#yes what they did sucks!! i’m not saying it doesn’t suck bc it does!!

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[exopelagic]

honk shoo.

[highvern]

Teach Me

or the first time we hooked up it was so disappointing I thought about faking my own death so you’d leave me alone

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: kind of virgin shaming, first time, OC knows she’s wrong but no one’s perfect, descriptions of bad sex, mentions of death (in a joking way), frat!svt, chemistry

Length: ~2.3k

Note: there used to be a time i had to memorize the entire greek alphabet bc i was a sorority girl so im drawing on my roots for inspo lol

Also virginity is a construct! don’t let people make you feel bad about it!

read more here

Friday Night Approx. 11:37PM, undisclosed bed room, SBT fraternity

Dokyeom is great. He’s funny, always does his share of your lab assignments, and when you go to parties at his frat he gives you the good shit out of the fridge instead of whatever concoction his brothers whipped up in the communal cooler for everyone else to drink. The fact that he’s easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt either.

That’s why the last ten minutes have surmounted into what has to be the most disappointing hookup of your life.

His fumbling hands and clumsy movements would be endearing if he wasn’t drooling on your neck in a way that is less than attractive. When his hand slides down the front of your jeans he’s at least receptive to the gentle corrections and cooed suggestions you provide. Is it mindblowing? No. Will he get you off? Probably not. But he’s enthusiastic so you’ll let it go for now.

“Can I, like,” he starts, leaning back to sit up right above you, face bright red, “take your pants off?”

“Ugh, yeah. Sure.” 

It’s a weird escalation given you still have your shirt on but to each their own.

The heat of his muscular chest against the back of your thighs is pleasant enough but doesn’t make up for the way he dives straight in, immediately sucking and licking vigorously. Jolting nerves force you to curl in onto yourself at the discomfort, thankfully unlatching his lips from your abused clit. Twisting a fist in his hair, you pull him up and away from your crotch, distracting him with hot kisses and nips across his throat. He doesn’t seem to mind the change, teeth clenching as your opposite hand tickles down his front to his waistband. Stuffing your hand into his boxer, Dokyeom releases a noise somewhere between a whine and groan. Hot and heavy in your palm, his tip leaks obscenely when you give him a tug.

“Shiiiiit,” he whimpers against your mouth. 

Well, at least one of you is having a good time.

In a flurry of motion, his pants are down just enough to get his cock out, allowing him to roll a condom on before pushing inside you slowly. The stretch isn’t painful but it’s less than comfortable as he starts to rock his hips. With an awkward rhythm he’s providing you little friction and thus no pleasure. You try tilting your hips to change the angle. It helps some, letting his pelvis grind gently against your clit but still no dice. Your fatal mistake is wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

When you clench around him as he hits deeper, Dokyeom’s hips buck a little too enthusiastically, head falling back and belting long low groan. All you can do is gape as he finishes, leaving you in the dust.

-

Sunday Afternoon Approx 2:40 PM, coffee shop near campus

“He did what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You grimace.

“Like, no warm up at all? Just straight P in V?”

“I mean he kissed me but other than that, not really, no.”

The look on Seungkwan’s face is that of a child realizing Santa isn’t real.

“And you’re sure it was Dokyeom? Like the Lee Dokyeom, your lab partner, my fraternity brother Lee Dokyeom?”

“I didn’t ask for his ID but yeah I’m pretty sure it was him.”

“What did he say after?”

The look you give tells him exactly what Dokyeom asked you after he finished.

“No!” Seungkwan gasps.

“Yes.” 

You’ve abandoned your diluted iced coffee, pushing it to the middle of the table. There’s a gentle thud as your forehead meets the cool vinyl surface.

“What are you gonna do about your lab Tuesday?”

“Pray I get hit by a bus.” You grumble, not moving an inch.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I! It’s that or drop the class.”

“It’s too late for you to drop.”

“Death it is.”

You can feel the eye roll Seungkwan responds with.

“Have you two talked at all since then?”

“He has, I haven’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s texted but I haven’t responded.”

“Let me see!”

Prying your head away from the table, your phone is unlocked and snatched away by your best friend. He reads the messages with mild horror.

[SATURDAY 1:07 AM]

Lee Sock-mint: hope you got home okay :)

[SATURDAY 1:08 AM]

Lee Sock-mint: I had a lot of fun btw

[SATURDAY 2:07 PM]

Lee Sock-mint: you left your jacket at the party but i snagged it, i can give it back tuesday

[TODAY 9:14 AM] 

Lee Sock-mint: wanna meet at the library tonight to go over this weeks lab?

“Oh sweetie…”

“I know!”

“Well, you fucked in this bed so now you have to lie in it.”

“You always know just what to say.”

“It’s a gift.” He shrugs.

“And it was Jihoon’s bed actually.”

“I take it back. You probably will die before Tuesday.”

You end up texting Dokyeom but only to tell him you’re already busy and you’ll see him on Tuesday. You feel bad for blowing him off but the disappointment from your tumble in the sheets still echoes in your head.

-

Tuesday Afternoon Approx 3:00 PM, Chem 326 Laboratory 

When Tuesday comes, Dokyeom is suspiciously absent from class and you have to work on the lab with Soonyoung instead.

“Heard you’re ghosting my bro.” 

It’s a statement, not a question and the look on Soonyoung’s usually cheerful face scares you a bit.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“You know, just hearing things.”

“I heard you cried Friday night about how much you love Eunha but she won’t give you the time of day.” You shrug your shoulders. “So maybe we’re both just hearing things.” 

“Well I heard you popped his cherry and ditched him right after!”

“I did what?”  You whisper yell, grabbing Soonyoung’s arm as your eyes go impossibly wide.

A few of the groups close to your table have turned around in curiosity but Soonyoung’s prone to random bouts of shouting so they’re interest fades quickly.

He has the decency to look ashamed of his outburst. You two are actually friends when it boils down to it but guy code has him siding with his best friend on this one.

“He said you basically ran out the door.”

“You know that’s not the part I’m questioning.”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Soonyoung is shocked.

“No!” You shoot. “Do you think I’d deflower him at a gross frat party if I did?”

“Idiot.” He curses. “Sorry, not you. Well also you, but him mostly.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell me that?”

“Probably because he’s a junior and has barely even seen a girl naked?” He looks at you like you have two heads. “It’s a pride thing.”

“Yeah well his pride made him cum in two seconds.”

“Probably the two best seconds of his life.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Can you just, I don’t know, like, talk to him? He thinks you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Tell him that, not me.”

-

After class is dismissed, you trudge across campus to your dorm replaying the conversation over and over. You’re both mortified and pissed. How could you not tell you?

You open your messages to send him a long overdue text.

[TODAY 4:27 PM] 

You: sorry I’ve been MIA :( wanna get dinner?

It’s cowardly but you’ve done worse.

[TODAY 4:48 PM] 

Lee Sock-mint: sorry, busy

Like hell he is. Dokyeom brags every Tuesday that your lab is the only thing on his schedule, unlike your four morning lectures in addition to your shared class that packs your day.

[TODAY 4:49 PM] 

You: we really need to talk

When your message goes unopened and unanswered for hours, you call in reinforcements.

“Are you home?”

“Well hello to you too.” Soonyoung greets sarcastically.

“Hi.” You deadpan rubbing your eyes, patience wearing thin. “Are you home?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Is he home?”

Silence.

“Come on Hosh, is he home?”

“Yeah but he hasn’t been out of his room all day.”

“I’m coming over.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to him!”

More silence.

“Fine but whatever the hell is going on, leave me out of it.”

“You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

-

Tuesday Night Approx. 9:34PM, Soonyoung and Seokmin’s shared apartment

To say Dokyeom is shocked to find you gently knocking at his bedroom door on a Tuesday night, expression bashful and eyes filled to the brim with apologies, is an understatement. He knew Friday night didn’t give you the best impression but what could he do when the pretty girl from his chem lab he’s had a fat crush on all year let’s him fuck her after another one of his frat’s parties? 

The entire night you flirted with him, pressing your ass into his crotch as the shitty trap music Chan insisted on playing buzzed on; wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your fingers comb through the short strands of hair at the back of his head. Then all of a sudden your kissing and next thing he knows you’re pulling him up the stairs and into the first empty bedroom you can find. It was a whirlwind.

“Hi,” you whisper, a little afraid he’s gonna slam the door in your face.

“Hi,” he whispers back, still in disbelief that you’re in front of him.

“Can we talk? Please?”

He doesn’t answer but steps aside to open his door wide enough for you to walk past him. Taking a seat on the corner of his bed like you usually do when you study at his apartment, your eyes look everywhere except him.

“I, ugh,” clearing your throat, you start again. “I’m sorry about Friday.”

Dokyeom doesn’t know what to say so he remains silent, firmly planted by his door.

“Soonyoung told me about how you hadn’t, and I just,” You’re rambling from the guilt coursing through your veins. “I’m really really sorry.”

When your words register, Dokyeom finds himself simmering somewhere between anger and annoyance.

“You feel bad because I was a virgin?” He scoffs. “I don’t need you to pity me.””

“I don’t!” You insist. “I just, if i knew it was your first time I wouldn’t hav–”

“Wouldn’t have what?” He ventures.

“Done it in some gross frat house.” You mutter. 

“So you regret it?”

You think hard about your next words. Dokyeom is both your friend and your lab partner for the next two months. The latter is far less important to you now than it was this morning before Soonyoung spilled the beans.

“No.” Your voice is firm, “Okay, well maybe the fact that Jihoon is gonna kill us for doing it in his bed but no, I don’t regret it.”

“But you didn’t like it?”

“I liked…some of it.” You stutter.

“Oh.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Which parts?”

“Huh?”

“Which parts did you like?” Dokyeom rolls his eyes.

“Um, well, you’re a good kisser!” You assure.

“Is that all?”

“When you went down on me it was okay.” You wince.

“So basically everything besides kissing was bad.” 

“No!” You lie but he’s pinned you in place with a glare. “You, uh, you have a lot of potential!”

It’s Dokyeom’s turn to wince. He shuffles across the room to sit next to you on the bed, leaving a sizable distance between your bodies.

“When Soonyoung told you I was a virgin, did he tell you I had never done any of that before?”

Now that’s shocking. Shocking because you’ve seen girls flirting with him before. At parties, in class, at the library coffee shop; hell even a few dudes approached him. Dokyeom is liked by pretty much everyone on campus, including your own friends who have tried to get you to introduce them.

“No, he didn’t really go into specifics.”

“Oh.”

The atmosphere is already awkward so what’s one more question?

“So how much have you done?” 

“Well, after Friday…” Dokyeom trails off.

“Before Friday.” You clarify. 

“Well I’ve made out obviously. And, I mean, a girl went down on me freshman year.”

“That’s it?”

“Did you come here to make fun of me?” Defensiveness rolls off him in waves.

“No, it’s just…surprising is all.”

When you look over at him you can see the question on the tip of his tongue. 

“I’m just shocked you don’t have girls lining up because you’re like hot and nice and yeah.” You trail off, blush burning the tips of your ears.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Well I didn’t let you in my pants because I thought you were ugly!”

You both let out snorts of laughter.

“I’m sorry.” he apologizes.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was just really excited to finally have a shot with you and I ended up looking like a complete loser.”

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you smirk. “I thought you were a loser before we hooked up.” 

Dokyeom grabs for the pillow behind him, gently tossing it at you as a bark of laughter leaves his mouth.

“How ‘bout we just agree to move on?” 

He does his best to suppress a crestfallen frown from bloom on his lips. Dokyeom tries to look at the positives of ignoring the fact that he’s seen you half naked, felt your mouth on his, how you feel spread on his fingers, spread on his cock; even if just for a short moment. As much as it would suck to never experience those things again, at least you’ll still be his friend. It also means you’ll forget that he’s a two pump chump. Bright side.

“Yeah.” He agrees, resolving himself. “Sounds good.”

After a beat of silence, you open your mouth again.

“You know, you’re the first virgin I’ve ever been with.”

“I thought we just agreed to forget about it?”

“No, we agreed to move on from being weird about it.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, since I took your virginity, I feel I have a… responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” 

The sly smile twisting the corner of your mouth has Dokyeom choking on his own tongue. As you turn to face him fully, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah, what kind of friend would I be if I just let you be bad at sex and did nothing about it?”

Dokyeom can feel his pants tighten at your implication.

“Ugh, not a good one?”

“Exactly! I would be a bad friend if I didn't help you and I don’t want to be a bad friend.”

As you speak, you shift until you’re kneeling between his spread legs, maintain eye contact the entire time.

“Yeah that would be… bad.” His brain is working at half capacity due to your hands pushing up his thighs towards his zipper.

“So,” you blink slowly, smile shy with a subtle tilt of your head, “you’ll let me help you?”

Dokyeom feels himself nodding in agreement.

“Then let’s get started.”

[meowzfordayz]

stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Author’s Note: you ARE enough❣️ You ARE loved❣️ You WILL be okay❣️

stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Agatsuma Zenitsu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: none

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I started taking a lot harder classes this year and it’s killing me and my impostor syndrome because I’m so slow compared to everyone else. It’s making me depressed/stressed so I wanted to request a pick me up request.

stressed — enmu, genya, muichiro

~faqs~

Lowkey gets stressed too 🙃

Does his best to hide it, but Zenitsu’s an open book, so it doesn’t stay hidden for long

Sometimes he’ll even sense your stress before you do

“Are you okay Zeni? You seem stressed.”

“I’m fine!” ☺️

…

…

*realization hits*

Zenitsu: Are you stressed? 🥺

You: Nooo, you’re stressed! 😒

Zenitsu: But I’m not? 🥲

You: Well your stress is stressing me out! 😖

Zenitsu: But I’m not stressed?! 🫠

*insert Spiderman meme here*

Affirmations

Once you’ve determined that you’re both adequately stressed 💀😂

Zenitsu brings out ✨The Jar of Affirmation✨

Aka your equivalent of scrolling through cheesy, inspirational social media posts when you’re feeling low

Zenitsu: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! 😍

You: YOU ARE CAPABLE! 😎

Zenitsu: YOU ARE SMART! 🤓

You: YOU ARE DETERMINED! 😤

It’s kinda cathartic to yell/be yelled at, y’know? 🥰😆

Lovingly, ofc

Your stress hits close to home for Kyojuro (imposter syndrome, inadequacy), but he’s unsure how to support you

Which is not to say that he doesn’t try

Bc he does try, a lot and often 🥺

But a pin pricking feeling that he isn’t quite cut out for comforting you frequently surfaces

“I can order takeout and build a pillow fort for us to watch a movie in together? Would that be okay?”

Your stress fades to a gentle, manageable pulse as Kyojuro’s tender doubt gnaws at your chest, your arms hugging him into your warmth as you murmur softly

“That would be absolutely perfect. Thank you for taking care of me.”

—

He still questions his ability to ease your burdens as you snuggle into his side, plastic containers and utensils spread out on the fluffy blanket beneath you, a thin canopy of cotton sheet and fairy lights billowing above

Could I have decorated better? 😕

Why did I make us sit on the floor?! 😞

But he allows himself a lingering, adoring smile when you begin making airplane noises, happily opening his mouth to accept your forkful of pad Thai

“I love you!” you grin, darting in to peck his nose

“I wuv y’u too!” he declares, the tips of his ears as red as his heart

He’s convinced that pad Thai’s never tasted so delicious

Knows your favorite snacks better than he knows himself, and won’t hesitate to walk to the corner store to buy you a lil snick snack

“Kyo, it’s almost midnight. I’m fine.” 😝

“Your stomach rumbled.” ☹️

“I can eat in the morning.”

“Fine.” 

…

…

“I shall wait until midnight, at which point it will be morning.” 😎

“What if I fall asleep before you get back?”

“Then I guess you will most certainly eat in the morning.” 😌

Doesn’t let you lift a finger, sometimes to the extent that your stress morphs to anger 🤪

“I said I was stressed, not incapable.” 😐

“Me helping you is a testament of my love, not a commentary on your ability.” 🤨

“You aren’t helping me! You’re infantilizing me!” 😖

“I in fact have not put you in a diaper nor made you suck on a pacifier.” 😃

“I will dye your hair while you’re asleep.” 😒

“Would a spa day reduce your stress?”

