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#i really don't remember much during that time bcs of some.. old friends that. they. aghhh nah nah now's not the time to rmber that

a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months

Text

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 6 months

Text

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

#Round 4 #Glenn Close #Lup #Lup TAZ #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies #Glenn Close DnDads #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Balance

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glamaphonic · 23 days

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Hey :) Had to say something because I appreciated your posts about the trajectory of Rick and Michonne’s feelings for each other so much. Especially Rick’s, because I think we are pretty much all in agreement that Michonne did not recognize it until the couch. The timing on Rick’s part has always been more the question mark. And ever since the I was in love with my son’s best friend line, I’ve seen so many people say that Rick knew since the prison (/even since the moment they met). And like… no. Lol. Was there an instantaneous connection and *something* going on there? Yes, obviously. Was he falling in love with her all this time and was already head over heels by the time the couch happened? Again, yes. Did he *know* that though? No! We can argue about when exactly, some people will place it here, some place will place it there, but come on, it was definitely not before Alexandria. Like, that he knew-knew. And unless I’m completely misrembering right now, really, from the time they arrive in Alexandria to 5x16, we’re talking, maybe 2 weeks? And of course 6A is only 2-3 days. So we’d be arguing over a few days, really. I *think* for me, I’d say, by the end of season 5, Rick has reached a state of clearly there IS something going between us, or more acurately, from me towards her, but not quite being able to fully recognize; like, until then he knew that he cared (a lot!) for her and that she was indeed special to him but by then it’s almost him being no, but what IS this thing between us, if you will. And it’s not until a few days later, so after 6x09 and during the timejump that he can fully recognize it. Like, yeah, I’m in love with her, it’s so obvious it’s crazy that I’m only now reaching that conclusion.

And about your post about Michonne, you mention 3-4 people basically telling her she is already with Rick and I wondered if you could say who you meant? It’s been way too long since I’ve watched those old TWD seasons to remember. Sasha, obviously. You probably meant Deanna as well? But other than that, I’m coming up empty 😅

Sorry sorry for the message ending up being so long 🙈 Didn’t intend to. Lowkey ready to drop a dissertation on Richonne at all times, apparently 😂

I more or less agree with your timeline, but I also don't really mind whatever timelines people want to come up with. I mean, I think the only things we can really argue are firmly canonical are that a) Rick knew he was in love with her sometime before 6x10, and b) them on the couch was not something springing into being but rather the consummation of what had already long since existed between them but was only then actually being acknowledged. Everything else is up to interpretation imo because the show is so allergic to relationship conversations prior to people actually being in a relationship.

re: people telling Michonne she's already got something going on with Rick

Sasha and Deanna, yes. Spencer also tells Michonne she has a life in Alexandria. When she’s hiding outside at that stupid dinner party (bcs the writers were desperately hiding her from Rick lol) Abe also pushes her to stop holding back from life. And special shoutout to ole boy from Alexandria who got bit and was telling her about his post-apoc marriage. He didn’t realize he was telling Michonne about herself and her relationship with Rick, but that is literally the only reason that scene existed lol.

#ask!#Anonymous #richonne #twd

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blossoming-mind-palace · 19 days

Text

Chung Myung SFW Alphabet

Decided to separate this from the original NSFW post bc I wanted to see how it performs engagement-wise. I'll leave a link to the NSFW one at the bottom, and I'll probably do the same for the rest of them.

TW: Alcohol and mentions losing people

SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I feel like his favorite ways to show his affection would be through acts of service and words of affirmation. His acts of service are domestic acts like making your plate or saving booze for you at the dinner table. When it comes to his words he makes sure to tell you he loves you at least once a day, because you never know what day will be your last.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Mount Hua's most mischievous duo. You can read each other's minds and go out for drinks regularly.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Likes to be the big spoon or to be tangled up with you. He also like being the little spoon when he's feeling vulnerable.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He didn't get to marry or have kids during his past life, so I feel like he'd want to settle down in this one.

When it comes to cleaning he's decent. If I remember correctly his room isn't messy in the webtoon, so he probably cleans regularly. He probably makes his bed after he wakes up too.

When it comes to cooking I feel like he started a couple of kitchen fires when he was learning how to cook. He's a decent cook now though!! I feel like he'd be into meal prepping.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd probably be blunt yet respectful. Sorry, but I don't have a lot for this one. I don't like angst.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's definitely a date-to-marry kind of guy. Hookups and affairs are a waste of time to this old man!! He would probably marry you after around 3-4 years. He really wants to get to know his partner before putting a ring on it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

When compared to other disciples, he's definitely more gentle with you. He's only rough during training because he doesn't want you to get injured in a real fight.

He's also softer emotionally. The disciples think he plays favorites when it comes to you. (They're right)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He gives the big ol' bear hugs. He also hugs you more often when you two are alone. He dislikes it when other people gawk at you two. They just can't fathom the fact that the rabid dog can be soft and affectionate with someone.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Due to his inexperience, it takes him a while to realize his feelings for you. Like he feels them, but he doesn't know what they are. He takes a while to tell you that he loves you because this is new territory for him. After the first time, he won't hesitate to let you know that you're loved and appreciated.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He trusts you to be loyal, but he will get grumpy if you spend too much time with someone else. Again he knows you won't cheat; he just wants all of your attention and some brat is stealing it!

If someone's flirting with you he will get pissed. This situation can end in two ways. Way #1 has him showing off that you two are together via physical affection. He wants to rub it in that you're his, and that this person should back off. Way #2 is just him beating the fuck out of that person unless you want him to stop.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He'll give quick pecks on the forehead and cheeks when in public. When in private, he likes to kiss you anywhere and everywhere.

He likes being kissed on his shoulders and lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's really good with kids, and it shocks everyone around him. He likes to roughhouse with them but knows how rough is too rough. He wouldn't forgive himself if he accidentally hurt a little kid.

He also strikes me as the kind of guy who's a strict parent but loves to spoil his grandkids. Is open to having kids or adopting in the future.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Definitely a man with a routine. We already know that he wakes up early, probably makes his bed, trains, and then washes up. He probably eats breakfast after all of that.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You probably go to bed earlier than him. He trains by himself before bed, and I headcanon him as someone who showers before bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He'll try to open up about his past, but he can't be completely transparent. He just doesn't know how people would react if they found out he was the plum blossom sword saint. Besides that, he tries to be as open as he can without revealing his identity.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

This is Chung Myung so we already know he's easily irritated. He has more patience with you than the other disciples. Like he'll actually let you tease him and stuff. You'd have to betray or lie to him to make him genuinely angry. Besides that, he's pretty lenient with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He's an observant man, so he'd have your favorites, your mannerisms, your opinions, etc. memorized. The kind of guy to remember something you mentioned in passing like two years ago.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It'd probably be when you get into a fight for him. Like you noticed someone talking shit, things escalated, and you ended up fighting that person and won. He'd like it even more if you defended him on the battlefield. He's probably the kinda guy to get turned on by his s/o fighting.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's pretty protective of you, and would protect you if you couldn't handle things yourself in battle. He rarely needs to be protected but will find it hot if you try to protect him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He likes more casual/domestic dates, and he won't put in much of an effort unless you want him to. Normally he doesn't feel the need to woo you unless it's an anniversary, birthday, or if you guys haven't seen each other in a while. On days like that he'll go all out, take you to town, go shopping, take you to a restaurant and order your favorite foods & booze, and then rent a room at an inn for the night.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

We already know he has terrible manners. His ass does not know how to act at the dinner table. He's probably gone to bed smelling like alcohol multiple times. He also likes to hog up all of your free time and wants all of your attention. It's not bad to me (clingy men <3), but I know some people would get irritated by that.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He's not super concerned with his looks. He's a naturally pretty boy despite not having a skincare/haircare routine. He's the kind of guy that washes his face with water and he still has perfect skin.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

After a long-term relationship absolutely! Hell, even if you two were platonic, he'd still be sad if something happened to you. At this point, he's attached to all of his disciples and you're one of them. If any of y'all died he'd feel like he's lost of piece of himself. If you two were in a long-term romantic relationship that'd be amplified tenfold.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He'd love it if you cooked for him. You know those tiktoks where people make cute lunch boxes for their s/o's? Bring one of those to him after his training and he'll want to marry you on the spot. He also likes it when you feed him. Spoil his ass.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like people who lie with malicious intent. He'd also be turned off if their partner is controlling.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Good luck sleeping with Chung Myung, because he's a chaotic sleeper. You'll go to bed in a cute cuddly position and wake up with multiple limbs in your face. He's also warm-blooded, so he's more likely to cuddle during the winter. If he lived in the modern day he'd be the kinda guy who always sleeps with the fan on no matter the season.

Also, he old man snores.

NSFW side here! (minors dni) Original template here!

Please lmk if you guys want more :'}

#rotbb #return of the blossoming blade #rotmhs #reuturn of the blossoming blade #chung myung #cheong myeong #cheongmyeong #x reader #cheongmyeong x reader #chung myung x reader #reader insert #gn reader #prompts #sfw #fanfiction #sfw alphabet

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luminoushane · 9 months

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I just saw your "Amity raised by Lilith AU" and now I really want to know more.

What's going on with the other Blights, if Lilith had to take Amity where are the twins?

What was Amity's life in the castle like? Did Lilith send her to Hexside and if so is she still friends with Willow?

What's Amity's relationship with Raine and Darius (and by extension Lilith's) like?

How about other people in the EC like Steve? Does Amity know Hunter and share Lilith's animosity with him and view him as a rival (queue "rival jealousy" from Luz) or are they friends?

Does Belos take advantage if Amity's presence in the castle to manipulate Lilith?

How does parenthood change Lilith and her view of Hunter?

Not a question but I also have this image if a tiny (4 or 5 yr old Amity) in a baby carrier thing on Lilith's chest when she goes to arrest Eda, and then Eda turning around to reveal King in a similar baby carrier on her chest. (Queue Spider-Man pointing name and mutual aunt realizations)

Haha, I get asked these a lot too, and I had a few tweets explaining is messily, but let's get this organized in the much better site, shall we?

• Amity was taken shortly after her birth. Prior to her arrival, Alador had already gotten sick of Odalia's mistreatment of him and in extension, the twins. He takes Amity away, pays a few healers to keep it a secret, and (with much hesitation) calls up Darius. He practically begs him to take Amity away from them, and even though Darius CLEARLY still doesn't like Alador, he just has a soft spot for kids. He takes Amity and Odalia is under the impression that Amity had died.

Now, remember, with this in mind, Odalia and the twins DON'T know her existence. If you ask me WHY Lilith ended up with Amity instead of with Darius, I'd tell you that Darius let her watch over her and she came back with adoption papers bc god forbid she has impulse control.

The twins are not aware of Amity's existence (at least until later) and neither is Odalia, but not for long. Alador is still trying to figure out how he can get himself and his two other children out without Odalia realizing. Lilith tries to keep it a secret. Amity's aware she's adopted though lol.

• Amity was practically raised in the castle. She learned to walk there 😭 Imagine a little Amity taking her first steps and the coven guards just cooing over her in the hallway. Like that. When she got older, she was allowed to go back to Darius' house alone (Lilith does not have a house and Darius is kind of like a guardian to her too, so...)

She personally prefers to stay in the castle though.

And no, Amity doesn't go to Hexside.

She's in St. Epiderm! You have to understand, Odalia's part of the Student Creature Association in Hexside, and Lilith CANNOT risk having her find out about Amity. Raine had her enrolled in their old school so she doesn't accidentally come across Odalia. Willow DOES know about her, but thinks she's some spoiled girl who gets a bit too competitive. (They become friends later on!)

• Raine and Darius are her secondary guardians! Kind of like how Uncles and Aunties work. Darius doesn't hold any bitterness towards her for being Alador's child. If anything, it's making him want to rebel more because Amity and Hunter, who are just two children, are being forced into the castle by circumstances they can't control. He can't wait to take them both back home and give them a better life than what the castle has to offer.

He sees Amity as his little sunshine, though you couldn't pay him to admit that to ANYONE. That's his baby, he raised her too ❤️.

Raine was a bit late addition to the parent trio. Though they didn't hesitate to help out if needed. They usually were the one to watch over a hyperactive 4 year old Amity and an equally active 6 year old Hunter during their time as an apprentice to the Bard Covenhead. Amity also talked to Raine about Luz, who she was "feeling funny about" (she is falling so hard) and Raine was watching in amusement.

