Goblin lets out a loud, ear-splitting cackle behind the creepy mask that he somehow thinks is a good fashion choice as he swoops down towards the roof. Steve throws out another line of webbing, swinging himself up to get a clearer view of what’s going on. The Green Goblin is grabbing something—or someone, Steve realizes, who’d been on that rooftop.

He feels it at the base of his skull, tingling and quivering both down through his spine and up through his head. Something is way off, worse than he’s felt in a long time, and his Spidey-Sense is warning him that something really bad is about to happen really quickly. The quip he’d been holding onto, something really great about how if Green Goblin was having problems with his glider, they make pills for that now, dies in his throat. Steve lands on the side of an adjacent building, watching Goblin fly up holding the person from the roof.

It’s you.

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him, seeing the Green Goblin holding you up by the throat to dangle you over the edge of his glider. All sound around him immediately stops, save for the frantic sound of his own heart hammering and thumping against his ribcage, aiming to shatter it. That would probably hurt less, he thinks, than seeing how terrified you look right now. Your wrists are bound together in front of you in a way Steve can’t imagine is very comfortable, and he has to take some very deep breaths through his nose to stop himself from screaming your name.

Why are you here? Why does Goblin have you? How long has he had you? A million and one questions are running through Steve’s head, faster than usual, almost too fast to keep up with. You’re in your work clothes, though they’re beyond rumpled and a little torn now; did Goblin grab you at work? On your home from work? From the apartment building? God, Steve really hopes Goblin doesn’t know where you live; if he’s taken away the safety of your home from you, Steve doesn’t know what he can do to fix that.

How did anyone link you back to Steve? He’s been careful, he thought he’d been so careful to keep you out of his life. Does the Goblin know who Steve really is? Oh god, what does that mean for you? For Robin or Eddie, or Dustin or Max or Nancy, or anyone else who’s connected to Steve Harrington? Shit, he’s gotta get this figured out fast.

He’s never been more thankful than he is now that his mask covers his entire face, because he’s really not sure he could hide the emotions he’s sure are twisting and contorting his features. What started out as cold fear trickling down his back and into his stomach has partially turned to molten hot anger is thrumming through his chest; it makes for an odd combination of sensations while his mind is trying to put together any kind of plan to get you away from here and somewhere, anywhere, that’s safe.

“Let her go, Goblin!” Steve is trying to keep his tone as even as he can, hoping that the desperation he’s feeling isn’t obvious enough in his voice that the Green Goblin will pick up on it. He moves one hand up, getting ready to swing closer when the Goblin rises a bit higher in the air on his glider and holds out the hand not currently wrapped around your neck.

“Ah, ah, ah, Spider-Man! Come any closer and my hand may just slip,” the Goblin taunts, his hand loosening slightly on your neck as he pretends to almost drop you. Or maybe he’s not pretending; that guy’s mind is a bag full of barn cats on a good day, and today is not a very good day at all. You can’t help the noise you make, a strangled sort of shriek, as your fingers scramble to find purchase and hold onto the wrist of the hand that’s holding you up. It’s not very easy with your wrists bound, Steve imagines, but you do your best. He sees the kick you send in Goblin’s direction, which is more than likely intended to harm rather than help your balance, and there’s a tiny prick of fondness to Steve’s heart. That’s his girl. Well, okay, not his, per se, but close enough.

“Take it easy, Gobbie, I’m gonna stay right here.” For now. That stays unspoken, but Steve is trying to look for any opportunity to get you out of there. “You know, there are much better ways to make friends than this if you’re feeling lonely, y’know, that don’t reek of desperation and eau de jolly green giant.”

“I’ve been watching you, Spider-Man,” the Green Goblin says, hovering a little higher and putting his free hand behind his back as he ignores Steve’s jab at him. Which is a pity, really, because Steve was hoping it might start something and Steve could make him mad enough to put you back down on the roof and out of harm’s way. “And I’ve noticed that you’ve come to her aid more than a few times.”

