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poppyseed-cookie · 2 days ago

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(In honor of 1,000 notes, here’s the story behind this post)

Haha it’s a little roleplay au. I’ll explain it since u asked, it’s actually a lot less focused on the art I showed than you’d think. Warning, it’s all beast x ancient (this is a shadowvanilla post so I doubt that’s much of a problem for ppl but in case yall don’t like the other bxa ships)

Soo, for whatever mysterious reason, the Ancients get transported back in time to before the Beasts were corrupted. Millennial Tree, having powers of Time and all, noticed this happened, and said “okay, don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get you guys back to when you’re supposed to be. As long as you don’t create or destroy any life, I should be able to fix the timeline, so just hang out and have fun or whatever until I figure out how to get you guys back”

So the Ancients are just like “cool vacation in prehistoric times ig (we call them prehistoric times cuz technically the history of these times is practically all erased lol)” so they just tour around and see what the Beasts were like in the past as Virtues.

First off, we don’t have Silent Salt lore, so White Lily just went “awesome I love studying things that cookies shouldn’t normally be able to” and just completely wandered off doing her research on literally everything and they just don’t see her 😭 ngl I keep imagining she’s going to Solidarity Salt’s Concerts for some reason I can’t make this canon I don’t think they held concerts why would they be a singer I shouldn’t even be typing this I haven’t even told my sister (the one I rp this with) this stupid idea

ANYWAYS… Golden Cheese just goes sight seeing, not wanting to get into any trouble. Hollyberry wants to go see the Garden, but immediately gets distracted by visiting all the bars she can find and tasting all the prehistoric drinks. Pure Vanilla enrolls into the Fount of Knowledge’s school because he just wants to see what his teachings were like. Dark Cacao… the real story begins with him.

Dark Cacao saw that cookies lined up to get their wishes granted by Master Flour Cookie. He figured, since that’s his beast and all, he should go and see what it’s like. So he stood in line and eventually got to her. She asked him what his wish was, and then he realized he stood in line that WHOLE time not having a wish. He said “uhhh I just came here because I wanted to see you”. Master Flour’s not really sure what to do about that one. It feels really awkward so Dark Cacao asks her what her favorite food is. She answers, and he wishes for some of it, which she grants, but only for him to tell her to have it. He remembered that cookies weren’t very nice to the Beasts from what he could gather, so he figured he’d do something a little nice for her. Then he left.

Master Flour Cookie was stunned. A cookie shows up with only the desire to see her? And wishes she would give herself a treat? She’d never had a cookie be so kind and selfless to her. She goes to the other Virtues and tells them about this mysterious cookie that warmed her heart, and Sugar of Happiness immediately encourages her to pursue this feeling of happiness. Master Flour’s not sure if she can, but the other Virtues, especially Sugar of Happiness and Fount of Knowledge, offer their help.

So Dark Cacao is just walking around when suddenly the Sugar of Happiness swoops down from the skies, picks him up, and flies him over to the Ivory Pagoda. Scariest moment of his life. Once he’s there he discovers that Master Flour Cookie is interested in him. Romantically. Oh no no no. How could this happen??? This is the beast of APATHY. It’s so unnatural to see her this flustered… she’s not supposed to like anyone!! But what’s Dark Cacao gonna do? Break her heart? Nope.

So when he gets back to his Ancient friends he explains the situation. They’re all shocked. “What did you do to make Mystic Flour fall in love with you??” but when he explains what he did, they all go “OH MY GOSH UNMATCHED RIZZ!!!! DUDE YOU TOTALLY RIZZED HER UP!!!! THAT WAS SMOOTH!!!!” He doesn’t believe it except he has to believe it because why else is he in this situation. Also I can’t forget to mention that the Fount of Knowledge approached Dark Cacao, circled around him, nodded, and left at one point which also terrified him. (Fount was analyzing him to figure out what sort of things he likes to help Master Flour out in her dating escapades)

Now let’s have a look at Pure Vanilla. It’s VERY IMPORTANT to note, that, this au is based on my roleplay, and in that roleplay, Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP. So, he enrolled into school to see what his Present boyfriend was like in the Past. He’s been studying at the Blueberry Milk Academy, and enjoying it for the most part… but there was one thing that ruined it for him. And that was the other students in his class. They didn’t enjoy the Fount’s more creative ways of teaching (especially the songs they were forced to learn) and would sometimes talk during lessons. Pure Vanilla would sometimes snap at his classmates if they were disrupting the Fount’s lessons, and was always very encouraging of the Fount’s creative lessons. He always spoke many praises of the teacher and how he’s proud of him for doing such a good job teaching the class.

This is also where his classmates ruin the experience for him. He didn’t have many friends. That’s because… there was a rumor about him going around class. A rumor that he was crushing HARD on the teacher. His classmates were all very disturbed by this and constantly told him “dude the Fount of Knowledge isn’t gonna screw you” and he kept insisting that was NOT his goal, he’s NOT into the Fount, he just really enjoys class. Yet his excellent grades didn’t help the rumors. He was basically the “teachers pet” except nobody called him that especially because it felt more like he wanted the TEACHER to be HIS pet. Pure Vanilla is absolutely stunned at these rumors. Like, sure that’s his future boyfriend, but he wasn’t trying to do anything!!! Just school!!!