“No, but watching your reaction to waking up with green hair would.” 😌

“If you somehow manage to dye my hair without waking me up, then I guess I deserve it.” 🙃

“Could you at least let me wash my dishes? Or put toothpaste on my own toothbrush?” 😕

“No and Yes. Okay?”

“I want to tie my shoelaces too.”

“You can do one shoe.” 😉

“Whatever.” 🙄🥰

Gets you out and about

Whether it’s joining him on a grocery run or just walking around the block

Sanemi knows a change of scenery can refresh and remove the monotony of stress

He’ll even coax you into photoshoots

“Stop. You need a picture underneath that tree.”

“Wait, the sunlight is framing your face so beautifully.”

“Let’s take a selfie together.”

Not bc he loves being your personal photographer 🥴, but bc he sees how much you brighten at his softness 🥺

Sees how happy his explicit (albeit occasionally disgruntled) affection makes you

… maybe selfies aren’t so bad after all 

[banquetwriter]

this flopped the first time so i’m reposting. rick grimes nsfw alphabet lmk if y’all want other characters or sfw version !!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

tbh he is very sleepy and giggly almost? if he is comfortable enough to HAVE sex he is definitely giddy afterwards. we see this at the cdc when him and Lori fuck in the shower. he is very kind to you and def cleans you up afterwards 🤭🤭 he is def filling a glass of water and getting you some food. and forget it if YOU make him food after sucking his soul out this man will go on his hands and knees and eat you instead.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you/ partners i think it’s like your torso, not necessarily your tits (🤭) but like your hips to your collar bones. that’s where your heart and lungs are so he can see and hear you being alive, plus he would love to rub his hands up and down your body while kissing your neck. i think for himself rick would be really proud of his arms, he likes to wield an axe for so long and is a fit guy so his arms are big or at least really toned.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i think deep down he would love cream pies, just watching his seed slowley ooze out of your body. but he knows that’s not always safe to do especially in the world you live in, so a second best is your hips area. as far as your cum is concerned he wants it in his mouth asap. he would DRINK that shi 🙏🏻🙏🏻 he can’t deny your fluid flushing on his cock is hot too tho

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he really likes it when you act all innocent-housewife-bimbo (obviously he likes strong women and would prefer you to be strong 95% of the time.) but having you be all fake innocent would send him nuts, just teasing him while cooking in short clothes, or pretending to “clean” his pants by getting on your knees and rubbing. he would never outright tell you he likes it but you can def tell when you do that he loves it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

we know canonically he has done s t u f f with other girls before from his convo with shane. he didn’t go very far with it, but i’m assuming he wasn’t a virgin when he married lori. they get married super young so i think it was just one another girl he had been with. probably somthing like in highschool or right before meeting lori. and since he did have a wife for many years before you he would know a lot about female bodies even if they aren’t all the same, i think he would have a few tricks he knows 🤭🤭 he wouldn’t care how experienced you were tho. as long as you love him and only him that’s all that mattered to him, unless your ex lover was with the group he would get hella jelly

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i’m gonna say missionary but not in a vanilla way really if that makes sense? like i think being able to see his dick just disappear in your hole (yes you can get it in the back hole in missionary) he would love to have your legs around his neck as he held them with his arms being able to fuck you even deeper. i would also see him loving holding your hands during more intimate sex. as much as he hates to admit it he IS insecure about stuff including his relationship (lori and shane stuff yk :< ) so being able to hold your hand would reaaallllyyyy heal him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i don’t think he is super goofy during sex, like i don’t think he is necessarily making jokes but if you do or something funny happens he would def laugh and crack that beautiful smile of his. i think before and def after he would make some snide jokes or somthing just bc he feels hella proud of benign able to fuck you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

carpet def match the drapes, as he gets older and grays more they def wouldn’t match as well as he ages but that doesn’t matter a lot tbh. as far as amount of hair he doesn’t have like a ton on his chest or back or anything but def has a happy trail. ofc since he is in the apocalypse he is NOT shaven a lot of the time but i think ever so once n a while he trims yk? makes sure it’s decent looking. he does not give a FUCK wether or not you shave. he is used to girls (and boys yk🤭) shaving but he will care if you choose not to bc like he is gonna go ravage on you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i can see him being kinky and intimate. i think he would def love to choke and fuck you roughly and stuff but i can also see him just needing you. to again hold your hand and take you sllloooowww. he definitely a big kisser and would love to just cum inside you as he would bassicly attach himself to your face. rick is a very loving person and that would def reflect in your sex lives.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i don’t think he has ever been the type to jack off a lot even when he was a teen it just wasn’t somthing he did allll the time. i think he def did it. I mean who doesn’t really ? especially when his and lori’s relationship starts to fall apart pre-apocalypse he would do it more since they probably weren’t too eager to give carl a sibling lol. and also until the prison he probably wouldn’t, but yk after he gets some walls and a safe place he would do it as a stress reliever.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

definitely choking, whether it was rough or more like slow and soft he needs his hands on your throat. it’s just a big display of dominance he craves to show over not only you but anyone else. he is a pretty possessive guy with his stuff (including you) and he isn’t about to let anyone take you away, not that you would let them rick is a fierce partner hehe

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

def in a house and by that i mean every surface in his house 🤭 the table, counter, couch, bed, and shower it doesn’t matter. ofc since the walkers and stuff you guys don’t have a safe place to do it half the time i think at night whenever you two could maybe do some mouth stuff would just have to do. he wasn’t willing to leave the group for privacy he cares too much but nothing is gonna get in between him and his person. i think on runs would be the only time you two could really go at it go at it and even then it was much more a quickie than a full love making session until y’all got to the prison and alexandria ofc.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ik it sounds cheesy but just the thought of you being HIS and no one else’s does a LOT for him trust. seeing you read to baby judith or teaching carl how to do somthing really gets this man thinking. ofc seeing you being a fucking badass you are out in the world also does somthing to him. and ngl i think this man has a slight brat tamer thing so you being sassy would also give him the perfect opportunity to be dominate 😾

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

absolutely anything that had to do with bodily fluids that weren’t like cum and spit. that means i don’t think he would be into blood or anything. like i said he is rough but he isn’t violent yk? doesn’t behind some bruises from his grip or an occasional slap. and maybe the odd scratch on you (but he would much prefer scratches on his own back not yours) so anything really violent he has seen enough of that for a lifetime he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you ever even if you asked.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

ok obviously rick would love it if you went down on him. mouth slobbering all over his cock as your head dipped down. it however was not his favortire thing ever. he would never ever say no but he would much rather his face be underneath you. or you on the counter legs spread, or underneath you when your supposed to be cooking. i would say yes for oral but prefers giving than receiving it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

so i’ve already talked a lot about this i think he would love rough sex, i think he would would prefer it slower- that definitely doesn’t mean he wouldn’t love to ram into you as fast as he can lol. i just think for the majority of the time slower is more his speed no matter how rough he is being with you. but i think his lovey side does come out more when you two have had a DAY n he just wants some good old loving from you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

it’s usually all you two can get it half the time but i think when he is younger he prefers non-quick releases. although the older he gets especially in alexandria and after even into the crm he is waaaaaay more into them. if you know each other in crm i can imagine making you suck him off in gear before training. i think rick becomes a very different person later in life and that makes him a bit meaner when it comes to stuff.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think he is willing to take some risks but NOTHING that would ever leave his group in harm including you, i mean his kids are in the group yk? so nothing that would leave them alone or unprotected really. i also don’t think he is super into other objects either, he wouldn’t care if you liked to use toys but i think he prefers giving you pleasure than something else yk? i think silk or rope would be fine for tying you up but no paddles or anything really yk? i’m rambling but i think he would think about anything you asked but maybe not actually do most of them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he is a really strong guy and even when he gets older i don’t think that will affect his stamina a super ton until he really starts getting up there in age yk? that being said i don’t think his sex staminism would be that big just bc i think after ljke maybe 3 rounds he wants to relax and cuddle with you <3 but he cannot resist you begging him for something which includes you asking and begging for more. he is more than comfortable to give you as many orgasms as he can physically. ik it sounds crazy but 7 and he absolutely done. he is seeing white and stars at that point and as much as he loves you, he cannot go further 😭😭

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

again like no basically 😭😭 again if you asked him he would def use them on you but probably NOT for very long and would use them as punishment tbh. ik that’s not exactly what most people wanna hear but he also like doesn’t use them either 🫡🫡

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he LOVES being teased lemme tell you. he would love your soft “innocent” touches. bending over etc etc. he would love your teasing so fucking much, and even better what he gets to do about your teasing. now i don’t he would do it often but when he does tease you rick grimes is one cheeky mf. maybe taking his shirt off when doing some of his gardening 👀 a possible lick of his lips 👀 perhaps a little fingers up your shirt 👀 little does he know everything he does turn you on

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I think he would LOVE you making sounds of any kind. but moaning his name would drive him a new kind of crazy 😭 as far as he goes he is definitely a grunt-er a few moans when he cums but as far as noises when he finally pushes into you and finishes are the most noise he makes. as far as talking and stuff i think he would love talking you through it. i think it’s mostly for his benefit seeing your eyes go glossy and dumb as his praise.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

one time and only once he watched you change one time before you two were any sort of official. he did not mean to intrude and god did he feel awful about doing it but you had your back turned and he saw your back and ass completely naked and it turned him on more than he cares to admit. before that he had obviously noticed your beauty and skill but that’s the moment when he could no longer handle staying away from you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

rick is average sized guy on the shorter side and i think he would also have an averaged sized member as far as length would go. girth ways i think he is a little thicker than normal, no reall curve you can see even when he is hard yk? i can see his cock being darker in color than some others not from being dirty but just naturally yk? he had a lot of muscles even if he isn’t like “built” like daryl or tyrese or sum. he has a strong tummy tho which you love to kiss and it actually makes him fall so in love with you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so since he is a full grown man he isn’t like a horny teenager he wouldn’t be like foaming 24/7 and especially since he is a leader and leads a very scary stressful life he wouldn’t be super horny a lot yk? that doesn’t mean he DOESNT get turned on by you on runs and stuff but like he isn’t thinking about it all the time. but the more you too get serious the more he wants you. i think it’s his deep primal need to have his kids protected that drives him bc like seeing you protect his family that’s now your family oh lord i hope you have a pack of condoms ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

so like i said he isn’t like too many rounds with you so after the normal like 3 he would def prioritize cleaning you up then himself then honk shooooo for this old man fr. i think he would def wake up in the middle of the night bc he is used to not getting sleep so he would wake up to see you in his shirt and he would just silently stroke your cheek and just admire you :)

[arachnoia]

holy shock ➶ . ˚ ༉‧₊˚ˑ༄ؘ | miguel o’hara

miguel o’hara x fem! reader (nsfw!)

a/n: literally I love you guys smmmm! i’m so glad you guys loved ‘gone’ 🥹 here’s pt 2!

again im trying new things bc im not rlly a smut writer but if y’all want smut, im down to write it! it’s j not my strong suit and y’all can prob tell.

ILL SHUT UP! ENJOY!

warnings- this has a lil nsfw, p in v, lil bit of angst, untranslated spanish, second part to gone

pt1- ‘gone’ pt3- ‘finally’

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“HE TOLD YOU HE DIDN’T YOU IN HIS LIFE? WHAT?” Peter looked at you wide-eyed and Mayday raised her eyebrows even though she has no idea what was going on. But her dad sounding shocked was enough to get a surprised reaction from her.

“Sort of…” you whispered. You kept looking at the sun’s glare, as if it had the solution to your crumbling “love life”.

“What do you think we were, Peter? What is your perspective? Why was Miguel your first thought?” You remarked. You felt your voice slightly crack from your questions thrown at Peter.

You also felt a little irrational.

You were angry too.

Not at Peter of course, but of how pathetic you think you look right now.

A slew of emotions piled onto you suddenly, all negative.

“Y/n…Aren’t you guys best friends?” His answer shocked you when it shouldn’t.

If you said yes, you wouldn’t be lying because that’s how your relationship looked like. But it’s not how it felt. It felt like something more.

“You could say that,” You said, glancing at the hyper cars from below.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“Thank you…”

Miguel looked startled as he turned in your direction below. “For what?”

“Saving me. My thigh feels better and thank you for uh, saving me,” You yelled, smiling awkwardly. Hopefully he couldn’t tell how nervous you were from up there.

Miguel leaned his head to behind you, “What do you have there ?”

“Oh, fuck right! Uh, these are for you,” You swung up and held out a plastic white bag, plastered with “THANK YOU”s and “GRACIAS”s.

You felt so stupid.

You sounded so stupid.

He probably thought you were stupid too.

“I- uh…got you some empanadas. I know you like them from Doña Rosa’s restaurant, so…here.” Miguel’s eyebrows were raised and he chuckled. “You didn’t have to, Y/l/n.”

Stuttering? Really?

You blushed and felt nervous. He’s your best friend?? Why are you feeling this way??

You retracted your arm with the bag before Miguel grabbed your arm and sucked his teeth. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take them now, Y/n.”

Your face felt like it was on fucking FIRE.

“Gracias hermosa,” He said smiling and snatching the bag quickly.

He said it in a teasing way, which lead you even more confused as to what the hell it meant translated.

You tilted your head in confusion, “What does that mean?”

What if he said he didn’t like them?

WHAT IF HE THOUGHT YOU SOUNDED LIKE AN IDIOT?!

He turned around and shrugged. “Means ‘thanks bud’. So thanks, bud.”

His nonchalant tone made you bite the inside of your cheek as you frowned at him, who was already opening up the bag of empanadas and munching on a fig one.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, bud.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I just need time to breathe and take a minute, Peter. It’s not every day one of your best friends just tells you ‘Oh! You’re dead to me, you bastard, I hate you, I want you gone from my life!’ That just doesn’t happen,” you said, feeling an immense wave of sorrow hitting you, replacing the anger that was just there.

Peter, in his 38 years of living never ever thought he would be in this situation; giving relationship advice to his 27-year-old colleague.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” That was the first thing to mind. As you can tell, he isn’t really good at this.

“Well yeah-“

“How did it go?”

You glared are him and your tone turned sarcastic, “How does it look like it went?”

The sky’s sunset looked beautiful. It had an array of warm and gorgeous reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows, with a hint of violet.

“Well, he blocked my number! He unfollowed me on his super duper secret Instagram-”

“Wait what? Miguel has Instagram? He’s such a…”

You laughed a bit, “…Deadkill? Why? Is it because he has the humor of an 80-year-old man? He’s not that boring, Peter. He has social media.”

“Y/n. The man says ‘Oh shock!’ Like man, just say oh shi-” Peter stopped and looked at Mayday, who was already looking up at him and was smiling cutely.

“I mean ‘oh shiitake mushrooms’…”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “Well he cut off all communication from me! The bastard even blocked me on SPOTIFY. He deleted our shared playlist-”

“Woah. WOAH! Shared playlist? Me n MJ do that!” he gushed.

You nodded, “And he was the one who added the majority of the songs. Pinche puto.”

“Yeah, yeah. Um Y/n, hey I don’t know. Talk to him?” He said, giving you a sassy tone with his hands on his hips. ”Peter, you’re setting me up for failure…”

“It would be, you know, more real if you just talked it over. I’m not sure about the whole picture as to what happened between you two but Miguel has always been so…depressing and you really did brighten up his life to some extent.”

“Right-”

“Hey, before you start being all mopey, just talk it out. I know Miguel just wouldn’t be irrational because he’s just a very level-minded person.”

If only he was…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You didn’t want to laugh. But the more he dramatically moved his hips, the less control you had until you busted out cackling.

You caught him dancing to Bachata while he was washing dishes in his apartment.

Why were you in his apartment? You came unannounced to hang out, thinking he wouldn’t really care, until you walked into him dancing to his bachata playlist.

“You should definitely teach me. I see you listening to this all the time,” you said, giggling.