Shit. Okay. That’s not what Steve was expecting. The Green Goblin has been spying on him, which is a weird enough concept, but he’s been paying close enough attention to pick you out of crowds of people that Steve has saved. He thought he’d been more careful than that; but when he thinks back on it, he realizes that there’ve been at least two incidents this month where you’d been caught up in something he’s taken care of as Spider-Man, and definitely once or twice that you’ve covered for him as Steve so he could go save the day. And Goblin had been watching, had been able to see you and connect you to Spider-Man. That has Steve’s stomach twisting, and he can’t help fidgeting as he tries to think up an excuse fast enough.

“It’s my job to save people, Gobbie. You know, you put them in danger and I rescue them, usually looking dashing in the process,” Steve fires back, gesticulating with one hand. He’s trying to be as nonchalant as he can, and he really hopes it’s working. He really needs to break that mask Green Goblin is wearing, and any other spares he’s got, because being unable to read his facial expressions would be very helpful in situations like this. Plus, it’s absolutely the stuff of nightmares and Steve could save a lot of people a lot of money on therapy bills if he smashed it to pieces. Maybe then he’d get a good piece of news printed about him. “Maybe she just hangs out in bad parts of the city. Or maybe bad guys think she’s good looking. You and I both know Kingpin’s henchmen always go for pretty people; they aren’t on the deep end of the gene pool.”

“I told you that I don’t know Spider-Man!” you yell out as best you can, though your voice sounds more than a little strained to Steve. He’s gotta make a move and he’s gotta do it sooner rather than later because he needs to get you as far away from here as possible.

“Hmm… so you don’t care what happens to her, then?” Goblin asks, and he loosens his grip once more. Steve reaches forward, unable to help himself as he reacts on instinct. You shriek again, kicking out and catching the Green Goblin on his side. He growls at you, flying up a little higher before turning back to Steve. “Then it’s time to choose, Spider-Boy!” Goblin says, cackling loudly. “Will you save her?” His hand tightens around your throat, and the pained noise you make has Steve’s jaw clenching. “Or will you save them?”

Goblin’s free hand, which Steve had not been looking at as closely as he should have been while you’re in danger, comes out from behind his back holding three pumpkin bombs. He waves that hand towards what Steve sees is a group of civilians, standing down below and watching this interaction like it’s some kind of sport to them.

His stomach twists and his chest tightens as his Spidey-Sense goes absolutely haywire. Shit. Shit. How is he supposed to choose between the people down there and you? Can he save everyone? He has to save everyone, he’s Spider-Man.

He’s not given time to make an actual choice, however, because Green Goblin is throwing the pumpkin bombs and then the hand he has around your throat disappears. You start to fall down towards the street below and Steve realizes that he’s going to have to move faster than he’s ever had to before because he absolutely can’t lose you. Not like this, not ever.

He lunges forward in your direction, pushing himself off the wall to give himself as much momentum as he can. While he’s soaring through the air, trying to position himself to be able to catch you, he launches some webs with his right hand up towards the three flying pumpkin bombs. He’s trying to web them together, hopefully turning them into one bigger webby blob ball to better keep track of them—and to make sure they get back to the place they came from.

He manages to catch the first two and lump them together as the blinking green lights on the front of the bombs start speeding up. When they stop blinking completely, that’s when they blow up; Steve knows that from unfortunate personal experience. His eyebrows haven’t been the same since that last time. He shoots another web to grab the third, bringing them all together as he manages to catch up to where you’re currently falling.

Steve tries to be as gentle as he can as he uses his free hand to grab you around your waist, but he’s pretty sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow. He’ll feel bad about that once the two of you get out of this, because right now your safety is his priority and he needs to make sure you get out of this. He slips your arms around his neck, turning your bodies as best he can so that he’s below you and looking up at the twistedly jolly masked face of the Goblin.

Now’s his chance. Steve swings the ball in the direction of where the Goblin is flying confidently above the two of you, as hard and as fast as he can before releasing the web strand. As soon as he’s done that, as quickly as he can, Steve shoots another web up to tether the two of you to a balcony on the side of the building. He feels your arms tighten around his neck as the web helps slow your fall, and he feels a small wave of relief settle over his shoulders as the two of you hit the ground.