For a while, it’s just rumors and a lack of friends. But eventually, the Fount starts to see the evidence pile up that his top student Likes him. He doesn’t know how to react, and confides in his fellow Virtues that one of his students seems into him. A very good, kind, and attentive student. Seeing as they all got Master Flour a boyfriend, they immediately encourage Fount to pursue this as well. No one had ever treated the Fount as lovingly as Pure Vanilla, so he went along with this idea, not receiving any help since he can already see Pure Vanilla during the day and he also hates admitting when he’s not sure what to do so of course he wouldn’t ask for any further help.

So one class, the Fount nervously asks to see Pure Vanilla after class. He’s surprised by this but is like “ok”. His classmates are STUNNED. “Surely not…” they think. After class it’s just Fount and PV. Fount gets really flustered and says “so, um, d-do you want to, um- NEVER MIND!!!” and he tries to run away but trips and almost cries from embarrassment. Pure Vanilla is nice about it and tries to make sure he’s ok. PV gets the message and gently accepts Fount’s offer, careful not to scare him off. Sooo now they’re a thing.

Also yes, Dark Cacao and Master Flour are dating. He didn’t want to break her heart. He has tried coming up with excuses for why it wouldn’t work out but she grants wishes bro she has the power of Volition SHE CAN MAKE IT WORK. He refuses to say “I’m not interested” so there’s nothing he can do (but is he really not interested…?).

Pure Vanilla tells his Ancient friends that he’s dating the Fount of Knowledge now. They are not surprised, except for the fact that TWO of them are now dating Virtues. At least THIS time Pure Vanilla was ACTUALLY already dating the guy in the present…

Seeing as this post is focused on purefount y’all probably want me to go into more detail about that. They’ve had a lot of developments and gotten really close, the Fount of Knowledge lets Pure Vanilla call him Blueberry Milk now and he’s learned things that he didn’t know about Shadow Milk. Blueberry Milk is willing to be so open to Pure Vanilla in part BECAUSE he has this strange sense that the two of them have a far deeper connection than normal cookies, not realizing they are actually soulmates.

In terms of close calls like the post, Blueberry Milk DID absolutely scare the life out of Pure Vanilla by asking “oh by the way, I don’t recognize the fields you grew up in! Where is that? Oh, right, forgot to mention, I looked into your memories 😊” Pure Vanilla considers himself very lucky that he seems to have ONLY looked into his childhood, which doesn’t have any super incriminating evidence of being a time traveler with a soul jam, (Blueberry Milk was only curious WHERE Pure Vanilla came from, that’s why he only checked as far back as he could remember) but the fact that Blueberry Milk has the power to see into his memories is very concerning. Luckily the Fount doesn’t seem too interested in prying, but man.

The other Ancients start to get concerned about all this plus the fact that Blueberry Milk has discovered that the cookies catching the attention of the Virtues (skipped over GC and BS don’t worry I’ll loop back to that shortly) are all actually friends, AND wants to come over and visit them sometime, they’re like “listen we know you love Blueberry Milk and we’re letting Dark Cacao date Mystic Flour (DC in the background: help) but this is starting to get dangerous. That’s one of the most powerful cookies in existence when it comes to magic, if anyone could ruin the time fixing stuff it could be the Fount, plus what if discovering that it becomes Shadow Milk causes that to happen early and cookies die?”

But Pure Vanilla just caaaan’t stop loving his precious partner. Sooo let’s go back a bit and see what happened with Golden Cheese Cookie.

She was just sight seeing as per usual, going around one of the Herald of Change’s kingdoms to admire the culture and architecture there, not realizing that the Herald himself would actually BE there. He noticed her wings and was captivated by her IMMEDIATELY. He went up to her and said “hey! Why do you have wings?” to which Golden Cheese panicked and said “oh, I was raised by cheesebirds.” Herald of Change said “ohhh that makes sense” and immediately went to the Fount of Knowledge to ask about what cheesebirds like. That’s how Blueberry Milk discovers that the Herald is now interested in Golden Cheese, PV also happened to be there and was just internally like “ohhh no”

Unlike with the other two, when the Herald tells the other Virtues about his newfound crush, they aren’t as intrigued or encouraging. The Herald was one of the only Virtues to actually date around. This wasn’t new or exciting to them, and it’s not even like Golden Cheese had done anything to win him over, he just thought she was pretty. Still, Blueberry Milk was always happy to help the Herald (important part of our roleplay lore tbh) and hunted down Golden Cheese for him so that it could scan her and learn what she likes, since the Herald really wanted to know.

Golden Cheese saw the Fount of Knowledge approaching her, and thought “oh, no, Dark Cacao described this happening to him, too. The Fount definitely isn’t meant to be here and is definitely coming towards me. Oh, wait! I don’t need to let him circle me! I can fly away!” So that’s what she did.

Blueberry Milk didn’t expect that but immediately became suspicious because of that action. She DEFINITELY saw him approaching, and CHOSE to escape him. Plus, she had LIED. Potentially. Blueberry Milk has an open mind and says that “MAYBE there are WAYS you can spin it so ‘I got wings because I was raised by cheesebirds’ is true” but still thought it strange. Blueberry Milk also noticed a pattern, that both his and Master Flour’s new boyfriends knew each other, and figured maybe it was the same for the Herald’s new crush. Blueberry Milk went to PV and did a brief scan of him to discover that yes, he does know Golden Cheese.