And y'know. Lilith is her mom. Lilith doesn't get much free time, but she's dedicated it to taking care of Amity as much as she can. Amity is her heart, she could absolutely not take the idea that she could get hurt. She's trying to give her all the attention and love she wished she had gotten from Gwendolyn.

• HUNTER HATRED?? NOOO...!

Do not even suggest such a thing!

But in all seriousness, she grew up with him! Of course she doesn't hate him!

They see each other as siblings, though none of them have admitted it out loud. Hunter gets a bit sad when he sees Amity with Emira and Edric ("Her real family") and Amity was quick to get that thought off. He was her family too. The two of them are fairly close, both having grown up in the castle. On occasion, Amity sneaks him some snacks and books and stuff he can do on his free time whenever her was on shifts.

They had a MAJOR fallout by the end of season 1 (which I will not disclose yet), so you can imagine how absolutely rage-fueled their duel in Eclipse Lake was in this AU.

• And YES, HE DOES. Belos is a manipulative asshole we all know that. In addition, he does NOT like Amity. He took one look at her, with her brown hair, pointy ears and golden eyes and was reminded of a certain witch 400 years ago. It doesn't help that she likes to hang around with Hunter, either. Belos being haunted by the past because of two gay kids in his castle is so funny to me actually. He constantly holds Amity safety over Lilith's head because he knows how desperate she is to keep her daughter safe.

• And finally. Hunter and Lilith's relationship is much complicated in this AU. She realizes he's just as much of a child as Amity is. She doesn't really have this "animosity" towards him, especially since she takes care of him like Darius does (in secret).

So anyways! Don't be afraid to ask more, I like getting questions! And yes, Lilith does, in fact, bring baby Amity along when she goes on missions to capture Eda. Amity likes her Auntie Eda, goes over to the Owl House and plays with King if she can. Eda doesn't really mind her randomly popping up in her house lol.

#the owl house #amity blight #lilith clawthorne #darius deamonne #hunter deamonne #hunter noceda #the owl house hunter #WHATEVER HIS NAME IS #raine whispers #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #lumity #amity x luz #toh #toh au #i do not have a name for this au yet tho lol #I'm open to suggestions

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changanomaly · 6 months

Text

Anyways. Dundie imagines and hcs and other things that pop into my brain about them because I think about them a lot and I hope someone out there cares as much about them as I do or likes them a normal amount and would also be as interested in reading this bullet point list I've made

They're very, very queer. I am just unable to tell you in what way but they ARE trust me

Duncan fell first AND harder. Sadie admits to it first.

They're long distance but they both always try to meet up whenever possible- esp Duncan, not that Sadie doesn't try bc she does but! there was this one time in like Christmas break where Sadie got a phone call from prison and it was Duncan telling her that he fit himself in a suitcase and illegally got into her hometown but don't worry he's gonna break out (she ended up getting him out instead)

Sadie (and Katie who she brings along when she can which is often) do Duncan's nails. He's been doing them himself prior and they're chipped and gross looking and are obviously ONE COAT only which they both say is stupid if he's picking BLACK nail polish like smh

I think Sadie, while bringing out his nicer side, brings out Duncan's awkward side just as much. She swoons easily over him but she's equally as unintentionally charming as he is smooth and it catches Duncan off guard.

Duncan grew out his mohawk after the show because at some point Sadie was trying to braid it while they were hanging out in this awkward point between their like friends and their feelings blossoming. She was a bit sad that she could barely make it into a braid and he. HE REMEMBERS!! and it's only barely braidable but it made Sadie sooo happy

Duncan and Sadie both like being little spoon. THEY TAKE TURNS!!

Sadie made him a little friendship bracelet and he's like so attached to it. He made her a skull in return and AUGHH they're so cute

In terms of love language, Sadie's the type to like giving words of affirmation (she really likes expressing herself verbally, always speaks what's on her mind about him and it's often nice, makes cute nicknames) and Duncan's the type to enjoy gift-giving (he's spraypainted her so many murals in random alleyways) (they both love that abt each other btw.)

Sadie calls him various things. "Duncey" sticks, obviously, but she's tried stuff like "pumpkin" and "sweetie" which he seems to like. She calls him snookums sometimes too and he comments on how they sound old and married. She blushes, he blushes, and they stare for a bit before going back to what they're doing.

Duncan tries to respond back by calling her stuff like his "main squeeze", "sunshine" and "charmer". He also lets her call him by his middle name when they're alone. (I think it's Tate. He looks like a Tate.)

Duncan thinks it's kind of corny but sort of endearing but. They do good night and good morning texts (Sadie initiated and he thought it was adorable and they haven't stopped since)

Duncan usually just sends her pictures of his random alley murals but figured out how to send stuff over to her house and mailed her a brick that he spray painted a small mural on for her. She has it on her desk (which she thanks god can hold it).

Sadie always ends up giving him small trinkets she like to make in return. Made him a little skull pin and gave it during Christmas and he's keeps it wherever he goes even when he doesn't wear it.

Duncan tries to tease her all the time and it seldom works and she usually replies in earnest which flusters him real bad. It's so damn cute.

But when he gets her OHO he gets her GOOD. She starts blubbering about and giggling. Which still flusters him so bad.

This especially happens when they watch horror movies together. Sadie's scared of most of them and clings onto Duncan for dear life when they watch it at home and like. He thinks it's so cute aghh!!

Their future domestic life is kind of bliss. They share an apartment, have a cat and a couple lizards and spiders, maybe. Whenever it's the other's turn to cook they always hug em from behind.

Whenever they visit each other or get to meet up they always leave something with the other person by accident. Duncan has multiple of Sadie's jackets and wears them sometimes and keeps forgetting to return them. Duncan usually leaves his shirts but Sadie actually remembers to return them.

#I've been working on this since like August I think and can't think of more. Here you go #total drama #total drama island #tdi #total drama dundie #dundie #td duncan #duncan total drama #td sadie #sadie total drama #duncan x sadie #total drama headcanons #total drama hcs

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airenyah · 4 months

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15 people, 15 questions

I was tagged by @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas <333

Are you named after anyone?

no. there's a video game character with my name and occasionally people will bring this character up and ask if i was named after her but no, i wasn't. my parents don't play videogames

2. When was the last time you cried?

i honestly don't remember, i don't actually cry all that much. (so if you see me say things like "i'm crying" in the tags then i'm actually only crying in my heart, i'm not shedding any actually tears dfkfkjdf)

last time i cried was either bc i was really angry or really extremely overwhelmed with life during a period where i hadn't slept much or was on my period or so. orrr what is actually even more likely is that the last time i cried was when i cried from laughter while being with friends. i cry from laughter a lot, actually

3. Do you have kids?

nope. i think i could be a good mother if i had to, but ngl, motherhood and parenting doesn't sound very appealing to me. i am planning on becoming an aunt tho. i'll let my brother provide the grandkids and i'll just borrow them occasionally, spoil them, and then i can always give them back when they get too exhausting or annoying 😂

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

i play baseball for fun once a year with old summer camp friends. other than that i'm not very athletic. in elementary school i used to go to schwimmkurse (swimming courses) which was super fun and it's one of the few sports that i'd consider taking up again if i were to do any. i've always liked swimming (but only in places where i can see the ground and where the water isn't too cold. i feel really uneasy when i can't see the ground and i also freeze easily so i'm not a fan of cold water)

5. Do you use sarcasm?

sarcasm? me? neeeeever, not at all 🤭

(^^^this answer is sarcastic, the genuine answer is yes. yes, i do. <- for those struggling to understand sarcasm, esp in written form <3)

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

uhhhhh good question, i don't actually know???? maybe their face, idk

7. What's your eye colour?

blue-gray ish. and i have a yellow/green circle around each pupil. i actually really like my eyes, they're my fave part of my appearance 🥰

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings for sure!! i could never get into scary movies, idk

9. Any talents?

languages, i guess. at least i'm known as the language genius in my family and my friend groups. but to be honest, there's still a lot about language that i don't know and i don't feel like i'm all that great (esp when my language learning progress feels slower than the one of others. which is totally fine by me bc everyone should go at their own pace, but i just don't like it when people call me a language genius bc i feel like in reality i'm not really living up to that. i just happen to know a little bit more about language than those around me, but compared with actual experts? yeah no, i in no way compare...)

but yeah out of all the skills that i have, languages is one my best ones. and i'm also really good at organizing (aka keeping a million lists and making sure all the props are at the right spots and with the right actors and there's enough spares of everything etc lol)

10. Where were you born?

austria 🇦🇹🇦🇹🇦🇹

(NOT the place with kangaroos just so we're clear dkjgkdjf)

11. What are your hobbies?

(internally) crying over fictional characters, then blorbo-posting about it. sometimes i'll also subject irl-people to my blorbo rants (mainly my mother and some of my friends)

i also take violin lessons and thai classes for fun

12. Do you have any pets?

technically no, but really yes. my mom and my brother share a dog and my parents also have two kitties. i go home a lot bc i don't really like staying in my own flat in the city where i study so they do feel like my own pets as well, esp the kitties <333

^this is nika (the dog) and coco (boy cat). they're besties <3

^this is minou (girl cat). she's the youngest and the smallest of them all, so we nicknamed her "die kleine" (the small one (f))

13. How tall are you?

155 cm

14. What was your favourite subject in school?

german, it was the easiest for me

fun fact: the only subject in school that i ever got a frühwarnung in was english lmao. ("frühwarnung" = early warning and it's what you get when you're about to get an f in your report card for a subject. i got an f in english in my report card for semester break, so i had the whole summer semester to get my grade up to a d)

15. What is your dream job?

director!!!! in theater or film, idk, but i just really wanna be a director. and maybe take some minor acting roles on the side, idk. for now i still feel too shy to do any professional acting, despite having gotten acting training for 3 years djkkdjfg

i'm really looking forward to next summer, bc i get to be assistant director at this one theater that i've worked at as an intern for the past two summers. the assistant directors that i've worked with so far at this theater have both sucked and both times i ended up more or less taking on the job myself anyway (to the point where they even paid me for my work despite my position usually being an unpaid one) and so this summer i was like "uhhh guys so what if for next summer's production i just work as an assitant director right away instead of an intern?" and they were like "omg you're hired" 😂

tagging following 15 people:

feel free to ignore if you don't want to do it or tag me in/send me yours if you've already done it, i'd like to read it <3

@newyearknwwme @moonkhao @visualtaehyun @lurkingteapot @callipigio @waitmyturtles @sunnenfinster @cornflowershade @celestial-sapphicss @killiru @gaym3bo1 @nongnaos @dimplesandfierceeyes @gillianthecat @ranchthoughts

bonus: @telomeke i know you've already been tagged, so this is just to ask you to tag me when you've thought of all your answers, i wanna read yours too 👀

#tag game

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fbfh · 2 years

Text

rocks at your window pt. 4 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd starting in this chapter but I promise he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system (he gets worse before he gets better yk) and obviously i'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 11k I know

genre: smut, slice of life/coming of age, one sided pining, fluff

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: NOT PROOF READ AT ALL, more facebook messanger texts we'll politely pretend aren't facebook messanger, protecting carlos and seb during hoco (+ one use of the word homophobia), you're the dolly levi of the friend group, a LOT of hello dolly references??, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, ricky's falling HARD, antagonist!nina, one sided rina angst (like BIG gina angst), big red is ricky's temporary therapist, ricky has bpd, ricky kind of splits on gina??, ricky has anxiety too, dr phil and big red and natalie's emotional support hamster are the only consistant things in anyone's life, drama/general messiness, oral (m + f recieving), sneaky quiet late night don't wake up the parents sex, making out, ricky thinks you smell so good he has to bang you right now, "stay quiet or I stop", switch!ricky, switch!reader, calling ricky a good boy, praise kink, giggly sex, waking up the morning after to an empty bed but not at all on bad terms (and no ghosting)

summary: ricky works up the guts to ask you to homecoming. if you can navigate all the drama, maybe he'll get to rearrange yours after dancing together all night.

song recs: old friend - mitski, 10 minutes ago - cinderella (1997), dancing - hello dolly (1969), in love on valentine's day - paul sandrone, daniel farrant, james knight (spotify link bc it's literally not on youtube??? tracking down this song was a nightmare /lh), you turned the tables on me - billie holiday, born to be brave - nico iaciancio cover (bc that's what I think the original sounds like in canon), soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jess benko, perfume - new hope club

a/n: could I have split this up?? yes but I'm not going to. also congrats 2 me bc I'm officially in the 10k one shot girlie club!! this is the longest thing i've ever written and my eyes are burning. ricky has bpd, I knew from the moment I saw this motherfucker I was like "yup bpd and mommy issues" and I was RIGHT why is no one talking about this also go watch crazy ex girlfriend

EDIT: I FORGOT TO ADD THE LINK TO THE VAMPIRE DIARIES VIDEO YOU REFERENCE IN THE BEGINNING (obvious spoilers for vampire diaries lol)

tags: @yesv01 @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @hopefullhearts @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa

There’s no reason to be nervous. Ricky has literally no reason to be nervous. You’ve been together practically 24/7 since… all this began. He ducks his head down and his eyes land on the smooth counter top of the booth you’re sitting in. Heat rushes to his cheeks as it so often does around you, as he remembers all the time you’ve spent together. He tries to pay as much attention as he can to your summary of the video essay on vampire diaries you’d watched while doing homework last night, even though his thoughts are racing, and all centered on you. On asking you something really important - but also like, totally not a big deal or whatever.