He jumped and turned around, giving you a scowl. “Ay dios, what are you doing here?”

You walked infront of him and put your finger against his lips, “Shh. You should definitely teach me how to dance this.”

He stopped and gazed at you for a few seconds before he went over which led you to twirling around and him having his hands resting at your hips as he helped you sway them.

You were going to probably scream into your pillow once you got home and cry since you’ve been going at this for 30 minutes.

You felt kind of bad feeling that way about your best friend, but holy-

The current song stopped and you felt his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I can hear your heart beating fast. Are you alright?”

HOLY SHOCK?

“I-“

Before you said anything, he interrupted you just studying your facial features. He studied your lips, nose, beauty marks. The silence was then caught off by him kissing you.

You felt your heart stop for a second before you returned the kiss.

He pulled away and smiled, “I see that you didn’t try to stop me, hermosa.”

HOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCKHOLYSHOCK

“I don’t think I should stop you,” you whispered, getting a low chuckle from him before he carried you bridal style towards his sleeping quarters and laid you on his bed. He barely came back from a mission and was still in his suit while you were in your regular clothing.

“I see, you like calling me ‘hermosa’? What does that mean?”

He smirked at you and pointed at you, “It means beautiful, just like you.”

You got up a bit from your laid position and kissed him even harder, pulling his weight on top of you as you both were drowning in each other.

“Oh fuckkk…” He groaned, squeezing your ass before he started attacking your neck, leaving you with red and purple love bites. He reached for your collarbone and stopped.

“W-Why’d you stop,” you whined. You didn’t know what to feel at this point. Here you were, with your best friend who you had a crush on, making out in his bed. Did he feel the same way? You had to pinch yourself before you could decide it was an illusion.

It wasn’t.

“I need permission. Can you-“

Before he responded, you took off your shirt and slid down your pants, leaving you in your panties and bra. “Continue.”

He smiled and started to play with your clit and kissed you at the same time, as you moaned in the kiss.

“F-Fuck, O���Hara-“ you moaned

It’s safe to say that you still couldn’t believe what happened next when he asked for permission again.

He pushed a button from his watch, placing it on his nightstand to reveal his almost godly sculpted body…and his very, very long member.

Your eyes couldn’t help but widen, which he noticed and chucked.

“Do you think you take it?“

“I don’t know, but I can try,” you muttered. You didn’t know what just happened with your newly found confidence but you were rolling with it.

He ripped your panties off and put a condom on. He then, aligned his erected member to your vagina and went in.

“It hurts-“ you whined before he kissed you.

“Just take it, you’re doing good right now, cariño.” He said as he moaned a bit, enjoying how tight you feel around him.

‘Cariño’…that was new.

That’s what Doña Rosa called her husband whenever he came at random times in her restaurant when the two of you were ordering empanadas.

That’s what lovers call each other, right?

It didn’t take long for you to almost pass out from his girth entering in and out, giving you a wave of euphoria and a bit of pain.

Your mind was rushing at different places, all while hearing his little grunts and moans.

You were probably going to be sore tomorrow but it’s fine.

“I’m- I’m about to-“

“Yeah, me too,” he said before you both finished, feeling him fill you up.

“Shhh, sleep. You need rest now,” he said as he kissed your forehead and your eyes fluttered. He wrapped his sheets on you and patted your head. You softly smiled. It smelled like him and it smelled so good.

You recall him putting on some clothes and leaving, but thought he would come back.

You realized he didn’t when you woke up.

The only thing he left was a note on the other side of the bed you laid on, telling you that he felt every emotion opposite for love towards you. He wanted you to be gone from his life.

All you could do was just stare at a wall and cry.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Peter…are you sure that talking to him in person would help? I’m just-“

“Nervous? Yeah I get it. When me and MJ had our troubles, it’s always best to talk it out. Look at me now!”

“Peter, I’m looking at you and all I see is a middle-aged man in a superhero costume with a pink bathrobe, raccoon eyes, and a baby.”

Peter glared at you and rolled his eyes, “Wow I’m offended-“

You put up your arms, “Hey I’m sorry but that’s what I saw!”

“Mhm? Well, just talk to him. If he told you that in person-“

“He didn’t…”

Peter fumed, “Stop interrupting meeeee! Alright. That makes more sense then, honestly.”

You raised your eyebrow, “What do you mean by that?”

"What exactly did he do?"

You stared at him blankly, "He wrote a note.”

Peter scoffed and smiled cockily, “Miguel isn’t the type to do that stuff in writing!”

You cocked your head towards Peter, “And? What are you trying to say?”

Peter chuckled, “He didn’t mean it! That’s what it meant!”

You felt like your brain cells might have died from the statement Peter made.

What the fuck?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

yeah idk what I just wrote either.

tags ❤️‍🔥 (some don’t work and i’m so sorry 😭)

—— @catr4dora @leftcupcakedefendor @ushygushybaby @viriexo

[wulvercazz]

(... no art bc this site sucks<3)

🎃Halloween Town, Act 13: Claim🍓🫐

Back to Masterpost👻

Tags:  Pregnancy, Deepthroating Extra Tags: Possessive Behaviour, Mpreg

It was truly a surprise to have Ichigo himself at his doorstep, left with his fist in the air as Grimmjow opened the door with tired reluctance before the prince could bring himself to knock. But the awkward fixing of his posture was quickly overridden by the shock that Grimmjow’s distended belly brought. The witch sighed, it’s been several months since their last game, several months since he’d learned what the bug really used him for; the second he felt Ichigo’s energy outside the door he knew this conversion was inevitable. With a nod he invited the spirit inside, and closed the door quietly behind him, almost hearing the cogs turn inside Ichigo’s head. “You- Can– Can human males…?” “No.” He answered tiredly, “I am pregnant, though, … in a way.” Ichigo nodded dumbly, lost still in the surprise. “What do you want?” Grimm added with a sense of urgency, before the prince had any time to continue pacing his floor in his wonder. “Ah- Well, after you and Nell— helped me you just… disappeared. I was worried, I guess. I owed you at least making sure nothing had eaten you yet.” “Awe,” Grimmjow smirked, his voice a coarse tease, “I didn’t know you cared like that.” And with great satisfaction, Ichigo’s face heated up with a blush. “So who’s is it?” The Halloween heir rushes to ask, save himself from any more mockery. Grimmjow rolls his eyes, “it’s not mine, that’s for sure.” And before Ichigo can make any more questions, with a tight frown and childish confusion in his eyes, the witch clarifies; “Aizen came here. I’m nothing but his glorified egg basket.” The name triggers a growl, that Grimmjow drinks in with amusement and a strange tenderness that he’d rather chalk up to whatever weird hormones Aizen’s magick-made uterus is releasing in his body. “Aizen did this to you?” The prince growls in a dark coarse voice. “Yes, didn’t I just-” Grimmjow tries to answer with growing exasperation, but the flickering of flames atop Ichigo’s head distract him from his anger. “Alright– clam the fuck down, berry.” The flame dies out with an offended scowl, and it’s the perfect opportunity to manhandle Ichigo into sitting his ass down on one of the kitchen chairs. His thick arms bracket the prince, holding onto the back of the chair and leaning in to look right into Ichigo’s eyes. “I don’t care. This is one of the tamest things that have happened to me since I took up witchcraft; a few eggs aren’t gonna kill me.” “Y-You don’t want out?” “You felt my cock, there’s nothing down there for these things to come out of; whatever spell Aizen used I’m sure will only serve its purpose once the time comes. So as open as I am to a little knife play, I’d rather not cut my guts in half over a few bugs. There’s only a few weeks if my calculations are right, anyway.” “But–” And Grimmjow makes a shushing noise, bringing a hand up to hold Ichigo’s jaw in a slight show of dominance that the prince doesn’t take without a warning growl in his sternum— “if you’re so jealous you should just say so. Or is your breeding kink that strong that you’re letting your hormones fuck up your brain?” Grimm’s not sure what does it, but Ichigo’s eyes light up in both shame and indignation; his back pushed against the edge of the table where Ichigo cages him with his own arms and growls on his face. “I’m not jealous.” “So that kink of yours is going strong, huh?” He’s never learned how to stop poking the bear… but it gets him an armful of pissed off and possessive prince that he’s not about to pass up.

[lawsvalentine]

• Let’s Discuss…..Sex with Usopp • (18+)

Black!reader

CW: explicit sexual content, virgin!usopp, reader is described as chubby and have brown skin, praise kink, slightly submissive!usopp, a bit of humor in the beginning bc Usopp is so unserious sometimes with his lies 😭

Cee’s Note: a lil bday gift to my dear @csnovas happy birthday beloved 🤍 hope you enjoy 😚

Also usopp’s live action actor been on my mind 😮‍💨🏃🏽‍♀️

[minors do NOT interact; explicit content ahead]

First and foremost, I believe Usopp is a VIRGIN

Nothing wrong with that, but he loves to pretend like he’s not 😭

I’ve mentioned this in a few past hcs but he loves to say things that will impress you and yes most of those things are him just lying through his teeth 😭

And you see right through every single one sgdhdj but it’s so endearing to play along and act like you actually believe them

“I once made a girl cum 10 times in one go” or “Every girl I’ve had sex with has squirted”

And your just like 🧍🏽‍♀️

Just the most OUTLANDISH lies PLSSS

But let’s say you play along bc you’re curious to see how long he will keep up his lies and part of you does have a crush on the sniper and wouldn’t mind seeing what he’s working with 🌝

When you propose the offer of sex to him, his facade falters and he is stunned that you actually want to have sex with him

But he quickly recollects himself and tries to act all smooth and you start to wonder how far he will go with this

He maintains his composure until you two are physically sat on the bed and that is when mans starts sweating bullets sgdhjd

You could feel the shaking sensation of his hands on your hips while you kiss him

You pull away and asks if he’s okay and he lies again saying he’s fine and that “this ain’t his first time” but you could see he is stressing out BAD

You pry again asking if he is telling the truth to which he finally comes clean when he sees how concerned you look and admits he has never done this before

You reassure him if he’s not ready, he doesn’t have to go through with it

Even though he is nervous as hell, he was not gonna pass up an offer to sleep with you. Mans has been crushing on you for the longest

So with that, you press your lips against his

I’m a firm believer that Usopp is a moaner and that he has trouble containing his moans, so when a soft moan escapes his lips, you smirk at the sound

In the start, you would have to guide him a bit. Now that he isn’t lying anymore his confidence is nonexistent

After a heated make out session, he is already half hard and bucking his hips into your touch

Yes I imagine him VERY needy

You start to unbuckle his suspenders (not the easiest item of clothing to get rid of sgshshjs) leaving him in nothing but his boxers with a prominent tent protruding under the fabric

You slide his boxers down and his cock springs out from it’s confines and your eyes widened at his size

You didn’t know what to expect but he was definitely more well endowed than you were expecting

You couldn’t help but to oggle the man under you , despite usopp’s cowardly and goofy personality you couldn’t deny that the 2 years did wonders to his physical appearance

If you vocally compliment his body, his dick would twitch and he would audibly moan at your praise

Yes he has a praise kink, i mean, are we surprised 🤭

As you undress yourself, his eyes gawk at your stunning curves of your chubby body and beautiful brown skin.

He moves closer to you and cautiously starts groping your chest, ears perking up when he hears your breathy sigh of pleasure

The sounds you make gives him a bit of confidence and he begins to suck the nipple, twisting and flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub

You begin to stroke his length while he continued stimulating you earning more whines snd moans from him

You guide his hand down to your front, growing impatient from the pleasure

Again, you will have to guide him on how to properly touch you and direct him to rub circles around your clit

Both of you were riled up and couldn’t do foreplay any longer

When you finally sank down around his length both of you let out gasps at the contact

You wish you could engrave the image of his facial features as you sunk down on him. His scrunched up face and mouth hanging open was a pleasant sight to see

You press down on his chest to keep him from bucking up into you, getting slowly adjusted to his size

When you start bouncing on top of him, he absolutely CAN NOT handle your pussy

He is VERY vocal and let’s out the cutest moans

You notice the more you praise him, the more dominant he gets

“You’re doing so well Usopp” “Feels so good” “Such a good boy”

He could cum right there just from your praise

He begins to take a bit of control and grip your hips, bucking into you rapidly

You throw your head back, high pitched moans escaping your lips as he hits your deepest walls

Usopp doesn’t last too long, the pleasure so overwhelming to him, the feeling of your warm walls clenching around him, has him seeing stars

You have to guide him again to rub circles around your clit so that you both can chase your orgasms together

After you both are done, Usopp is surprisingly a natural at aftercare

He is holding you and leaving kisses all over your face and neck. He offers to get you snacks or water.

He is just so much more infatuated with you after the sex and he will shyly ask if y’all could do it again

PLS he’s so cute

[masterbaiting]

Hi again!! thank you for the previous response, it’s made the wheels in my head turn and turn, I can’t stop thinking about those two 😭

I am rewatching ttoi since I sped through it the first time, and this might be old news but I noticed in s1ep3 Hugh and Glenn are speculating behind Ollie’s back that he may be bisexual when Ollie’s been hanging around Dan and playing squash with him, they even make obscure jokes to Ollie’s face after talking with him about Ollie and Dan’s morning squash game when Hugh’s about to be interviewed by Angela, “I hope she doesn’t bounce me off the walls,” with a cheeky grin and Ollie looks taken aback and shocked by Hugh’s implication, like he doesn’t believe what Hugh just suggested about Ollie and Dan. And then Glenn asks Ollie, “did you know Angela was in the building?” And Ollie sounds defensive, says, “yes.” Glenn glances pointedly at Dan then back at Ollie and says, “will she be jealous?” I can’t believe I didn’t catch this before 😭

But now I’m thinking of the dosac office where it’s more widely known that Ollie is probably bisexual even if he doesn’t admit it, and Malcolm getting ahold of this info. He’s already pimped him out to Emma, why not some guy? So it’s like the bathroom scene where Malcolm told Ollie how to fuck Emma, but this time he’s got Ollie pushed up against the counter telling him in great detail how Ollie’s going to suck some other guy’s cock, let him bend Ollie over and fuck him, etc etc, and Ollie’s pissed, furious that Malcolm would do this, but Ollie does it anyway bc ofc he will, but he also can’t stop himself from replaying that moment in the bathroom—if Malcolm could say all those things about him then maybe Malcolm’s thought about what it’d be like to get his cock sucked by Ollie, what it’d be like to be inside Ollie, what it’d be like to press Ollie’s legs down till his knees hit his chest and fuck Ollie hard. He wants to think Malcolm’s thinking about him even if most evidence suggests Malcolm doesn’t care, maybe even leading Ollie to think about what it’d be like to whore himself out to Malcolm specifically

Sorry for this long message :,) I don’t know anyone else who’s into ttoi and I’m brainrotting hard.

very very sorry for the late response!! been really busy. but have been thinking about this nonstop...

YESSS THEM CALLING OLLIE BI IS SO ICONIC... #REAL TO ME.... i remember all of these except the "will she be jealous" moment omfg so thank u for bringing this up to me..... i love it when they bully him homophobically

also. LOSING MY MIIIIIIIIND.... YES EXACTLY !!!!!! terrribly sorry i don't have a huge amount to add to this because i feel like you've laid it all out so perfectly. this is simply real as fuck this happened. to me. the bathroom scene was already so fucking batshit insane for its homoeroticism and i think if there were rumours going around that ollie was bisexual (which there were) then malcolm would absolutely try and take advantage of that on top of bullying him for it. meantime ollie would be like malcolm i cant do this what if people find out. thinking of his future potential career even now (brings me back to your last ask - imagine if when ollie's director of communications it comes out that he was whoring himself out to high-up men for malcolm lol)

[misfithive]

Thank you for the way you handled that ask about Wille's and Simon's drama. Because that sentence 'On the other hand, Simon needs to have a bit of more drama thrown at him' made me so furious. It was so insensitive! The fact that he suffers in silence and alone in his room not to bother other people doesn't mean he doesn't suffer enough and needs some more! The fact that he didn't jump on the table or say he feels like dying doesn't make his experience any less traumatic than Wille's. What he needs is to process his trauma rather than brushing it aside, not to get some more.