The Fount of Knowledge is somewhat onto them, no longer totally oblivious that there’s anything strange going on, but is giving Pure Vanilla its full trust because it loves him deeply. Still, it questions whether it’s all worth it, knowing that for reasons unexplained, Pure Vanilla isn’t planning on staying.

Anyways. The Herald of Change figured that cheesebirds like cheese and sticks. So, he went to Golden Cheese with cheese and sticks. He gave them to her, then yelled “OH MY GOSH IM STUPID! WHY DIDNT I GET CHEESE STICKS?!” and ran away in embarrassment. Golden Cheese found the pitiful attempt at wooing her kind of cute. She put the cheese on the sticks to eat.

Back home with the Ancients, she is DEVASTATED that she is now part of the “strange relationship with Beast” club. She insists that she doesn’t DESERVE to be lumped in with Dark Cacao and Pure Vanilla, because she didn’t DO anything to garner his attention other than be her glorious self. All it took was a look and she was involved. Hollyberry is just like “on one hand I should avoid Eternal Sugar at all costs so that I can be the One Cookie who is doing things right. On the other hand, I’m REALLY curious”

So far we haven’t added a branch to the au where Hollysugar happens. So FOR NOW, Hollyberry is the one safe Ancient (other than WL until we learn more about SS). But I don’t doubt that at some point we will drag her into it. She’s certainly not AGAINST going to the Garden, despite her friends suggesting maybe she doesn’t.

Also might be worth mentioning that again this au is based on our RP and QUITE CONTRARY TO CANON Golden Cheese and Burning Spice have NEVER been on truly bad terms. They’ve spent most of their time just awkward around each other but are practically besties now. Never a strictly negative relationship. So Golden Cheese doesn’t have as many problems as she probably would if this were a regular AU based on canon.

I wouldn’t be against writing this AU as an actual fic that’s based more on canon rather than my sister and I’s silly little RP! My only problem would be my severe writers block haha! I have 2 WIPs for CRK fics rn and it’s not looking great!!!!!!!!

Wait maybe if I made it an actual fic I could have the ships go in release order so it still starts with Dark Cacao but we swap GC and PV’s plots starting… hahaha… will have to brainstorm this. If ppl want a real AU ig.

Pure Vanilla goes back in time and dates the Fount of Knowledge while trying not to reveal the fact that he is a time traveler who owns half his soul jam

#this two rp #if ppl want a real au of this ill try to come up with a name haha

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transmascaraa · 3 days ago

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multiple characters headcanons!

summer vacation time!!

characters: kinich, alhaitham, lyney, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: hello again🫣

Kinich ☆

-90% he's gonna take you to the people of the springs and you can't change my mind

-thanks to knowing mualani she'll probably give you two her house for some time

-while getting ready for the whole vacation is probably gonna be a mess

-i mean ajaw is there soooooo

-he's gonna comment on EVERYTHING and i mean ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

-"EW WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THAT MANY UNDERWEAR WITH YOU?? THAT'S TOO MUCH FOR JUST 7 DAYS!"

-it's best to ignore him tho just to not cause more unnecessary arguments

-and when you're finally there, ajaw MIGHT but JUST MAYBE be a tiny bit less annoying because he's enjoying the vacation himself

-so that's definitely gonna give you more time to spend with kinichhhh

-he cares sm about you and he WILL buy you the most expensive sunscreen because he doesn't want you to end up BURNED

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Alhaitham ✯

-he's gonna take you somewhere where HE enjoys being so if you end up not liking it he'll just say

-"oh. okay. next time you can choose." and that's all (he will bring you wherever you want next time frfr)

-the preparation is gonna take a while

-he's gonna pack his things perfectly, necessary and unnecessary things telling you to pack your things on your own

-if you're not done by the time he's done, he'll help you because he's not so rude

-half of the things he packed up are books and when you questioned him about it he just said it was "necessary because he doesn't want his brain to forget to study"

-when you get there, half the time he's gonna be reading his books OR yapping to you about the books he reads

-just listen to him it's not that hard🙏

-of course he'll already have 5 different types of sunscreen because he needs them for himself depending on how he's feeling, but you're the only person he'll share them with

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Lyney ♡

-you're most likely going on a vacation with his siblings and arlecchino father

-the preparation is gonna be PERFECT trust me

-he's gonna give you so many suggestions on what to wear

-at one point he'll be only packing up your things forgetting that he has his own

-"do you like this shirt more or this one? or do you want to bring both? let me know!" ahh bf (we love him)

-"lyney i don't need any more clothes-" and he'll cut you off by throwing some random shirt on you. neither of you know is it your shirt or his own, but you're gonna pack it with yourself now

-once you get there he's gonna try and find as much private time for the two of you as possible

-kissing your hand anywhere and everywhere, wherever and whenever is a MUST

-he will INSIST on putting your sunscreen on for you to "make it easier for you"

-we know damn well he just wants to feel your skin against his fingers and to kiss your back

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Wanderer ⑅

-you were supposed to goon a vacation with nahida but he turned her down saying it would be too expensive(he wanted alone time with you)

-nahida knew that damn well but wtv she wanted you guys to have fun

-the packing up was a huge mess

-he commented one everything you packed, and you only commented on his things in return so it was like a back-and-forth argument

-"why do you need so many things? and sunscreen?? pfft- the sun isn't gonna kill you."