“So apparently they just regularly bring characters back from the dead,” you inform him with a laugh, and take a sip of your coffee. He didn’t think people could look particularly cute while sipping something until he met you… until he got close with you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty crazy,” he agrees, hoping he sounds normal. You glance up at him to make sure he’s okay. You can tell he seems a little distracted, and he knows he has to ask you. It’s now or never.

“So…” he begins.

“Yeah?” you lean forward, already invested in what he has to say. God, he loves that. He loves the way you care, really care about what he has to say. He lets out a small, breathy laugh, that you mirror when you hear his.

“So, homecoming is soon,” he smiles, and is pretty sure you know where he’s going with this. Your eyes widen in moderate surprise.

“It is? Already?” you ask, pulling out your phone to check your very messy calendar. “Jesus, I thought we still had a few more weeks…” you muse, and Ricky smiles. God, how can you make everything - even being a little scatterbrained sometimes - so fucking cute?

You look back up from your phone, snapping him back to attention. His breath is shallow.

“So…” he says again, and rubs the palms of his hands up and down his jeans. Why is he so nervous? He has no reason to be nervous. You’re silent, waiting for him to continue in a way that feels patient, encouraging even, instead of critical like it would be from someone else.

“...Do you want to go? To homecoming?”

His heart is in his throat.

“Like, together?” You take another sip. He’s so choked up, so worried you’ll say no. He nods. You smile.

“Hell yeah,” you lean back and pull out your phone to text your mom, who is currently at a PTA meeting, about dress shopping this weekend, biting your lip as you type. Relief turns to elation as you discuss plans, coordinate rides with your friends, and get a plan together. He bounces his leg, getting really excited for all this. He’s never been one for school dances, but with you… it’s a whole different story. He can’t stop looking at you.

“So, what color is your dress going to be? You know, so I can get a tie to match.” A light, happy chuckle dances across the table and you hum in consideration, glancing down at the scone in your hand, your favorite flavor that’s become somewhat of a signature with you and Ricky.

“Peach.”

You both giggle.

“Perfect.” he smiles. You’re going to look so pretty in a peach dress. At homecoming. With him. A burst of kinetic energy waves through him at the thought. The atmosphere is nice, comfortable. It always is with you. You finish the bite of pastry in your mouth.

“You know,” you start, “maybe you should go suit shopping with your dad. It might be nice to have a guy’s day together.”

His mom has been gone for a few weeks now, and he told you how badly his dad is struggling. He means well, it’s just… been hard on him. It might be nice, he thinks, really nice to go out and spend some time with his dad, have some fun. He doesn’t remember the last time they had a day like that together. He’d really like that, if his dad wanted to.

“Yeah,” he agrees, wondering when a good time to bring it up will be, “that would be nice.”

Around the time you’re ready to head home, your phone lights up with a text from your mom, informing you everything at the PTA meeting went great, and she’ll fill you in on the details at home, and you thank her, informing her there’s a hazelnut coffee coming her way.

It’s Friday night, and you have less than 24 hours to homecoming. You’re not sure how you were able to find a dress you actually like in the right color on such short notice, but somehow you managed. You and Ricky have been texting all day, filling each other in on how last minute shopping had been going for each of you. He was shocked at how well today went with his dad. He was bracing himself for the worst for a lot of the afternoon, but the day progressed and nothing bad happened. They even got dinner afterwards.

Now, you’re sitting at your desk, finishing some homework while you facetime each other and fill him in on the whole cast’s plan to be there for Carlos and Seb tomorrow night.

“And, like,” you continue rambling as you wrap up your science worksheet, “it’s so ridiculous that that’s even necessary, you know? Out of all the living things in the world, humans are the only ones who thought to make up homophobia.”

“Right? Worst idea ever,” he muses.

“Exactly!” you exclaim in agreement, looking up at your phone. You mutter something about how stupid people can be, eyes moving down and skimming your paper, double checking your answers one last time. Ricky watches you do this. Your desk light casts a warm glow over you, and he can see some of your posters on the opposite wall from where you have your phone propped up. He knows exactly which ones they are, too. He has every detail of your room - and of you - memorized by now.

He’s supposed to be finishing his english homework, that’s the whole point of facetiming each other this late, to keep each other company while you work. Instead his papers lay discarded on his desk as he watches you, a look of fondness dusting his face. You tap your pencil against each question on your worksheet, eyebrows scrunched, mouthing the answers to yourself as you go. Occasionally you’ll stop, turning to your book to check a chart or vocabulary word, then erase your answer and select a different one.

“And that’s why we proofread,” you mutter to yourself, and Ricky giggles. You look back up at him, smiling, then back at your paper for one last once over.

“Okay, I’m just about done,” you say, putting your homework in your bag to turn in later, with a satisfactory sigh. Ricky glances at the time. It’s getting late already. He’s torn between wanting to make sure you get enough sleep, and wanting to talk to you all night. He watches you rub your eyes, suppressing a yawn.

“We should probably go to bed now,” it’s more of a question, but you agree anyway. You pick up your phone and walk into your bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush as you say your drawn out good nights.

Ricky thought he was nervous asking you to homecoming? Turns out that’s nothing compared where he is now, waiting for you in your foyer. Somehow your house had become the unofficial get ready spot for the girls and Carlos, and meet up place for everyone else. So that’s where Ricky finds himself, barely unable to socialize or talk with his friends, all his thoughts preoccupied with you. He hasn’t seen you all day; you and the girls have been getting ready together, and he’s been trying to teach Big Red to dance all day.

Ashlyn comes down first. Her bubbly presence immediately eases some of the tension in the atmosphere from Ricky and EJ having to wait together in such close quarters. She waits with them for the others while they finish getting ready. It doesn’t slip past Ricky how nervous Big Red suddenly gets when she comes down the staircase.

Natalie is next - almost. Half way down the stairs, a snap resonates off the walls, and she freezes. She looks down at her left shoe, the heel of which has completely snapped off.

“Oh my god,�� she mutters, and walks carefully back up to your room. A minute later, presumably after she informs you about her wardrobe malfunction, Ricky hears your voice, faint and bouncing off the stairwell.

“It’s okay, that’s the risk you take with stilettos,” you say, trying to calm her justified panic. He hears you say something about how Margot Robbie broke a heel at an award show a few years ago as your bedroom door closes again.

The door opens, and Carlos appears at the landing. His face falls slightly as he realizes Seb isn’t here yet.

“It’s okay, he’s probably going to meet up with us at school.” Ricky comforts.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a laugh at his own nervousness, “yeah, you’re probably right.” Carlos takes a deep breath, and Ricky notices the swirly, metallic red pattern on his suit.

“You look great, man,” He says, hoping to take Carlos’s mind off the unexpected radio silence from Seb. The comment is appreciated, but seems to catch him off guard.

“Thanks,” he replies, “dude,” he punctuates with a friendly - very awkward - punch to Ricky’s arm. It’s more of a nudge, but he appreciates the sense of comradery nonetheless.

Footsteps echo down the stairs, and Ricky looks up, stomach twisting in anticipation. Natalie emmerges, much more carefully this time. She greets everyone, then starts talking to Ashlyn about the shoe incident. Ricky is trying really, really hard not to look like he’s waiting for you, but it feels almost impossible to focus on anything else.

Finally, several painfully long minutes later, he hears the click of high heels approaching the steps. He walks to the bottom of the stairs, heart thumping as you round the corner, and all the breath is pulled from his lungs at the sight of you. You descend the stairs, hair and dress flowing and bouncing with every step, glowing under the chandelier light. Your dress, mid length and flouncy, a peachy champagne that compliments your hair and skin tone perfectly, shimmers subtly when you move, glistening like starlight.

Your makeup is understated and glowy, bringing out every beautiful feature you have - which is all of them. Your hair is perfect, glossy and voluminous. Your earrings look like little pink silk flowers, and there are matching, larger silk flowers on the side of your heels. Your nails are manicured a soft peachy pink, with little sparkling accents. You even smell like peaches, he realizes, subconsciously taking a step closer to the bottom of the stairs as you get closer. You seem to descend in slow motion as Ricky takes in every detail.

Your expression mirrors his the moment you see him. You did not expect him to look that good in a suit. It couldn’t fit better, the cut and seams of the dark fabric perfectly accentuating his physique. His tie matches your dress, the same shade of peach, and you bite back a smile. The expression on his face can only be described as a breathless wow, and it’s something you'll never forget. Your cheeks are warm and suddenly it all feels real. You find yourself very excited to have fun at homecoming with him tonight.

You finally float down to the bottom of the stairs, stopping in front of him. It’s quiet for a moment, as you take each other in, face to face. You’re both struggling to find the words, thrown off guard by the energy in the air, by each other. Behind you, Ashlyn claps awkwardly.

“Alright, everyone ready to go?”

You and Ricky both giggle at the same time, and his chest warms at how in sync you are.

“Yeah,” You confirm, smiling over at Ashlyn and grabbing Ricky’s arm in a way that makes his heart palpitate, “let’s go.”

Standing with you on the dance floor, his hand on your waist as you attempt to teach him how to waltz, Ricky is so thankful for homecoming, for an opportunity to be close to you like this.

“I told you,” he laughs, enamored with your optimistic determination, “I can’t dance.”

“Yes,” you smile, “you can. You just haven’t had the right teacher.” His cheeks flush at your words, the feeling of your hands on his, and he’s hit with the sudden memory of the last time your lips were on his neck.

“I think you’re probably right about that…” he mutters under his breath. You bite back a smile, adjusting the position of his hand on your waist. You step closer, and his heart beats faster. He watches your face closely as you explain the basics of a waltz, a box step.

“Like in ‘Dancing’ from Hello Dolly.” you smile, eyes widening at the blank look on his face. “Oh my god, it’s a musical classic! Carol Channing played Dolly in the original broadway cast in ‘64, then Barbra Streisand in the film adaptation in ‘69.”

“Wow,” he smiles. He loves when you talk about theatre and Broadway, loves the way your eyes light up. “They’re like, really famous, right?” You let out a light hearted scoff.

“Broadway legends.” You smile, “The movie was directed by Gene Kelly, too, it’s amazing. We should watch it this weekend, if you want to,” you look up at him, eyes glittering under the soft twinkling lights.

“Yeah,” Ricky laughs, “definitely.”

After a moment, you remember why you brought Hello Dolly up in the first place.

“Right,” you say, memory jogged, “there’s a song called ‘Dancing’ where Dolly is teaching Cornelius and Barnaby how to dance so they can impress these girls who work at a ladies hat shop-”

“Cornelius and Barnaby?” he asks with a laugh.

“It takes place in 1890!” you say, jokingly defensive.

“Right,” he agrees, “so a… ladies hat shop…?”

“Totally era appropriate.”

You’re both giggling, trying not to be too loud. You lean your head forward, resting it on his shoulder. The sound of your laughter, the feeling of your head resting against him brings back that warm feeling he always gets around you. It takes you a moment to regain your composure. It’s been like this all night, the conversation flowing like a river, always making each other laugh over something or other.

“So,” you begin, once again ready to dance with him, “put your hand on her waist and stand.” You recite, moving his hand from your back to your waist and adjusting your posture.

“With her right-” you hesitate, making sure you have the correct hand, then continue, “in your left hand. And…” You step back with your left foot, motioning for him to follow, then back and out with your right, then together.

“One… two… three…”

You repeat the steps.