Once again thank you, you put it all beautifully.

Yes 😭 this is a very common hope for Simon to get pushed to the point of a breakdown but it’s like .. at what cost?😩 He has been thru enough trauma for a lifetime and a half. And the thing is, most people cannot actually stop and process the trauma if they are constantly being hit with more. I think we are more likely to get simon opening up if he is able to find safety which he did not really have. he is expected to be the strong one by everyone in his life. His friends try their best but still, telling him to rebound is the same message him mother gives him of “you are strong”. Bc they dont want him to sit with his feelings and cry (it’s uncomfortable and not the norm for them), they want him to forget about the Prince and move on. Up until s3 he has not had someone to cry to- thats why he writes his songs and holds wille’s sweater. Even when he is talking to Rosh and Ayub in the kitchen if he was actually crying to them i feel they would show it- it appears he probably cried on the way home before they came (this is my hc if yall think he cried to them u can believe that if u want)

i think Simon’s character is very accurate to what a lot of men, people socialized as men, and also people of color experience and how we deal with our emotions. I get that for a lot of people it is cathartic to sob but for many of us, crying like that especially in front of someone else is terrifying. we are conditioned that letting other people see u in that vulnerable state is a weakness (puts you in danger or will be used against you & that anger is safer). I know some men who have not cried since they were children and told me they dont even remember what it feels like to cry or how to actually let the tears fall from their eyes. It is messed up. Is that fair? No. Is it true that it is a weakness? No. But not everyone learns that. The patriarchy sucks and harms us all lol i wish people would understand that and have empathy for the deep sadness that simon is carrying and hiding whether he lets it out or not.

Not to mention everyone deals with their trauma differently and i think it is cool that the show is realistic and shows people dealing with things in different ways. Simons character is relatable bc of this and instead of people saying “it’s not fair that Wille gets to express himself in this way and Simon doesn’t” i want people to think about WHY Simon is not be able to. I know wanting simon to cry comes from a good place but it does upset me a little bit bc even if he doesnt have a breakdown s3, that doesnt mean that the writers hate him and arent doing his story justice which is what people say abt s2. At the same time, if he does have a break down, that would be totally warranted. i'm just saying that if it doesn't happen that's valid too.

THAT BEING SAID. I think s3 is a great opportunity for Simon to hear from Wille that he doesnt always have to be strong and that Wille can be a reliable safe space. I think Wille’s tenderness is something that Simon sees and now that they are on good terms and Wille has worked to rebuild the trust, I hope Simon will turn to Wille for emotional support however that looks.

Ermmmn I’m very sorry that this turned into a dump but i had to get it off my chest.(made a few edits for clarity and spelling mistakes bc i posted this in the middle of the night)

[mini-jiminie]

No because again, leaving room for doubt is erasure and does invalidate them. They are literally out there showing us themselves in the show and you are still casting doubtful opinions about them. Are you insane? As another blogger said it’s like having your cake and eating it too. I don’t care if you’ve been here since 2017 or the year zero, doesn’t make a difference to the fact you’re invalidating them for your own benefit.

It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s just appreciating them as they are, respecting them. You’re answering asks about theories which have no valid basis, touting your opinion as fact, and it’s not. You don’t know they have been in other relationships, there is no evidence whatsoever, you’re believing a grainy video above everything Jikook have ever done, and that is homophobic, no matter what you say. You need to check yourself there. They literally spend the later half of 2023 travelling together and then enlisting and therefore there was no distance. They spent lives talking about each other, hugged like crazy at Hobi’s enlistment, went to Yoongis concert, they saw each other, so you think they made the decision for the show and enlistment in a vacuum? Grow up. You are the very definition of an insecure jkk, because you’ve also just said about JK being bi and with a women, that’s literally a paradox, bc he’s not going to leave Jimin if he loves him, for a women just bc you said it’s safer (again homophobic) and I’m sorry but that is so obvious, he’s obsessed) Jimin didn’t write letter for just anyone and get just anyone to sing on it, that shit meant something.

These men obviously have something incredibly special going on with each other, no matter your view point, or the aroace person or mine. Whatever we say or whatever our opinion has no mind to that.

They not only enlisted together but made this show for us to enjoy and all you keep doing is shitting on it, offering nothing more than doubt. You should truly be ashamed.

Suck my fucking dick omfg.

Yes, Jikook are gonna announce their very gay relationship through mf Disney+.

I’m only ashamed of the fact that I have to share this space with such shallow minded imbeciles such as yourself.

I’ve been replying to ‘controversial asks’ because, people like you are not the self proclaimed leaders of the tumblr Jikook space like you wanna believe you are.

You sound like a fucking cultist, did you know?

People can share their opinions whether you agree or not. Plus, bold of you to claim that I’m stating my opinion as fact when you are damn well doing the same thing.

Please touch some grass. Being so obsessed with two people who could give less of a rat’s shit about you is unhealthy.

[rawbin-hsr]

The previous anon articulated it so well bc I just saw what they're talking about and I'm honestly confused why they thought u were saying anything wrong like 😭😭 are we sure we have the same guy here? Aventurine while yes knows what being loved feels like, he's gone through enough things and changes in life that that little frame of reference won't serve him well, especially within a romantic context bc he doesn't have ANY reference.

I read what you wrote as him not really meaning to (even reread) and yeah, he wouldn't Purposely want to be abusive to his romantic partner, but it still borders on it. What a lot of ppl get wrong is that, emotional abuse doesn't have to always mean the perpetrator is fully aware of it themself.

Maybe bc I myself have bpd, but it's so easy to see. When someone's avoiding negative feelings they have about themself (jealousy, insecurity etc) they can easily externalize this blame (and for him, that's so much more likely, it's literally a defense mechanism) or even, projecting his own view of himself on how you view him only to end up upset. (And then, the random clinginess that comes after this pushing away, why would it happen if not for trying to convince you to stay even though what he keeps doing is generally not a good thing to do in a relationship?) He wouldn't have known healthy attachment, didn't grow up with a safety net to be comfortable with that, hell, he thinks people closest to him (in canon) are sort of "tolerating" him. Are we really surprised?

Like, you never said aventurine is doing it with intent or even awareness bc yea he isn't!! He'd realize some of his actions sure, but stuff like "pushing you away" is probably shit he genuinely considers good for you, and it's not even like completely wrong he's in a high and risky position. Doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a mf, and I think that's the biggest tragedy of it all, because he doesn't fully realize how bad his actions are from another pov, and it's not like a single Convo can get him to understand that.

Anyway, sorry that was a lot more incoherent than I thought and I was firmly stating a lot of things bc I can pull up stuff to back my claim but ALSO bc they pissed me off if u don't like something just scroll I've been doing that for years on this app I never felt the need to go yell at someone bc I don't agree with how they interpret a character 😒😒😒😒 I hope ur feeling better, rsd sucks ass I always get so overwhelmed whenever I experience it but ur intent came across very clearly actually dw

I’m literally in tears I’m so grateful multiple people are taking the time to reassure me thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹 I was really doubting myself and my own take on him, it makes me feel so relieved I’m not the only one who has this specific take on him haha I was lowkey worrying I was a terrible person for a moment there 😭

And yes, exactly !!!! I think you were very coherent in this, in fact I think you formulated what I meant to say better than I did 😭😭 Like there’s a lot, a LOT of nuance to it !!! He never does it out of malice. He just doesn’t know any better. He tries to do what’s right and what’s best for you, he’s just… kind of not good at that because his whole perspective is skewed.

I do still think they were right that I shouldn’t have used the word ‘abuse’. It’s a very loaded term, and I think abuse requires a power dynamic, which is something I think he would try to eliminate in a relationship. Like, yes, he is a powerful man and he sort of needs some leverage to stay in control (of both his own life and his relationship with you), but I think he fucking hates the idea of being “above you” in any way. (Though to be fair he still could unintentionally create an uneven power dynamic — he’s the one mostly in charge of when the two of you interact. I think he loathes himself even more when he realises that.) I think it would be best to stick to the word “toxic” because it feels most fitting from my pov

[heytherehowdyworld]

Saturday Night Frights

Summary: Eddie's an angel. Your boyfriend kind of really sucks.

Disclaimer: Y'all I haven't written anything narrative in months and this popped out. The pacing is weird, there's more show than tell, and I do not have time to edit it properly. Bear with me, man. This content is like totally relatable to other people, right? Right?

WC: ~13k

Warnings: language; obviously MDNI bc this is NOT a blog for kids; poor characterisation and general story flaws; way too many commas. Enjoy.

“And that’s what I said!” You say emphatically into the phone, the grimace lining your face bleeding into the theatricality of your tone.

“But he still said no?” One floppy-haired Munson replies, pure derision lining his voice. “You went over the importance of Tolkien’s amendments in The Hobbit as they relate to the Lord of the Rings and he still ‘doesn’t get why you need two copies of the book’? What a loser.”

You snort, ever-amused at how intensely Eddie reacted to fantastical media matters. It was nice to have someone with common interests, especially since your boyfriend of six months felt no need to learn anything more about you than your shift start and end times.

The door to the bar smacks lightly against the opposite wall as you open it. “Right? But I’m supposed to remember the names of every World of Warfare character?” “What a dick.” The phone echoes weirdly as you reach the backroom, Eddie’s voice ringing through both in person and on the mobile. You end the call with a smile. “Tell me about it.”

Eddie startles, grinning when he sees you. He slips his phone into one pocket of the Tardis-like denim jacket he always wears, tilting his head at you.

“Why do you still hang around this guy, then?” The smile on his face tells you he’s not entirely serious asking the question, but with all the other flaws in your romantic relationship — which you’ve spent time telling Eddie about — it feels abrasive.

You sigh. “He’s nice to me, Eds. We get along.”

“We get along too,” he shrugs, “so?”

“It’s different between you and me, you know that. Matt and I are dating so it’s good to have our own things, right?”

“There’s a difference between ‘having your own thing’ and ‘ditching your girlfriend on date night because the boys asked you to play another round with them’,” Eddie gives you a pointed look, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up on a stray hook. He busies himself by tying the customary apron around his narrow hips, unaware of the way your eyes linger on the flex of his fingers as he does so.

“That only happened twice,” you rebut, shrugging off your own coat and hanging it neatly by his, “and he apologised for it.” Without saying more, you offer Eddie your apron by habit. He takes it from you gently, brows furrowed in thought.

“You could ask Ted to get you an apron with longer straps,” he deflects, his careful fingers wrapping the material around you, tying it with practiced precision. This action had become commonplace since a few weeks after you’d started working here, when Eddie had noticed your trouble with tying the narrow threads behind your back. And while yes, it was true you had a problem with securing the apron on you before your shifts, it was specifically Eddie you went to for help because there was something far too comforting about the way his large hands circled your waist whenever he did.

“Longer straps won’t stop my fingers from getting caught in the knot when I try to tie them, Eds.” You nod your head in thanks, stepping away from him to put your hair up in a comfortable bun.

Eddie hums, still deep in distracted thought.

“We’re good, Matt and I.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the ice machine in the serving area of the bar. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Eddie makes a slight sound of disagreement, but before anything more can be said of the matter, your co-worker Nicola walks in.

“Hi guys,” she waves, pierced lips parted in a grin. Her leather jacket creaks as she hangs it up, tinny metal music still playing through the headphones balancing around her neck.

“How was your weekend?” Eddie asks as you watch Nicola check her eyeliner in the mirror hanging above the oddly-placed backroom sink. As per usual, she’s used a graphic liner to test out a new pattern — spiders hanging from the outer corners of her eyes to tide in the hallowe’en season today.

She groans, eyes rolling up in annoyance. “My fuckin’ landlord decided to play music all night Friday,” Friday being the one day off Nicola had for the week, the others filled with classes and odd shifts at the bar, “which was terrible. Then, when I asked him to not do that again on Saturday, he threatened to evict me. And then he did it again! Saturday and Sunday!”

A sympathetic ‘humph’ leaves your throat, and you make an attempt at humour by outlining a plot to exact revenge on her landlord. Nicola laughs kindly, focussing behind you at Eddie once more.

“And yours?” Nicola braces herself on the edge of the sink, one brow arched in artful inquisition as a finger plays with a few loose strands of hair.

Flirting with him.

You suddenly feel a little out of place, existent, but no longer necessary to the conversation.

Eddie shrugs at her, signature grin igniting the dimple in his cheek. “Worked closing on Saturday, slept all day Sunday. The usual.”

You slip away, into the bar, and begin arranging liquors for tonight. The sounds of Nicola and Eddie engaged in happy discussion are quieter here, easier to ignore.

It feels wrong, bad, to be in a relationship and still yearn for your coworker and friend. There’s no reason for jealousy to pool in your stomach at the thought of Eddie and Nicola in a relationship, but it does anyway, and it makes you ill.

Really, if you hadn’t been dating Matt before you’d started working here you’d also try flirting with the man in question. And that fact disgusts you.

“Where’d you disappear to, sweets?” Eddie slides in next to you, the narrow space between each side of the bar resulting in the heat of his body warming you as he passes. The tip of his thumb brushes against you as he moves, trailing a hot line across the small of your back.

You cough, trying to dispel the want for his warmth blooming in you. “Just wanted to get ready for opening. It’s almost five.”

Eddie nods, glancing behind you as Nicola enters the small bar. Together, the three of you ready the space in preparation for its opening time. Chairs are taken off tables, odd dust is wiped away, and glasses are dried in advance.

The night itself passes steadily enough, and gossip is passed around between serving tables and shaking up cocktails.

It’s the next evening that Matt comes to visit you, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes as he greets you where you stand behind the bar. He’s brought you a treat, as a surprise, a small coconut-flavoured cupcake. You thank him, grinning, all the while mentally planning to pass it off to Nicola. She likes coconut, you never have.

It’s fine though, an easy thing to forget, and you take the kind gesture for what it is: thoughtful.

“Do I get a kiss, baby?”

“Matt, I’m at work, you know I can’t.”

“No one’s watching us.”

He’s right, a glance to either side of you will prove as much — Eddie is busy chatting up one of the groups of older women that frequent the bar, valued regulars who you’re convinced only come because they have a crush on him; Nicola and Robin are working alongside you but on the far side of the bar, busy prepping some complicated-looking cocktails and chatting up the patrons.

“Matt,” you implore, voice almost a whine.

“Just one kiss.” Matt leans over the bartop and into your personal space, drawing the attention of some regular who comes around often enough that you’d consider him a friend.

“You alrigh’?” The man asks, tone gruff.

A soft smile mollifies him enough to return to his drink and stare once again off into the middle-distance. Matt garners your attention again, and you nod in the hopes that it will pacify him.

“Just the one?” You double-check.

Matt smirks, “mhm.”

You bend at the hip, almost on your tiptoes to reach Matt over the high bartop. He leans the rest of the way over, thankfully, and you grant him a chaste peck. Before you can pull away, however, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and draws you back towards him.

The kiss deepens, turning into something that’s half tongue and all messy, and a sound of disgruntlement leaves your throat.

You finally manage to push Matt away, hands braced against his firm chest. “You said one, Matt,” your voice is chastising, but there’s no malice in it.

“Couldn’t help myself, baby.”

Your brows furrow, and you can’t help but remember the last time something similar happened. He’d aid the same then, too, pacifying apologies and sugar-sweet smiles to win your forgiveness. “Matt, I’m at work. Please help yourself next time, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try to, baby. It’s hard to around you.”

“You said the same thing last time.”

Matt scowls, the action sprouting wrinkles across his nose, up his forehead. “Baby, why are you getting so stuck on this? It’s not even a big deal. Just a kiss. I don’t know why you’re getting all mad at me for it.”

He stands up, and you panic.

“I’m not,” you reach over the bar to catch his hand as he begins to stand, worried that you’ve said something wrong. “I’m not mad, honey. Just don’t want to get fired, y’know? Company policy that we can’t french the customers, and all.”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, scowling. At least he’s sitting again.

“Are you mad at me?” Your voice is wan, scared.

