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matchingbatbites · 29 days

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somehow we're here

Explicit | 6.5k | Modern AU | Full Tags + Read on Ao3

Steve only downloaded the app because he was drunk.

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself in the morning, once he’s back in the light of day and not half-gone on a few fruity cocktails and multiple shots of tequila - at least three, though it’s realistically more like five or six. Nevermind that he’s been home for almost an hour at this point, is only still awake because of the vague nausea still rolling in his stomach.

It had been incredibly easy to set up an account, even in his drunken state - something he thinks might be a feature and not a bug - and he’s been scrolling on it for about ten minutes when he realizes-

He’s still bored.

Because that had been the real reason, hadn’t it?

Steve is bored. Bored of first dates that seem to go nowhere, of relationships that seem to fizzle out after a few weeks, and for whatever reason, Tequila Steve seems convinced that a gay dating app would be a fun thing to sign up for. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s just bored and kind of horny and definitely not lonely and desperate.

So Steve flips through profiles, taking in photos of the same waifish boys and beefy gym bros. He’s just about ready to give up and try to sleep through the nausea, when he stumbles across a profile that makes him stop cold.

The photo looks like it’s from a concert or something; the guy is on a stage, clearly mid-show, with a wicked looking guitar in his hands. Steve’s eyes get caught on those hands, the veins and the painted nails and the chunky, silver rings.

His hair is a riot of dark curls haloed by the stage lights, and Steve regrets that he isn’t able to see the man’s face. He focuses instead on his clothes, the black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his exposed forearms littered with black ink.

The photo is so honest. It’s pure, simple emotion and Steve is instantly drawn in, eager to know more about this person.

The next photo is closer, clearly cropped down from a larger picture, and Steve gets his first good look at the man’s beautiful face. Deep, chocolate eyes that house a delighted sparkle, a blinding smile that sets loose a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s stomach. Not to mention the piercings; two just below his lower lip and another through his eyebrow - Steve briefly wonders if he has more, maybe his tongue or his nipples - fuck, that would be so hot.

In the last photo the man is seated on a couch, holding an acoustic guitar this time, and he seems focused on whatever he’s playing, clearly unaware of the camera-person at all. Those brown curls are pulled into an updo, revealing ears littered with even more silver jewelry, and there’s a cute little crinkle between his brows that Steve wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Steve scrolls down to actually read the guy’s profile, and sees that his name is Eddie. He’s 27 and local to the area, he likes metal music and D&D, and he definitely seems to check a lot of Steve’s boxes. Nerdy? Yeah. Hot? Fuck yeah. Confident? If the concert photo is anything to go by, this man has confidence coming out his ass. So yeah, check there too.

He adds the guy without hesitation, and will once again blame Tequila Steve for what’s next once he’s sober. He sends Eddie a message.

‘Hi, i’m straight, i literally just got this app cause im kinda bord and kinda drunk. But you’re actually my type. Can I be honest?’

Steve doesn’t really expect an immediate response, considering that it’s two in the morning and all, so he decides to flip over to a different app, already knowing that he isn’t really going to care about anyone else he might come across. He’s surprised when only a couple of minutes later, he gets back a simple ‘Sure lmao’, and scrambles to flip back over to the messenger.

‘I didint think i’d message anyone on here but your cute and hnestly i geuss i kinda like that you won’t get pregnant.’

He decides to wait this time, to see if he’ll get another quick response, and he holds his breath when the typing indicator pops up, only to disappear again. It does this a couple of times, like Eddie is writing and pausing, or erasing and starting over, and Steve just waits, so curious to know what the other man is going to say.

‘Are you free tomorrow? I need to know if you’re as adorably endearing when you’re sober.’

Steve gasps in delight. Eddie wants to meet him! He kicks his feet a little in excitement and messages back ‘I can be as endering as you want me to be baby.’ It takes him a second to realize he hadn’t actually answered Eddie’s question, and he sends a follow up ‘Yes i am free tomorow.’

‘Meet me at Hank’s on 6th? 7pm?’

He confirms the time and place, and even as giddy as he is, Steve’s barely able to exchange a few more messages before he’s out like a light.

Steve wakes up the next morning with a headache. It’s nowhere near the level of one of his migraines, but it’s enough to be annoying as he gets up and starts his day. He’s thankful it’s Saturday, that all he really has to worry about are some errands and brunch with Robin.

A quick shower and a cup of coffee has him feeling more alive, but meeting up with Robin makes him feel better than anything else could. She looks about as bad as he does, which is interesting considering that she didn’t even come with him to the club last night.

They chatter on for a while, with Steve letting her rant again about the situation she finds herself in (she refuses to drop Vickie even though the girl bounces between her on-again-off-again boyfriend and Robin like a fucking ping pong ball, and she also refuses to admit her growing feelings for Chrissy, her roommate turned friend with benefits. It’s a whole mess.)

She asks about his own dating life, and he honestly has nothing new to report. He’d gone out last night intending to at least find someone to take home, but once he actually got into the scene, the effort just didn’t seem worth it for a temporary fix.

Instead he drank, and he danced with strangers until the room started to spin, and then he made his way home. He’d had fun, even though he'd ended his night alone. Robin hums and pours another drink from the pitcher between them - White Peach Sangria this week, and it’s good, though Steve prefers the Bloody Mary they had last time.

“We're kind of pathetic, huh?”

“I mean, you are,” Steve replies, and shrugs when she gives an affronted Hey! “I might be single, but you're the one who's letting a great girl slip through your fingers because you can’t say no to your fickle ex.”

“She’s not fickle-”

“Where was she last night?” Steve asks, staring Robin down until she says “With me.”

“Mhm. And where is she now?”

Robin frowns hard and grumbles “With Jack.”

Steve gives her a look, and she sinks down a little in her seat.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you were friends with the mean girls in high school, and then you hit me with that fucking Carol Perkins face and it all comes flooding back,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Stop being a drama queen, and stop waiting for Vickie to change her mind about Jack. It’s not fair for her to come running to you every time they have a fight if she has no intention of actually leaving him for you. You deserve better, Rob.”

Robin groans and drains the last of her glass. “When did you get so wise and shit?”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, no heat behind it as he kicks her under the table. “I know how relationships work and shit. You’re the one who doesn’t listen to me.”

She kicks him back with a “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s finish this pitcher so I can go home and wallow.”

The notification comes in after brunch, once he and Robin have parted ways and Steve’s just parked at the grocery store (he doesn’t take Robin with him to the store anymore, for both of their sakes).

‘Hey, just want to make sure we’re still good for tonight?’

Tonight? What’s tonight?

It takes him a moment to remember his actions from the night before, to remember the app. Steve’s stomach flips at the vague memory of a conversation and he opens the messenger. He scrolls up, reading his message history with this Eddie person, and oh god.

Is it possible to get secondhand embarrassment from your own actions? Your very drunk and somewhat horny actions? The guy seemed to take it pretty well, at least, and Steve taps over to his profile out of curiosity.

And yeah, okay, Tequila Steve had a point. He’s never thought about dating a guy before, but this man is hot, just absolutely sexy in a way Sober Steve isn’t prepared for. He had been planning on telling this Eddie guy that he was drunk when he agreed to meet, that he wasn’t interested, but now that would be a lie. Because he’s definitely interested.

He sends a ‘Yup! Still good :)’ and then quickly follows it with ‘I was so drunk last night that I kind of forgot about our conversation, so I’m glad you messaged me!’

Eddie’s reply takes a second, that starting and stopping going on just long enough to make Steve nervous before a message comes through.

‘Oh damn! I’m glad I did too. Though you did tell me last night that you’re straight, so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to meet anymore. I know alcohol can make us do things we normally wouldn’t.’

Oh, he’s sweet. Steve actually does decide to think about it, and flips back over to Eddie’s profile as he does. He goes through the photos again, imagines what it would be like to be close, be intimate with Eddie the way he has with women. It doesn’t scare him the way he thinks it should, because he doesn’t actually think it would be that different. Sex is just sex, right? It’s the person that makes it fun, makes it special. And Eddie definitely seems like a special one.

What reaffirms Steve’s decision is the last photo, where Eddie is holding the acoustic. His eyes catch again on those ringed fingers, on the rough, clearly hand cut neckline of Eddie’s shirt. He thinks about what it would be like to lick the jut of Eddie’s exposed collar bone, and the shiver that runs down his spine has him immediately flipping back to the conversation.

‘I definitely still want to meet. As embarrassing as I was last night, I was telling the truth.’

‘Oh good! Nice to know that sober Steve also thinks I’m cute and is glad I can’t get pregnant.’

Steve groans and drops his head onto the steering wheel a few times. He's never gonna live that one down, is he?

Another message comes through before he can be too mortified, though he almost regrets looking when he sees ‘Unless sober Steve is more upset by that than glad’ which is followed rapidly by ‘It’s okay baby, we can always pretend if you want ;)’

This man is gonna fucking kill Steve.