“One… two… three…”

And again.

“One… two… three…”

You look up at him, your smile blinding.

“Look, you’re dancing!”

He looks up at you, excited, disbelieving that he got it so quickly.

“Wait, that’s it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you nod, “see? I told you you can dance.” You start to move again, and he follows, hesitant but slowly getting the hang of it. After a second, he says your name, voice quiet and still watching the ground.

“Can you keep singing? It’s making it a lot easier…” he chuckles, hoping you can’t tell how much he loves hearing your voice.

So you do. You sing quietly, just enough for him to hear, about dancing and how it’s the perfect excuse to hold someone you like close to you, as you waltz carefully around the room. An electric, intimate feeling ties you together as you weave through the room. It's like something clicked, he thinks, because it makes sense. This, dancing, makes sense. He’s pulled from his epiphany by your melodic voice.

"We should do Hello Dolly, it would be so fun!" You giggle.

"Yeah?" He asks, smile mirroring yours, "Who would you play?" You let out a light hearted huff, considering.

"I would love to play Dolly," you admit. You had always hoped to portray the classic role, dreaming of being able to follow in the footsteps of other iconic actresses like Carol Channing and Barbra Streisand. You barely get the sentence out when Ricky nods, agreeing.

"You would make an amazing Dolly." You laugh, cheeks warm, flattered by his response.

"Who do you think I should be?" He asks, that playful energy flowing comfortably between you as he raises his arm, spinning you around.

"Well," you begin with a laugh, "if you played Cornelius we’d get to waltz together. But if you played Horace and I played Dolly we'd get married at the end."

His heart squeezes at your words, imagination already taking off like a wild horse. Again, your melodic voice pulls him back down to earth.

"But playing Irene would be fun too…" you sigh, twirling in his arms again, your dress glittering under the soft lights. Your hands return to their previous position resting on his shoulder and your waist, free hands clasped together, and you begin to move in tandem. You twirl and float around the room, feeling the music wrap around you like a warm blanket in autumn.

In that beautiful moment between the two of you, he doesn’t just understand dancing, he realizes, he loves it. Like, a lot. He loves this, being close to you. He loves the connection between you, and he wants to keep dancing with you all night.

He giggles, twirling you around in his arms again. On your way around, you see Carlos behind you at your table holding up his phone, a smile on his face. You’re glad he seems okay; Seb still hasn’t shown up and everyone’s been worried about both of them. A split second later, you’re back in Ricky’s arms, and your heart soars at the smile on his face. You’d been hoping dancing together at homecoming might help him in rehearsals. Based on how well he’s doing - and how much fun he seems to be having - you can tell your hunch was correct.

After a few more songs, you begin to make your way back to your table. Ricky’s hand settles on your back, guiding you through the crowd. Two more people are seated there than when you left, and your eyes widen.

“Oh my god.” you say quietly, “Gina and EJ came together?”

Ricky glances up, gaze almost immediately turning back to you as you get closer.

“Oh, they did? I didn’t notice.”

Fighting to maintain her poker face, Gina’s stomach drops at his words. Her eyes dart between you and Ricky, the way he’s looking at you. She grips her clutch tighter. This is really, really bad for her. Gina barely had a plan for making Ricky jealous and freaked out so he’d quit the show to begin with. She definitely did not plan on you waltzing into the picture - literally - and stealing away all of his attention. He can’t get jealous if all of his focus is on you. A sinking feeling begins to invade the pit of her stomach.

Ricky’s phone buzzes with a text from his dad.

“Hey,” he says, showing you the screen, “which shirt do you like better?”

He’s been filling you in on his dad’s hot date he has tonight, and you’re both very relieved to see that he’s doing okay, putting himself out there. You look at the pictures, and consider.

“Hmm… the second one.” you conclude.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” he agrees easily. He loves how you always seem to be on the same page.

“Wow,” comes EJ’s voice from across the table. He sounds really stiff. “I had no idea you were each other’s dates to homecoming.” He states, sharing a quick look with Gina he hopes no one notices.

“Yeah, we are,” Ricky smiles, “we’re each other’s dates.” He doesn’t think it would be too far fetched to say you’re… dating.

“Yep, partners in crime.” You smile, showing off your plastic ring. Ricky holds up his, kept on a chain, sitting right over his heart.

“Aw,” Carlos says, an almost bittersweet undercurrent to his voice, “you guys are so cute.” He gestures for you to lean closer to each other. “Let me get a pic for my story!”

Ricky does not need to be told twice. He throws his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you hold his arm and giggle. It’s the perfect shot, the sincerity of the fun you’re having evident in the photo.

Gina runs her tongue over her teeth. She really does not like that.

Across town, sitting at a table in a shitty karaoke spot, Nina scrolls through instagram while Kourtney rants about the bitch who criticized her costume suggestions. Something about a lime green sweater? She’s not really paying attention, she’s too distracted by the hideous dress that Gina’s wearing. And the fact that she went to hoco with Nina’s ex boyfriend.

“Look at this,” she says, showing Kourtney her phone. “She looks like she’s wearing a bedazzled tablecloth.” Kourtney looks at her phone, disapproval written all over her face.

“And,” Nina says, gearing up to point out the obvious jab at her, “she’s with EJ.”

Kourtney knows where this is going. Before Nini can go off about how obviously Gina has it out for her, she takes a sip of her drink.

“Is there anything on their stories?”

She taps EJ’s story and it’s just a boomerang of the food.

“No, just-” Carlos’s story plays next and Nina almost pukes. Right there on her screen is Ricky, kissing your cheek, leaning into you like a cat. You’re in an unfortunately gorgeous dress, grinning so sincerely, your nose effortlessly scrunched. Next is a video of you two dancing. Like, really, properly dancing. She can’t believe you got him to dance - he doesn’t even dance in rehearsal when he’s supposed to! She watches the two of you ballroom dancing around the gym, breath speeding up slightly at the realization that he’s actually good. The sick pit forming in her stomach grows as she rewatches the video again. She wants to know why, after all the practice, all the failed attempts and his reluctance, why it works when you do it? Why isn’t she good enough? She dwells in the feeling for a few minutes. She scrolls through a few more hoco posts before finding one that has your account tagged. It’s private.

“Kourt,” she says, showing her her phone, “you need to follow her.”

“Why?” Kourtney asks.

“So I can see what’s on her instagram.” Nina says. She can’t let you know she’s lurking, so the obvious solution is to lurk through Kourtney’s account. Kourtney sighs. She requests to follow you.

A few feet away from your table, Ashlyn gives you a look, gesturing subtly to Carlos, then to the hallway. Seb still isn’t here.

“Hey,” you say quietly to Ricky, “I’ll be right back.” you smile, eyes flicking over to Ashlyn and Carlos.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, watching you leave with them to give Carlos a pep talk. A soft smile kisses the corners of Ricky’s mouth, watching you in utter adoration. He lets out a small sigh, gaze lingering on where you stood even after you’re out of sight.

Gina watches him watch you, his dark auburn hair glowing in the warm twinkle lights strung up throughout the gym. His eyes seem to sparkle with joy when he finally tears his gaze away, staring absentmindedly at the table.

“EJ,” she says, “could you get me some punch, babe?”

“Uh,” he says, clearly unused to the term of endearment, “sure… babe.” He heads over to the drinks, the tension between them thinly veiled. This seems to snap Ricky out of whatever his train of thought was, and he scoots closer to Gina. She watches him lean closer to her and begin speaking in a low, almost strangely intimate tone of voice.

"Hey, you know EJ went through Nini’s phone before they broke up, right?”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Just… you know, be a little careful around him.”

“I can take care of myself, Ricky.” She states incredulously.

“Yeah, of course you can.” he says, head tilted to the side with a little smile, like it should be obvious, “You’re so talented and ambitious, and - honestly, way too good for him.” He mutters the last part, but she definitely hears it.

“You’re way too cool to get your heart broken by a guy who plays water polo.” He says, drawing a reflexive laugh out of her.

“Just… take care of yourself.” he concludes, locking eyes with her before moving back to his seat. It’s only for a moment, but long enough for her to commit the color to memory.

“Right.” she says, working harder than she usually has to to keep her expression neutral.

Later, between dances, you and Ricky catch your breath at the snack table. You take a sip of your drink, eyes landing on Gina and EJ, who are very obviously arguing. You nudge Ricky, motioning over to them.

“What are they saying? Wrong answers only.”

He considers, then begins to narrate in his best EJ impression.

“Ugh, Gina! Stop moving! I haven’t posted on instagram in 35 seconds and blurry so doesn’t fit my theme.”

You try to stifle the loud, beautiful laugh that brings warmth to his cheeks and a smile to his lips as your eyes lock, sharing a look so close he never wants to look away.

“I said wrong answers only…” you say through muffled giggles. He stares at you, fixated. He’s blinded by your warmth, your beauty, and he can’t look away from you. His attention is snapped back to where it had been when you gasp dramatically, shock written all over your face. He follows your gaze to EJ, who’s dripping with punch, and Gina, who’s storming away from him.

“...Oh my god.” you say, already dissolving into laughter again, Ricky following suit.

Soon you’re dancing again, pressed up against each other, swaying gently to the oldies playing softly over the speakers. Ricky can feel your body heat, smell your shampoo, and the way it mixes with your sweet peachy perfume. You smell so good, he thinks he could probably get high off you alone. His hand rests firmly on your back, holding you close to him, and his fingertips brush over the exposed skin peeking out over the straps of your dress. He traces your shoulder blades, your spine, feeling how close together your hearts are beating. One of your arms is wrapped around him, your head resting on his shoulder. Both your free hands are intertwined, and he loves the feeling of your fingers intertwining with his. He’s steeped in a hazy sort of ecstasy, spurred further on by your warm little breaths tickling his neck.

He lets out a soft sigh, more content than he’s probably ever been. He feels you smile against his blazer when he traces the outline of the back of your dress. You hum softly to the music, singing along to a few of the words. He’s not surprised that you know this song, of course you would know a song this pretty and romantic. He hopes he’ll remember to ask you the name of it later. Dancing, he realizes, isn’t just fun - it’s amazing. He loves dancing. He loves dancing with you. After a few moments, he realizes there’s not many people on the dance floor. He doesn’t get why so many guys don’t like slow dancing; when you really love someone, isn’t any reason to hold them close to you a good one? He thinks it is. His heart flutters when you let out a breathy sigh against his skin.

You adjust your head on Ricky’s shoulder, watching Carlos across the room. He looks so… melancholic. You should go check on him. And Gina. And probably EJ. Christ, tonight has been a lot. You adjust your head again, facing towards him.

“We should check on Gina,” you say reluctantly, murmuring into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He loves when you do that, loves how you know when people are hurting and what to do about it. But right now, he really, really does not want to let go of you for anyone or anything. Maybe it’s selfish, he thinks, maybe it’s selfish for wanting you all to himself like this, but he just can’t bring himself to let go of you yet. Maybe he deserves to be a little selfish sometimes. Maybe he should just give himself permission to do whatever makes him feel better. He holds you tighter, face burying into your neck.

“After this song,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed in your embrace. You nod gently.

“Okay,” you agree, voice so low he can barely hear it.

Eventually the final piano chords sound, and he holds you tight as the last few, painfully bittersweet notes reverberate through the room. The song ends, and he lets go of you slower and more reluctantly than he’s done anything.

You sigh, tracing your hands on his shoulders, slowly coming out of that cozy trance like state you’ve been in together.

“Okay,” you start, “let’s split up. I’ll check on Carlos, you can check on Gina, and I’ll have Ashlyn check on EJ cause they’re cousins.”

He agrees, hit with a sudden wave of nerves about the confrontation. You can sense his hesitation.

“What should I say?” he asks, with a chuckle. He’d told you about how he warned Gina about EJ earlier in the evening, which you had agreed was totally the right move. He told you how she seemed irritable after the interaction, and wondered if he’d done anything wrong, if he could have handled it better. “I don’t think so”, you had said with a sad shrug, “some people just refuse to acknowledge the person they’re dating is kind of shitty.”

You’re right, he realized, now ready to approach this with more compassion and less confrontation. You think for a second, then reply.

“You can apologize if what you said before came off wrong, that you didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“And try to relate to her - you’re new to theatre, she’s new to east high, you gotta stick together, you know?”

“Right.”

You send him a thumbs up as you part ways, looking for Carlos. After chatting with Carlos, he left to get some water. You see Ricky approaching you through the crowd, and stand up from your table, meeting him halfway.