-"i'm gonna BURN and that's not something ENJOYABLE. but how would you know anyway- you're a porcelain puppet."

-"that doesn't mean shit- your skin is just weak."

-etc etc but at some point you're finally both done

-finally getting there, he'll stay stuff like "this is worse than i thought" and stuff but he's only saying it to bring out a reaction from you

-beg him to put sunscreen on you and although he'll resist and call you stupid for not doing it yourself. once he's putting it on you he's dying inside(in a good way)

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feels good to write after a while

| @mariaace <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #kinich x you #kinich x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #lyney x you #lyney x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #· nyx's genshin hcs *⁠.⁠✧

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mortal-ethos · 1 day ago

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The first time I started figuring out my gender, I felt very fluid, but due to the rise in transmed ideology and being a kid in an oppressive household and society, I tried so hard to be a man. I thought I had to be a man, and I felt like shit because I constantly was questioning myself, constantly insecure, I did everything I was "supposed" to do and be as a "man" both by the standards I grew up with, and the modern standards I had begun to see and still continue to see amongst "progressive" circles (which was doing everything by myself and taking abuse from my partners because the idea of men standing up for themselves or taking a single second to themselves is pushed as abuse and laziness, so I just. Did everything. And took all of it).

I was the handy man, I Mended the garments, I cooked every meal, I cleaned the house and did the dishes, I was the only one working, I put aside any issues or emotions I had for every person/partner, I was constantly told anytime I showed emotion that I was scary or that I was wrong, that I wasn't allowed to feel the way I felt, that I made problems all the time out of nothing, so I stopped and when I would keep my emotions down during conversations I was told I wasn't talking like a real person, any time I tried to talk about mental health issues I was made fun of so I stopped, any time I had a need I was degraded for wanting something so I stopped expressing a desire for closeness and emotional connection while being told that I needed to talk about my problems more even though they were constantly ignored, I was my partners' wallet, I couldn't have my own interests and always had to engage others with theirs while mine were judged and belittled, not even getting into how much pressure there was on me to "look" like a man. I did fucking everything I could until I broke.

I used to think if I just was a Good Man, if I just did everything asked of me, everything I was told, if I did everything right, if I was only ever gentle and kind and vulnerable, I would be happy. The pain would go away, I could be myself, and I could make everyone else happy. I could show what a Good Man was, I could be better. And I tried so hard. But I broke. I wasn't a good man. I couldn't do it. I broke down wondering what was wrong with me. Why was it no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. I would never be gentle enough, kind enough, skilled enough, strong enough, communicative enough, stoic enough, happy enough, rich enough, I would never be enough. So I gave up and I asked myself, who was I trying to be enough for? For people that don't know me? For people that don't care about me? For people that would never understand me anyway? Why was I never happy, even when I did everything asked of me... Why was no one ever happy with me?

Why was I STILL NOT MAN ENOUGH.

So I said fuck it. Who am I being a man for. My gender shouldn't feel like a fault in my personhood. And I let myself sit with it for a while. I asked myself, why do I still connect with my womanhood, with the lesbian community, with girlhood, why is this feminine rage still inside me intricately entwined with my masculine transness? Why, when I talk about women's issues, why do I have to choke down saying "we" and "us?" Why, when I feel like a man, is it strongest when I'm helping the ones that I love? What about those days I feel like neither, the days I feel more connected to the moss beneath my feet, to the shadows of tree branches, to the smell of rain, to the sound of boots on pavement, to the metallic taste of blood, to the ones that wear masks? What about those days I feel like I don't want to decide, I don't want to settle on one thing, where I feel like the planets in orbit, all circling each other simultaneously, each rotating themselves? The days where I see myself on this earth as intimately woven into the fabric of existence, when I experience creation and make myself into a new person for that moment, a new color unseen, a new emotion unfelt, a new breath never shared?

I'm not a man, or not just a man. I'm not just a woman, I'm not just non-binary. I tried fitting my experiences, my existences, into one singular label. Into the label that was supposed to be right, the one that was easy, the one everyone else is. I felt like my gender queer experiences were a gender failing, a pathetic flailing attempt at transness. I wasn't man enough, but I had to be because... I thought that was my only option.