Hank's on 6th is a little dive bar that Steve has actually been to a few times, when he and Robin had wanted to go drinking but hadn’t wanted to deal with the noise and bustle of the club. It’s cozy compared to other bars in the area, and Steve is happy for the familiarity of the location as he steps inside. He pauses inside the door and glances around, looking for- oh.

Sitting at a nearby table is Eddie, in the flesh. He’s even more stunning in person, with his hair pulled up into a bun, showing off the jewelry in his ears and the long line of his neck. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and Steve can see a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.

Eddie spots Steve about the same time and waves, inviting him over. He does his own once-over as Steve approaches, and Steve knows what he looks like. He spent long enough in front of the mirror agonizing over his appearance, making sure everything was perfect. His red sweater is comfortable even though it’s a smidge too small, and he can see Eddie’s eyes catch on the way it stretches across his shoulders, on his forearms where he’s rolled the sleeves up.

“Not gonna lie,” Eddie says as Steve sits down. “I’m kind of surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would. Tequila Steve might not be the smartest, but sometimes he has good ideas.”

Eddie laughs and Steve is overwhelmed with the desire to dig his thumb into the dimple that appears in the man’s cheek. “Well I hope I get the chance to thank him someday.”

Eddie’s photos don’t do him justice, don’t properly convey the energy he has. They get on better than Steve would have imagined, and while the conversation lulls every now and then, it never truly stops. His piercings catch the light, pulling Steve's attention down to his mouth, to the way it moves while Eddie speaks. It’s distracting, and the teasing smile Eddie wears for the conversation tells Steve that he knows.

Steve learns that Eddie works at an assisted living facility, something he never would have guessed based on the man’s appearance. It’s not a job Eddie ever expected to have, but he loves it, loves helping people who need it and gossiping with the old biddies that have taken a shine to him. In exchange Steve talks about his job as a physical therapist, how he recently started his experiential hours so he can specialize in pediatrics.

(“I feel kind of dumb now,” Eddie says. “Knowing that you’re a whole ass doctor and I just have a CNA.”

“Eddie, I majored in kinesiology. You’re probably better in a medical setting than I ever will be.”)

They talk about their hobbies and interests, pleased to learn there’s a little bit of crossover with everything. They may not know the ins and outs, but Steve has absorbed some knowledge on D&D thanks to the kids he used to babysit, and Eddie likes to watch sports with his uncle to keep him company on his off days.

They sit and talk for a long while, completely unaware of the time passing until Steve looks at his watch and realizes it’s been nearly four hours since they sat down.

“Holy shit, it’s almost eleven,” he says, and Eddie blinks in surprise. “Oh wow, I had no idea.”

It’s like they’ve been snapped back into reality, and Steve notices the half dozen beer bottles littering their table along with the bill that’s been there for who knows how long. Steve pays the check - nearly shoves his card into the server’s hand so he can beat Eddie to it - and they both leave cash for the tip before heading out of the bar.

It’s outside Hank’s that the hesitation sets in. This is one of the best dates Steve has been on in a long, long time, and he really isn’t ready for it to be over. He thinks Eddie feels the same, if the way he reaches over to thread their fingers together means anything.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Steve asks, practically on impulse, and Eddie smiles.

“I would love to, Stevie.” He takes a breath like he wants to say something else, but pauses, and Steve squeezes his hand gently.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I want to have sex with you without sounding like a slut who puts out on the first date.”

Well, that’s fair. Steve doesn’t usually have sex on the first date either. He likes the connection that comes with knowing someone emotionally before learning them physically, but there’s just something about Eddie. Steve feels like he knows the man inside and out after just four hours together, and he knows it’s fast but he wonders what it would feel like to wake up next to him in the morning.

Steve just grins at the blunt honesty and tugs Eddie closer. “If you’re a slut then so am I, because I’m definitely down for that.”

The drive back to Steve’s place doesn’t take long, and before he knows it he’s locking the door behind them as Eddie sheds his leather jacket. He drapes it over the back of the couch as he looks around, taking in Steve’s apartment. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, cozy, very different from the sterile house Steve grew up in.

Eddie smiles as he sees the trinkets dotted about, a mix of gifts from the kids Steve used to babysit and his own little knick knacks, but pauses when he sees a photo collage of Steve and Robin on the nearby wall. Steve doesn’t like the way his smile dips down into a frown, and he walks over to wrap his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“That’s Robin,” he says as he pulls Eddie into his side, needing to quell any doubts or misconceptions he might be having. “She’s my best friend in the entire world, and a lesbian, so you can stop pouting now.”

Eddie gives him a bit of a side-eye and says “Not pouting. Just want to make sure you’re not doing this behind the back of an unsuspecting girlfriend or something.”

Steve smiles at the consideration and shakes his head as he turns Eddie to face him. “No girl, Eds, I promise. Just you and me.”

Something about that seems to be the final straw for Eddie because he surges forward, hands landing on Steve's neck as he leans up to press their mouths together.

The first kiss with Eddie is easy. It’s not earth-shattering or life changing, not like Steve thought it would be kissing a man for the first time. It feels like a normal kiss, and honestly that’s more of a comfort to Steve than anything. The fact that it’s Eddie on the other side of the kiss is what makes him shudder, makes him press closer.

Eddie’s hands push up into his hair, messing up the styling as Steve dips his head to kiss along his jaw. He hums into smooth skin and slides his own hands down to Eddie’s ass, squeezing it briefly before using his grip to drag Eddie’s hips against his own.

He can feel the line of Eddie’s dick through the layers of denim and yeah, that’s different, but not bad at all. Steve warms up to it pretty quickly actually, especially once Eddie starts moaning into his ear, a low “Fuck, baby,” that only encourages Steve to continue. Their mouths meet in another kiss as Steve grinds their hips together, each thrust working to drive Steve absolutely insane.

Eddie’s hands eventually make their way south to ruck up Steve’s sweater, and he breaks the kiss just enough to mutter “Off, get this off,” against Steve's mouth.

Steve laughs but steps back, pulls off his top and drops it carelessly to the floor. Eddie groans and reaches out, not even hesitating before he pushes his hands into Steve’s chest hair. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw your photo last night,” he mutters, and it takes Steve a moment to remember the picture he’d drunkenly added to his profile.

It was just a typical shirtless thirst shot he’d taken before a run one day (though he had put a shirt on before he actually left, thank you), because he’d felt good about the way he looked - and clearly Eddie had appreciated the picture as well. Steve shudders as Eddie scrapes his nails down his chest, and he half-expects Eddie to start purring in delight.

“Is it as good as you imagined?” he asks, biting back a chuckle, and Eddie nods.

“Better than. So fuckin’ hot. Don't ever shave it, I beg you.”

Steve does laugh at that. He lets Eddie get his fill for a moment before swooping in to kiss him again. He slips his fingers into Eddie’s belt loops and mutters a “Bed?” against his mouth. Eddie hums in agreement and Steve tugs him along, guiding him to the bedroom and only stopping once to grind their hips together.

He steps back enough to pull off Eddie’s shirt and groans because his nipples are pierced, and fuck if that isn’t doing something for Steve. Thumbing over one makes Eddie shiver and gasp, and he knows that he needs to get his mouth on them as soon as possible. He feels like a predator as he pushes Eddie back, not stopping until the man is sprawled across his bed, a beautiful feast meant just for him.

Steve crawls on top of Eddie and presses his lips to the spider decorating his shoulder before moving down to lick over his nipple. Eddie shudders and pushes his hands into Steve's hair, holding him in place as Steve seals his mouth around the pink bud. The piercing is warm, and the stark contrast between metal and flesh has Steve groaning into Eddie's skin.

He sucks on it, earning a stuttering moan from the man under him and hands tightening in his hair. “Fu-uck, Stevie.” Steve thumbs over the other nipple and pinches it just to hear him gasp again, before continuing his journey southwards, pressing kisses into the tattoos he comes across along the way. He pauses for a moment to suck a bruise into Eddie’s hip, just above his waistband, and the man is practically squirming.

“God, when I agreed to come over, I didn’t think you were gonna be this much of a tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bites into the bruise he just created, pulling a low groan from Eddie. “It’s called foreplay, you ass.”

“I’d rather you foreplay my ass,” Eddie mutters, and Steve laughs into smooth skin. He does concede, though, and pulls back so he can slide off Eddie’s jeans and underwear, discarding them to the floor. Eddie’s dick is pretty, a smidge thinner than his own but just as long, and weeping heavily from the pink tip. Steve wants to touch it, taste it, wants to feel the weight of it on his tongue as Eddie fucks his mouth.

“Feel free to touch it, not just look at it,” Eddie says, and Steve smirks.

“Normally I would, but someone wanted me to skip the foreplay.”