“How’d it go?” you ask. He seems hesitant.

“She asked for a ride home.” Your eyes go wide with understanding. He knew you’d get what’s going on, you always know just what to do.

“Oh, dude, the last thing she probably wants right now is to get in a car with EJ.” Ricky thinks that’s the last thing anyone would want. “If you want you can give her a ride, then come back and we can keep dancing.” He smiles, and agrees. Any plan that ends with dancing with you more sounds like a good plan to him. You quickly fill him in on how things are going with the Carlos/Seb situation in spite of its anticlimactic nature - no one can get a hold of Seb, and Carlos is really, really regretting this whole thing. You and Ashlyn are going to try and hype him up and turn the night around for him so it’s not a totally horrible memory to look back on, and Ricky agrees that’s a good plan.

“I’ll be back really soon so I can help you guys out,” he says, hoping to extend the conversation a little, to stand close to you and talk confidentially with you just a little more. You smile, looking relieved at his support, and it makes his heart flutter. You touch his arm, sending him a knowing look.

“We need all the help we can get, so thank you.” you state with a chuckle. He tries not to be obvious, but he knows he can’t hide his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. He hopes you don’t notice.

You really didn’t expect to be the glue holding everyone together tonight, but you love your friends, so you’re not complaining. After a lengthy conversation with Carlos about how amazing he is regardless of who he is or isn’t seeing, and that there will be so many guys throwing themselves at him after high school, you finally get him out of his funk a little. You were about to go dance together and have a good time, because he shouldn’t let anything ruin his homecoming, when Natalie scurried over to you holding the side of her dress.

“It snagged on the back of a chair and my whole leg is out, Angelina Jolie style.” She says in a rush, clearly getting more freaked out. You and Carlos share a look.

“It’s okay,” you say gently, “I have a sewing kit in my bag and I can have you fixed up in two minutes flat.” You look over at Carlos again, making sure he’ll be okay. He confirms silently, nudging you two towards the doors.

“You go fix this wardrobe malfunction,” he says, already trying to pull out of the funk he’d been stuck in all night, “I’m going to warm up the dance floor. When you get back, get ready to dance your heart out.”

He’s not all the way there, but he’s trying. You both agree, and you send him one last encouraging look before moving carefully to the hallway, trying not to let Natalie’s dress rip any more than it already is. You look back one last time as you pass through the doors, and finally, Carlos is out on the dance floor. You smile, excited to dance with him once you get back.

“God, I wish I had my hamster right now…” Natalie mutters, and you know if she needs her emotional support hamster, it’s pretty bad.

A few minutes later, you have your sewing kit and Natalie’s dress is back to its former glory. She has on a fresh coat of lip gloss, just finished showing you pictures of her hamster, and is ready to head back out. You stay behind to touch up your makeup a little, telling her you’ll be right behind her. As you’re walking back out, someone turns the corner at the other end of the hallway. You freeze in place, eyes growing wide as they land on none other than Seb. He smiles nervously, raising a hand to wave at you. Before he can, you let out a shocked squeak, scurrying back into the gym. His heart sinks. He hopes you don’t hate him, and he’s really worried Carlos is going to.

When you enter, you see Carlos dancing his heart out. You don’t have time to be relieved, weaving your way through the crowd to Mr. Mazzara. You slam your hands on the table, avoiding the sound and light equipment he’s managing.

“Mr. Mazzara!” He looks up at you, startled, as you begin to explain in a rush. He looks at you, a pleading puppy dog look written on your face, and sighs.

“I suppose that’s fine…” he says, making a few adjustments to the switch board in front of him.

“Thank you!” you say quietly, before running onto the dance floor. Carlos is finally in his element. He dances beautifully to the music, free and expressive. Right when the beat drops, a circle of spotlights go up. One lands on him, the other lands across the room on Seb, and they lock eyes in a moment that can only be described as magical. Ashlyn looks at the scene, straight out of a movie, then over to you. You high five her.

“Nice!” she whispers. You can see it between them, the energy, the chemistry, the electricity. You look at Ashlyn, nodding toward your table. You both sit down, giving them some time to talk and catch up. You try to be subtle as you watch them talk, not close enough to eavesdrop, but watching their expressions, gaging how it's going. They're smiling, then they're laughing, and soon they're dancing together. It's going well, you think. You can't wait for Carlos to fill you in later.

Sitting in Gina's driveway, a surprisingly more comfortable energy in the air than either of them had expected, Ricky tries to think of how to say what he wants to say.

"Not quite the evil mansion with wrought-iron and gargoyles you were picturing?" She asks, a hopeful playfulness to her voice. She almost sounds nervous.

"What? No…" he says. The comment takes him by surprise, snapping him back to attention. "...Well maybe some gargoyles." His joking tone and comforting energy has her giggling. She doesn't remember the last time she giggled. She feels his eyes on her, and tries not to look over at him. She does anyway.

"You're not that bad, you know." He muses. She tries to control her breathing. She doesn't say anything.

"Also," he continues, looking back over at the windshield, "I should thank you for that night at the skatepark, keeping me in the show. It means a lot, it's… a really big deal to me." He looks up and left at the top of the car window, mind already wandering about how if he had quit, he never would have gotten close to you like this, never would have fallen in… your arms the way he had that night. He can't imagine you not being in his life, and he has Gina to thank in part for that. He feels a sense of gratitude blooming for her. They talk a little more, and the feeling grows; Gina really is not that bad. He can feel a friendly bond growing between them, a sense of comradery.

"So… now is probably a good time to ask about the whole drink thing," he starts with a chuckle. She ducks her head, equal parts embarrassed at her actions, and that he saw her at such a low moment. She lets out a sigh. The gesture reminds him of something you might do. He thinks you two would be good friends. He’s already imagining what you’ll say when he fills you in on all this, he’s excited to get your opinion.

“...My mom moves around a lot for work. Like, a lot…”

Once she starts, she can’t stop, and it’s not long before she’s unintentionally spilled her guts and her life story to him. She wishes she could stop talking, but it’s like she totally lost her filter with him. She’s always been so reserved, so calculated, and now she doesn’t even have time to think before the words are already spilling out. It’s a new feeling, being so candid with someone, and an unsettling one.

She risks a glance over at Ricky, who’s just… listening to her. Taking in what she says. That somehow makes her more nervous than if he’d just ignored her or told her to shut up already. She wishes someone would tell her to shut up, she wishes she could. She finally gets to the end of her never ending stream of consciousness, and she’s stunned as they sit in the silence, Ricky really absorbing her words, her feelings. He reaches over and grabs her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze before letting go - a mannerism he picked up from you. Heat floods her chest, prickly and almost painful, hyper aware of where his skin just touched hers.

“You know, you-” She’ll never know what he was going to say, his words are cut short by the porch lights flashing through the windshield. Gina’s stomach sinks. She doesn’t want to go inside yet. She doesn’t want this moment to be over, but she has to listen to her mom. She reaches for the door, then hesitates. She turns back to Ricky, desperate to try one more time, to put herself out there, to plant some roots.

“I meant what I said at the skate park… about you having your own style.”

He smiles, looking down with a breathy chuckle. His leg is bouncing slightly, he can’t wait to get back to school and dance with you more, spend the rest of this magical night with you.

“Thank you, that’s-” He’s cut off again, this time by the kiss Gina presses to his cheek. She’s out of the car and inside before he can look at her face. She holds her coat tight around her against the chilly rain beginning to drizzle down, and a second later, the front door closes and she’s inside.He lets out another chuckle, different this time. ‘That was weird.’ He thinks. He barely has the thought before his stomach drops, a sick, cold fear clutching him. What if you find out Gina kissed him? What if you find out and you hate him, what if he breaks your heart into a million pieces without trying? Or worse, what if you lose interest in him because you think he likes Gina? He can feel himself panicking at the idea, unable to stop the onslaught of all too real feeling anxieties wracking his mind, creating a pit in his stomach as he peels out of the driveway and makes his way back to school.

No, no, that’s not going to happen. He’s not going to lose you because he’s not able to express how much he cares about you. He’s not going to let that happen. Trying to hold this panic at bay, he pulls out his phone as he walks through the parking lot towards the school again. How to show someone you love them. He types the words into google, skimming article titles, reddit threads, quora responses, until he finds himself at the gym doors. He sees you across the room, dancing in a group with Carlos, Ashlyn, Natalie, and Seb. ‘Oh, Seb’s here. That’s good,’ he thinks, a momentary relief that at least one or two fires had been put out tonight. He spots Big Red on the opposite side of the room, and makes his way over to him carefully, trying not to be seen by you. He can’t be around you until he figures this out, he can’t hurt you like this.

Ricky approaches Big Red with an intense energy he has trouble reading, before Ricky starts to speak.

“Dude,” he says, voice intense and hushed, “Gina kissed me on the cheek.”

“That’s great!”

“No, it’s not!” Ricky says, clearly very frazzled. Okay, that’s where this is going.

“That’s awful!” Red course corrects as Ricky fills him in on the car ride with Gina. As he tells Red everything that happened, Ricky finds himself kind of hating Gina right now. Why would she do this to him, why would she put him in this position? Does she hate him or something? He thinks she must, there’s no other reason for her to sabotage his relationship with you like this. She must hate him if she’s trying to ruin the most important thing in his life.

“Listen, I really, really like her…” his eyes keep flicking over to you, gaze magnetized by your presence, “like, a lot. How can I make sure I don’t fuck this up? Because I can not fuck up with her.”

“Woah, man,” Red starts, trying to help Ricky ground himself a little, “chill out. In all fairness, cheek kisses can be platonic.”

“Right,” Ricky nods, starting to feel assured, and Red continues.

“So, if Gina wants to date you when you’re… kind of seeing someone, she has to make that more clear to you.”

“Right.” Ricky states, agreeing. He really hopes she doesn’t.

“I think you’re okay,” Red says, sensing his energy changing already, “just make sure she knows how much you like her. Make it really, objectively obvious.”

Yeah. He just has to make it obvious.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says to Red, his eyes locked on you as you laugh at something Carlos says, making his stomach twist and tingle, “I just have to make sure she knows how much… I like her.”

Red watches him make his way over to you, a spring in his step and a plan in his mind. Thank god for Dr. Phil, Red thinks, or else there’s no way he’d be able to help his friends navigate all their drama. He chuckles at the thought, watching Ashlyn fix the strap of your dress.

Ricky checks his phone one more time on the way over, looking over a chart of love languages one more time. He’s not sure what your love language is, so he’ll just have to try all of them and see what you seem to like best. Gift giving and acts of service aren’t really options right now, so tonight he’ll focus on words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. If he has to drown you in all five love languages at once to make sure you know how he feels about you, he will.

“Hey,” he starts, watching your reaction nervously, scared you somehow already hate him. You turn around at the sound of his voice, eyes lighting up.

“Hey!” you smile, “You’re back!” you grab his arm, pulling him in closer to the group.

“Seb’s here,” you say, and he smiles, relieved at your reaction.

“Hey, man,” he smiles.

“Fill me in later,” you say quietly, referring to giving Gina a ride, and he nods, a little bit ready to forget the whole thing.

Now that all the drama, wardrobe malfunctions, and late entrances are out of the way, you and what remains of your friends spend the rest of the night like you intended; dancing, laughing, and taking great pictures together. Later on into the night, everyone’s just about had their fill of fun and the party starts winding down. You split up, most of your friends piling into the Salt Lake slices delivery van so Red can drop them off. After some more hugs and laughs, you finally part ways, climbing into the passenger seat of his orange Volkswagen Beetle.

His heart is thumping as you grab his hand and squeeze it a little once you’re on your way back to his house, causing a fresh wave of heat to rise to his face, and god he's nervous right now. His mind is still screaming at him that you're going to hate him, that he has to prove his feelings to you. He lets out a small little laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you start, tired from the night, but thriving off the energy between you, “that could have gone way worse…”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement. You talk for the whole drive back to his place. You’d planned on staying over tonight since Ricky was driving and you figured it would be late, plus your mom’s car is at the mechanic so she’s using yours until some time tomorrow. You exchange sleepy chuckles as he parks. He checks his phone one more time as you leave the car, opening an article of women submitting stories about how they knew a guy loved them in a new tab. He sees a text from his dad - the date went well, he hopes Ricky and you had a good time at homecoming, and he’s going to bed so try to keep the noise down when you get back.