He’s about to open his mouth and say something when there’s a very loud BOOM! from up above, followed by a shriek. Yeah, that had to hurt. Which Steve really hoped it did. But if it didn’t… Well, Steve was going to make sure Goblin knew what it felt like to hurt. And he was going to do it now, before the jolly green bastard had a chance to run away.

He removes your arms from their spot around his neck and makes sure that you’re steady on your feet before he rips the rope binding your wrists. He makes sure to keep his touch gentle as he takes hold of your shoulders, looking at you through his mask.

“Get somewhere safe!” he urges you. You open your mouth, looking as if you want to say something, but he shakes his head. “Now!” His tone leaves zero room for argument, and while he regrets seeing the way it causes your forehead to furrow and your posture to shrink, he will not let you get hurt again.

You nod, and then you’re turning to find somewhere to take cover until this is over. Steve watches you go before he turns to look up towards the roof of the building. He can see Goblin, looking much worse for wear, trying to ride a rapidly smoking and sparking glider. Definitely not having fun, and Steve is not going to let this guy get away.

Steve shoots two webs, one from each hand, at two balconies on the top floor of the building. He walks backwards as quickly as he can to pull the webs taut. Then he lets go of each simultaneously as he jumps up, letting them slingshot him up as fast as possible so that he can launch himself directly at the flying green menace. He manages to land a kick to Goblin’s stomach, knocking him off his glider. The two of them crash down onto the roof of the building and Steve takes advantage of the element of surprise he gains to make sure he lands on top of the villain to pin him down and start throwing punches wherever they’ll land.

Steve chooses to let the rage he felt earlier bubble back up to the surface as his fists start cracking against Goblin’s helmet, his shoulders, his chest… anything that he can reach, he hits. Steve thinks about the terrified look on your face, about the noises you made with the Green Goblin’s hand around your throat, about what would have happened if he hadn’t caught you in time… He keeps punching until his arm aches and he’s sure his knuckles have split and he can see the blood splattered across the rooftop underneath them. Goblin’s helmet has cracked and split, small chunks of it littering the rooftop beneath his head. There’s a chunk missing now, and Steve can’t find it in himself to be anything other than overwhelmingly furious. Both at Goblin and at himself.

Steve pauses, just for a second, when he sees something glinting where the chunk of the mask is missing. He looks closer, and when he does, he catches sight of one pale blue eye staring back up at him before smoke starts to cloud his vision.

Shit. Green Goblin let off a smoke bomb. Steve is taken by surprise, and starts to cough as he feels smoke enter his lungs. He tries to clear the smoke away with his hands, but it’s coming fast and thick from below him and it’s not letting up. He shifts, closing his eyes, and that’s when he feels an elbow catch him in the cheek before he’s knocked off of the Green Goblin. He makes contact with the concrete of the roof and damn, that hurts. He groans, still coughing, but as he opens his eyes he notices the smoke start to dissipate. He gets up, trying to wave it away, and as he does so he sees that Goblin has gotten back on his glider and is currently flying away.

Damn it. Steve falls back onto his butt on the rooftop, breathing a little easier now that the smoke is dissipating, though he’s still frustrated that Goblin got away. Thursdays really are the worst.

He doesn’t stay down long, though, because he can hear the sound of sirens getting closer and he really does not want to stick around to have to deal with any cops today. He doesn’t have the most patience for them on a good day, and since today is not a good day, he’s going to avoid that mess as best he can.

As the sirens get louder, Steve scrambles over to the side of the roof to peer down. He catches sight of the police cars coming in fast, and sees the crowd down on the streets has started to get bigger now that the Green Goblin has taken off to lick his wounds. And among the crowd, he manages to pick you out. Relief washes over him like he’s taken a drink of something warm on a very cold day (which he absolutely wants to do later, hot chocolate is calling his name). It eases the knots in his chest, especially as he sees you walking out of the area and in the direction of your shared apartment building.