Eddie groans dramatically in response and Steve ignores him as he reaches over into the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He drops the items next to Eddie, and the man gives an “Oh shit!” as he grabs the tube. “You actually have lube?”

“Uh, I'm a grown man, Eddie. Not some 15-year-old that still uses lotion to jack off.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smacks the bottle against Steve's chest. “Twenty-four hours ago you told me you were straight, excuse me for making some assumptions.”

“Stereotypical assumptions,” Steve tacks on and Eddie rolls his eyes again harder. “Also you might be surprised to learn this, but some women also enjoy anal, so I'm not actually a complete newbie when it comes to this.”

“And here I was thinking I'd have to hold your hand through the whole thing.”

Steve huffs a laugh and slicks up his fingers. “Oh, do you not want to hold hands while I fuck you into the mattress?”

Eddie gasps and brings a hand to his forehead, like a mockery of some swooning maiden as he says “Why Stevie, I think that's the most romantic thing you've said so- ohhh my god.” He groans as Steve pushes the finger deeper, and kicks his shoulder gently when Steve just grins.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie spits, but Steve can tell there's no real heat behind it. He just hums, says “I dunno what you're talking about,” as he slides a second in alongside the first. He hooks his free hand under Eddie’s knee and pushes it closer to his chest, exposing him a bit more.

Steve leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s neglected dick and curls his fingers at the same time, trying to hit Eddie’s prostate. He knows he’s successful when hands jerk down, sinking into his hair once more as Eddie keens.

“Shit, Stevie-!”

“Wanna suck you off next time. Wanna pin your hips to the bed and see how much I can take, wanna tease you until you come on my face, in my mouth.”

Eddie shudders and nods, bucks his hips as best he can with Steve’s fingers in him. “Oh fuck, yes. Gonna let me paint your face, baby? Gonna let me be the first cock to fuck that pretty mouth?”

Steve groans a “Fuck yeah, Eds,” and pushes in a third finger, eager to finish his prep but not wanting to rush. He spreads his fingers wide as he leans in again, sinking his teeth into the junction where thigh meets groin, and Eddie's entire body jerks at the bit of pain.

He tugs at Steve's hair, trying to pull him up as he says “Fuck! That's gotta be good enough, need you in me fucking last week, sweetheart.”

Steve shudders and nods with a “Yeah, baby,” as he pulls his fingers free. He stands up and strips off his remaining clothes, not worrying about where they land before he climbs back between Eddie's legs. He can feel Eddie watching as he rolls on the condom, and he's about to make a remark about it when the man says “You know what kind of sucks?”

Steve just hums in response as he scoots closer, until his thighs are pressed against Eddie's ass and all he has to do is push forward just a little more-

“That we’ll have to get tested before we can put my ability to not get pregnant to good use.”

A groan rips through Steve and he drops his head back at the mental image that creates. “Fuck, you can’t just say that.”

Eddie grins, all Cheshire and taunting as he says “Oh, I can’t? I can’t tell you how excited I am for you to come in me, to fill up my ass until I’m fucking leaking- mmh!”

Steve dives down to shut him up with a kiss before he can say anything else, and he can feel Eddie laughing into it. Arms wrap around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close as they take a moment to just make out, all slick and languid like they're not both on the verge of desperation. Steve wraps a hand around his dick and blindly rubs the head against Eddie’s hole before he finally pushes forward.

Even after prep, Eddie is tight, and Steve groans as he slowly sinks in, not stopping until his hips are flush with Eddie’s ass. He rubs his hands over Eddie’s sides as he just waits there, giving the man a chance to adjust. It only takes a moment before Eddie gives a soft “Okay, I'm good,” and Steve holds good on his word. He leans forward, lacing his fingers with Eddie's and pressing them into the bed as he starts a slow pace.

Eddie goes all starry-eyed as he glances at their joined hands, and mutters “Didn't think you were serious about that.”

“I don't joke about hand holding, Eds. It's very important.” That pulls a soft laugh from Eddie and Steve leans closer until he can kiss that smile, can taste the laugh at its source.

It's hands down the best sex Steve has ever had. Eddie is so responsive, all noisy and twitchy and eager. He quickly figures out what Steve likes and doesn't even attempt to keep his mouth shut, just offers a stream of encouragement that’s only broken when Steve finds and abuses that sweet spot inside him.

“Right there, Eddie? Is that it, baby?”

“Uh-huh, fuck, so good!”

Eddie's a fucking vision, with his brown curls slowly escaping the confines of the bun and his eyes glazed over in pleasure. Steve releases Eddie's hands and slides his own down to clutch at the man's slim waist, his fingers digging into the tattoos decorating his skin. He fantasizes about leaving bruises, about leaving his own mark alongside the black ink and fucks into him harder at just the idea.

“Shit, Stevie! Gonna come, gonna-”

Eddie gets a hand around his dick and barely gets in a few strokes before he’s coming, a loud “Fuckfuckfuck!” escaping him as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach. It’s so fucking hot, and Steve’s hands tighten around Eddie's waist at the sight. His thrusts are a bit wild as he chases his own orgasm, and all it takes is Eddie's reedy “In me, Steve, give it to me-” before it hits him like a fucking truck.

He doesn't remember the last time he came this hard, his hips grinding against Eddie's ass as he fills the condom before eventually collapsing down onto the other man. They just lay there for a moment, waiting for their highs to settle and their breathing to return to normal, and Steve smiles when Eddie starts to giggle.

“What's that about?” he asks, using the opportunity to press a few kisses along the line of Eddie's shoulder and neck. The man just grins and shakes his head.

“I haven't bottomed in like- three years. Forgot how good it feels.”

That surprises Steve a bit, actually. “Three years? And you just break that streak for some random person you met on the internet?”

“Mhm. You sent me those messages and I was like ‘Wow, I can't believe I'm gonna let this guy fuck me’.”

Steve laughs and nips at Eddie's shoulder. After a few minutes he carefully pulls out and reluctantly leaves Eddie on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to trash the condom and grab a wet hand towel. He cleans Eddie up before tossing the cloth to the floor and laying down beside him. He's instantly wrapped up in Eddie's arms and he sighs happily as they huddle close together.

“Stay the night? I'll make you breakfast in the morning,” Steve offers, and Eddie hums into his temple.

“With coffee?”

“With coffee.”

Another hum before Eddie nuzzles into his hair, and Steve can feel Eddie press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Then I'd love to stay the night, Stevie.”

Steve wakes up slowly the next morning. The sun shining through the window bathes the room in golden light, making Eddie look ethereal where he lays curled into Steve’s side. He takes a moment to just watch the man, to admire the relaxed lines of Eddie’s face as he slumbers on, unaware.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt a connection with someone this- profound.

Actually, no - the last time this happened was probably with Robin, the girl who became something closer to him than a sister, the one person who probably knows him better than he knows himself. Being with Eddie feels so similar to those early days with Robin - after they’d gotten locked in the bathroom during a mall fire, not the actual early days when Robin seemingly hated him.

So Steve knows deep in his soul that there’s something about Eddie. Something so special ingrained into his very existence, and Steve’s sure that, if he just gives it a chance, Eddie could change his life.

After a few more minutes of basking in the morning silence, he tries to slip out of bed without waking Eddie, but he knows he’s failed when the arms just tighten around him. Eddie groans out a “Noooo,” and Steve grins. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair and says “Gotta let me go if you want me to make your coffee.”

A muffled “Man of my dreams,” as Eddie releases him has Steve chuckling as he climbs out of bed. He throws on a pair of sweatpants and heads downstairs, and puts on some coffee before he does anything else. By the time Eddie joins him, dressed only in his boxers from the night before, the coffee is ready and Steve is stacking pancakes onto a couple of plates.

Eddie seems more awake as he wraps his arms around Steve, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder along with a soft “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, baby. Coffee’s on the counter, sugar’s in the jar and milk is in the fridge if you want it.”

Another kiss meets his skin, this one just below his ear, before Eddie is pulling away. Steve finishes plating the pancakes while Eddie makes his coffee, and they converge at the kitchen island. They eat mostly in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It's easy, actually, to let the quiet settle around them like a warm blanket. But that doesn't mean Steve's thoughts aren't racing.

“So, uh.” Steve pauses, feels almost bashful as he looks up at Eddie. “It's been a really, really long time since I've felt a connection like this, and I may be a little dumb, but I'm not an idiot.” Eddie frowns at Steve's little self deprecating dig, but doesn't say anything as he continues. “I really want to see where this goes, if you're up for it.”

A slow grin breaks out on Eddie's face and he leans in, getting into Steve's personal space. “Why Stevie. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? After only one date?”

Steve huffs a laugh and slides a hand up to the base of Eddie's neck, feeling and tangling his fingers with the soft hair there. “I’d ask you right now to move in if it wouldn't make me look fucking insane.”