“My dad’s asleep,” he says softly, unlocking the door. He guides you inside, hand resting low on your back, and closes the door quietly behind him. Walking quietly from his foyer to his room shouldn’t have been a problem, but standing in the darkness with Ricky, you both suddenly find it hard not to start giggling. Hushing each other, you quickly sneak up the stairs past Mr. Bowen’s room, down the hall to Ricky’s room. He barely closes the door and flicks the lock closed before dissolving into giggles. You kick off your heels, glad to finally take them off, and grab a makeup wipe from your bag. He digs through his clothes for a second before handing you a big t-shirt to sleep in.

“Thanks,” you say, throwing away the makeup wipes. He gazes at you, watching you transition from formal and made up to casual and comfortable, your beauty unwavering. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone as pretty as you before. You watch him take off his jacket and tie, and undo the first button or two of his shirt. The action sends butterflies to your stomach and heat to your core. You glance away. You stand up, seeing if you can reach the zipper of your dress. Before you can ask, you feel Ricky behind you.

“Need some help with that?” He asks, closer to your ear than you’d expected and resting his hands on your waist. You both chuckle.

“Yeah,” you state, voice low and soft. He moves slowly, unzipping the back of your dress, careful not to snag the delicate fabric. You feel the bodice loosen around you, the end of the zipper stopping at the small of your back. He doesn’t move away. You can feel his breath fan over your shoulder, hand still resting on your waist.

His face is so close to yours, and he mutters your name softly before pressing a kiss to your jawline, then another and another. He moves down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to press hot, open mouthed kisses against your skin. He breathes in your perfume, peachy and sweet and intoxicating. He nips at your neck causing you to gasp, his hands moving below the draping fabric and directly onto your warm skin. You sigh at the contact. He pulls you closer to him, holding you tight as he sucks on your neck. Your dress is slipping off your shoulders, barely on at all anymore, as he begins to feel you up, touching you and caressing you so tenderly.

“Ricky,” you sigh. Your voice sounds so pretty when you’re like this.

“God, I-” he breathes, barely catching the words before they’re out. He lets out a nervous laugh, causing you to giggle in his grasp. He shushes you through his own laughter, his hands never ceasing the way they rome over your body.

"We have to be quiet," he says, turning you around in his arms, pressing himself up against you, trying so, so hard not to kiss you yet.

"I can be quiet…" you state, a jokingly incredulous tone in your voice. You stare each other down, and he tries not to break first, tries not to smile or laugh, but god, it’s impossible not to smile when he looks at you. Before he can crack, before he loses all composure and bares his soul for you, places his heart eternally in your hands to do as you please with, he pivots.

"Yeah?" He asks, and you feel the energy change, growing electric between you. "Is that a challenge?"

His tone is dangerous and he watches your eyes get wide. A second later he has you pinned against his mattress, pressing playful nips and kisses against your skin as muffled giggles and sighs escape your pretty mouth. His hands move down, grabbing your exposed skin as he kisses you harder and harder, riling the both of you up. You tear off the little remaining clothes either of you has on and he begins to roll his hips against you, grinding his hot, throbbing member against your heat. You let out a breathy moan, louder than before, as he continues to rock his hips against yours.

“That wasn’t very quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between kisses to your cheek and jawline. Your chest vibrates against his, and a wave of relief washes through him. You don’t hate him. He loves that feeling he gets when he makes you laugh, he wants to make you do it again.

“I can stay quiet,” you insist, already swept away by his touch, distracted by the warm kisses and bites he’s planting on your neck and chest. You’re even more distracted by the feeling of his fingers making their way down, brushing against your clit as they come into contact with the arousal dripping down your folds. He smiles, realizing if he can get you this turned on, this touchy, you must like him. He pushes his fingers in, finally met again with the cathartic feeling of your cushy, bumpy walls squeezing and folding around him. Arousal gushes, dripping down his fingers as he begins to stimulate the tight, sensitive muscles stretching around his fingers. He dwells on the feeling for a moment, maybe two, before you’re moaning again. It makes him laugh.

“I sure hope you can,” he says, another dangerously playful look on his face, “cause if you get too loud…” He watches you for a split second, hanging on his words, anticipation written across your face, “I’m gonna stop.”

Your stomach flip flops, exploding with butterflies at his words. Before you can look at his face, before you can gauge how serious he is about following through on his threat, his lips are on yours again. He kisses you, mouth open, tongue already prodding into your mouth. You’re lucky, you think, that he’s unintentionally muffling your noises with his mouth. You’re really lucky, because he quickly finds your g-spot, and there are a couple moans you couldn’t hold back if your life depended on it.

Every sigh, every gasp, every beautiful heart pounding moan Ricky elicits from you sends a fresh wave of relief and reassurance through him. You don’t hate him, and you’re not going to. You could never when he’s this good, this devoted to you. It’s impossible for him not to be when you’re so good to him. You’re so responsive to his touch, you’re totally on the same wavelength.

You must know what he’s telling you through his actions, through the way he looks at you, the words he’s had to bite back from spilling out more than once. You wouldn’t be dripping down his fingers and moaning into his mouth and grabbing at him like this, you wouldn’t be in his bed if you didn’t feel the way he does about you - or even something close to it. He’ll happily take whatever you want to give him. Of course he wants it all, he wants to completely take over your heart, but just a little bit will keep him happy until he can.

“Right there,” you whine against his lips, “fuck, just like that… feels so good…” you mutter.

‘See?’ he thinks, ‘You don’t say stuff like that if you don’t like someone a lot, much less moan it…’

It’s working. His plan to not lose you is working, he just has to make you cum so hard you can’t think straight, as many times as possible. And he’s going to, because there’s no way he can risk losing you. So he brings up his thumb, rubbing it over your clit as he curls his fingers against your gummy walls. It’s euphoric and overwhelming, and you barely have time to tug his hair before you’re cumming and pulsing around his fingers.

You squeeze and clamp tight around him, and he can’t resist anymore. He needs his tongue inside you, he needs to taste you, feel you squeeze his tongue and cream into his mouth. So he pulls away, already missing the feeling of your mouths against each other, and gazes at you, breath fanning across your cheeks, eyes locked. He takes you in, thumb caressing your cheek while the other continues to fondle your clit. After a moment he’s able to break his gaze away, and he moves down, pushing your legs open. You heart thumps in your chest in anticipation as he begins to lick and suck on your heat, tongue flicking into your drippy hole.

As soon as he gets a taste, he wants more. He stretches out his tongue, going to town on your cunt. Every sigh and tug of his hair, every attempt to muffle your moans makes him more eager to have you gush your sweet sticky cum all over him. This time he has some experience, and he’s making the most of it. He finds those spots inside you that make your eyes roll back, switching between them, bumping his nose against your clit, drawing stifled moan after stifled moan from you. One slips out, for real this time, and he pauses. It takes all his willpower; your scent is intoxicating and your taste is addictive, but the look on your face when you realize he’s standing by what he said is totally worth it.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your core, the vibrations and tone of his voice sending electricity through you, “we have to be quiet…” Your hand is clamped over your mouth, and you nod. Your timing couldn’t be better, because you don’t have time to finish the gesture before he dives back in. After that, it doesn’t take much to send you over the edge.

You give him everything he’s wanted all night, squeezing and gushing all over him while he laps up everything, holding down your hips while he shoves his tongue deeper inside you. It’s always surprising how far inside you he’s able to get it. You whine and moan, choking out praise as he already begins building up another high. He’s throbbing, desperate for anything you’ll give him, and he wants to make you say more shit like that. He wants to be good for you.

“Oh god- fuck, Ricky!” you choke out in a whisper, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clamped over your mouth. You’re already close again, he can feel it. He knew this would work. He knew he could prove to you how much you mean to him. He doubles his efforts, squeezing your thighs and grinding his face against your pussy, still dripping from the last times he made you cum. His eyes are half lidded and locked on you, watching your face, the way you squirm below his touch, the way your tits bounce with every movement. You’re not sure how long it is until he has you absolutely gushing and convulsing around his tongue again, but every moment is filled with ecstasy.

“Fuck you’re good at that…” you murmur, hand now playing with his hair instead of pulling it. “You’re one of the good ones, huh?”

You probably could have knocked him out with a feather. Your words reverberate in his mind, and his cheeks flush. One of the good ones. Yeah.

He’s throbbing harder than before, almost painfully turned on. He climbs back up over you, but before he can reach into his nightstand for a condom, you flip him over, straddling him. You look down at him with those beautiful eyes that hold every star in the night sky, biting your lip in that endearing way of yours. Your hands are warm on his shoulders, and he’s stunned at the suddenness of your action, and really eager to see where you’re going with this. He could watch you like this for hours, freezing this moment in time forever, eternally content with you, the way you touch him and look at him. You lean down closer to him, breath tickling his cheeks.

“My turn.”

You smile, the words coming out in a hushed giggle. Before he can blink, you’re grabbing his rock hard cock, squeezing it in your hands and teasing the tip as you spread around the precum already dripping down the side. He watches you, eyes wide and excited as you open your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. Your mouth is velvety soft, warm and wet, and he has to try not to cum on the spot. You pump the base of his cock, taking more of him in your mouth, and he tries not to buck his hips. He tries so hard not to move at all, tries to be good for you while you work your magic on him. He lets out a long, low moan. Suddenly you freeze, popping your lips off with a small wet noise as you look up at him.

“Stay quiet or I stop…” you tease, throwing his own conditions back at him. He nods, panting at your words. “Good boy.” You murmur under your breath, but he definitely hears. Good boy. He can feel the oxytocin flooding his brain, and you barely get your lips around him and start bobbing your head before he feels it.

“I’m close,” he chokes out, and you look up at him. He watches a smirk appear at the corners of your eyes before you drag your tongue along the bottom of his cock. It’s more than enough, and he watches in utter awe as he shoots his load into your mouth, and you swallow all of it. The sight is enough to have him throbbing again. He bites back more moans, desperate for you to keep going, for you to call him a good boy again. You bob your head along his length, tongue dragging along the vein on the underside of his cock.

One hand comes down to fondle his balls, and a choked moan slips out. He never knew he could feel this good. He never knew one person could make him like this. You continue to lick and suck, squeeze and pump and rub, and soon he’s fighting another orgasm, hoping to bask in the feeling of your mouth around him for just a little longer. His prayers are in vain, he realizes, as he shoots another load of sticky, salty cum into your mouth. You have no trouble taking this one either. You continue to suck and lick, riding out the last of his high, before finally releasing him with a soft pop.

Thoroughly fucked out, he watches you climb up next to him, awestruck. You grab a blanket, pulling it over the both of you, and moving his face to press a few more kisses to his lips. Your tastes mingle as your tongues connect, and Ricky doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something that delicious. He wants more of it. It’s only when you eventually pull away that your eyes land on the clock behind him.

“Christ, it’s late,” you murmur. You blink heavily, Ricky mirroring the action, and you trace your thumb over his cheek, just looking at him a little longer. You tug the blanket up a little higher, snuggling up next to him. He holds you close on instinct, still trying to process everything that happened tonight in spite of how exhausted he is. It hits him suddenly, and he struggles to stay awake so he can appreciate the kiss you press to his jaw, the warm feeling of your hand on his chest.

He tries so hard to stay awake, to look at you for a little while, because no amount of time with you feels like enough. He refuses to acknowledge the heavy way he blinks and squeezes his eyes, trying to force them to focus on you, but he can feel himself losing the fight against the deep sleep he’s about to slip into. This night was a success, he thinks. He did a good job.

Late morning sunlight streams through his window, finally dragging Ricky back into the waking world. He looks over, missing your presence, and finds his bed empty. As he rolls over, he’s struck by the sweet, intoxicating scent of your peachy perfume. It’s all over his pillow, his sheets, his blankets. His whole room smells faintly of your scent. He buries his nose in the pillow where you’d slept, breathing it in, taking him right back to last night.

Eventually, he checks his phone. It’s later than he’d expected, but he’s greeted with a text from you, bringing an immediate, even bigger smile to his face.

He sighs, lovestruck. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want the scent of your perfume to fade. He just wants to bask in it.