You’re safe. You stayed behind instead of leaving, but you’re okay and you’re heading in the direction of home. And he’s gonna meet you there to make sure you’re okay—or get you the help you need if you’re not. Which he knows he’ll have Robin’s backup on too (though she probably won’t be too happy if she sees he’s bruised and bloody, too).

He moves back from the edge of the roof, moving to the other side to jump a few buildings over as discreetly as he can in red and blue spandex. He knows he’s got an old backpack with some spare clothes in it around here somewhere that he’s going to change into; after what just happened, with Green Goblin linking you to Spider-Man, he doesn’t want to take any risks that might lead someone back to where you both live. Not after today, after being slapped in the face with the reality of how dangerous his life is.

Aha, there it is! Steve finds one of his backpacks webbed behind some shrubbery, and he’s quick to grab it and start going through the contents. God, is he ever thankful for his own forgetfulness right now. He’s got to have an embarrassingly high number of backpacks, duffle bags, gym bags, and the like hiding all over the city at this point, and he’s glad he remembered this one. It’s got a full outfit in it, thankfully, as well as an old set of keys he thought he’d lost; it’s the one with the ‘Let’s go, Lesbians!’ keychain Robin had given him, which he hadn’t told her was missing so this works in his favour.

He jumps down off the roof, bag in hand, and ducks into a secluded alleyway to change out of his suit as quickly and inconspicuously as he can (though he does end up hopping around quite a bit trying to get his torn up suit off and his jeans on). He packs his suit into the backpack before he’s shrugging it onto his shoulders and dipping out of the alley to make his way home.

He gets there pretty quickly, though you’re nowhere in sight as he bounds up the steps to the building and uses his keys to let himself in. Steve moves through the lobby, groaning as he sees that unfortunately, the elevators are still out of service. He hasn’t had time to completely take stock of all his injuries yet, but he knows from his walk to the building that his right leg is not gonna like having to climb five flights of stairs. But you’re upstairs, and Robin probably is too, and he needs to see you and make sure you’re alright. So he takes a deep breath and starts to climb the stairs.

By the time he makes it up to the floor your apartments are on, he’s just a little out of breath and his right thigh absolutely hates him. But he makes it, and that’s what matters, so Steve makes his way to where your door and his door sit across the hall from each other. He’s not exactly sure if you would have gone to your own apartment first, so he makes his way to your door and presses his ear against it. He really hopes none of the neighbours decide to leave their apartments or look out into the hall because this will look really weird. Not the weirdest thing Steve’s done since he moved in here, but still.

He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. He waits for a few more minutes, just to be sure, before he moves away from your door and heads to his. Now he can hear voices, low and muted behind the surprisingly sturdy wood of the door, as he fishes his keys back out of his pocket and uses them to unlock the door. He pushes it open, stumbling slightly over the lip in the doorway as he comes inside.

As Steve closes the door behind him and toes his own shoes off, he catches sight of Robin’s boots and your shoes sitting haphazardly on the mat by the door. The relief that washes over him is immediate, knowing you made it home and you’re here with Robin, who will absolutely make sure that you’re okay. The fact that your shoes are still here means that you’re not hurt enough to need to go to the hospital, which eases the knots in his stomach just a bit. He absolutely doesn’t know what he’d do if he was the reason you ended up in a hospital.

He drops his bag by the door and hangs up his keys on their hook before he makes his way down the small front hall and into the living room. As he rounds the corner and the living room comes into sight, he sees Robin perched on the coffee table, directly in front of where he sees you sitting on their armchair. Both of you are looking in his direction, and he tries to offer up a smile as he walks fully into the room and raises one hand in a wave.

“Steven Augustus Harrington!” Robin yells, getting up off the coffee table (barely managing to avoid knocking over the Lego flowers that Will had given them as a housewarming gift) to stomp over to him. The effect is slightly undermined by the giant fuzzy bumblebee slippers she’s wearing, and Steve sighs as fond exasperation for his best friend and roommate wins over any annoyance he feels. You stay seated, albeit perched on the edge of the chair, but Steve can see the way your shoulders go from being up near your ears to slumping down to where they normally rest that you’re relieved to see him, too.