Eddie's expression instantly goes slack with shock, and fuck, Steve's done it again, hasn't he? Said too much, too soon, and lost something good before it even had a chance to go anywhere. He starts to pull away, wanting to give Eddie some space, but he's stopped by two hands settling on his waist, practically clutching the bare skin.

“My lease is up for renewal in three months,” Eddie says, and Steve blinks in surprise. “So maybe at that point we can see where we are? Because you're right. I don't think I've ever just clicked with someone like this before. It feels like- like fucking destiny or something. And I also really, really want to see where this goes.”

Steve gives in to the urge to pull Eddie forward into a kiss. It’s intense and passionate and a bit sticky, the maple syrup making their lips tacky and causing Eddie to giggle into Steve's mouth.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s phone ringing with a video call, and he knows who it is before he even looks at the device. He answers with a “Morning, Robin,” and is met with a manic “You’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“I would hope something with Chrissy, but I’m guessing it’s something with Vickie-”

“Vickie called! Jack fucking proposed to her last night!”

Oh shit. “And she said..?”

“They’re on good terms right now, so of course she said yes!”

Steve takes a sip of coffee and hums. “Sounds like it’s time for you to put on some big girl panties and ask Chrissy out on a real date.”

“Steven, you know I hate that word.”

“I will record it and set it as your ringtone if you don’t make some kind of move, Robin. Before Chrissy gets tired of waiting for you to make a decision and makes one herself.”

She groans pathetically and Steve watches her scrub a hand over her face. “I hate it when you make sense. Can we stop talking about me, please? Distract me with something else.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Steve glances up at Eddie who has been watching the interaction with an amused smile. His heart swells with affection and he blurts out “I have a boyfriend.”

Eddie beams at him as Robin blinks, most likely processing before she says “You just told me yesterday that your dating life was practically nonexistent, and now you have a boyfriend? How did that happen?? And moreover, how long have you liked men??”

She sounds incredulous - rightfully so, honestly - and Steve shrugs. “At least twenty-four hours, but it could realistically be closer to something like thirty-six. I downloaded a dating app the night before last and met Eddie on it. We went on a date last night, he stayed over, and I asked him to be my boyfriend this morning.”

“You asked me to move in this morning,” Eddie says, and Robin must catch it because she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You’re gonna put every U-haul lesbian in this city to shame,” she mutters before looking at Steve again. “Are you not like- freaking out? I mean, in the near decade I’ve known you, you’ve only dated girls, and now you’re dating a guy? Just like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches out to take one of Eddie’s hands. “I guess so. You know I’ve always been a roll with the punches kinda guy. And Eddie is- Special. He’s special.”

Eddie is looking at him with those big, brown eyes, wide and a bit awestruck, and Steve can’t resist reeling him close for a quick kiss.

“I am so happy for you,” Robin says, pulling Steve’s attention back to his phone, “but also incredibly upset because now I know I have to follow your advice about Chrissy. Which is just absolutely terrifying.”

“You should have been listening from the beginning. Seriously though, go get your girl, Rob. You deserve to be happy.”

They say their goodbyes after another moment and Steve focuses back on Eddie. “Did you have anything to do today?” he asks as he collects their empty plates and takes them to the sink. Eddie follows, draining the last of his coffee before he replies “Not today. Why, did you have something to do?”

Steve grins and takes Eddie’s mug, setting it on the counter before he scoops the man into his arms. “Other than you?”

Eddie barks a laugh at the line and shakes his head fondly. “Jesus Christ, how did I get my hands on such a dork?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Steve replies, and tugs Eddie into another sticky kiss.

Much love to @bramble-berries for brainstorming this with me! (Even if she didn't know it at the time lol.) Also thank you to @sidekick-hero for cheerleading me through the last bit of writing on this! You're an absolute dear! <3

#steddie #mentioned rockie and buckingham #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #people who subscribe on ao3 got this fic 6 hours early #just saying #joey writes

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frownyalfred · 25 days

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Characters who keep showing up unexpectedly in fics and make me say “what the heck are you doing here?” before checking the tags again:

-Darcy Lewis (marvel)

-Marvelous Ladybug

-Danny Phantom

-Neal Caffery

-Peter Parker and/or Tony Stark

-Harry Potter

-any character from Leverage

#I know it’s my bad for not realizing it’s a crossover #but in DC basically every fic is a crossover #so I miss stuff #anyway tag anyone else you usually see #fandom #ao3 #archive of our own #not negative just funny to me #like wait where did YOU come from #why is it always the same 6-10 characters #fic #fanfic #crossovers

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emomomortal · 25 days

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HEYYYY

here's a colored in sari :3c sorry for not posting a lot i swear i have more. She gets to be the biggest troublemaker ever i love her

#tfa #transformers animated #tfa sari sumdac #sari sumdac #tfa sari #i'm also working on a bee right now LMAO #it's to practice my artstyle it looks cute #SHE'LL BE MY GOOGOOBY FOREVER #Also can more people make bee and sari fics. Familial and platonic ones i keep checking the bumblebee and sari tag on ao3 #and i'm rereading the same like 6 #NOT THAT IM COMPLAINING THEY'RE REALLY CUTE #I just need to be fed

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nilla-wafer · 2 years

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step 1: conceptualize fic

step 2: plot out intricate details of fic

step 3: avoid actually writing fic

step 4: eventually get bored of fic and abandon it for a new project

step 5: repeat.

#step 6: look back on fic months later and tell yourself you will continue it #my writing process 🧚‍♀️✨🍄#writer problems #fanfic writing #creative writing #ao3 writer #writing memes #can you still call yourself a writer if it’s been years since you finished anything?#everyone knows that not writing is the staple of being a writer

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r0b0t1me · 1 year

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had some specific characters on my mind tonight. i dont really know which ones though :/

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt movie #my hand hates me so much #read a fic like 6 hours ago and got posessed by a demon #trial and error on ao3. You should read it #anyway this isnt even everything LOL

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lucy-ghoul · 12 days

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can't believe a show based on a videogame (usually games adaptations are notoriously bad, which isn't the case here tho) gave me the beauty and the beast/twisted mirrors/enemies to traveling companions/ruthless antihero+optmistic but still badass heroine who takes none of his shit/age gap but make it sexy dynamic of my dreams. as much as i love maximus and i think he deserves the best writing ever because 1. he's a clever deconstruction of the aspiring Knight bro who's actually a bit of a loser and, as much as lucy, sees the world in black&white at first and then doesn't get what he thought he wanted but what he needs (or at least i hope he'll eventually get it), and 2. he's a cutie and i want an epic love story for him too, it's very funny how they tried to give us a puppy kind of romance and the tumblr girlies still fixated on the "toxic ~she bites his finger off and he cuts hers off and sews it on his hand in what we'll pretend it's a symbolic marriage rings exchange or whatever~ asshole who used to be a nice guy/good girl™ with a lot of spunk and hidden anger but unshakeable morals" kind of relationship.

#mind you idt the writers will ever have the guts to go for this pair or anything and i'm perfectly okay with the maximus/lucy romance #but still. they tried to give us the wholesome love story between two cuties with a killer side #and the fandom went ~mmmh we kinda want for that girl and the noseless radioactive ghoul to fuck nasty actually #shhdhdhf i'm sorry but this was so predictable to me. conosco i miei polli #also. i don't fully understand those who see it as a father/daughter thing? just because it worked on tlos #doesn't mean we need the same kind of dynamic here #1. despite him being an actual father (or at least. he was 200+ years ago) i've never seen a less paternal character than the ghoul lmao #2. lucy is an adult woman. young but in her mid twenties i guess? cooper had (and maybe still has) a daughter but the kid was like. 6 or 7?#lucy doesn't need a daddy she's a grown up. stop infantilizing women all the freaking time #let them be fully equals!! let them be bickering road trip companions/a killer squad/tentative allies who eventually form a real bond #i SWEAR if the writers go full parent/child bs with them in s2 because they're more popular #(at least on ao3. i don't expect the same level of insanity from the general audience)#than the canon ship i'll riot. idt they will but still #..... maybe they should go for a hot max/lucy/coop polycule instead. that would be interesting lmao #vaultghoul #fallout #val rambles in the tags #val speaks #txt

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zeke-best · 1 year

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No no you dont understand Im ✨obs ess ed ✨

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #mha todoroki #toga mha #mha season six #mha season 6 #dabi fluff #ao3 dabi #dabishiga #touya headcanons #touya x reader

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mangopooding · 7 months

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#armored core #armored core 6 #ac #ac6 #c4 621 #raven (armored core 6)#specifically for alis propriis volat on ao3

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ruershrimo · 1 month

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 4: placeholder

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next

chapter synopsis:

'It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.'

---

Yeah, no matter what happens, no matter what changes— you'll live, probably.

word count: ~5k; tws: brief mentions of menstruation maybe?

12-2-2017

Out of everything you wouldn’t have expected this.

It could have been her telling you about how Valentine’s Day is coming up, complaining about how that one teacher’s been giving her class quizzes every lesson, or gossipping about frivolous things like the drama happening among the girls in her grade.