#ricky bowen smut #hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen imagine #ricky hsmtmts #ricky bowen #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts smut #hsmtmts #rocks at your window #also your moms pfp is lorelai gilmore cause shes cool not bc its a face claim or smth #yk

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pinkberrypocky · 6 days

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pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 1

ive been rewatching pmmm w my friends who haven't seen it before and have decided that i am incapable of being normal abt it so uhhh.... gonna dump the notes i took during ep 1 here. they are entirely incomprehensible ramblings of a madman but the goal is to synthesize some actual analysis once im done w the watch through. im convinced there is significant color symbolism related to the colors of the holy quintet but idk the exact symbolism for each color so there's a good amount of notes of just instances of those colors that i think could help me pin down the symbolism later on so there's that too a gift for u (or i guess a hurdle if u don't care abt color symbolism but honestly if u don't care abt color symbolism i don't understand u). idk i thought it might be silly for like maybe 1 other guy out there. also my friends bullied me into it (read: hyped me up about it until i relented)

ok buckle in folks this is solidly two pages on google docs

first scene happens bc madoka remembers it from another timeline

spiraling time is it the future or the past does it even matter

brightest thing in intro is her hair ribbons bc they are what links madoka and homura across time and space

everything else is desaturated

god madoka w her in the intro bc god madoka saves and treats all the magical girls like that when she saves them from their witch future

hard to tell what the world is like bc does it even matter

no matter what the setting is homura will fail to save madoka and madoka will sacrifice herself

also adds to the eerie effect

madoka’s mom tells her to use the red ribbon

madoka never chose her fate for herself, she’s always doing what others want and what she thinks is best for others

the scenery has a weird juxtaposition of greenery and industrial things which mirrors the juxtaposition of the magical girl stereotype and the psychological horror reality

the classrooms are like bird cages

homura walks in like she’s not seeing everyone and not really there bc she’s living in the past which is also the future

THE ANGLE WHEN HOMURA FIRST TALKS TO MADOKA

like idk what that loom w the dramatic lighting means but it means Something

the way homura doesn’t hide that she knows the way to the nurses office shows that she’s getting desperate and tired of this cycle

insisting that madoka call her homura even though they “just met” shows how important their relationship is and how much she yearns for their old dynamic

when she confronts madoka in the hall she shows emotion for the first time showing how much she cares about this

it seems cruel but in reality she is grasping at straws to protect madoka

she doesn’t care if she has to be seen as cold as long as madoka is safe

homura knows the math so well bc it’s the same every single fucking time

the symbolism of kyubey with the spikey evil statue that’s all rusty and the shadow where it merges w him

when madoka reveals she has seen homura in a dream and they brush it off bc haha we’re just middle schoolers this is a magical girl anime nothing weird would happen

red in the scene where homura tries to kill kyubey… kyoko’s color… what does red represent in this show?

kyubey reaches out to madoka asking to be saved bc he knows that’s her weak spot , that she will always jump into danger to save other regardless of her own well being

when homura appears trying to kill kyubey there are chains what could this represent

chained to her cycle, chained to kyubey, chained to madoka

they form the shape of a cross bc homura is jesus, she takes the brunt of the harm and the blame in an effort to save the others

use of collage in the witch labyrinths is disorienting and jarring it doesn’t fit and it’s confusing and creepy and unsettling

language is similar to german at times maybe a reference to historical german witches

sayaka protects madoka in a hug like embrace when they first end up in the labyrinth symbolizing the way she is to the end a protector

mami makes sure to act unbothered and not scared when she meets them to keep her persona of a magical girl who saves ppl despite the horrors of the reality

the fact that mami uses guns alludes to the horror of magical girls hidden just beneath the surface

the use of the word contract also shows the severity and adult nature of what they are about to embark on

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #madohomu #madoka magica #holy quintet #madoka kaname #homura akemi #mahou shoujo madoka magica #i deserve an award for typing out all those notes on my phone #my friends were so bamboozled by the amount of notes i got out of 20 minutes of content and it has given me a tiny bit of a god complex #the chains forming the cross has literally altered my brain chemistry. homura as jesus analysis is Cooking prepare yourself #pls be nice to me posting is scary and i don't know what im doing #but hi if ur reading this and like pmmm we should be friends

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cherienymphe · 3 months

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i have been meaning to tell you this for a while (well since wtpo came out) but i used to dogsit and i was pretty close with the dog's owner. she's 50 years old but looks 30 really, anyway, i went to go pick up her dog one time but she was home so her dog didn't want to leave so i'm just standing in her house trying to get the dog to come over but they're in her room and i'm not about to go into her room cause that's not how my mother raised me. the lady is on the phone too btw and she's talking to a friend who's going through divorce/custody battle, idk the full details BUT she was giving him advice and talking about what she went through when she divorced her husband and was fighting for her son.....

LET ME TELL YOU

she got married at 19/20 and had a kid early on, i think she got married bc she got knocked up but she tells me she wanted to get married and have a baby young so who knows. anyway, her ex was in military and during the custody fight, he was using his privileges to take her son from her. like he literally had the son moved to where he was stationed OVERSEAS and when her son was in the US, the court wouldn't let her see him because she was "unfit" or was "too busy" with nursing school (i don't remember the exact reason but it was a bullshit excuse). her siblings were granted custody over herself and when her son was left in the care of her sister-in-law, they wouldn't let her see him. and on top of that, she was paying child support! like wtf?! EVEN AFTER HE TURNED 18!

she says her and her ex are friends now and i'm like girl, i could never.

but it reminds me so much of wtpo because her ex really manipulated his way with it like rafe did to reader.

but now this lady is living her life, spoiling her adorable dog (who i miss really bad cause they moved but that's another tale for another day) driving her audi

That's actually insane 😭 some people have more grace than I ever could and more power to them bc aint no way you're going to keep my son from me and think we'll ever be cool

#asks

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xycuro-illuminati · 8 months

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Bitter exes stuntdevil lore masterpost

Ok so here's the full lore of the bitter exes stuntdevil (Daredevil/Stunt Master divorce) story with how it went down and everything lol (images have alt text)

Big reminder that this would be my version of DD so keep in mind that Matt is Latino here and that I will be taking certain elements from shadowlands here (I'm sorry fellow dd mutuals I just like the whole demon possession aspect by itself. I don't like shadowlands and I think it sucks I just wished they made him into an actual beast demon yknow).

To give a summary of how it goes: The Hand is not involved with the Beast demon at all, they're not going to show up whatsoever. In this version, the beast demon is just a parasitic demon that was hiding in a flower that a group of cultists summoned and when Danny Rand and Matt went to investigate, Matt got too close and was exposed to the pollen, therefore, got infected. The beast demon would shut off his nervous system over time and made Matt unaware of things before completely taking over and transforming him into a monstrous demon that acts like a zombie. Matt would be in a comatose state while the Beast demon was using his body and did whatever it wanted and fed off negative energy. Shadowlands isn't a big marvel event, it just lasted for a short time with only the Heroes for Hire involved and after the exorcism (here's the art showcasing that), Matt was left in a distraught state where he wanted to rebuild himself and clear his head since all he could remember was strangling Foggy (comic here). It made him feel not only horrible and guilty, but he also felt like a burden bc Foggy was juggling between running the law firm and visiting Matt to help him recover. During this, Matt wanted to go back to San Francisco to try to regain his footing again and Foggy decided to let him do so thinking it might help him. It would be this version of the Daredevil Reborn arc (or at least, takes place after it).

And that's where Stunt Master comes in.

For those that don't know who Stunt Master is, George Smith was one of the early villains in Matt's rogues gallery dating all the way back to volume 1. He's a classic vol 1 type villain that wants nothing but fame and fortune, along with getting in Matt's way. His dynamic with Matt during that time was standard antagonist interaction but they also held a playful banter along with some really strong trust bonds and some homoerotic dialogue as per usual.

However, during the Death's Head arc, George has a change of heart after being forced to kidnap Karen Page and wanted to be good. He lead Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) and Matt to Death's Head and the three of them stopped him. After this interaction, George was no longer considered a villain and even becomes friends with Johnny during the older runs (which he originally met up with Ghost Rider bc he wanted to make up to Matt for his kindness).

George doesn't show up that much again but going back to where Matt is going through it post demonic possession: the two of them meet up. Matt tells him his identity as Daredevil and what happened during their catching up, and George tries to help him out by going on stunt rides to help get Matt's mind off of things. Since Matt had felt like a burden before, for George to treat him as if nothing changed, it made Matt feel better in some weird way. That was how Matt fell madly in love with George. All those wild stunts and running around as vigilantes, plus Matt being in a vulnerable mental state, it all added up for Matt to quickly attach himself to George and would do anything for him.

Matt and George began dating and Matt adopted some of George's cowboy aesthetics into his costume.

At first, they were doing a few good things here and there trying to do the right thing. But George has always wanted fame and fortune, so that fame got to his head and he started to fall back to his old criminal ways. Unfortunately, because Matt was so down bad and lovesick, he went along with it without acknowledging the repercussions. Matt returned to NYC to reunite with Foggy, but after Foggy learned about what George was doing, he wasn't a fan of this relationship (literally the smartest mf here and yes, Foggy was PISSED OFF rightfully so). Matt was getting worse and worse over the few months, and he eventually ditched the law firm and left Foggy to deal with work by himself while he and George went on a road trip to Las Vegas where they eventually got married there. Matt fully adopted the cowboy aesthetic and had a criminal cowboy daredevil suit made for him as both a wedding suit and a vigilante costume.

The two idiots kept causing a shit ton of crime including vandalism and theft, specifically robbing trains. Some of those crimes eventually caught Johnny Blaze's attention, making him surprised that his good ol' friend George was going back to being a criminal again. When Johnny confronted them, George rambled about wanting fame again and that any attention is good attention no matter what. Matt had even convinced George that Johnny's disapproval shouldn't mean anything to him, to which made Johnny believe that Matt was enabling him (here's the full comic that I drew here).

(It's also a little secret addition to this little exchange where Johnny expresses how he feels about Daredevil when asked:

Doesn't wanna say anything about the whole cowboy phase so he says this instead lol. But that's just me).

The three of them started beef with each other so whenever Ghost Rider was involved, it was a whole shit show.

(Full post of this image here)

Matt and Johnny fought the most while George would either watch from afar and root for Matt or continue with whatever scheme they were up to. Along with all of this happening, post marriage was starting to make Matt slowly wake up from his lovesick phase and he was realizing that George was not a good partner after all. The two would get into petty arguments while also doing some headass shit to spite the other. George was insensitive to Matt's feelings while Matt would constantly ignore George whenever he tried talking to him. Not only that, George was so bad at sex that Matt completely lost his sex drive. These two were not a good couple and over the year, Matt was slowly figuring that out.

George has done shit from putting the motorcycle in the bed, only caring about The Mets and watching their games during sex, played the worst disco songs Matt has ever heard, and he was overall just a shitty partner. The two of them eventually fell out of love and barely tolerated each other, whether it was during domestic moments or during their crime schemes.

At one point during a fight, Ghost Rider ruined the veil on Matt's suit along with using a heated chain on him and burned a section of Matt's left bicep. After that fight, Matt realized that fighting Ghost Rider for George wasn't worth any risk and refused to fight Johnny no matter what George says. George went after Ghost Rider by himself only to get absolutely smoked while his costume got tarnished in the process.

Matt later on went back to NYC to visit Foggy, and by visit, he basically showed up at Foggy's doorstep in the middle of the night during a rainstorm while still wearing the cowboy outfit.

Foggy was reluctant at first, but Matt admits being a stupid fucking idiot and apologizes for leaving Foggy to run the law firm by himself. After being let in, Matt begs Foggy to help him divorce George, and Foggy agrees to help him out just this once. Matt goes back to George to talk to him and after another argument, they both agree on getting a divorce since at this point they can't stand being around each other anymore.

After the divorce, Matt was finally improving on himself and then the events of vol 3 and 4 starts. During Matt's whole identity-being-revealed, whenever someone asks him about the whole cowboy Daredevil fiasco back in San Francisco, Matt made up the excuse that the cowboy Daredevil wasn't him but instead some random guy. A faker. An imposter, if you will.

George comes back during vol 4 in issues 11-12 where he decides to take the opportunity for more fame and fortune by orchestrating the entire Kid Stunt Master arc where he faked his own suicide and took drugs to make sure Matt couldn't tell he was lying. He also did this to spite Matt as well so there's that to add onto.

Since it's been a few years after interacting with each other and George (pretending to be) being desperate for his help, Matt decided to give him a chance and had truly believed that George had changed over the years. And Matt was genuinely sadden over his (fake) suicide.

Matt started reminiscing the good ol' days when they were friends and even the beginning days of their developing relationship. Of course, after finding out the truth of George orchestrating the entire thing, Matt quickly snuffed out those reminiscing feelings and went straight back to completely hating on George.