Matt crosses his arms, shrugging. “No.”

“It’s just, you sound mad…”

“Jesus fucking christ, I’m not mad, okay? You wanted me to leave you alone so I’m leaving you alone.”

“Right.” Somehow, you don’t believe him, that aching in your chest that you’ve screwed up blossoming into something near-lethal. The urge to apologise consumes you. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“Whatever.”

The rest of the night goes in much the same way, with you checking in on a moping Matt every fifteen minutes to make sure you haven’t irreparably damaged your relationship. You offhandedly notice him watching Nicola and Robin, calling them over to order drinks instead of you, and it hurts.

Even more so, you’re slightly offended when Robin comes up to you with sorry eyes and apologises for it, as though it’s her fault he’d been giving her attention. You’re not mad at her, you don’t think you could ever be, but you do find your mind drifting to comparisons between your appearances.

And that’s the state of mind Eddie finds you in minutes later, still stuck in a rut where you’re listing all the ways Robin and Nicola are better than you. Shorter, because guys like that, right? Skinnier, maybe he thinks clothes lay better on her? Hotter, because of the tattoos? Funnier, because-

“Y’alright, pretty girl?” Eddie braces his elbows against the bartop, clearly taking a break from his club of adoring fangirls.

“All good,” you smile at him, eyes uncontrollably woebegone.

Eddie hums, leaning down to get closer to you. “Do you want me to believe that?” He asks, somehow reading you to dirt despite your best efforts to mask the insecurity biting at you.

“Most people believe the truth, Eds. So, yes.”

The sound he makes in reply is less than agreeable, but he nonetheless backs off. “How’s Matt?”

“Eds,” you say, a degree of warning lacing the word.

“What? If you’re all good then why shouldn’t I ask about Mr Skulk over there. Especially since he’s staring right at us.”

Hands busy cleaning off a glass, you glance slightly to the side to find that Matt is indeed glaring at you.

“Bad day at work, probably. Nothing you’ve to worry about.”

Eddie shrugs, silent for the moment, and leaves you be with a gentle squeeze to your shoulder.

“What the fuck was that?” Matt asks the moment you’re seated in his car.

“What do you mean?” You’re tired, your cheeks hurt from smiling all shift, and your head is starting to hurt with the terrible thoughts you had circling your mind the entire time you worked.

“Don’t play dumb, okay? I know that guy was flirting with you.”

You press your fingers against your temples, the action helping none. “Eddie wan’t flirting with me, Matt. He just wanted to know if everything was okay. Just checking in on me.”

“Oh, so you’re saying he didn’t touch you, then?” Matt starts the car, movements abrupt and aggressive.

“He touched my shoulder, Matt. It was just a friendly touch.”

“You’ve got to be all sorts of dumb if you don’t think he’s into you. I don’t want you being friends anymore, okay?”

“Matt…" “Me or him, babe. Take your pick. I don’t want you being around men who want you in their beds, and I don’t think that’s a big thing to ask of my fucking girlfriend. Unless you’d rather be his girl?”

“Matt, you know I love you.” Matt speeds through a red light, and your hands grip either side of your seat. “Matt… Matt, please slow down, I love you.”

“If you loved me, you’d stop being friends, or whatever you call it, with that freak.”

“We work together, Matt. It’s not that easy.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to make it up to me some other way,” he says, looking at you with a kind of feral gleam in his eye that causes goosebumps to rise along your skin.

You know what he wants, it’s what he always wants, and for all the love you hold for him you really don’t think you’re ready for that step.

And his reaction is the same as always when you tell him so.

He drops you off at your place, speeding off before you can say much more, and remains radio silent for the next week.

He texts you on Wednesday, eight days after the “argument”, asking you to meet on Monday before work. You agree, thrilled that he still cares about you, hoping you can make your inadequacies up to him.

Sunday is a difficult day, the first weekend shift you’ve had to work in a while. There’s customers filling the small bar from opening until closing, and because you offered to take over Robin’s shift so that she could flirt some more with a girl at her other job — in a bookstore, no less — you’re utterly exhausted. The thought of seeing Matt the next day truly does smooth things over, though, makes it easier to smile for the men who insist that they’d treat you right, if you just gave them a chance.

So, when you wake the next morning with your legs throbbing and tired as they always are after a long shift, it’s with a grin.

You’re excited to see him. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to spend time just one-on-one with each other, without the addition of either his friends or his roommate or your coworkers to lessen the intimacy of your shared moments.

This will be good, it’ll quell the worries flurrying within you, the thought that maybe Matt doesn’t feel for you what you do for him, the thoughts that maybe Eddie would be better.

Your phone, buried somewhere beneath yesterday’s clothes, rings. “Robin?” You say by way of greeting, mind still sleep-addled and groggy.

“Ok, so you know that girl I was telling you about?”

Yawning, you hazard a guess, “Lisa?”

“Aimee. Well, I asked her out and she said yes!” Robin’s voice turns almost shrill as the phone struggles to translate her excitement, a squeaky glitching that makes your ear hurt. “So I need you to help me pick out something to wear. Something that says I’m a lesbian, but my soulmate is a guy, but I like, really really love women.”

“That might be hard to do, Robbie. Why don’t I just get you a shirt that says all of that instead?”

“Come on, please? You’re my last hope.”

“Why can’t you ask Steve for help?” The duvet rustles beneath you as you stand, finally ready to prepare for the day ahead. “Since he’s your soulmate and all.”

“‘Cause he’s a dude. He’s gonna tell me to wear a low-cut shirt and a short skirt and like, that is hot, but does it really look gay?”

You chuckle, heading to the small kitchen of your apartment. “Sounds like you’re stereotyping here, Robs. Tsk tsk.”

“You know what I mean,” she whines, “if I take advice from a straight dude on what to wear, I’ll end up being appealing to other straight dudes. I need your feminine sensibilities. Make me look like I’m a pussy-eating champion.”

“Robin,” you laugh, feminine sensibilities shocked by her brashness. “Fine. What time is your date?”

“Six.”

“Alright,” with your phone knocking on death’s door, you manage to send a quick text to Matt alerting him of this new appointment — ‘Is it okay if I meet Robin later today?’. “I’m meeting Matt for breakie in a bit, and afterwards I’ll head over to yours?”

“Text me when you’re on your way.” The phone call ends with the customary ‘love you, love you too’ alongside best wishes on your breakfast date. You look at the clock, surprised you’d managed to wake up with so much time in the day to spare.

Matt had asked you to meet him for eleven, so you have two hours to shower and dress. You decide to pull out all the stops in an effort to impress him.

After a thorough shower — body hairless as one of those raw-chicken-looking cats and shining with some shimmer body lotion you’d been gifted a birthday or two ago — you look over your closet. It’s warm today, but cloudy on the horizon, so you opt for a comfortable sweater and dark-coloured skirt.

By the time you’ve done your makeup to a degree that suits you and twisted your hair into something comfortable, it’s ten forty-five. You decide, then, that it’s time to head over to Matt’s place. He always had valued punctuality.

Matt’s apartment is on the third storey, and you feel a cosmic gratitude at that fact because the lift is still out and you don’t think you’d manage to climb more flights of stairs than you already have to. Finding his flat when you’ve passed this obstacle is easy enough, front door marked by evidently college-boy humour.

The “babes this way” doormat stares at you as you knock on the door, afraid to ring the doorbell because last time you had it Matt had gotten so startled he’d hit his head against his bedroom door. The impact had been so hard that it had cracked almost in two, logwood splintering with every touch. It had taken you a few hours and a lot of grovelling to make sure that his landlord didn’t blame Matt for the accident — after all, it had been your action that had caused his reaction.

Needless to say, you were now wary about using the bell unnecessarily.

You knock again, rolling from the balls of your feet to your heels as you wait for an answer. When still you hear no sign of life, and the clock on your phone says it’s eleven-ten already, you try the doorknob.

It opens under your hand, pushing in to reveal the apartment expanse to you. While normally you’d have no qualms with entering Matt’s house, the idea of doing so without him stalls you some. Would he consider it invasive? But you had plans today, for this time, so maybe he lost track of time while getting ready and left the door open for you to enter when you got here?

The latter option does seem likely, although you can barely count on one hand the times he’s done something similar. Still, by Occam’s Razor, it makes sense.

You step into the short hallway and toe off your shoes, calling out for Matt. No one answers, but somewhere within the flat you think you hear muffled conversation.

You make it to the door to his bedroom before realising the sounds for what they really are — hushed moans and laboured grunts that make you nervous. Maybe he’s working out?

“Matt?” The door opens quietly as you step into his room.

The first thing you notice is its general disarray. Clothes are thrown about everywhere, feminine and masculine alike. You spy a pair of panties tossed over Matt’s study desk in the corner of the room. On the carpet, a heel eyes you mockingly.

Next, your eyes focus on the small pack of condoms on the nightstand that has been completely torn open. Little metal packets glint in the mid-morning light, spread about the small table and around the floor beneath it.

And of course, the most notable thing you see is the woman balanced on your boyfriend’s hips, riding him into oblivion. Her motions don’t stop as you enter, don’t stop as you take the whole scene in, don’t stop as you finally realise what this is and scream because how else should you react?

The girl screams too, shocked utterly. She hides beneath the blankets, and you can’t fault her for being surprised at the invasion. Hell, if it were the other way around, you’d be hiding too.

But Matt looks at you in a way that makes you think he’s not fully present, mentally. Generous as you are, you decide to bring him back into his body by tossing some odd socks lying on the floor at him.

You turn and leave, quickly, as he begins shouting. His bedroom door slams against its frame, the thin wood even less of a barrier than you thought it would be because now that you know what’s going on behind it, it’s difficult to mistake the sounds for anything else.

Matt lets loose some strangled cries, somewhere between pleasure and panic. You don’t care to figure out what he’s trying to say through them, pulling on your shoes with blurry eyes and throwing open the front door.

You make it halfway down exterior hallway before he catches up to you, swinging out his front door to yell “stop!” in your direction.

“Save it, Matt.”

“Please, baby, it’s-“

You round on him, pissed beyond belief at yourself for not seeing the signs, at the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, and most of all at him for doing this to you. “It’s what, Matt? ‘Not what it looks like’? ‘Not real’?”

“God, what is fucking wrong with you? You barge into my apartment and then get mad at me when you see something you didn’t want to? Are you fucking insane or something, thinking you can invade my privacy like that?”

“Invading your privacy, Matt? We had a date today, one that you clearly forgot about, and I thought you’d left the door open for me. Must’ve been stupid to think you’d ever even imagine doing something like that for little old me.”

“It’s all your fault anyway, you know? ‘Cause you’re such a prude, frigid, bitch I had to find entertainment somewhere else.”

Your throat closes around any words that you might’ve begun saying, hurt taking over where anger had burned.

“What?” The word comes out more broken than you would have liked, and you make up for its weakness by running through the stairway door. You don’t want to hear the answer to your question. You don’t want to break down in the middle of the hallway, in front of Matt.

He walks after you, leaning over the third storey railing to call you a “bitch” a few more times. “Wouldn’t have to fuck other women if you just did your job right.”

In your car, you beeline for Robin’s place. You know that it’s probably not right, helping her prepare for the flush of new love when your relationship is falling to pieces, but you also can’t let her down. You said you’d show up, so you will.

You’ll bury the hurt because Robin deserves for this date to go well.

“Hi!” Robin is smiling more widely than you think you’ve ever seen, practically glowing with excitement.

“You seem excited,” you let her joy be contagious, revelling in the purity of it.

She blushes, inviting you in by way of walking further into the house and assuming you’ll follow. “Me? What reason could I possibly have to be excited?”

“None, I suppose.” You pull off your shoes, placing them neatly beside each other in the doorway. “Have you thought any more about what you’ll wear? Maybe had some breakthroughs?”

Robin shakes her head, bobbed hair twirling around her with the force of the movement. Her room, when you enter it on her tail, is in utter disarray. Skirts, shirts, dresses, pants, and all sorts of hard-to-discern items of clothing lay about the place in a way that makes you question just how she managed to make such a mess by herself.

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” she says, pointing to a pile of clothes in a way that you presume means they’re contenders in the race for tonight’s outfit. “It’s only twelve thirty.”

“We, uh… ended up cutting it short. Matt had some things to take care of. No biggie.”

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry.”

You shrug, putting on a sweet smile for her, “it happens. So, tell me more about this Aimee?”

And Robin does, the adorable nervousness of going on a first date shining through in her words. This Aimee character, though you’ve never met her, seems absolutely wonderful.

Robin manages to spend almost an hour listing her attributes, and another hour just gushing over her. In that time, you manage to piece together a few potential date outfits, weed out some items of clothing that Robin had long since forgotten she owned, and found a few things to borrow from her.

“Ok, I’m thinking this is good?” Robin twirls, flare-leg pants following the movement. The outfit itself is simple enough, and considering they’d decided on a casual movie date, it seems fitting: jeans, a tight-fitting button-up vest, and a turtle-neck underneath that. She looks good, and you have the impression that she feels good too.

“I’m thinking hell yeah, Robs. You look great. I’ll be surprised if Aimee doesn’t jump your bones the second you meet her.”

“You know I never put out on a first date.”

You laugh, and it doesn’t feel as forced as you thought it would.

Spending these few hours with Robin has been lovely. It’s been refreshing, and the weight on your shoulders is lessened some as you say goodbye to her, heading to work.

Everything is good — greyscale, still melancholy, but good — until you walk into the backroom and Matt is standing there and you gasp and Eddie immediately just knows everything. His face falls as he looks between you and Matt, grin disappearing, and no amount of prompting from Nicola drags his attention back to her and the conversation they’d clearly been having before.

With a quick apology in her vague direction, he steps over to you.

You can’t control it, can’t stop it, and luckily Eddie envelops you in a hug before the first tears fall. He manages to manoeuvre you into the small bathroom across from the bar, the resounding click of the lock working as almost a trigger to the sobs fighting free of your throat.

“What’s going on?” Eddie whispers against your head, running a soothing hand through your hair. “Tell me what’s happening, darling?”

“Matt and I…” You don’t manage to finish the sentence, the burning “I walked in on him with another woman” sour in your throat. You don’t have to, though, because Eddie always knows.

Eddie wraps his arms tighter around you, if such a feat were possible with the way he’s already positively squeezing you. “I figured it was something like that when he showed up here, askin’ about you. Sorry I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“S’not your fault, Eds.”

“Maybe, but you’re still my responsibility.”

Your heart soars. “You’re too nice to me,” you say, warmed by his concern as always.

“As nice as you deserve,” he presses his lips to your forehead, “wanna tell me what happened?”

You did, you did, because you wanted the support of your friends and you couldn’t ruin Robin’s date, but now Eddie was here and asking you and it was nice. Your chest bloomed with warmth.

And then bloomed with embarrassment, fear, mortification.

“Just, uh…”

“No judgement,” he said, hands tracing a comforting line up and down your back. And you knew there wouldn’t be, this was Eddie.

You inhaled and exhaled a few times, hoping the action would soothe you, steady you. “Matt, he, uh… we had plans for breakfast, and I got to his this morning… I guess he forgot, or something, and there was this girl there and I…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. What a dick, I should’ve known you shouldn’t trust him based on his choice of DnD class. I mean, who picks a bard and then plays it straight?”

You giggle, wiping away tears with the palm of your hand with a sniffle. Eddie’s eyes flicker across your face, small grin dimpling his cheek in reflection of your expression. Shame still squeezes your throat, though, choking you up.

Eddie, ever aware of your emotional state, notices. “Is there something else, sweets?”

Before you can answer, Matt’s voice rings through the door, angered. The door creaks as he knocks on it, and Eddie gently moves you behind him.

“The fuck do you want, man?” He yells over the noise, one hand wrapped around your bicep and other spread out in front of him.

Matt’s voice is loud in the silence from the cessation of his action. You shiver, not necessarily scared that he’ll hurt you but worried nonetheless. You don’t want him to shout at you, don’t want to see him mad in your space. Don’t want Eddie to see your reaction at Matt being cross with you.

“Is she in there with you?” Eddie looks down at you, silently asking for the next move.