“That’s not my name,” he tells her, but she disregards it with a wave of her hand. Her nose is scrunched and her eyebrows are furrowed as she starts looking him over.

“What the fuck, Steve? Are you okay?” she asks, before she starts going off on him about personal safety and not to rush into danger like that—he’s not exactly paying as close attention as he probably should be. He’s assuming she either found out what happened from you or online—he knows she’s got alerts set up for any news stories or social media posts about Spider-Man (which he knows because every time that stupid #SpideyFails account posts she’s gotta share it with all of their friends). But Steve doesn’t really want to talk about himself or how badly that fight with the Green Goblin went right now; he’d much rather make sure you’re okay, find out what happened and just… he wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. To make sure you’re okay; you’re quiet, too quiet, and the more time goes by the more worried he’s getting.

“Robin, I’m fine,” he assures her, though the little line between her eyebrows only gets deeper as she stares at him. Steve rolls his eyes and nods his head in the direction of her bedroom door. She tilts her head to the side, and Steve gestures a little more forcefully, hoping she’ll take the hint that he wants some privacy with you. Robin raises an eyebrow, and Steve nods again, this time in your direction

He sees realization spread across Robin’s face, and she turns to look at you. You’d been staring at them, Steve realizes, and you look away when they both meet your gaze. Robin shakes her head slightly, walking in your direction. She gently places a hand on your shoulder and rubs it before she grabs the first aid kit Steve hadn’t realized was on the coffee table, throwing it at Steve. He barely manages to catch it, fumbling it a bit before he’s sure he won’t drop it.

“Use your tingle next time, dingus!” she says, shuffling off in her fuzzy bumblebee slippers. She disappears into her room, closing the door behind her with a very audible click of her lock. Which leaves Steve alone in the living room with you.

He makes his way over to where Robin was sitting earlier, plunking himself down on the edge of the coffee table. His right leg absolutely does not like that, but it’ll heal soon enough. He’s close enough that his knees brush against yours, and despite the worry weighing his shoulders down, he feels his cheeks get warm at how close he is to you. Your eyes meet his, and he tries to smile at you.

“Hey,” he says, fingers tapping against the first aid box he’s keeping in his lap. You don’t smile back, but you do take a deep breath.

“Hey,” you greet back, and to Steve’s ears your voice sounds more than a little strained, and a bit too raspy for his liking. That’s when he starts to look you over more closely, taking stock of your injuries.

His heart falls because you’re hurt worse than he thought. Sure, he was expecting some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t know you were this hurt. There’s harsh bruising that’s starting to appear on your neck–that’s where Goblin was holding you. Where his hands were wrapped around your neck, holding you in the air before he dropped you. When Steve closes his eyes, he can still hear your screams, can still see how you look plummeting through the air while he tries to reach you. He swallows the saliva starting to gather in his mouth because that image is going to be one that sticks with him whether he wants it to or not.

There are some other cuts and bruises he can see as well, on your face and on your hands, and he’s pretty sure your work clothes probably won’t be workplace acceptable anymore. He makes a mental note to take you to buy new ones as soon as he gets his next pay, even though you’ll try to refuse them and tell him it’s not his fault your clothes are ruined.

Except it is. In this case, it is Steve’s fault. His being Spider-Man has put you in danger and he’ll do everything he can to make up for it. And he’s going to start now, by helping clean you up. He opens the first aid kit in his hands, pulling out some disinfectant and some gauze and bandages. “Can I…?” he asks. He looks between them and you, and you nod your head so he starts to get to work.

He cleans the cuts on your face first, wiping the blood off your cheeks and your chin before he starts disinfecting the small cuts there. Your nose scrunches up in pain, and he apologizes quietly for any pain he’s causing you. His heart is beating erratically against his ribcage and his hands tremble slightly as he works, but he does his best to help you.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before he has to ask, “Why did you stay? I told you to get somewhere safe.” Because the thought of you being in any more danger than you’d originally been in isn’t a good one; if anything had happened to you afterwards, if Steve had been paying attention and not gotten hit in the face with a smoke bomb and the fight had spilled out off the rooftop again and put you in harm’s way again… he doesn’t want to think about it. His brain, though, still hates him and makes him imagine it anyway. He presses a bandaid on your cheek before he starts cleaning the bruise on your neck.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You scoot closer to Steve, close enough that he can count the eyelashes on your lower lash line. He can smell the dirt and the blood on you, mixing with the faint scent of your shampoo and body wash. But your words make his gut twist.