After that ordeal, he wants his ex husband to get hit by a truck. He wants nothing to do with George Smith whatsoever.

After Kirsten learned about the entire divorce, her, Matt, and Foggy decide to celebrate the divorce date as a fun little anniversary. A few years later, Johnny and Matt finally sit down and have a conversation about the whole criminal cowboy phase and after learning both perspectives, there was an understanding (comic I drew here). But despite learning the truth, Matt and Johnny still have some grievances between each other, they just learn to keep a distance and be respectful when necessary.

Which is why there's a hate triangle guide I made for the three in the first place lmao.

There you go, that's the entire lore for this crack hateship of mine. If I were an official Marvel writer, I would definitely use this to reveal Matt's bisexuality being canon. It would be the worst way to reveal a bi character but it would be so funny and so worth it.

Here's a playlist of it. If you have any cheesy, funny, or over the top dramatic bad break up songs lmk I'll add it to the list.

#marvel comics #daredevil #matt murdock #stunt master #george smith #ghost rider #johnny blaze #foggy nelson #kirsten mcduffie #bitter exes stuntdevil #headcanons and lore #tfw talking #this is just a silly little post of a silly shitpost hc #its my source of entertainment lol #DO NOT TAG AS M/CU #criminal cowboy dd

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tvrningout · 4 months

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get to know me meme

TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER!

1. favorite colors: blue, purple, and orange ( but also all the colors actually )

2. favorite flavors: when i say i love nearly everything you put in front of me... but i'll admit when i see something sour or spicy, i'm immediately fighting back the urge to impulse buy it :' )

3. favorite genres: fantasy, horror, and romance!

4. favorite music: i listen to a little bit of everything, but pop and movie/show/game scores are probably the most common stuff i listen to atm. been listening to a lot of ajr bc they give me a lot of muse inspo for yoshiaki

5. favorite movies: into/across the spiderverse, rise of the guardians, coco, practically any ghibli film, and probably some others i can't think of rn

6. favorite series: all of us are dead, kingdom, new girl, community, and once again! probably others that i'm not thinking of :' )

7. last song: " alone we have no future " from the death stranding score! i really love the entire score and highly recommend it as well as the soundtrack <3

8. last series: all of us are dead :' ) i keep re-watching it bc i love emotional damage and zombies hehe

9. last movie: my friends made me watch this old animated film that i barely remember now bc i was so distracted by their baby asdfg prior to that, i think? i last watched across the spiderverse

10. currently reading: ruin and rising by leigh bardugo, third book of the grisha trilogy! the only reason i'm not done with it is that i don't want it to be over :( i've been eyeing my copy of howl's moving castle lately, too... maybe it's time

11. currently watching: i started re-watching outlander bc a lady falling through time in scotland is right up my alley B) and bc i didn't get very far during my first watch. i'm also working up the nerve to watch the second season of jjk bc i wasn't ready to see this part of the story animated back when i first read it, and i'm not ready now :' )

12. currently working on: got a lore drop about dorverold's afterlife/spirit realm i'm dying to write bc even though i know i probably won't write 90% of these dorks, i love thinking about the deities!! i'm also working on yoshiaki's bio and contemplating a slight reworking of yubari's bio as well as tsugumi and miyuna's just to make them more story-like rather than bullet points. i need to add " notable connections " sections to my muses' stats, too. there's a lot i'm trying to work on, now that i'm thinking about it asdfg

tagged by: @impishsensei & @espectres thank you both very much <3 tagging: @vonerde @fanaticist @fallesto @mythcaels @diaboelic @avaere @futurefind @mellodiies @un1awful and if you haven't done this yet, pls yoink it from me <3

#these are always fun to do and the only reason i didn't tag more of y'all is bc the meme says to specifically tag 9 people uvu #get ready to ramble | ooc

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rillette · 2 years

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So how toxic are the guardians

so very toxic! the guardians are awful lol, to say that they're controlling would be an understatement. I don't really have the brainpower to type up a big long thing about it, but here's some Top Ten Shittiest Moments (that i can remember right now). (Not including using the lanterns to enforce their will across the entire galaxy bc that's pretty obvious.)

When the Guardian Appa Ali Apsa saved hal's life, the rest of the guardians banished him to their old planet for putting the needs of one above the many. Also when the Guardians decided to abandon Oa to fuck around, they left Appa Ali Apsa in charge of Oa and the destroyed central battery. He proceeded to go like fully insane because of the isolation of being the only living thing on the planet and caused a shit ton of problems.

The guardians exiled hal from earth for a year once because they felt he was spending too much time on earth. Notably, Hal was dealing with typical earth drama at that time like: tom and carol getting kidnapped, ferris air being taken to court, and ferris air being bombed. During Hal's exile, they staged a GL rebellion and tasked Hal with tracking down the rogue lanterns as a test of loyalty. And after the year was up, he had to go in front of the guardians and beg to be sent back to earth.

And then like right after hal got back to earth, ferris got attacked again and the guardians showed up and told hal to leave immediately or Else. So Carol and Tom were fucking pissed at him because he ditched them for the guardians while they were being attacked. He ended up quitting the corps over this bc Carol gave him a "Corps or me" ultimatum.

The guardians also were fully capable of healing Guy the entire time he was in a coma (years) (arguably their fault) and just. Didn't bother to until they needed him for something. Also like. When you're a green lantern and you die, if you don't have a will or instructions to either dispose of or return your body to your family/friends, they will just fucking stick your body in a basement on Oa. Like there's just a massive room full of glass display cases of dead GLs. It's so fucked up.

Also there's the entirety of Emerald Twilight. TLDR: they suck! theres definitely more but i am so so sleepy

#asks <3 #ty for the ask!!#comic talk #i have wanted to answer this ask for like. days i was just very busy </3 #shoutout to the second image i say this every time i post a panel from that run but theres a special place in my heart for how that artist #draws hal <3 #shoutout to the fact that i said i didnt have the brainpower to type up a big long thing and yet. somehow this is still long as hell

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sunshinereddie · 1 year

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Something that absolutely kills me every time I see it come up in fanfictions is the losers referring to each other as brothers/sisters. Like "Of course I'll be your best man. What are brothers for?" Or like "Yes, I can stay in this hospital after visiting hours, I'm his sister." I like it and I think it's cute and good every time

IF you'd like to get ouchie about it however I do also imagine that there are times in the 27 years when the losers will be asked if they have any siblings and they'll go "Yeah I've got a sister and a couple brothers" and then they'll pause and go "Uh. No I don't. I'm an only child. I don't know... I don't know why I said that"

SCREAMS i both love this idea so so much but it also breaks my heart so bad………

like on one hand i love to imagine after the ch2 battle when eddie’s in the hospital, obviously none of them want to leave eddie’s side but when visiting hours come to a close the nurse tries to tell them to leave, but they’re like “actually we’re all his siblings.”

and ofc the nurse just stares at them like. “all 6 of you are his siblings?” (6 bc stan is there too obviously nothing bad happens to stan!)

and they’re all like “yes of course we are!” and richie starts going on this long dramatic tangent of “how it’s actually incredibly disrespectful that this hospital would turn away grieving family from staying with eddie, when we don’t even know if he’ll ever wake up, these could be our dear eddie’s final moments on earth and we aren’t even allowed to see him-”

eventually the nurse realizes that dealing with them is more hassle than it’s worth and allows them to stay, and so all 6 of them are squeezed into eddie’s tiny room while they wait for him to wake up.

and finally when eddie DOES wake up, the first thing he sees is a nurse (different one than before). eddie’s still trying to process what’s going on, just barely hearing what the nurse is saying to him, and he manages to catch her say “…you’re so lucky, to have such wonderful siblings who stayed right by your side the entire time.”

eddie is obviously confused, he’s about to explain that he doesn’t have any siblings…… until he looks over to the side and sees none other than the losers club sitting at his bedside, and it all makes sense.

but also,,,,,, what you said about them during the 27 years 😭 THAT HURTS SO BAD !!!! like im imagining richie at college talking to some friends and he’s telling them this story about his “brother”, but then when his friends ask him about his brother (how old he is, what his name is, etc), richie realizes…….. he doesn’t have a brother. he can’t even really picture the person he was talking about, he can’t quite remember the person’s face or his name, and yet….. richie very distinctly remembers considering that person a brother to him. richie just ends up making up some imaginary brother to tell his friends and quickly changes the subject, but it almost…. haunts him, how he has such strong feelings about this person, (or, as he starts to think a little harder about it… these people, he’s sure that there were more of them) and yet he can’t remember at all who they are.

or even bill, of course he remembers georgie, but imagine one time he’s telling someone about his brother, and he just says, “yes so my little brother eddie-” and he just. pauses for a second. before quickly correcting himself like “sorry no, my brother’s name is georgie, i don’t know where eddie came from…” but then he thinks long and hard how on earth he accidentally said “eddie” instead of “georgie”. bill doesn’t even think he knows anyone named eddie, so… where did that name come from? and why did he think that that person was his brother?

but also, imagining mike still in derry, if people ever ask him if he has siblings, he will say purposefully, and with a big smile, “yes, i have five brothers and a sister. they all live across the country, and i haven’t seen them in a few years- but i still love them all very much.”

this hc. this hurts me. the losers club they……. they’re a family…..

#sunshinereddie asks #the losers club #the losers club hc #it #it hc #it 2017 #it 2019

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leggyre · 8 months

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You got any adivce for someone who's considering dropping drawing completely since they don't like what they're making at all?

honestly i've been in the same struggle recently bc it just hasn't been a good year for me. i haven't been drawing a lot bc most of the time i'm either sick or i just.. can't. I've been picking myself up as of late and it's a really difficult grind, but honestly the fact i've been able to actually start this grind is already good for now. I guess that counts as advice; be patient with yourself. Self-esteem doesn't come easy and the little steps are worth so much more than you think.

ok so uh,

-if you just started, don't think about it too much. we all start with the weird scribbles. if you stop now you might never get back to it -if you've been trying to doodle often and always end up hating the result, just take a break. art block is seasoning for burnout and you might just be tired. a lot of times i've felt bad about my art i kinda "gave up" for a while and when i came back to it it was like "wtf this easy what was my issue (it was burnout)". so take a break, play some videogames or hang out with your friends for a week. idk write essays about the media you like? it feels like you're being unproductive but resting IS part of productive because just pushing yourself will just result in nothing being done at the end of the day. -look at your favorite work! im not quite out of my latest artblock yet because its a tough one(it's been teaming up with depression caused by health problems it suuuuucks :/), but when i went long enough without being able to draw I kinda started feeling like I can't do shit and can't call myself an illustrator at all specially bc what i do isnt that big of a deal compared to others(<- comparison also big mistake remember youre the only one who can make YOUR art), going through my folders and seeing the stuff I like the most gave me a LOT of motivation to keep going, even if I was still unable to start drawing right away. not giving up is so important. -so yeah love your art. focus on drawing things you like because it's a gift from you to you, and you should treat it as such. i know it's really hard to be positive about it all the time but it can be really good to go through all your artwork at the end of a day and look at the things you like about it, even if it isn't much. -on that note, find something you really like drawing!!! back in high school i had massive periods of depression that kept me from drawing but i occasionally found sort of a 'life hack' for myself which were things i was always able to work with even during the worst times. one of them was just.. bees. i just doodled random characters as these bees and made og designs too and it was fun. the other one was using colored pencils instead of a regular one bc i just like colors and it made me happy :] it didnt matter that they always had the same overall shape or if i couldnt erase when i messed up, i was just feeling good being able to draw something that i liked. -experiment more!! expand your palettes and download some new brushes. i even change from my newest to my old busted tablet that still sorta works occasionally because using a tool that feels different is.. refreshing somehow? idk -when you need to get yourself back up, do the little steps at your own pace. do a little doodle every day. it's okay if it's always the same thing. the same character. the exact same idea. it's okay if it sucks or if it's unfinished because you struggled. Just give it little pushes. What matters is to try. and it's okay if you can't do it every day. maybe every other day if you need a slower pace. -and remember. engagement doesn't measure your skill. art is subjective anyways!!!!! i spent YEARS doodling and posting only my ocs and getting little to no notes. i think one of my favorite artworks from the time i had ~100 followers had like 0 notes for the longest time. to be honest i don't even know if it has any likes at all nowadays i'd have to look it up bc it's a bit buried

#ask the leg

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