“Yeah,” you call out, “I’m here.” The three steps to the door feel like a mile, but you manage to reach it and click open the lock. Matt stands there, Nicola behind him, and if you hadn’t spent six months getting to know his habits you’d think the slouched stance he sports is casual. Instead, your eyes focus on his flaring nostrils and clenched fists.

You step away from the door, waving him in. He declines.

Matt is abrasive as he asks, “can he leave?” chin jutting in Eddie’s direction.

It’s impossible to look away from Matt, but you can picture Eddie’s face at this moment — concerned, caring. “I’d rather he not.” When Eddie, behind you, makes a noise as though to disagree, you reiterate the sentiment.

“I’d like him to stay, please."

Matt rolls his eyes, entering the small bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Nicola’s prying eyes look through the crack as it closes, and you don’t blame her for the interest. You just hope the door is thick enough that she can’t hear the conversation to come.

You start, worried that if you wait Matt will explode. “I’m sorry for running away from you today.”

“Not going to apologise for barging into my apartment, no?”

The pebble in your chest grows into a boulder, air leaving your lungs. “I’m sorry for walking in on you.”

“Dude,” Eddie cuts in, “doesn’t matter what she did, you cheated on her.”

Matt’s brows pull together, stress lines marking his forehead. He steps forward once more, hand reaching for yours, and his mouth shapes a grimace when he feels the tremor in your fingers. It looks real, genuine, but his eyes are sharp and dangerous.

“Baby,” Matt implores, “I’m so sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me, she doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just hard, y’know?”

You nod, a slight movement that brings a frightening sparkle to Matt’s eye. He trails a hand up your arm, embracing you closely, and you let him pull you into the hard planes of his chest.

It feels awkward, sure, Matt’s hugs always do, but it’s the sentiment in the hug that counts.

“Just been hard to not get that kind of attention, baby. You’ve been holding out on me, right? Needed to go to someone else to take care of me, didn’t I?”

Eddie grunts somewhere behind you.

Matt’s words hurt, but on the best of days he makes you feel wanted. Makes you feel desirable, even if you’re not ready for that step. He’s been patient, you think, kind with the way you’re uncomfortable with intimacy.

“Yeah,” you agree, halfheartedly.

“Yeah.” Matt’s arms tighten around you, breath catching in your chest. “You forgive me, right?”

You nod, then vocalise again, “yeah.”

Eddie coughs, and it’s fake in a way that you know is meant to make a point.

Matt lets you go, slightly, just to look over your shoulder at Eddie. From your vantage point pressed against his ribcage, you can only feel as Matt’s muscles prick with the movements of what you’re sure is a silent conversation with him.

Eddie leaves the room, the clunk of his boots only ceasing for a second as he reaches the space where Matt is holding you close. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice pitched low not for the purpose of privacy, but to make it apparent that his words are only for you to respond to.

“‘M okay, Eds. Thank you.”

And Eddie leaves, the door closing softly behind him.

Things were good for two weeks.

Almost as though he were crushed by guilt, Matt played the part of the doting boyfriend with all the vigour of an actor shooting for an Oscar.

Flowers showed up in the backroom every day you had a shift, red roses and lilies, and you’d come back to your flat with him having cooked a meal often enough that you worried for the state of your pans — though, of course, it was the thought that counted, you were tired of spending hours scrubbing the burnt-on food off of them after dinner, as Matt relaxed with a movie.

Still, things were good.

Eddie still checked on you every once in a while, kind touches on the small of your back as you read the little notecard supplied with the flower bouquets; versions of “love you baby”, “would wait forever for you”, “whenever you’re ready”. You’d smile up at him, make an off comment about how kind Matt is, how considerate and thoughtful, and go on with your day.

If only the flowers made you feel as confident in your relationship as Matt seemed to be. He’d show up at least once a day when you were on shift and shower you with praise, go for kisses and hugs even though you were working.

Things were good.

They had to be. Matt was putting in so much effort, trying his absolute best, and yet there was this niggling feeling that something was wrong. Shit, you felt guilty at the thought.

“Baby!” Matt leans over the bartop, lips pursed for a kiss. With a quick look around the limited clientele here at five in the evening, you give him a quick peck and dodge his hand before he can deepen the kiss.

“How was you day, love?”

“Good,” he answers, voice light.

“Good,” you echo, painted smile crinkling the corners of your eyes.

Things were good for two weeks, and it’s the next day when that fortnight ends.

It’s a Saturday. You don’t usually work Saturdays.

You’re only working today because Robin and Aimee are having their sixth date in as many days, swept up in the excitement and nerves of new love. From their first date on that fateful days two weeks ago, they’ve spent nearly every moment possible together.

As a joke, you’d bought Robin a little Hallowe’en present of a tiny U-Haul truck key charm, which both her and Aimee had loved. The keychain became a staple decoration of the checkout counter at the bookstore they both worked in, hanging on a little hook for all to see.

Working closing isn’t particularly familiar to you, having only taken late shifts once or twice in the months spent under Ted’s employment. The basics are obvious: clean the bar, the bar floor, and the backroom; kick out the stragglers. Still, you call up Eddie to chat with him and maybe double check some of the standards.

Normally you’d just ask the other people on shift — Wren and Mindy — but neither of them seemed particularly poised for helping today.

Wren, you’d interacted with before, so you knew they preferred to just stand threateningly in the corner until closing as opposed to interacting with either staff or patrons. You didn’t mind that much, introversion was a trait you managed to share with them most of the time.

Mindy was nice too, and you chalked her lack of willingness to talk to you to the rush of people. It was difficult to get to know someone, after all, when there were rowdy folks yelling after a pint over one another.

And on another level, you’d felt as though you’d seen her before, but it was difficult to place when. Maybe she’d visited the bar once during your shift?

“So, are the toilets usually this bad?” You grit out, utterly disgusted at the toilet paper that has somehow wound up wrapped around each leg of the bathroom stall.

Eddie laughs on the line, “pretty much. Has everyone left?”

“Yeah.” You check the time on your phone quickly, nothing humourlessly that the sun would be rising soon. “Sorry to have woken you up so early.”

Eddie barely lets you finish the apology before interrupting with a fierce, “I was already awake. And anyway, I would’ve woken up just to talk to you.”

You thank any stars still in the early-morning sky that you’re alone in the bathroom, flushed at Eddie’s kindness.

“Insomniac.” You say.

“Slave to the Man,” he rebuts.

“Are you going to have an early night today, then?” You’re asking off-handedly, mostly concerned with cleaning your hands after having to touch — even through gloves — that disgusting mess.

Eddie laughs. “At least pretend that you know me, sweets.”

It’s your turn to chuckle, feeling light despite how bone-tired you are. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning with your three-sugars, half-full of cream, oat milk latte, Eds, to settle this.”

Finished washing up, you tidy away the cleaning supplies and lock down the bathroom. Odd lights are shut off as you scoot around the outer corridor of the bar, the hallway leading to the main serving area.

You hear voices, one you recognise as that of Wren saying their goodbyes and the others as Mindy and, well, someone.

“Are you going straight home after this?” Eddie asks, stealing your attention away from much more consideration of the voices.

“I should.” The heavy wooden door creaks open as you step out of the side hallway.

You gasp.

Eddie’s voice rings out from your phone speaker, but it sounds distorted and fuzzy and wrong.

The breath leaves your lungs in one exhale, one pitiful whimper.

He turns.

Mindy is balanced on his lap, one hand wandering under the hem of his shirt and the other disappearing into his pants. Matt is in no less a compromising position, clearly having been in the process of pulling down her jeans as you had walked in.

Mindy breaks the silence, voice rubbing against some feral, angry part of your brain. “Oh,” she says, “I thought you left.”

I thought you’d left.

“Still here,” you trill, already feeling the prick of fresh tears on your waterline.

You look at Mindy, who looks at Matt, who looks at you. He turns around, faces Mindy, and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“Is this a friend of yours?” he asks her, and you feel chest crack, your heart break. Again.

“I was just leaving,” you direct your words directly at Mindy, “sorry to bother you.”

Things were really good for two weeks.

Matt starts ringing you at midday, and continues to do so until you answer his call.

It’s dinnertime, and you’d managed to rustle up a hearty meal of some grapes, two grilled cheese sandwiches, and a handful of odd cereal you’d found laying about in your cupboard.

“Why haven’t you been answering me?”

You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t. You can hear Eddie’s voice in every corner of your skull saying “no! Don’t do this!”. Robin is chiming in with her two-pence, too, ever and annoyingly right: “this is a bad idea!”

You suppose you don’t owe him this, closure, after he’d managed to betray your trust twice — that you knew of. But you wanted it for yourself. You wanted to be able to talk about Matt as a silly little mistake you’d made in the past and learnt from.

“What do you want, Matt?”

“So sorry, baby.” He sounds tearful, you think, but maybe you’re projecting. You had spent the better half of the morning after returning home curled up in a little ball, overstimulated from equal parts exhaustion and anger at yourself.

You allow his ramble, allow him talk about how shocked he was seeing you there this morning, confused because he didn’t know you were on shift and why didn’t you tell him you were on shift? You should have told him you were working, it’s really an asshole move that you didn’t, so really it’s your fault, anyway.

It’s difficult to interrupt him, but you manage. “Matt, we’re over.”

There’s silence on the line.

“Matt?”

“You can’t do this to me. I’ve been so patient with you, been waiting months and months for you to put out, done everything a good boyfriend is supposed to do. I listen to you whine and mope about mean guys at the bar, don’t say a damn thing when you ask to just cuddle, and when I go see other girls to make up for what you don’t wanna give me you break up with me?”

You’d cry, if you could, but you feel dreadfully empty inside. In lieu of making any more of a fool of yourself than you already have you offer him a quiet “goodbye,” and hang up.

The phone feels heavy in your hand.

The food on your plate is unappetising.

The kitchen light above you is too bright.

You call Eddie.

Eddie shows up as quickly as he always does, heady wafts of cigarette smoke floating under your doorframe far before he knocks on it.

He’s rushing to embrace you when he steps in the room, warm touch so comforting you could die.

“Are y’alright sweets?”

“I think so…” You’re not. “Just kinda sad.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, he didn’t deserve you.”

You can only laugh, self-deprecating, still mad that you’d let yourself get fooled by him, that you believed him when he said it was only a mistake he’d made.

If you were being truly honest, when hurt most was the fact that this all came about as an issue of sex.

More specifically, that you weren’t in any place to have any sort of relations with him. Was there something wrong with you, that you couldn’t find it in you to be sexually attracted to your boyfriend when it was so easy to find comfort in the hands of the man currently squishing you to his chest?

Fucking hell.

“That’s nice of you to say.”

Eddie makes a very noise of disagreement, the sound reverberating in his chest and into your eardrums. “It’s the truth.”

“I’m not sure that’s right, Eds. But I appreciate it.”

He pulls away from you just enough to even a mock-glare your way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “Just, y’know, no one’s a saint.”

“‘M pretty sure you are, sweets. Saint to put up with me.”

At that, you do cry.

A few weeks pass. You’re dealing as well as you can, which is surprisingly well considering Ted has signed you on for a few more closing shifts — closing shifts with Mindy — so you’d had to watch her and Matt exchange spit often enough.

There had been a point right after the breakup when you’d tried to tell her about you and Matt, but she’d brushed you off with a “you don’t think I knew?” Which, needless to say, had not really improved your working relationship.

Matt hadn't approached you at all during that time, seemingly happy to just let your relationship end with the knowledge that you had nothing more to say to him. Or, maybe he was just happy that he had a girlfriend who was happy to engage in relations with him whenever he wanted it. Whatever.

It was fine though, really. Fine that Matt had been going behind your back for months longer than you’d known, fine that you still had to see him, fine that Mindy didn’t seem to care that he was a rotten old prick.

And fine, most of all, that it was sex that was the final factor in him cheating on you. Not, say, the way you chewed your salads, or the way you insisted upon setting three alarms just to get up in the morning.

Whatever, and just fine and fucking dandy.

“And then she invited me over, and well, I had forgotten that vibe I like-“

“Robin,” you snap back into reality. “I don’t want to hear about your vibrators in the middle of work.”

“But you haven’t been free for coffee lately,” she whines, “when else are we gonna gossip?”

“Just been a little caught up with stuff, y’know?”

Robin’s face falls, hands clasping at her gasping mouth. “Oh my god! I didn’t mean… I know it’s been hard and you take all the time you need to to heal, obviously. I’m not-“

You place a kind hand on her shoulder, interrupting her “you’re okay, honey. I know what you meant. How about you come over Saturday night? We can do a movie, wine, gossip, stay up painting our nails and stuff. Yeah?”

Robin still looks apologetic as she nodes, and you suddenly feel so grateful to have someone missing your appearance in their life this desperately. “Yeah. I feel like we haven’t had a nice shit-talking session for the town bike, either, so this should be super-healing for you.”

You laugh, hugging Robin to you as well as you can over the bartop. “I think I need one of those.”

And it’s Saturday night that you realise you might be attracted to one scraggly-haired Edward Munson.

Robin is sitting across from you, seventh glass of wine clutched loosely between her fingers as she recounts the night of wonderment that was Aimee’s proposal to be official. If you’re being honest, you had thought they were official ages ago, but you also weren’t the kind to turn down a good story.

You hadn’t quite zoned out, still listening in on her excitement, but somehow something she says manages to trigger a memory of that one time Eddie had told you a similar story, and you were spiralling.

You loved Eddie, that much had always been certain. Loved the way he always cheered you up, always called you first to share a funny story he’d just heard some strangers trade on the bus. Loved how kind he was to everyone, loved his sense of humour.

Loved the way he always felt warm and solid and comforting against you, grounding and caring all at once. Loved the way he remembered the little things, like that you always had to tie your shoes a certain way or you feet would go numb, or that you hated gloves and preferred mittens.

Loved him utterly and deeply.

Platonically, of course.

So just maybe you were attracted to him.

Shit.

But…

Maybe you could use this. If you loved him, platonically, of course, and trusted him, and were attracted to him, perhaps you could get over some dam in your brain that hadn’t let you take that last step with Matt.

It was a good idea, right?

Right?

Monday morning you were starting to think differently, but you’d resolved to at least ask him. Eddie got around, you knew that. He’d told you plenty about the many girls he took home by virtue of being a bartender in a band.

This would be just like that, except he’d also be doing you a favour. Right?

Right.

So, you’d cornered him at the start of your shift and asked him to take a smoke break with you — he’d looked at you funny, as you didn’t smoke, but followed you out nonetheless.

“So?” He probed, the second the door pressed closed behind you.

You take a steadying breath. “Wanted to talk with you about something.”

Eddie “mhm’s” at you, lighting a smoke and sticking it between his lips.

“Eds, I…” you start, fear drying your throat and making your words all sticky. “I want to ask you something.”

Eddie makes a small noise of assent, urging you to carry on with a movement of his head down to catch your eye. You turn away, too embarrassed to look directly at him, and clear your throat.

“Could you… so, you know how I’ve been with Matt? He, uh… he wanted to,” you make a nonsensical gesture with your hands, self-soothing and meaningless, “y’know and I just never could and I was thinking if I did do it with someone it would be easier to do it in a relationship next time and I really trust you so I was hoping…” you trail off at the incredulous look on Eddie’s face.

A few seconds pass, neither you nor him saying anything, and you begin stuttering out an apology when he grasps your hands. His voice is muffled slightly by the cigarette sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“Are you asking me to… to have sex with you?”

Your face warms, humiliation running through your veins. “Sort of? I’m asking you to take my virginity, Eds. I think that might be the problem.”

“Oh.” As mortifying as it is, you manage to glance up at him. You find him already watching your face, eyes flickering across its span to read your expression. Instead of disgust, or anger, however, he replies with “are you sure?”

“I trust you,” is your immediate response. It takes no thought, that had all been expended these past few weeks after your breakup with Matt, after your assessment of who Matt — who Eddie — was to you. Even if Eddie didn’t care for you in the way you did him, you wanted it to be him to do this. You wanted to have this memory with him.