Anyone thinking being non-binary, being gender fluid, being agender, bigender, gender queer, is all just part of the process of eventually settling into a binary identity is so, so wrong. I am not lost or confused. I didn't lose myself, my transness, my queerness, in the fluidity. I found my way back home.

when nonbinary people discover they are actually transgender binary, i wish them all the best, but i cannot STAND when they dismiss their previous identity as illegitimate. sure, maybe it wasnt you, but nonbinary is still real and valid.

i remember when a nonbinary content creator i really resonated with came out as a trans man instead, he started saying that nonbinary is "only a stepping stone to being the opposite binary!!" and that its "just a pipeline effect and nothing solid :)" i had recently separated from my long term partner due to identity related reasons and i was feeling insecure, finding community online. i questioned myself for months then, forcing the idea of being binary onto myself in what was admittedly an ocd spiral. its not his fault but i feel if you make queer content you kinda owe it to your audience to not spread false and harmful narratives about it

this is exorsexism.

i've seen it time and time again that previously-nonbinary content creators come out as binary trans and suddenly become really exorsexist in their stance, behaviour, language. this stuff never hurts their following though and nonbinary people who point this out usually end up being accused of transmisia and "being too sensitive". meanwhile people act like our genders are time bombs.

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ceyanabbiolo · 1 day ago

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PHOTOGRAPH // M.S [14]

Summary: Daphne Denoire, a 21-year-old, returns to Boston after 3 years—but working for her brother’s best friend, Matthew Sturniolo, wasn’t part of the plan. He’s a 26-year-old multimillionaire. She’s the girl he was never supposed to feel this way about. With secrets between them and boundaries set, how far will they go for a love they never saw coming?

Warnings: making out, slight fighting

wc: 4100

Chapter 14: Chill, Man. I’m…Taking a Shit

December had passed in a blur—busy, hectic, but surprisingly fun. Matt had been constantly tied up with shoots, which meant I was usually busy too. Our schedules were chaotic, but somehow it worked.

Right now, though, I wasn’t holding a camera or helping Matt pick wardrobe. I was sitting across from a woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and silver and brown-streaked hair—Dr Martinez, my new therapist.

After weeks of Matt gently urging (and by gently, I mean consistently bringing it up every other day), I finally caved and let him schedule a few sessions. I didn’t think I’d actually go through with it, but here I was—an hour in and still talking.

“I feel like I’ve gotten to know you pretty well in just one session, Daphne,” Dr. Martinez said with a warm smile, glancing at the clock as we neared the end.

I gave a soft shrug. “I had a lot to say.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve mentioned a lot today…your past, your parents, the trauma, your fears. But I noticed something interesting.”

My brows lifted slightly. “What?”

“Any time you talked about Matt, your tone changed. There was this… calmness. A softness.”

I felt my face warm and looked down at my hands.

“He seems important to you,” she continued gently. “Do you feel safe with him?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

She leaned back in her chair. “That’s good. Safety is the foundation for healing. And having someone you trust—that can make a world of difference.”

I looked out the window for a second, thinking.

“He helped me a lot,” I said softly, eyes still on the folded tissue in my lap. “He’s the one who suggested I come here.”

Dr. Martinez offered a knowing smile, her tone gentle but steady. “I know. He actually reached out personally and asked if I’d consider taking you on.”

My eyes lifted slightly in surprise, even though I already knew that information.

“He was a client of mine years ago,” she continued. “Much younger than. Different kind of weight on his shoulders, but I remember how guarded he was in the beginning. Very few people let me in the way he eventually did.”

That stirred something in my chest—some kind of quiet understanding. Matt had always seemed like someone who carried things quietly. To be honest, when he told me he used to have anxiety, I was shocked; I didn’t even know.

“He wanted to make sure you’d be with someone he trusted,” she added.

My throat tightened a little, but I nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I can see why he trusted you,” I murmured.

Dr. Martinez smiled again and checked the clock. “We’re just about out of time for today, but I’d like to see you again next week, same time if that works.”

I stood slowly, grabbing my coat. “Yeah. That works.”

As I reached the door, her voice followed me, warm, reassuring. “You’re doing well, Daphne. Coming here, opening up… It’s not easy. But it’s brave. I’ll see you soon.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

I stepped outside into the cold December air, zipping up my jacket and tucking my hands into my sleeves. The city felt louder after the stillness of Dr. Martinez’s office.

I reached the sidewalk and paused.

Matt’s car was parked right across the street, just like he said it would be. He was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, wearing his usual hoodie and dark coat. His eyes found mine instantly, and even from a distance, I could see the question in them—You okay?

I crossed the street slowly, feeling the wind brush against my cheeks. He straightened up as I approached, opening the passenger door for me.

“How’d it go?” he asked, voice quiet, careful as he pecked my lips.

I hesitated, then nodded. “It was… good.”

He gave a small smile, not pushing further. “Good”

I smiled faintly and slid into the seat. Once he got in and started the car, the warmth from the vents hit instantly, and I relaxed into it. We drove in silence for a few blocks, the city slowly moving past our windows. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

I glanced over at Matt as we waited at a red light, the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. His hand was still in mine, thumb gently brushing over my knuckles like it was second nature now.

“What are your Christmas plans?” I asked softly.

It was Christmad Eve today, and the holidays were fully in swing.

He exhaled through his nose, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “I’m required to be at Chris’s house this year.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Required?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Apparently, his arranged fiancée’s family wants us all to celebrate together.”

I tilted my head. “That’s kind of cute though…”

Matt glanced at me with a skeptical look. “Cute?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I mean… it sounds like they’re trying. That’s sweet, right?”

He shrugged, one hand lifting off the wheel to rub the back of his neck. “I think they’re warming up to each other. Caught him being all soft with her the other morning—called her ‘Ma’.”