But you don’t expect the phone call to go like this.

“Hello?” you ask into the phone, “Tsumiki?”

“Hello,” the voice over the phone says. This one is older, more masculine, and you know whose it is.

It’s Gojo Satoru’s.

“Ah, Mr… Mr Gojo? Is Tsumiki home?”

There’s a long pause after that, the silence like paint filling in the gaps of a puzzle when the pieces are lost.

“…not now,” he says, his tone low and heavy, “Sorry, kid. You should…. you can call on another day, okay?”

“I… okay. Thank you. Could you help me tell her that her friend [Name] wants to call her? She hasn’t been talking to me anywhere since, um… the start of the year, I think?”

“Yeah,” he goes, voice aching to the point it makes your heart twinge, “I’ll let her know. Thanks.”

Then he hangs up. It sounded as if he was holding the phone with all the weight in the world, and had his voice drenched in all the pain in it.

And you don’t know why.

-16-2-2017-

It happens once more, and you’re convinced that every time you see them after a while Tsumiki and Megumi slip away completely from your grasp. Tsumiki hasn’t called in months— again, hasn’t responded to nor read any of your text messages and doesn’t even wish you a good morning when you start the week anymore. She always used to do that. You’re sure they would have a reason— you’re definitely sure— but why would they have to go missing on you right after you left?

And you didn’t even want to speak to Megumi at first. Though the two of you had shared your contacts during your trip in Tokyo and agreed to catch up every so often, you struggled to face him. Perhaps it was childish pride— your wish to have been right and to have him apologise to you, apologise to his sister, too; your wish for him to call you up admitting he was wrong.

You suppose you wouldn’t mind if he never did, though— you just didn’t want to apologise to him. You didn’t want to lose or give in, not when your life has revolved so much around these two, not when this is the only time you can control things. Your relationship with them is a journey on a swaying boat, and each time they move it you feel you’re about to fall into the water and drown from them turning it over. This is the only way you can do it to them, do it to him in particular, because you’d let only Tsumiki prove you wrong. You’d let both of them do anything to you�� at this point you have because no matter how much they promise to call you back, to listen to your voicemails, to meet you again, you’re the one arranging plans to move to Tokyo; you’re the one calling them for what feels like over and over and sitting with your phone pressed to your ear for an eternity only to hear nothing. You moved all over the country, so why did it feel like you were the only one stuck in place as they moved forward from you?

At this point it’s even hindering you from making any new friends. You choose so much to linger on these two, on two people you met at the age of eight and only knew for a year before you decided to devote yourself to them, that you miss the chance to speak to anyone else your age who could be a lifelong companion no matter where you moved.

Yet at the same time you can’t handle not saying sorry— if there’s one thing that’s festered in you for years it’s the guilt that’s accumulated from being who you are. Guilt from being a burden, guilt for not having been a better daughter or an easier child to raise, guilt for not apologising after scolding someone over something that never really mattered. What you fought over: in the end, it didn’t matter, right?

Still, you’d rather be immature than lose control the first time you’ve had it; you’d rather be immature than apologise for something you refuse to say is your fault even if your greater conscience tells you to apologise either way.

Your thoughts are scribbles on paper, and you can’t decide, really; you can’t make a stand on what you really want: an apology, to apologise, to be proven right, to be able to talk again, to completely refrain from talking to him at all for the rest of your life—

This really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. So maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day has just passed and you’re lonely and he’s the only one you’ve ever had feelings for, or because this is the compromise you can come up with the part of yourself that wants control and the part of yourself that thinks the world is better off with you being less of a weight on someone’s back.

Anyway, you phone Megumi up.

Slowly, you key his number in— you swore not to forget it when he gave it to you last year, when for a few days you had rebuilt your friendship with him through awkward conversations and beating around the bush, only for it to crumble and come crashing down.

You press the phone to your ear. Its screen feels cold as the side of it grazes the skin on your chin. It vibrates and rings, its hum like a bee’s buzz, as you wait for the reply.

“This is Fushiguro speaking. If you’re hearing this, I can’t be on the phone right now, so just leave a voicemail message—”

You’ve never felt more hurt after feeling his voice reach your ears.

-20-2-2017-

You try again. The beep seems to mock you as you put your phone down and collapse against the mattress.

All of it, the frustration, the melancholic nights spent dialling numbers over and over again, the emptiness that greets you after like an old friend who knows you all too well—

— it has all happened before. It’s happening again and all you can do is watch as it does, forbidding yourself from interfering with what you’ve claimed is now a relapse of the distancing that you had no control over two years ago.

10-3-2017

“We may be moving back to Sendai for a while, since we’ve got to settle some things with our old house there,” your father states— you know that you’re guaranteed to be spending your last year of junior high there, though, since it’s less than a month until the next school year— “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.” You don’t have the number of any of your classmates at school, and you don’t really care to ask anymore. “Want me to help with anything?”

4-5-2017

Anticipation for the summer vacation breaks into your school calendar. The summer of 2017 is the first one you’ve had while having a friend close to you besides Megumi and Tsumiki, with Yuuji and you heading off for arcade games every Tuesday, laughing about goodness knows what in between classes and sending each other videos of old vines on Youtube before Vine died at the start of the year. It’s like doing every little thing that you used to do with Tsumiki, and Megumi, sometimes, too— time spent after or during school, time spent laughing and giggling over the phone, time spent over snacks that keep you so full you don’t even want to eat your next meal— the same, but different.

With a skip in your step, you head to class. Yuuji’s in there, and hey— it’s a Thursday, so today you’re especially excited.

That’s what’s been happening to you recently: excitement. Colour. Before meeting him it felt as if things were bleak, dull, grey like piles of dust. Yet you suppose becoming his friend has brought that colour back to you, because now you look forward to days instead of dreading them, all for the sake of him. How romantic.

“So? Which girl in our class do you like, Itadori?”

“I don’t like any of them.”

“Yeah, but if you had to pick one!”

The other boys don’t even mention you. It does make sense. At this point you may just seem to be someone desperate for his attention: of all the people in your class, you talk only to him, mostly because you’d struggle talking to any other girls, even more so any other boys. They were all intimidating at times: the baseball pitcher who dragged Itadori near his table every now and then, the pretty girls always willing to lend you bobby pins and hair ties with the best makeup you’ve seen and rolled-up skirts you feel you could never replicate and look good in, the smart student council leaders sitting at the front of the classroom completing their homework during lunch periods. Even if what would meet you while talking to them was not ridicule, it would be, at the very least, an uncomfortable silence frozen in the air from your awkwardness.

And hearing all this kills you because you know it would never be you. You wonder why it does— liking him was fun. It was supposed to be something you dallied in for your own sake, because doing what a girl your age should do instead of rotting in your room comforted you.

Yet your feelings were fickle, you supposed, because what was a source of joy slowly became a slightly painful twinge in your chest that you ignored each time you waited for him to tell you anything that could have indicated any feelings towards you. It was over from the start: you knew you’d never be the type of person he’d like; your handwriting wasn’t pretty, you were an inelegant klutz, weren’t gentle or caring or anything like that, just awkward. Tsumiki could, though, you think. Tsumiki had a natural grace, and a soothing charm that followed her like the scent of eucalyptus from her shampoo and conditioner. If it were Tsumiki, anyone could fall for her— any boy or any girl, anyone. But it’s you, and you find yourself wallowing in self-pity as you hear him say it before noticing one of the girls— Ozawa Yuko, you think— standing in front of you.

You don’t know her well enough to say anything about her. Still, you know that she’s a good few inches shorter than Yuuji is, and that whenever you walk past her you can vaguely pick up the scent of camellia shampoo.

That’s the type that people— boys, at least— like. Graceful girls with elegance emanating from them, radiant and warm and friendly, even if they may be shy. You know how some other students have spoken about Ozawa, mocking her for things she couldn’t control. And it was stupid as hell: you guys were teenagers, there’d be no need for her to want to lose weight now— she still had so much time to grow and losing weight would stunt it, plus she would be adorable either way, too.

In the few months you’ve known him you know Yuuji isn’t like that. There are boys your age, with their boisterous laughs and common cruelty, and then there’s Yuuji. He’s never said a wrong word about anyone; he likes Jennifer Lawrence and tall girls with big asses but he’s like others in the sense that he loves people who are kind, sweet— someone like Ozawa.

So when you see Ozawa waiting by the door, about to listen in with a light blush on her face, you know you don’t even need to hear his answer.

[Name]

Yuuji

Sorry

Is it ok if we don’t go today

I think I’ve to stay home and study

[Yuuji]

aw ok its all good

good luck studying man

[Name]

Thanks

You should have fun with the other boys

And walk home with them

Sounds kinda gay ngl but eh

[Yuuji]

nah not the same when i’m not walking bakc with u

It hurts a bit as you walk home on your own, but you don’t cry.