“If this is just because of Matt…”

“It’s not. It’s not.”

“Okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Eddie exhales sharply, extinguishing his cig on the wall beside you before crushing it under his boot. “Sure I’m sure, sweets.”

And that’s the last thing said on the subject for the next three days.

It’s a slow night, tonight. Small crowd, just the regulars who liked to show their support for a small local business, or something like that. Maybe it was just the draw of liquor after a week of working, but you preferred to believe that the number of regulars recently had to do with your dazzling personality.

Eddie slips in next to you, hand finding a loop in your apron to brace his thumb on. “I wanna take you out,” he says, and the surprise at his words almost makes you drop the cocktail you’ve been shaking. For a split second, you truly do believe that he’s asking you out, before remembering your conversation from earlier this week.

And, okay. Maybe since you’d had that chat you’d come to the realisation that you might have the smallest, tiniest, minusculest crush on him. But that wouldn’t change anything, because Eddie didn’t like you like that. So he’d do you this favour and you’d find someone else and you’d be able to go back to being friends.

Still, your response is less-that-intelligent. “What?”

“If I’m going to be the one to take care of you for the first time, I wanna do it right, y’know?”

“You don’t have to do that, Eds. This isn’t like a,” you search for the words, mind and body betraying logic with the way they absolutely preen at the thought of him taking you out. “This isn’t like a,” you start again, swallowing around a lump happily lodging itself in your throat, “dating thing. It’s really not necessary.”

Eddie makes a sound of disapproval, but you can’t imagine what he’d have to argue with. It’s a sound thought, as this was an unemotional matter for the both of you. Mostly.

You manage to finish the cocktail, garnish it, run it over to the forty-something pretty woman in the corner who was clearly going through something dour, and return to start on another drink before Eddie says anything more.

“Please?” He asks, brown eyes large and pleading.

There’s not a bone in your body that can resist him at his most annoying, and the doe-like quality of his features right now is rendering you to barely-functional goop.

“Okay,” you finally nod, trying to quell the beating of your heart. Even though you know this is just Eddie helping you to the best of his abilities, it does nothing to stifle the want blossoming inside your chest.

It’s Saturday night again. You could almost laugh at the coincidence; it’s been a week since grand revelations, and here you are getting ready for a sort-of date.

It’s getting dark already, and somehow you feel more stressed than you have done since you met Eddie for the first time. Not even your first date with Matt rendered you such a mess, and that in and of itself was scary enough as your first venture into the dating world.

You dust off your dress again, the polyester-blend as clean of lint as it had been the last five times you had done so. The selection at your local shops had been slim on clothing in your style, so you had ended up wearing an old dress you’d bought once for a college party.

It's nice, overall, if unimpressive. A dark red, the neckline dipped low enough that you’d had to buy new undergarments specifically for it and its bodycon silhouette. You’d decided to just go all out and buy nice lingerie too. Go big or go home, right?

It would be untrue to say you were regretting the choice now, because the lace bralette and underwear lay nicely on your body and were soft to the touch, but it could definitely be said that you were rethinking it. Would Eddie find it too presumptuous? Too forward? Would he think that you were implying this was something more?

Well, you supposed it would be, to you, but he didn’t need to know that.

You could dwell in the thoughts circling your mind, endless and restless and quite frankly annoying, but a knock at your door struck you from your train of thought.

Eddie stood behind it, grinning as widely as ever. His dimples stood out against his cheeks, and he was beautiful. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes unable to focus on just one thing to admire.

He had made even more of an effort today than you had, band tee replaced by a deep red dress shirt, ripped jeans traded for straight-leg dress pants. His chain-linked wallet sticks oddly out of his pocket, hanging on to a belt loop. Through all this, though, he still wears a well-loved leather jacket.

It’s impossible for you to look him in the eyes, mind too invested in the sinful stretch of material across the meat of his thighs. The fact that him wearing fancy clothing marginally less tight than normal has you more pent up that seeing him in his customary skinnies is somewhat curious to you, but it’s something to assess when you’re alone in your room some other night.

“And to think I was going to go with the black one,” Eddie says, striking you out of your stupor.

“Hm?”

“Black shirt. Good thing I wore the red one instead,” he gestures at your dress, then back at his shirt, and dips his head to meet your eyes. You blink at him blankly, images of his lean muscles showing through tight fabric still pervading your thoughts.

You watch his eyebrows draw together, worry lining his features. “Are you still sure about this?”

Unable to vocalise a response for fear of telling him just how sure you are, you nod.

“Gonna need you to tell me, sweets.”

With a shaky voice, you manage a slight “yeah.”

Eddie quirks a brow, clearly looking for more of an answer.

“Yes, yes I’m still sure.” You take a steadying breath, smiling at him for the first time this evening.

He nods, reaching out a hand to you. Its rough callouses feel warm against your skin, inviting. His kind eyes look down into yours, and any anxiety you’d felt before leaves at the care in them. He pulls you out the door towards him.

“You’re right,” you say, mind finally caught up to what Eddie had said before. “It is funny you picked a shirt the same colour as my dress.”

Eddie gives you an amused smile, not quite laughing at you but not quite just laughing either. “Some would call it fate.”

“I call it similar taste in fashion,” you joke, then remember that your hand is still holding tight to his. Using the excuse of locking your door behind you, you let it drop back to his side and turn away. “So, where are we going tonight?”

“Can’t tell you that, sweets.”

“This feels very much like the start to a Forensic Files episode, Eds.”

He chuckles, slinging an arm around your waist as you face him once more. Using the grip on you, he pulls you down your flat hallway, to the lift, and into the front car park.

A motorcycle is waiting for you there, the only vehicle you don’t recognise.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Eddie asks as you walk up to it.

“Very nice,” you nod, eyes roving the metal appraisingly.

Eddie takes a helmet out from some compartment in the bike, handing it to you. When you look at it dumbly, he makes a motion of question and at your permission secures it on your head.

His fingers are gentle as he closes the clasps under your chin. “Wasn’t asking you.”

Before you can say anything at all, he closes the visor of your helmet. The motion shocks you into silence, not least because of his words prior to it.

And before you can manoeuvre the visor up, Eddie’s already got his helmet on and is sitting comfortably against the bike, hands spread as though to tell you he’s waiting. You suddenly feel very grateful that you decided on boots for this occasion instead of heels.

It’s somewhat hard to get up behind him, your balance always having been askew. Eddie helps you, hand placed firmly on your arm and waist to lift you upwards. When you’ve made it up, you’re not sure what to do with your hands. There’s no seatbelts here, no handles to grasp. Thankfully, Eddie, ever aware of your moods, takes your hands in his and settles them securely around his lithe waist.

Your face warms. For all the times you’ve heard about riding with someone on a bike (once… you’d heard of it once, and it had been from Robin, who had gone on a date with a biker chick in her experimental phase) you’d never expected this to be so intimate.

Your heart pounds at the proximity to him, fingers itching with the need to trace along the clasps and contours of his leather jacket, consumed by the hope they might feel what lays underneath it.

How were you supposed to breathe under these conditions?

“Ready?” Eddie says, and it takes him squeezing your hand to realise he’s asking you.

You make a “mhm” of agreement, then remember his words from earlier. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

And he revs the engine, the harsh motor sounds louder than you had anticipated them to be. Everything lurches forward and you fall flush against him, arms tightening around his waist with the fear that you’ll fall.

Eddie chuckles, and as sad as you are that you can’t hear it, can’t see the way the action lights up his face, you do have to admit that it’s an entirely different experience to feel the reverberations in his chest.

“How far away is this place?” You ask, and it takes you five tries, as you zoom through chock-blocked streets and near-empty alleys, to realise that Eddie can’t really hear you over the rushing wind.

The drive to… wherever… is short, barely five minutes. You’re not sure where you are, and you’re also not sure you can let go of Eddie. Your arms feel stuck to him with glue, and you distantly wonder if he will be able to scrape you off him.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, voice a husk from the frost lacing the air.

When Eddie steps closer to you, the streetlights bouncing off his helmet in a way that haloes him and creates the silhouette of an alien. Almost as though he can sense the thought, Eddie flips up both of your visors and grins at you.

His fingers, gloved and leathery, trail up your neck in a touch reminiscent of a kiss. You lean into it, into his careful touches moving towards the clasp secured under your chin. He’s much slower undoing it than he had been closing it, and you’re almost tipsy with the contact.

The helmer finally comes free, sliding up and over your head. Eddie chuckles, helps you fix some fly away hair strands, and takes his own off.

“Where’s here?” You ask as a way to distract from the heat blossoming in your chest. Maybe to also distract from the flaring burn rushing your veins at the leftover sensation of his touch.

Eddie shrugs, “somewhere.”

There’s a few shops on the street he’s decided to park on, a few restaurants that look relatively inviting. Music streams out from a few of them, interior lights spilling onto the pathways and road that paints this part of the town in shadow.

“C’mon, Eds,” you beg, “tell me?”

He sighs theatrically, and it’s with his entire body. “There’s this nice Mexican spot here. Thought you’d like it.”

“That sounds lovely. Which way?”

He lights up with a giant grin, dimples stark against his cheeks, and offers you his elbow with gentlemanly courtesy. You take it, giggling, and feel that rush of excitement in your throat that’s nothing less than juvenile and pure.

The small restaurant is nice, and the smells wafting from it are nothing less than inviting. There’s music spilling from the open door, too, light and joyous.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to secure you a table, and your waiter comes over promptly to introduce himself. He seems happy to see Eddie, who seems less happy to see him.

“I didn’t know you were working tonight,” Eddie says, fingers tapping the table.

“I’m Steve,” the waiter tells you, hair quaff bouncing as he turns away from whatever eye-contact battle him and Eddie had been having.

Steve leans again smiles kindly when you tell him your name, and then connect the dots.

“Steve? Like, Robin’s Steve? Like, Platonic Love of Robin’s Life, Steve?”

He laughs, “yeah, I mean. I think so. How can I get you two started?”

You turn to Eddie, who’s already looking at you, and ask him his opinion; you figure he has at least an idea of what’s good given he knows Steve.

And he does, ordering several small dishes that he praises highly. Neither of you drink, Eddie because he’s driving and you because you’re dead stressed about getting back on his bike — worried that if you drink you’ll lose your balance or something and fall off it as he drives.

Dinner passes so wonderfully, brilliantly, amazingly well that you almost forget this is just a plot to get laid by someone you trust. Steve comes by a few more times, complimenting you on your outfit and sharing a few stories you’re sure you can use to blackmail Robin.

Before you know it, Eddie is pulling you with a tight — but gentle — grip on your hand and leading you out the door.

You assume this means the end of the date.

You’re wrong.

Eddie, still holding you by the hand, pulls you down the main street to a little shop filtering warm light onto the pavement. It’s beautiful, if somewhat run-down looking, the paint peeling and flaking off the open door knocking lightly against the opposite wall with the breeze.

“What is this place?” The words aren’t quite breathless, but something close, suddenly very aware that this street is fairly empty and as attracted as you are to Eddie, you have no proof he’s not a murderer.

He smiles at you, winks. “Saw you reading a tattered copy of The Colour of Magic one day, so I figured I’d get you a new copy. Where better than the best bookshop on this side of the ocean?”

Oh wow.

Actually, that’s not intense enough to cover the pounding of your heart and the weakness you’re feeling in your knees.

Oh fuck me, is decidedly better.

“You didn’t have to…”

“It’s family owned, which I thought you’d like. Samara is at home today but if you like it here I can bring you back sometime. To meet her, that is.”

Never mind, actually, because even “fuck” isn’t strong enough to cover the whirlwind of emotions spitting through your head.

Eddie’s looking at you, so kindly, and you need to answer him somehow but you really can’t. This might just be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you, definitely the nicest thing a man has ever done for you, and the words just won’t work in your mouth.

Eddie, angel he is, asks if everything is alright and you can only nod for fear that if you do try to say something you’ll start crying right in front of him.

“That’s really kind of you, Eddie.”

He grins, says “only the best for you,” and beckons you into the bookstore with him.

It’s as beautiful within as it was externally, dark oak shelves lining every wall of the small building. There’s a smell of old tomes in the air, floral, woody, and it feels like a promise of home.

“I know I said I brought you here for good old Pratchett, but you can go wild if you want.” He’s causal when he says it, and you’re surprised at it.

You eyes go wide. “Eds, I can’t ask you to buy books for me,” you lower your tone, eyes examining your surroundings in case of an eavesdropper. “They’re expensive.”

Eddie laughs.

“To ease your mind, let’s say I get a family discount.”

“Eddie…”

“Come on, let me treat you.”

He buys you The Colour of Magic, and one more book that he’d been adamant you’d enjoy. He almost looks disappointed when you refuse to let him pay for more, treat you more, but you’re stubborn and he’s too engrossed in the look in your eyes to argue back.

You’re floating on pure joy all the way back to his apartment. Everything feels light, even the lengthy books stuffed in your bag.

There’s some level of dread that scratches at the back of your throat when Eddie parks, but you logic it out of your mind with the knowledge that you trust and love him so deeply. And nothing that happens tonight — or any other night — could change that.

You make it inside lightening-quick, worried to seem too eager, but encouraged on by Eddie’s wide smile.

He fumbles with the keys to his front door, fingers shaking with what you hope is nervous anticipation. It doesn’t really make a difference, when your own muscles are quaking in excitement.

You make it inside, and Eddie helps you shuck off your boots before latching onto you in a searing press of his lips against yours.

It’s explosive kissing him, gentle and kind and passionate all at once.

It’s suddenly very difficult to remember that he’s doing this by request, that this evening had not just occurred naturally.

Somehow, amidst the kissing, you make it back to his room. You’ve been here before, hanging out before concerts at one pub or another, but its atmosphere is so different this time.

Eddie’s arm slides around your waist, hand splaying against your back as you lie on his plush bed. His mouth travels down, down, over your neck and to the dip in your dress.

You lean up, hands winding into his hair, pushing him back towards your mouth. He groans against you, restless hands trailing your body and catching on your invisible zipper.

Your hands push his away, pulling it down and welcoming him between your legs. The dress catches on your elbow as you pull it over your head, and Eddie giggles. The sound draws heat to your cheeks, temporary embarrassment flushing you.

“Need some help with that, sweets?”

You nod, then realise he probably can’t see you, and whisper “yes.”

He laughs agains, peeling the finicky dress up and off you. “Hi,” he smiles, eyes flickering between yours as the fabric finally falls away from your face.

“Hi,” you giggle back, giddy and excited despite yourself.

Eddie kisses you again, hand wrapped around the back of your neck. He leads you to lie back on the bed, hair spread across his pillow and thighs caging his narrow hips in.

Sitting back, he looks down at you and sighs. His eyes are heated as they flicker across your form, especially appreciative of the assets pointedly left on display by the lacy lingerie just barely covering your modesty.

You stare up at him, waiting for his next move, unsure of what you’re supposed to be doing.

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he rolls away to lie beside you on the bed. Everything collapses around you.

“I can’t do this. I… I’m really sorry, sweets. But I can’t.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you still manage to reach a comforting hand towards his form. You rub circles into the flesh there, “it’s okay, Eds. It’s a lot to ask of you.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” You gather your dress, the shoes you had dropped somewhere along the way, and leave.

You manage to make it to the lobby of his apartment before the waterworks start, painful sobs wracking your chest and squeezing your lungs. Half the pain comes from holding back the mournful sounds rising in your throat like bile — careful not to worry the kindly older woman walking towards to lift with your emotional state.

The other half of the pain comes from the pang of rejection that echos in your heart, crushing and somehow expected all at once. You can’t blame Eddie for it, can’t get mad at him, can’t fault him for the massive bruise on your ego. This was a favour between friends, and the consent of both parties was important above all.

Still, though, it hurts to be here in this moment. It hurts to know that tomorrow night you’ll have to see him again in work after the evening you’d shared. For all the tears running spilling over your cheeks and running down your neck, your heart still yearns for a few hours ago when Eddie had been holding you to him, looking at you as though you meant the world and the stars.

So, needless to say, you enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and some wine when you finally arrived home.