I blinked. “He called her Ma?”

Matt nodded with a small smirk. “Yeah. Like it just slipped out. He tried to brush it off like it was nothing.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“I know,” Matt said, chuckling. “That’s why it was so weird. He caught me watching and was like, ‘what?’ all defensive. I didn’t even say anything. Man was flustered.”

I laughed, picturing Chris—cold, serious Chris—accidentally letting a soft moment slip. “Sounds like he’s catching feelings.”

Matt gave a thoughtful nod. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just trying to convince himself it’s real. Either way, I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that.”

I smiled at the thought of Chris being soft with someone, but the warmth faded quickly as my mind started to spiral again. Before I could dwell too long, I spoke up.

“Anyway… Noah’s back tonight.”

Matt nodded without looking over. “Yeah, I know. He texted me earlier.”

I turned my head toward him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You should stay until he gets home. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

He glanced at me briefly, his tone gentle. “I can... if you want me to.”

“I do,” I said softly.

There was a beat of silence before he added, casually—too casually, like he was trying not to make a big deal out of it, “I feel like we should tell him tonight.”

I blinked. “Tell him what?”

“That we’re together,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

My stomach flipped. “No!” I nearly shrieked, whipping my head toward him.

Matt jerked slightly, one hand still steady on the wheel as his brows shot up in alarm. “Whoa,” he said, stealing a glance at me. “I was just suggesting.”

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Sorry—it’s just… now is not the time.”

Matt’s lips pressed together, a bit of irritation flickering behind his eyes. “Okay, but when is the time?” he asked as we pulled up to a red light. “Because from where I’m sitting, there’s never going to be a good one. He’s your brother. He’s always gonna freak out.”

I didn’t answer right away. My hands fidgeted in my lap as I stared out the windshield. The light hadn’t changed, but my thoughts were racing.

“I don’t know…” I said finally, my voice small.

Matt exhaled hard through his nose, leaning his elbow against the window and dragging a hand down his jaw. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “you know I’m not trying to cause problems. But hiding us like this... it doesn’t feel right. It feels worse.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, heart picking up. “Matt, you know Noah. You know how he sees you…”

His head turned slightly. His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I instantly regretted saying anything. “I… it’s nothing. Forget I said that.”

“No.” His voice was firmer now. “Don’t do that. What did you mean? What does he think of me?”

I hesitated, fiddling with the sleeve of my coat. “Matt…”

“Tell me, Daphne,” he said again, this time quieter but more tense. “What does he think of me?”

My shoulders slumped a bit. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to hurt him either. “He’s your best friend, Matt. He knows you really well… how you were with girls before. He’s just... protective of me.”

Matt turned fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. “So what—you think he believes i’d be messing around? He’s messed around just as much as me ”

I didn’t answer right away.

The silence was enough.

Matt shook his head, laughing once under his breath without humor. “Unbelievable.”

“He’s not entirely wrong to worry,” I said carefully. “You had… a reputation. Before me.”

“And I’ve done everything to show you I’m not that guy anymore,” Matt said, clearly frustrated now. “Do you think I’m messing around?”

“No!” I said quickly, meeting his eyes. “No, Matt. I trust you. But Noah—he’s not just going to take our word for it. He’s going to assume things, and I’m scared he’s going to push you away, or me away. Or both.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening on the wheel. “I’ve never lied to him. I’ve never hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know that. But it’s not about what you’ve done—it’s about how scared Noah is that someone else will break me again.”

Matt stayed quiet, the weight of my words settling over him like wet concrete. After a long pause, he spoke again, this time softer.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not perfect, but I wouldn’t add to your pain.”

My chest ached hearing him say it. I reached out, touching his arm gently. “I know, Matt… I just need a little more time.”

He nodded slowly, eyes on the road again. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll wait. But I want this—us—to be real out loud. Not just in secret.”

I gave his arm a light squeeze, then leaned my head against the window. My heart was heavy with guilt and gratitude all at once.

I really did not mean to offend him.

“Welcome home!” I grinned, pulling Noah into a hug the second he stepped through the door.

“Hey, Daph,” he said, wrapping one arm around me in return, his voice tired but warm.

He dropped his suitcase by the front entrance with a soft thud, stretching his neck out before heading toward the living room.

That’s when he saw Matt.

“No way—my brother,” Noah said with a grin as he approached him.

Matt stood, mirroring the smile. “What’s good, man?”

They clasped hands and pulled each other into that typical half-hug—firm back slap included. It was the kind of greeting you only see between guys who’ve known each other since years of friendship compacted into one smooth motion. You could tell there was real love in it.

“Been a minute,” Matt said, giving him a nod.

“Too long,” Noah replied, still grinning. “You’ve been holding down Boston without me?”

Matt smirked. “Barely. It’s quieter without your mouth around.”

They both laughed, easing into the familiar rhythm like no time had passed. I watched from the side, my stomach Noah leaned back on the couch, still chewing on a fry, his gaze flicking around the room like he was genuinely impressed.

“By the way, Daph,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “I like what you did with the place.”

I grinned, gesturing proudly to the twinkling garlands and the tree lit up in the corner. “All thanks to me and Pinterest.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Looks cozy. Real festive.”