“No you didn’t!” His words come out a little louder and a little more forceful than he means, but he’s starting to feel frustration thrum through his body, warming him in a way that has his chest start to burn. Hearing those words come out of you any other time would probably have had the opposite effect on him; you needed to make sure he’s okay? Caring about him like that? It’s probably friendly, but it’d have Steve smiling the rest of the day. Right now, though, he’s not happy to hear you say that “You needed to get out of there. Goblin is dangerous, you can’t be around him!”

Steve drops the medical supplies back into the first aid kit on his lap, reaching his hands up to tangle in his hair instead. It’s knotty; that happens sometimes, when he shoves it under the mask without brushing it or after he gets it wet, and he winces as his fingers encounter a particularly bad tangle. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back in the armchair.

“You have no right to lecture me when I’ve thought I was gonna lose you more times than I can count!” Your voice is rising in pitch, but Steve stays firm where he is. “How many times have I had to see, on the news or on Twitter, that you were getting thrown around by Doc Ock? Or blown up by Green Goblin? And I’m not even going to talk about the giant lizard you chased through the sewers last week!” Yeah, the lizard guy was a relatively new bad guy that no one had believed Steve about until he managed to get the creature to come up onto the street. This one was probably gonna be smelly. “And then you show up at my window, bleeding and half-dead, and I’m supposed to clean you up and be okay with that?”

One of your hands comes to push against his chest, a line appearing between your eyebrows as you frown at him. He feels the warmth spread further as he gets more frustrated because you’re not getting that this is what Steve does, this is what it means to be Spider-Man. He needs to protect people from being blown up or turned into lizards. Would you want to be a lizard? He doesn’t think so. You’d probably be a pretty lizard, potentially, but he’s not sure he wants to see that.

“Yes, because I can take it! I am the one who got bit by that stupid spider, not you!” Which is the truth; Steve knows he can take a beating and keep on going; it’s one of the few good things that came out of that visit to the CreelCorp plant. Yeah, maybe he lets himself go a bit too far sometimes, but it’s to protect the people of the city, and the people he loves. It’s to protect you, and if he loses a little (or a lot of) blood and has a broken bone or four, then it’s worth it. It’ll always be worth it to him. But apparently not to you, because you throw your hands up in the air.

“So? Why does that matter right now?”

“Because I almost lost you!” The flood gates open, and words come pouring out of Steve’s mouth before he can think to stop himself. “I could have lost you, and when I saw Goblin with you I thought I was going to lose you and I could never live with myself if that happened. If I lose you then there’s no point! The mask, the suit, everything! I won't keep going without you. The world can live without Spider-Man but I could never live without you!”

This is not how Steve wanted to do this. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to tell you how he really felt about you because the thought of you not feeling the same and pulling away from him if he confessed? Not a good one. He never wanted to lose you in any capacity, but after having this happen he can’t keep it inside anymore. Really, you deserved better; you deserve someone who can keep you safe, whose entire existence doesn’t put you in danger. You deserve someone who can give you all the time and attention you could ever want, and probably wouldn’t run the risk of getting blown up or stabbed or missing your birthday because of a lizard who wants to give the city a cold-blooded makeover (which is, unfortunately, a very real possibility these days).