And you enjoyed a nice sleep-in the next day, as well as a nice scroll through various social medias. When that got boring, you napped, then read some good, old, supportive fanfiction. Then napped again. Then dodged a call from a friend, and ate an exquisite meal of grilled cheese before your television while rewatching that comfort show for the fifth time.

The next day passed much the same, though with an inclusion of several miscalls from Eddie. It’s slightly harder to fall back into a groove of not thinking about him after you see the notifications, but you still manage well enough to put him out of your mind for the rest of the day. Even your sleep remains dreamless, thankfully.

All things considered, the weekend passes well enough. You spend less than five hours thinking about Eddie, and less than three crying about the sting of his dismissal. The confidence, then, that you’re fine now, over it, keeps you warm as you walk to work on Monday.

Any faked pep in your step tides you through the front door, through the bar space, and truly does last until you enter the backroom and see Eddie. His smile, as per usual, greets you, and you’re keenly aware that it’s only you two standing within the room at the moment.

You test a smile, even if your ribcage feels as though it’s collapsing in on you. It feels wrong. Too wide, too sharp, too tense.

Eddie notices, of course he does. He winces, makes a move as though to step closer to you, and stands still. Well, as still as Eddie can manage, because even with muscles rigid he’s in motion; arms swinging by his sides in what could be read as careless, but you know is just from nerves.

Neither of you speaks.

Ted, your never-present boss, walks in.

Ted does the talking for both of you, plenty of it, about his wife and kids and the fourteenth birthday party his son is asking for — no theme, dad, if you’d believe it, as though he didn’t beg for a superhero party just last year — and he makes a point to mention how tired you look today. You tell him it’s just schoolwork that’s got you staying up late, recently, that it’ll pass. You promise that you’ll get some sleep tonight, and leave the backroom.

Eddie tries to catch your eye as you pass, and fails.

A while week goes by like this, the only change being that you’ve elected to come to work later so as to avoid Eddie. You did try to beg Ted to give you more closing shifts, but it had turned out that his nephew needed a job to save up for “his first Valentine’s with a girl” — or something — and that took precedence over your unsure excuses. When Ted had begun prying — was something wrong between you and Eddie? — you’d quickly shut him down and shrugged the entire ordeal off.

Whatever.

It’s not like it could get worse between you and Eddie. He was practically hanging off Nicola at this point which, well, was good. Maybe if he and Nicola got together you could get over your silly little crush on him, and the cut of rejection that it had made feel so much deeper.

You doubted it, though. Truly and genuinely.

Because even with staying away from him, being barely civil, there was only an insurmountable love running through your veins. It hurt to be away from him, but it hurt, too, to be around him.

And because you were a grown-ass woman with a grown-ass sense of emotional intelligence, you took the smart path and avoided him.

Mostly.

“Can I talk to you?” Eddie slips in next to you by the bartop, leaning so he can look you in the eye.

You try to look anywhere else but at him, you do, but somehow he manages to get close enough that his face fills up your entire view, his puppy-dog-eyes front and centre. And fuck, man, stronger people than you wouldn’t able to hold out against him.

You nod.

Eddie beckons you to the back alleyway, patrons filling the bar in a way that presumes the toilet isn’t the best place for privacy right now.

You follow him. He lights a cigarette, leans back on the wall. His fingers are jittery, tapping, tapping, tapping against any surface they can. His rings clink as they rub against each other, catching sunset-light and shining it across the bricks of the alley walls.

He speaks, and his voice is broken. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not,” is your instant response, because even if you are, you’re not doing it for the fun of things.

He gives you an incredulous look, eyebrows raised so far they disappear into his fringe. Some smoke blows out of his mouth, just the corner, because his fingers are too busy moving incessantly to remove the cigarette.

You’ll compromise, “maybe a little.”

“Maybe a lot-le.”

“Just, uh…” words are disappearing from your mind at an alarming rate, and really you’d be worried about why if you were anywhere else but here, with anyone else but him. “Just wanted to give you some space. Figured you’d want that after…” it’s a little pathetic, honestly, how you can’t even string enough words together to finish the sentence. Bile rises in your mouth, bitter and acidic and anxious. “After what happened.”

Eddie’s speechless, you think. His fingers stop their dancing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, just like he did that night, and you don’t think you can stomach him saying it again.

“Please stop apologising.”

“I-” He starts, then stops. He’s back in motion, suddenly, toe of his boot scuffing the dusty ground in front of him.

“I asked a lot of you, Eds. It’s fine. It’s not your fault it got to be…” your stomach is doing cartwheels, “too much for you.”

Eddie drops the cigarette, squishes it with his boot, and runs a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t… I wasn’t.”

“It’s really okay, Eddie. I forgive you, if that’s what you need.” And suddenly you feel like crying again, and it sucks, because you thought you’d done that enough these past few days. Whatever’s going on in your stomach spreads upwards, towards your chest, and it’s like a crippling punch. You barely manage not to double over with the way the pain spreads throughout your muscles, flares against your skull.

“I-”

“Please, Eds. Leave me be.” As you turn to re-enter the bar, strands of your hair stick to the wetness coating your cheeks.

Eddie mumbles a soft “fuck” behind you, and you hear his movements before you can feel his presence step closer. He stops just short of you, not touching you but reaching a hand around to close the door before you can open it.

“I couldn’t fuck you because I’m in love with you.” You imagine he whispers the words due to your proximity, but it sounds like yelling. Blood thrums in your ears. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You don’t turn around, you can’t, because you don’t want to see if this is just some huge ill-timed Eddie-typical joke.

“I just… I couldn’t have you, and then lose you, y’know? Which sounds so shitty and misogynistic and fuck, I know that, but I’ve just been thinking about it for so long and then I saw you and you were looking up at me and I-”

The word vomit stops, and it takes you a second to realise why. You come to your senses when you feel Eddie’s lips against yours, soft and gentle as you remember.

Finally, your brain manages to reason that you must’ve turned around and kissed him.

You step back from him, and the tears keep coming. Eddie’s hand reaches up, fingers hesitant as they reach towards your cheeks.

“That was really shitty of you,” you say, and as happy as you are that Eddie likes you, loves you, even, you can’t forget the blow your ego took when Eddie had you vulnerable before him and rejected you. “It really hurt, Eddie. Like, a lot. I trusted — I mean, I still do trust — you, and I opened myself up to you, and you just…” destroyed me, devastated me, made me feel unworthy, “it hurt.”

“I can only imagine, lovely. I’m so-”

“Don’t apologise again. Please.” You meet Eddie’s eyes, and everything hurts. You’re so, so, happy, and so, so sad.

Eddie nods, then moves again. His motions are slow, questioning, and careful as he wraps his arms around you. He’s comforting against you, solid and caring and so much your Eddie that your heart skips a beat.

He’s whispering against your hair, uncaring of the tear-stains drenching his shirt. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, sweets. I don’t want you to. Gotta earn back your trust. Gotta show you I deserve you first.”

A/N: Thank you for reading this mess! I will let this fade into obscurity if it comes to that bc I couldn't sleep without getting it down in a doc, and I suggest you do the same. Or don't, I don't control you (or do I?). The amount of brainrot I still have for this man is actually embarrassing.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

I really liked your post about the Forever situation , im also part of his chat, and your post kinda helped

I got a very big anxiety crisis because of this situation, it was terrible, but im better now!!:D

The only thing that scares me is the fandom invalidate the people who were victims of pedo just because they decide to still watch Forever y'know?

I’m glad I could help somehow!! if you’re anxious about the whole thing, don’t be afraid to take a step back!! I felt this looming sense of dread over it this morning, as I’m sure many of us did, so I’m happy I was able to put some people’s minds at ease. we don’t know everything about the situation yet, so let’s all just take a deep breath and remember that we are not personally involved in this situation and we can make our judgements if and when more information comes to light.

and YES god the thing about invalidating victims sucks, and the thing is it seems to happen from both sides of the argument. ofc most people from both sides aren’t invalidating victims’ experiences, but there are loud minorities from both who are. Some of those who dislike him are ignoring the victim’s wishes to not be involved (bc the information came from a third party) and pestering her to talk about it anyway as if somehow hearing from her will magically make it all make sense, even if it means her reopening her trauma and causing her harm, and some of those who still support him are saying there’s no way this is a valid allegation and the alleged victim should be ashamed, and he is right to get pissed since it’s OH SO CLEARLY false and EVERYONE gets these allegations nowadays (sarcasm). We have no way of knowing 100% if it’s true, the alleged victim has claimed that she does not want to be involved as far as I’m aware, the information came from a third party who apparently has a history of digging up dirt about the Brazilian ccs—there are SO many factors here that we can’t confirm or deny anything.

half the fandom is reacting the same way Dream’s fanbase did when his allegations (whether they ended up being true or not; idk i don’t care enough about him to watch his fucking video essay) came out. People are saying that the person bringing up the allegations is clearly just a hater and that’s the only reason they have for this. And maybe that’s true!! Idk!!! I’ve heard through the grapevine that the alleged victim does not want to be involved!!! It’s like when Cellbit’s past abusive relationship was being talked about a few months ago; the victim wanted no part in calling him out because the situation was done and over with and they didn’t want to think about it, let alone fight for some kind of justice they didn’t even want. It’s a complicated situation, but people need to stop putting this off as just hate from antis. These are allegations, and they should be taken seriously, while also leaving the victim alone and not pestering her for details. If she comes out and says she doesn’t want justice for this, let her have her peace. If Forever shows that he has changed—which it seems like he has, at least from my perspective—let him sort this out. If all of it is true and as bad as it seems?? Sure, drag him to hell and back. But take in as much information as you can before you decide what you want to do.

but anyway RANT ASIDE, no matter what, do not be afraid to take a step back and do something else. Your mental health is more important than the dubiously moral actions of some content creator.

[spicyicymeloncat]

Okay here’s another controversial “Green family take” tell me if I’m wrong.

“People who hate Harumi and Lloyd family dynamic ignore that Lloyd and Morro also shouldn’t have a family dynamic, when Morro did the exact same thing”

Because besties I agree I honestly think green cousins doesn’t make much sense either since yknow Morro and the whole possession thing, but at the same time if you look at canon, they just aren’t the same thing and yknow I need people to actually stop looking at Harumi as the girl version of Morro and the only reason we hate her is because she’s a girl.

Because she’s not.

Like yes I agree there’s definitely a lot of bias towards Morro, if he was woman he would be demonised to hell and back but since he’s man then he is adored, and vice versa with Harumi and sexism fucking sucks.

But Harumi and Morro are different guys. Harumi is portrayed as worse in canon in Lloyd’s eyes. Yeah Lloyd got possessed by Morro and that’s obviously bad tm but other than what people assume possession entails, Lloyd was never as shaken as he was with Harumi.

In s5, we never saw Lloyd be conflicted about the possession thing. He had no fear of Morro. We have no reason to believe that a ghost possession feels worse than being a sleep and maybe having a vague awareness of what’s going on. He barely mentions Morro after s5. And I will say I think this is a writing flaw, obviously it would’ve been cooler if Morro actually had some kind of impact on the ninja, but regardless this is the canon. Lloyd hates Morro but he’s not traumatised yknow. It’s not to the point that Harumi got to.

I feel like getting possessed should be worse than getting lied to, but Harumi did on top of it, start a cult in his name, Kill actual Characters (the royal family and Hutchins) and then kidnap Lloyd and his mother and his uncle and then resurrect his father removing vital parts of his father’s mind/personality/emotional cognitive abilities etc. on top of that she also nearly killed the ninja and wu (which Lloyd believed she did).

Somehow she was much more dangerous than Morro was, she was a much more successful villain.

Additionally I would say Morro has more of an excuse to be seen as family, even if I I’m less of a green cousins fan. Because Morro and Wu actually have a father son relationship, in which Wu was actually responsible over Morro. They had a normal albeit imperfect dynamic before Morro left. Regardless of Lloyd and Morro’s interactions, that dynamic was still present even in the very end.

It doesn’t mean and Lloyd and Morro have to be buddies, just because there’s a family connection doesn’t mean shit (this is the show of found family have we learned nothing? Blood connections don’t matter, only friendship).

But like in comparison to Harumi and Garmadon’s absolute parody of a relationship, where Harumi turns to the man who doesn’t remember what love is and asks him to be her father (at this point neither of them know what “father” even means), Morro does have a family dynamic and Harumi does not.

So in response to the original quote, Morro has a much more solid claim to any kind of family dynamic bc his relation to Wu is much more family esq, and also he was bad yeah, but the show portrays Harumi as worse especially in Lloyd’s opinion.

I just don’t like the argument that Morro and Harumi have done the same things, when the severity is definitely different imo and they aren’t just copies of each other. Imo it’s an oversimplification to reduce their characters down to each other.

[aina-otsuki]

I may or may not have gotten off track and made a fanfic about “A Kairos Moment”. @avaetin ever since your created that fanfic and ship I’ve never been able to look back.

Anyways anyone know a the show Star VS The forces Of Evil? Now imagine Nico’s family born from the “failed” clay prototypes made from the escaped essences of Earth, Sea, Sky, and Pit. Making them have magic but they were able to create their own ancient type of magic. Which like in the show they have a wand passed down from each queen. But instead of having a single wand passed down why not have them create their own wand along with their own spells to back up their own creation. I see Nico as the family’s Eclipsa (Queen Of Darkness) and Celena (the Shy). I think he’d be Eclipsa because why not. Also I think he’d look wonderful with an umbrella. Celena is mainly because of what��s said about her in that one episode where Star’s inside the wand and like reading stone texts about each wand user. I like started writing a bit of a fanfic about it.

Oh! Totally almost forgot about the kingdom his family has. So the Kingdom’s name is Eclipsara bc why not. Now kingdom is know to be hidden in the shadows and within plain sight. It’s where light and dark take a dance in a perpetual waltz. The capital is called Nightspire. It’s where all the most culture of the kingdom is held. Then there’s the major trading city that’s surrounded by a forest and near a river. Whisperwood is its name. It’s called this for a reason actually. The woods of that forest is where the trees whisper murmurs of secrets and where tales of yore are carried within its winds. This kingdom has all kinds of people from supernatural beings to normal people that live together in harmony among the rule of their dear Queen or King. OH!! The spells I wrote spells that are similar to the shows except they’re Nico’s spells and and like what if Nico took Aeon, and his children to the kingdom to let them have a “normal” childhood. Eclipsa was like hated for leaving her kingdom for the one she loved so instead of that for Nico. I’m going to have his family praise him for it. Like they did for Maria. Like they do for every family member who had enticed an immortal and powerful being.

Yeah, that’s about it. I’ll probably reblog the spells I made later.

Should I be working on my Jasico Fanfic instead of posting. Yes. Do I care and think everything I’m writing in the fic sucks and change sentences every few minutes. Yes. Should I not procrastinate and write my fic instead of saying I’ll do it later cause I have school work. Also yes! Anyways here’s the small part I started for this AU!

“A young girl stood in front of a tapestry. She was the oldest of her sisters. She, like her mother, was inevitability, the end. She was the fate others faced within their final breath. 

She was Atropos…

She looked at the tapestry with wonder. This was her mother. Her mother had titles her father hadn’t known of. She thought it was interesting to learn about this. She would admire the tapestry more later, for now she should read what her Mother’s people had to say about her. She looked down to read a tile of stone with gems and riches all around and a symbol of her mothers family. 

“Niccoló, Queen of Eclipsará. To an Eclipsaran King was wed but took a primordial for his love. And away from Eclipsará fled.”

Atropos felt like scoffing; they made her mother out to be someone bad. Leaving a kingdom for love doesn’t mean the person is bad. She disliked the fact they simply painted her father out to someone bad on the tapestry. Atropos thought they hadn’t known anything about her father. However, just as she was about to leave when she saw the stone change wording.

“Niccoló, the Flower and Star, he who hides behind a shadowed umbrella. The hand that does sweetly hold, a trove of cosmic secrets that have never been told.”

It wouldn’t let me upload my picture of the docs. So I had to copy paste which sucks. Anyways I bid everyone goodbye.