Now it’s time to be useful.

The next day, you talk to Itadori as usual. Nothing changes.

But then during lunchtime you head to where Ozawa sits— today she’s in the classroom for a change, and she’s all alone, and you should’ve tried your best to prevent that so that others wouldn’t be like you. If Itadori was the one to be sitting by your desk, you’ll be like that for her whenever you see her.

“Um, Ozawa,” you mumble, tapping her shoulder.

She looks up. “Ah… hm?”

“...good luck!” you say, holding your thumb up as support, “I’ll cheer you on…! If you ever want to talk to him, I’ll help you, okay?”

You run away before things get too awkward, but a connection established is a connection regardless, and you’ve won for today.

1-12-2017

Your parents seem on-edge these days, your mother stressed and tired as she always is, your father worried about nothing you seem to know.

One night your mother places her chopsticks on the rim of her plate. The way she does it is in defeat— silently, firmly so as to show that she wasn’t quite done, that she could still hold them with all her strength in defiance. You only see her that way after your parents fight: that frown, the passively violent, deafeningly soundless aura from her actions. Because it was always your father who “won”. You didn’t have a place to judge— your parents were a sterling team together; even if they fought things would be resolved and you’d have no say in the matter. It was only theirs and if they treated their arguments like fights they brought war weapons to, they would agree that you had neither the life experience to stop them nor the wisdom to solve their problems. You couldn’t handle it either: their fighting and how it froze the air solid, the way it could erupt into them shouting at the tip of their throats so long as they were in their bedroom, because they knew you wouldn’t hear. And so beyond words your father always won their arguments, each of them treating the other like an enemy on the battlefield.

Your mother turns to you.

“Your father has to go to Tokyo on the 24th,” she states, “They need him back for something.”

“Jujutsu sorcerer stuff?”

“I won’t take long,” your father smiles, as if he had not hurt your mother’s feelings to get her to give up, “And I’m not going to be involved in the actual fighting like last time.”

“Then why do you have to go?”

“It’s something really important.”

You frown.

He sighs. “There’s going to be an attack on the 24th,” he says, “Something planned by a man named Geto Suguru, a curse user with an extremely powerful cursed technique. I’ll just help with healing anyone’s injuries,” he explains, “…you know, I actually wanted to bring you there and see how things work in real time, since it seems you’ve been interested in your cursed technique lately, but someone didn’t want you to do it.”

“Don’t bring me into this again,” your mother spits at him.

“I already told you it wouldn’t involve any of us getting hurt,” he retorts, “If I bring her there I won’t even let her use her cursed technique, I just want her to see how Dr Ieiri and I do it—”

“Ah!” you go, “Dr Ieiri Shoko, right? Megu— ah, I heard about her last time, from… someone.”

“From Megumi?” your mother says, “Darling, don’t think about those two anymore, it’s better if you don’t get involved with that or that world at all—”

“Anyway,” your father interjects, “Do you want to try it, sweetheart? And if it all goes well with most of Tokyo still being intact and us having some extra time left, I can see if Dr Ieiri is able to teach you about reverse cursed technique—”

“I told you, she’s not going anywhere near all of this—”

“You and I both want the same thing. It’s not like I want her to be a jujutsu sorcerer, I’m just looking out for my daughter’s interests in healing and recovering things—”

“Wait!” you interrupt them, “I— let me think about it, actually. Could you let me think about it, please? And I promise I won’t do anything near the battlefield, I swear. I mean— I just thought, um, that since they’re going to do some, like—- actual stuff, I guess?— that I wanted to see how it works. I still don’t want to fight. I just want to see if I could help, you know, and it would be good if I could see how Daddy and Dr Ieiri do it so that I can learn from it and stuff and in the future I can make myself useful to other people and all so please don’t fight—”

“You’re rambling,” your mother states, her hands on her lap. Ultimate defeat. Absolute resignation from it all.

You almost want to cry at the sight of it.

“Of course,” your father replies, “Give it some good thought, okay, darling?”

8-2-2018

Time moves like tennis balls against rackets. Yuuji will always be a great friend, you’ve decided, even if he doesn’t like you back. Besides, now, things are back to being fun: you’re going to crush on more people and have fun and see if one day someone confesses to you, and maybe by next Wednesday— the fourteenth— your sweet sixteenth Valentine’s Day will be the first one not spent alone.

Sighing, you close your book again after a long day. There’s pencil lead stuck to the side of your pinky finger as you stack everything together and straighten it against the table so that everything in your bag gets inside all neat and even.

“Man, [Name], you always keep everything so neat,” Yuuji comments, “I just stuff everything in my bag. Surprised I haven’t lost all my stuff yet.”

“That’s why all your stuff comes out crumpled,” you say, “Your notebooks come out like they came out a rat’s nest— no offence.”

“None taken,” he replies, bending down dramatically, “Seriously, [Name], you’re a really good student! Smart, too.”

“You sure?” you ask, standing up with the straps of your bag slung against your shoulders, the two of you exiting the classroom, “I fell asleep during class and only woke up when she gave us those questions. I’m gonna have to check the textbook to finish it up tonight…”

“Still smart to me, honestly,” he states, “I’m a pretty dumb guy.”

You hit him playfully on the shoulder, and he jerks forward for a second before coming back up again. “Nah, be confident! You’re, like, good at sports and English and stuff. I can’t do any sports to save my life.”

“Well it’s not like I can do maths for shit, honestly.” He slumps down.

Then— “Ah, wait, Yuji, sorry— I’ve to go to the bathroom for a second to check something—!”

“Huh? Check what? Wait, uh— want me to hold your bag for you?”

“Sure—” your pads are in there— “Wait, nonononono— I’ll be fine, don’t worry, just something quick, hold on. You go without me first, ‘kay? I’ll meet you at the famima we always go to.”

It turns out to not be a false alarm, and the thing comes early by a few days. You’re lucky you at least have some of your emergency supplies with you so that you can still have a fun day with Yuuji as long as you don’t drink too much green tea or coffee. A little should be fine, though, right?

Still, you could always cell-manipulate your way out of unexpected situations like these. You just choose not to— it’s not worth the trouble of headaches or nosebleeds. Who��d want to willingly bleed from the top and the bottom at once, really?

You check your appearance in the mirror afterward, and everything looks okay— your hair is normal despite school air’s penchant for ruining it, your uniform looks alright even though your skirt pocket may look a little weird later once you put your phone in it, and your face is the same as earlier today, so… well. You don’t know what that says about whether your face looks good or not right now, but you guess this is alright.

[Yuuji]

you okay?what happened

who spends ten hole minutes pissing

[Name]

*whole***

Sighs incredibly loudly

Itadori Yuuji.

What the fuck did you think I was doing

It was my period

Came early :(

[Yuuji]

OHHH SHIT

SORRY…

thought u had a stomach ache or smth

everything okay?

i can like buy more pads or smth for you

[Name]

Mhm yeah I’m okay

It’s okay I’ve got enough at home anyway

If ur buying drinks could you not get me any kind of tea

Or coffee

Like nothing with caffeine in it

[Yuuji]

yes queen o7

i can go back and bring it up to u yknow

[Name]

Nah

I’m fine

[Yuuji]

ok i bought u a sandwich nd a seasonal drink thing

no coffee or tea

[Name]

aw thx man

coming soon, otw rn

Though it’s a bit far away, the sight that greets you as you finally arrive shocks you immediately. He’s got a little blood on his face— that’s already way too much then you can handle being on his face. It couldn’t be from anything like acne or a popped pimple; the guy’s got clear skin for days and though there’s nothing but a tiny scratch by the side of his cheek you’re running over to him.

But this is what’s worse: high school students, about three of them, lying on the floor, passed out like animal carcasses. There’s another one standing, with straight light-coloured hair and enough fear on his face to seem as if he’d just witnessed a war.

And Yuuji’s expression, which is clear as day even with the distance between you: eyes uncharacteristically cold, face distorted away from his usual boyish grin, aura radiating off of him, lacerating through his usual self like a wolf’s claws through raw, cold meat in the tundra.

“…what about you?” Yuuji says to the guy with light hair.

You run.

“Yuuji!”

“Huh?” He notices you. “[Name]?”

“Yuuji— what happened to you?”

“No, just—” He’s back to normal. “Saw some of them picking on someone, so I started beating them up.”

“What— seriously? You could’ve, like, called the police or something, you idiot!”

“But it wasn’t in school, so I didn’t know what to do… plus, we’re in different schools and all…”

“W-well if you call the police, their punishment would have been worse, right?” you sigh, “Alright, what happened to the one getting picked on? Are they okay?”

“He ran away,” he shakes his head.

Poor guy.

“…and this one, the one standing up here?’ you ask, “Is he okay? He looks pretty traumatised.”

“I’m right here, you know!” the standing guy answers. So besides standing in silence, he can talk after all.