A moment passed as he reached for his drink, then glanced over at Matt.

“You’re still heading to Chris’s tomorrow, right?”

Matt nodded casually. “Yup. Required family bonding and all that.”

I let out a involuntary snort, and Noah raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. Instead, he looked between the two of us a little too long.

I saw Matt give me a small smile.

“So… how’ve you guys been?” he asked, tone light, but the way he said it made my spine straighten. It wasn’t accusatory, but something about the way his eyes lingered made me tense.

Matt shifting slightly. “We’ve been good. Work’s been… busy.”

“Yeah,” I added quickly, sitting up straighter. “A lot of editing on my end lately.”

Noah blinked like he hadn’t noticed our reactions. “I was just asking,” he said with a lazy shrug. “Didn’t mean to sound like a dad checking in on your report cards.”

Matt let out a short breath, subtly relaxing. “Nah, man. Everything’s solid.”

I nodded too, trying not to look suspicious. But the glance Matt and I shared said enough—we were both nervous wrecks pretending to be calm.

“How’s school been?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

Noah let out a dramatic groan, sinking further into the couch. “Brutal,” he said. “I swear, if I have to memorize one more type of jurisdiction, my brain’s going to short-circuit.”

I laughed. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he muttered, taking another bite of his burger. “ I had to write a paper comparing subject-matter jurisdiction to personal jurisdiction—why are there so many kinds of jurisdiction?”

Matt chuckled. “Sounds like a you problem, Mr. lawyer.”

“Easy for you to say,” Noah replied, pointing a fry at him. “You’re not the one crying over case law at 3 AM.”

“Still chose it though,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just remind me to never take another winter course again. Being home is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

I shrugged playfully. “Well, thank goodness this is your last year. Soon you’ll officially be Harvey Specter, and I’ll be your Mike Ross.”

Matt let out a soft chuckle while Noah gave me a look, clearly trying not to smile.

“For the hundredth time, Daphne,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m not hiring you without a law degree.”

“Rude,” I said with mock offense. “So much for my dreams.”

He smirked. “Sorry, ethics come first.”

I stuck my tongue out at him as he grabbed another fry. “Anyway… still gotta make it through finals and pass the bar. That’s when the real stress begins.”

Matt leaned back into the couch beside me. “You’ll pass. You’re one of the most disciplined people I know.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Did you just call me obedient?”

He wiggled his brows at Matt, who casually blew him a kiss across the room.

I stared at them in utter disbelief, my jaw half-dropped.

Noah burst into laughter at my expression. “You seem jealous, Daph?”

“Disgusted actually” I crossed my arms. “Why would I be jealous of two fully grown, supposedly straight men shamelessly flirting with each other?”

Matt smirked. “Because you’re not getting any of the attention, obviously.”

“Oh please,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “If I wanted attention, I wouldn’t be sitting here watching this bromantic comedy unfold.”

Noah leaned back with a smug smile. “Just admit it—you can’t handle our chemistry.”

I groaned. “I need a new brother…and boss.”

I lay sprawled on my bed, the distant sound of Matt and Noah still laughing and messing around in the living room echoing faintly through the walls. They’d been at it for nearly three hours now, and it was pushing close to midnight.

I turned onto my side, scrolling aimlessly through my phone to pass the time. My thumb paused over the photo album. A small smile tugged at my lips.

There was one of us at that old-school diner, both grinning like idiots over milkshakes. Another where we were holding hands under the table, only our intertwined fingers in focus. One he’d secretly taken of me in LA—sunlight spilling through the window, catching my messy hair and sleepy smile. There were a few random selfies, kissing each other’s cheeks, our faces squished together like goofs.

And then, the one that made my chest warm: a shot he had taken on my phone, of me cuddled into him, half-asleep, smiling in that lazy, content way I only ever did around him. His arm was around me, protective and loose, and even though I wasn’t looking at the camera, the happiness was clear on my face.

I stared at that one for a while, thumb hovering over the screen, heart aching in the softest way.

Gosh, when did this boy start meaning so much to me?

I sighed, locking my phone and tossing it on the nightstand. The laughter outside had died down a little.

A part of me wanted to call him in here. Just to talk. Just to have him near again. Instead, I tossed the blanket off and padded toward the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush from the cup by the sink. The cold tile met my bare feet as I began brushing my teeth, half-lost in thought, still a little warm from the memories sitting in my phone.

Just as I leaned down to rinse, the door creaked open.

I turned, toothbrush still in hand, and found Matt slipping inside, shutting the door behind him with that trademark smirk playing on his lips.

“Seriously?” I whispered through a mouthful of toothpaste. “What if Noah catches you in here?”

Matt just shrugged, unbothered, and reached behind him to quietly click the lock shut. “Guess we’ll just have to be real quiet then,” he murmured with a grin, stepping closer.

I rolled my eyes, rinsing quickly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned against the counter, watching me with that boyish smile that made my stomach flutter. “You missed me. Don’t lie.”

I gave him a look through the mirror, dabbing my face with a towel. “I saw you like, two hours ago.”

“That’s a long time,” he teased, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

I finished rinsing my mouth and used a towel to wipe.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though I didn’t pull away. I felt his warmth through the fabric of my shirt, his breath brushing against my skin.