But god, does Steve love you. His chest aches with how much he loves you, how much he wants to hold you close and keep you safe. How much he hates himself for letting this happen to you, for letting you get hurt and letting himself be stupid enough to not realize what the Green Goblin had been doing. You were always there for him, letting him crawl through your bedroom window and ruin your rugs as you patch him up; letting him stay over at yours so he doesn’t worry Robin more than he already does. You take care of him, and you see him as both Steve and Spider-Man without treating him any differently. You’re witty and funny and kind, and you don’t treat him any differently knowing who he is and what he can do. And he’d never, ever want to live without you. He couldn’t do it, because he’s absolutely sure his heart only exists to beat for you, to tattoo your name across his ribcage. And he’d never want things to be any different.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts, though, by something tugging him forward before his lips are meeting something soft and warm. It takes his brain a second to catch up with his body, though.

Oh.

You’re kissing him. Steve is pretty sure his Spidey-Sense combusts completely along with his brain because your lips are on his and one of your hands is fisted in the front of his shirt. He’s not completely sure he isn’t dreaming until his right thigh bumps against the coffee table as he moves forward, leaning into the kiss, and it stings. Pain has never made him feel so giddy.

He’s awake. You’re kissing him, and this is real, and all the frustration Steve had been holding onto melts into fondness, into giddy excitement as his lips move against yours. They fit together better than he could have imagined.

One of his hands comes up to brush against your neck on its way to cup your cheek, and he feels you flinch. Oh, god, your neck. He’d completely forgotten about the bruising while he was caught up in the whirlwind of finally being able to kiss you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, but you shush him. Your one hand is still gripping his shirt tightly, but your other comes up to push his hair out of his face. Your touch is gentle, the pads of your fingers feather light against his forehead, and he leans into your touch.

“S’okay, it’s not your fault,” you tell him. He presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly as your warm breath fans across his face. “Did you mean that? What you said about losing me?” Steve nods, and for the first time since this messy Thursday started Steve starts to feel like maybe the day isn’t so terrible because he sees a smile start stretching across your face. You’re here, you’re alive, and you kissed him. And he absolutely word vomited his feelings all over you, but you’re still here. And you kissed him. Did he mention that already? Yeah, he’s gonna think about that for a while.

“I’ll always do everything I can to protect you. I’d do anything for you,” he assures you, before continuing, “I promise I meant it. All of it.”

The way your eyes sparkle and he can see you perk up and look so much more like yourself as he says that has Steve feeling like the stick of butter he accidentally left on the stove the other day when he turned it on to make dinner; warm and melty. He loves it. “Me too,” you tell him. “I feel the same for you.”

The kiss had kind of confirmed that, but hearing it out loud seals the deal. Steve loves you, you at the very least like him like him, and he got to kiss you once. He wants to do that more than once, and right now seems like a fantastic time. But right as he goes in to take some initiative of his own and kiss you this time, Robin’s door flies open and she comes tumbling out into the living room. Steve jumps, his knees smashing into yours as he almost falls backwards onto the coffee table. You lean back in the chair too, looking over at Robin, who gets up and dusts herself off. Steve sees she has her phone in her hand, and her cheeks are bright pink as she stares at the two of you with her mouth agape.

“Oh my god, were you two finally about to kiss?” she asks, and Steve groans loudly because the moment is officially ruined. He was so close, too! God, yeah, Thursdays really do suck.

“Damn it, Robin!” he yells, dropping his face into his hands.

“No, no, pretend I’m not here! Go ahead!”

“We’re not gonna kiss with you watching! That’s weird!”

“No it’s not!” Robin insists. You shake your head, watching the two of them going back and forth. “Ugh, this is so unfair! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen?”

“Not as long as me, I promise you that!” He moves one hand off of his face to throw a roll of soft bandages in Robin’s direction. It doesn’t sound like it connects, but he’ll get her back for this later.

He hears your phone start buzzing so much it falls off the arm of the chair. Steve doesn’t even want to know what kind of messages he’s getting right now and is absolutely glad his phone is somewhere on a rooftop right now. He swears he’s gonna end up blocking Dustin and Eddie again, and this time they’ll stay blocked for at least a whole day. Maybe two.

But he’ll definitely sneak in through your window later tonight, if you’ll let him, and steal a kiss of his own. The first of many, he hopes, and he can’t help the giddy smile on his face at the thought.

Yeah, Thursdays suck hard. But this one is definitely better than most.

...

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#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #spidey!steve

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