“Oh, this one?” Yuuji points, again not acknowledging him. He was just standing there, stunned like a deer in headlights, instead of lying on the ground. “Just seemed like peer pressure or something. He didn’t hurt the guy.”

“Ah… what’s your name, guy?”

“…Rin Amai,”

“You okay?”

“…yeah, just, I guess, surprised? I mean, by the pink-haired guy’s strength and all. You guys are middle schoolers, right? That means he’s crazy strong.”

“His name is Itadori,” you sigh, “Yeah. He’s a strong guy like that. He stands up for good things.”

Yuuji chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Aw, thanks, man!”

“Well, now that they’re knocked out, I can kind of say I didn’t like them that much to begin with…” Rin remarks.

“Ah, I get that. Nobody likes people like them. When you can, stand up for others next time, okay?” you advise him, “Got any injuries?”

“No, just a scratch here and there. I’ll be fine. Thanks, you two.”

“No worries.”

“Still wanna go to the arcade?” Yuuji asks.

The two of you say your goodbyes to Rin, who offers to wait with the knocked-out students after that— you’ll probably only ever see him once or twice after this. Yuuji offers to take your bag but you deny him, and the two of you stroll to the arcade.

This has happened before, really, and there’s some kind of anticipatory grief sticking to you as you ruminate over what he’d done. It’s like you’re waiting for things to worsen: either you tell him that he shouldn’t have beat students up even if it was for the sake of others, or you don’t and make decisions conflicting with your own moral code. The last time you’d seen someone get back from a fight, your relationship with them ended up severed, whether due to your commitment to your own ideals or not.

You debate on asking him not to do the same next time, not to get hurt and not to hurt people who pick on others, and—

—the arcade is closed.

“Aaaahhh! Seriously? Sorry, [Name]. Forgot they said they’d be closed today. Last week one of the employees told me they’d have to settle some issues or something.”

Of course he’d befriend the employees. It still surprises you that every now and then he’s so kind it hurts.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassure him, “You know, I don’t really feel up to it today either. Still kinda shaken.”

“Don’t worry about that, honestly! I’m fine, and they’re fine too.”

“Will they be, though? Have you gotten any injuries?”

“Don’t think so. I’ll be okay anyway, though, ‘cause I’ve got a high pain tolerance— ow!”

“‘High pain tolerance,’ huh?” you sigh, “Is it a strain? Are you okay?”

He winces, “I don’t know if it’s a strain or a sprain,” he answers, “But it’s on my ankle, and it hurts a lot.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, but— it hurts…”

You rest his arm on top of your back, taking hold of his shoulder, guiding him on the way back to his home.

His grandfather— a man with grey hair yet enough energy to wake up at 6am before exercising and going on walks every morning— nods after you explain the situation to him, and lets you stay with Yuuji for now due to your worrying.

The first thing to do with a sprain or a strain is to rest the injured area.

“It’s strange that you got it on your ankle of all places,” you say, outstretching his leg for him, “Were you walking funny or anything?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you’ve been overusing it, then,” you theorise, “Okay. No running and all for a few days, okay? Or just, until it feels better.”

“Huh? But I’m in the track and field club…”

“Spend some time with the occult club or something,” you tell him, “You can just tell the student council president or the track and field club president that it hurts, so you’ve got to go to the occult club to still be able to support your other interests and stuff as you recuperate.”

“Nah, they’d call bullshit.”

“Pft. You don’t know if you don’t try,” you joke. “Wait a second, let me go get some ice.”

He lies down, his arms resting by his stomach. “You know, [Name]…” he starts, his voice louder for you to hear.

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re my friend.”

If you were a dog, you’d be wagging your tail and kicking your feet up into the air, so happy that your smile is uncontrollable— and the last time it had been that way was more than a few years ago.

His voice stays as loud but you hear it better, clearer, as you move up the stairs with the ice pack. “I mean, I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think.”

You sit down beside him, probably a little too plaintive in your actions than you intended. “…yeah. Guess people could tell…”

“But, hey. I met you and we get to do all sorts of cool and dumbass shit together. So I’m happy I met you and that we became friends, you know? I’m happy you’re even here. So now we’re both a little less lonely, and the world has two new people who are a little less than lonely.”

It’s warm despite it being winter— you hope his hoodie and his student jacket are enough to keep him from freezing. Every time you enter his house, you wonder how he must have lived as a child. You imagine a smaller-sized Yuuji, with wild pink hair and a tired grandfather, living in this house with its wooden tiles and untorn paper calendars from the year 2000, in his endearingly tardy room and boyish clothing choices. The thought of it melts your heart, almost.

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re in my life, too, Yuuji,” you beam, “I’m happy you said hi to me that day, because I probably wouldn’t have made any friends. Like, I thought every time we moved somewhere we’d move again to somewhere else, so I kind of gave up. I didn’t want to get attached. Because there would always be something happening after, like us moving and eventually I thought every day was a chore, because I had this kind of… how do I say it— this kind of ‘I’ll escape one day’ mentality, like I didn’t move forward to each day anymore. But being friends with you brought that back to me, kinda.”

“Really?” he says as you wrap the ice pack in a towel and press it to his ankle, turning his head to meet yours, “Makes me pretty glad. Thanks, man.”

“I’m glad too.”

“You’re a great nurse,” he grins at you, before leaning his head back against his bed.

It feels good. The praise feels good.

Now you really don’t know what to do with him. Or what to do with how you feel about him.

For a moment you consider this: pressing your hand to his ankle, healing it immediately, placing your hands on his ankle and healing it with your cursed technique. But even so you’d have to explain the whole of jujutsu society to him, and that was meant to be a well-kept secret anyway. Yuuji wouldn’t be the type to do well as a jujutsu sorcerer— he’d save everyone, care for everyone, not because judging who would be right or wrong to save was often convoluted or unsolvable, but because he was a good person. If he failed to help people in dire need, whether it was his fault or not, he would be so guilty he wouldn’t live. You supposed a part of you was like that, too: driven by fear of potential guilt, yet you were driven even more by a need to be useful. If at the end of the day you could help, even if you couldn’t offer someone salvation, you’d accept it— that certain things were out of your control. There would be no point in lingering over not being able to change things you couldn’t change, and your experience in Tokyo last month was part of that. It was what changed almost everything. And you swore you’d never let Yuuji go through anything that would change him, that would take that pure love for the world from him. His name is fitting: his humanity is unwavering, a soldier fighting a losing battle, Sisyphus rolling his boulder up the hill and living through his suffering, the indomitable human spirit against the cruel indifference of the world and the universe.

You’ll tell him one day, you decide.

For now, though, you’ll have to make yourself useful another way: by using the knowledge you have to be at his aid. That’s how you’ll like it anyway.

“Thanks, Yuuji,” you whisper.

Yuuji dozes off. You sit next to him as if he’s a patient at a hospital, watching his breath rise and fall. A part of you wants the moment to stretch out into perpetuity, his steady snoring lulling even you to sleep. It’s creepy as hell. And knowing that you could have all of this: seeing him like this, going to the arcade every Thursday, minding each others’ health; all of it without it leading to him liking you the same way you do him—

—it still hurts. But it’s getting easier to handle it. You’ll deny that it still hurts for as long as you can, staving it off until it really does go away. So you’ll keep silent, no one beside you knowing of your feelings, trying your best to be utilised and useful. You’ll take it to the grave, you’re sure. You’ll continue to be by the sidelines, a helper for convenience and someone to serve, someone to be used.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#take me back (take me with you)#jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #wooh that's a wrap for today! for the ao3 readers chapter 6 has been posted on ao3 by the way!#megumi x reader

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ri-afan · 20 days

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Okay, keeping with ghosts fighting to socialise and teach, we have Halfas Danny and Jason! Except they don’t know shit.

Or maybe Danny knows what’s up, but Danny might also have forgotten?

I want Danny running from Red Hood (“because it’s Red Hood! Crime Lord of Crime Alley! I may be dead, but I still like my head where it’s at!”), Red Hood giving chase because he thinks this guy feels shady in his area, popping up everywhere, and if he’s got nothing to hide then why’s he running? (“I swear to god, Dick, he was right there! Where the fu—?”)

Inadvertently, this teaches Red Hood to use more instinctual ghost stuff for haunting, like pulling in your aura and invisibility.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #red hood #fic things #ao3 #op #it’s only 6 am let me get back to sleep #why is Danny in Gotham?#how did Danny get on Hood’s radar? guy is a bit cryptid actually #just off enough from Ghost Life that strikes people a little differently #what’s normal for Amity Park is different from a lot of places but it’s still a different brand than Gotham #it takes a while for Hood to mention it to the others

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frownyalfred · 1 year

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first day on ao3: oh wow [tag] is a thing?? who even reads that? gross

two months on ao3: [tag] gives me life. I read [tag] every night before bed and I am Not Sorry. [tag] is everything. I embrace the awful. I am gross.

#a natural progression #of course #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #fanfiction things #reading things #tumblr #fandom #writing things #then you start writing it on month 6 #because you read all the fics that have that tag #and you want more

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pikachibz · 26 days

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ive absolutely fallen in love with 7th time loop, especially the two leads, their dynamic, progression, plot AND THE MYSTERIES WHAT DID ARNOLD SAY TO RISHE IN HER 6TH LOOP????! WHY DID HE START THE WAR WHATS THE PURPOSE BEHIND THE LOOPS?? so much to know and speculate abt i can't stop rolling the series in my brain

i need more content of them asap.

#7th time loop #rishe irmgard weitzner #arnold hein #ive alr read vol 3-6 so maybe ill reread the first two too #theres so little fanfics of them on ao3 </333 #manga too actually theres still a couple things hehe #i do hope they get a season 2 bc its fire i enjoy it very much

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americankimchi · 2 months

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wish i knew what to do with this helpless frustration i feel every time i see people vilify the jedi for their way of life when the person doing the vilification doesn't even understand them properly. it's one thing to criticize and dislike them if you have an accurate picture of who they were and what they're trying to do vs. hating them because you straight up don't understand them at all 😭

#personal #this isn't vagueposting i'm just tired of seeing it every time i go in the tags or on youtube or on ao3 #literally if you boil the jedi down to the essentials it's just #''these are psychic empath space wizards wandering around the galaxy trying to establish a higher quality of life for everyone''#a bunch of aragorns except anduril is a beaming blade of plasma #or gandalf with the ability to do backflips #the only hard rule they have is ''thou shalt not add misery to the world where you can remove it''#everything else is just interpretations on that theme #''they're cold and unfeeling and they HATED ANAKIN and BAN LOVE''#like WHERE in the WORLD are you getting this information #WHEREEEEE #SHOW ME YOUR SOURCESSSS #and don't say ''they ban attachments'' without understanding what that MEANS #ATTACHMENTS =/= LOVE #ATTACHMENTS ARE CHAINS THAT YOU USE TO DRAG OTHERS DOWN WITH YOU #YOU KNOW THE SAYING IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING YOU WILL LET IT GO? THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL IT IS.#and where are u getting that they hated anakin do you think he'd be so torn up about betraying them all in ep 3 #if he was surrounded by people who hated him for over a decade like mans was IN TEARS #HE LOVED AND WAS LOVED BY THEM IN TURN #IT JUST WASN'T ENOUGH TO SAVE THEM IN THE END BECAUSE #CRUCIALLY #HIS ATTACHMENT TO PADME DRAGGED HER AND THEM AND EVERYONE ELSE DOWN WITH HIM #stop stripping anakin of his agency he made a CHOICE #star wars is ALL ABOUT CHOICE. THE CHOICE TO FALL IN EP 3. AND THE CHOICE TO RISE AGAIN IN EP 6.#like cmon fellas..... fellas cmon........

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wander-wren · 9 months

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every once in a while i like to poke my head into "anti [x]" tags just to see what the other side thinks. recently i was looking through "anti ao3" and found a really funny post claiming that ao3 is not anticapitalist, but actually the Definition Of Capitalism, bc it relies on volunteer labor while supposedly having the money to pay a staff.

oh, honey.

but i am not going to make unsubstantiated claims on the internet, no, and this gives me an excuse to look at ao3's whole budget myself, which i've been meaning to do for a while. these numbers are taken from the 2022 budget post and budget spreadsheet.

ao3's total income for 2022, from the two donation drives, regular donations, donation matching programs, interest, and royalties was $1,012,543.42. less than $300 of that was from interest and royalties, so it's almost all donations. and that's a lot, right? surely an organization making a million dollars a year can afford to pay some staff, right?

well, let's look at expenses. first of all, they lose almost $37,000 to transaction fees right away. ao3 and fanlore (~$341k and ~$18k, respectively) take up the biggest chunks of the budget by far. that money pays for, to quote the 2022 budget post, "server expenses—both new purchases and ongoing colocation and maintenance—website performance monitoring tools, and various systems-related licenses."

in some years, otw also pays external contractors to perform audits for security issues, and for more servers to handle the growing userbase. servers are expensive as hell, guys. in 2022, new server costs alone were $203k.

each of their other programs only cost around $3,000 or less, and otw paid around $78k for fundraising and development. wait, how do you lose so much money on your fundraising?? from the 2022 budget post: "Our fundraising and development expenses consist of transaction fees charged by our third-party payment processors for each donation, thank-you gift purchases and shipping, and the tools used to host the OTW’s membership database and track communications with donors and potential donors."

then the otw paid an additional $74k in administration expenses, which covers "hosting for our website, trademarks, domains, insurance, tax filing, and annual financial statement audits, as well as communication, management, and accounting tools."

in case you weren't following all of that math, the total expenses for 2022 come out to $518,978.48. woah! that's a lot! but it's still only a little over half of their net revenue. weird. i wonder what they do with that extra $494k?

well, $400k of it goes to the reserves, which i'll get to in a second. the last $93k, near as i can tell, gets rolled over to the next year. i'll admit this part i'm a little unsure about, as it's not clear on the spreadsheet, but that's the only thing that makes sense.

the reserves, though are clear. the most recent post i could find on the otw site about it were in the board meeting minutes from april 2, 2022: "We’re holding about $1million in operating cash that is about twice the amount of our annual operating costs. There is another $1million in reserves due to highly successful fundraisers in the past. The current plan for the reserves is to hold the money for paid staff in the future. It’s been talked about before in the past and we’re still working out the details, but it’s a rather expensive undertaking that will result in large annual expenses in addition to the initial cost of implementation."

woah....they're PLANNING to have paid staff eventually! wild!

so let's assume, for easy numbers, that the otw currently has $1.5 million in reserves. before we even get to how to use that money, let's look at the issues with implementing paid staff:

deciding which positions are going to be paid, because it can't be all of them

deciding how much to pay them, bc minimum wage sure as hell isn't enough, and cost of living is different everywhere, and volunteers come from all over the world

hiring staff and implementing new systems/tools to handle things like payroll and accounting

making sure you continue to earn enough money both to pay all of the staff and have some in reserves for emergencies or leaner donation drives

probably even more stuff than that! i don't run a nonprofit, that's just what i can think of off the top of my head.

okay, okay, okay. for the sake of argument, let's assume there is a best-case scenario where the otw starts paying some staff tomorrow. how much should they be paid? i'm picking $15 an hour, since that's what we fought for the minimum wage to be. by now, it should be closer to $20 or $25, but i'm trying to give "ao3 is capitalism" the fairest shot it can get here, okay?

ideally, if someone is being paid to help run ao3, they shouldn't need a second job. every job should pay enough to live off of. and running a nonprofit is hard work that leads to a lot of burnout--two board members JUST resigned before their terms were up. what i'm saying is, i'm going to assume a paid otw staff is getting paid for 40 hours of work a week, minimum. that's $31,200.

at $400,000 per year, the otw can afford to pay 12 people. that's WITHOUT taking into account the new systems, tools, software, etc they would have to pay for, any kind of fees, etc, etc.

oh, and btw, if you're an american you're still making barely enough to survive in most places, AND you don't have universal healthcare, vision, or dental. want otw to give people insurance, too? the number of people they can pay goes down.

it's. not. possible.

a million dollars is a lot of money on the face of it, but once you realize how MUCH goes into running something like the otw, it goes away fast.

just for reference, wikipedia also has donation drives every year. wikipedia, as of 2021, has $86.8 million in cash reserves and $137.4 million in investments. sure, wikipedia and ao3 are very different entities, but that disparity is massive. and i should note that if you give $10 to wikipedia they don't give you voting rights, i'm just saying.

by the way, you may have noticed that i didn't mention legal costs at all here. isn't one of otw's big Things about how they do legal advocacy?

yes, it is. they have a whole page about that work. and i can't for the life of me find a source on otw's website (and i'm running out of time to write this post, i'll look harder later), but i am 90% sure i learned before that most, if not all, of otw's legal work/advice/etc is done pro bono. i've also seen an anti-ao3 person claim their legal budget is only $5k or so, but they didn't have a source. but keep in mind that if they don't have a legal budget, all the numbers above stay the same, and if they do, there is even less money available for paid staff.

you can criticize ao3 and the otw all you want! there are many valid reasons to criticize them, and i do not think they're perfect either. but if you're going to do so, you should at least make sure you can back up your claims, bc otherwise you just look silly.

#ao3 #otw #anti ao3 #bc i want them to see this #otw board #ao3 discourse #ao3 donations #wren wrambles #that post was so unserious i died #if it was more recent (its from mid-july) i wouldve replied directly maybe #but i didnt want to drag the body of a 6-note post into the light OR attack the op directly so #also! if i misunderstood something pls let me know im doing my best

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