He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss just under my ear. “I missed you,” he said again, but softer this time. Sincere.

I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Same to be honest.”

Matt chuckled, turning me gently around to face him. “I think I’m starting to understand just how lucky I am,” he said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

I looked up at him, heart thudding, our bodies close in the cramped bathroom space. His fingers traced slow, delicate circles along my waist.

“Matt…” I warned, half teasing, half breathless.

“Yeah?” he murmured, leaning in just enough that our noses brushed.

“I swear if Noah comes knocking—”

“I’ll hide in the shower,” he whispered, grinning against my lips.

I giggled, finally leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him—slow, warm, and full of something I wasn’t entirely ready to name yet. But whatever it was…it felt like home.

Matt’s lips moved against mine with growing urgency, his hands slipping under the hem of my shirt to rest on my hips. I melted into him, arms wrapped around his neck, my back pressing lightly into the counter. The bathroom was dimly lit, our breathing the only sound between soft kisses.

“Sweetheart…” Matt murmured between kisses, voice low and husky. His lips brushed down my jaw, then back to my mouth, deeper this time—slow and intoxicating. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his hoodie, and I couldn’t help the quiet noise that slipped from my throat.

Then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Matt?” Noah’s voice came from just outside the door. “What are you doing, man? You said you were just using the bathroom—did you fall in or something?”

I practically jumped, smacking Matt’s chest in panic as I pulled away, breathless. “Oh my god,” I whispered sharply, wide-eyed.

Matt blinked, lips red and chest rising. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, already moving toward the door.

I grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t open it yet—he’ll see me,” I hissed.

Matt grinned, clearly still high on the moment, but nodded. “Seems like youre the one who needs to hide in the shower”

“Matt?” Noah called again, louder now. “You good?”

“Yeah!” Matt shouted back, forcing a casual tone. “Chill, man. I’m… taking a shit.”

I looked at him, incredulous. Taking a shit? Really?

Noah scoffed through the door. “Of course you are? That burger digested quick.”

Matt turned to me with a shrug and mouthed, he’s suspicious.

I mouthed back, because you’re being sketchy!

“Matt!” Noah called out again, this time closer. “Have you seen my sister?”

Matt’s grip on my waist tightened. His body was still between me and the door, and I watched the flicker of panic in his eyes before he called back—

“No!” he shouted. “I haven’t seen her!”

I smacked his chest silently, mouthing seriously?

Matt cleared his throat and added, “Maybe she went for a walk or something. She was talking about it earlier.”

I stared at him with wide eyes like he’d just handed us both a death sentence.

“A walk?” Noah’s voice was now right outside the bathroom door. “Why the hell would she go for a walk at midnight, Matt? That doesn’t sound like her.”

Shit.

Matt winced, trying to come up with something else. I heard Noah curse under his breath. “I’m calling her.”

My blood ran cold.

I frantically dug into the pocket of my pajama shorts, yanking out my phone and silencing it just as the screen lit up with Noah Incoming Call.

I held it up to Matt, wide-eyed, breathing through my nose like I was in a spy movie.

Matt bit down a laugh, barely holding it in, whispering, “You’re literally gonna get us killed.”

The phone buzzed silently in my hand, over and over. I watched Noah’s shadow shift under the door.

“Why isn’t she picking up?” he muttered to himself, his voice low but too close. I could hear the frown in his tone. “Matt?”

Matt turned toward the door. “Yo, man. I’m—still in the bathroom. Can we not have a conversation while I’m in here? Kind of in the middle of something.”

I smacked his chest again, mouthing you’re so dead.

Noah sighed, frustrated. “I’m gonna go check outside.”

Matt turned to me as we both exhaled like we’d just been defusing a bomb.

We heard Noah’s footsteps move away from the door, and Matt pressed his forehead to mine, still trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart, I swear… we’re this close to getting murdered.”

I whispered back, “We need to never do this again.”

He grinned, brushing his lips over mine again. “Until next time?”

I gave him a narrow-eyed look but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my lips. “You’re insane.”

Then he slowly opened the bathroom door—checking that the coast was clear—before slipping out, and I followed a second later, heartbeat thundering in my chest.

I slipped quietly back into my room, heart still racing as I closed the door behind me. A second later, I heard Matt’s footsteps pad softly toward the living room.

He peeked out to make sure Noah was really gone, and when he was sure the coast was clear, he came back to my room, pushing the door open just enough to step in.

“Looks like he actually went outside to look for you,” he said under his breath, then leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. His lips were warm and fimilar.

“I’m gonna head out now,” he said quietly. “Before he comes back and catches me crawling out of your room like a criminal.”

I nodded, trying not to smile as he pulled the door closed behind him again, but he paused.

“I’ll text him and say you came back while he was gone.”

I nodded again, a soft warmth settling over me. “Okay. Drive safe.”

Matt leaned in one more time, placing a chase kiss on my lips, his voice low and tender. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered, and with one last glance, he slipped away, leaving the faintest smell of his cologne behind—just enough to make me miss him already.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: I need to get the climx to get going, I'm aiming for like 21-15 chapters? like and reblog! mwah] –ceyana

Tags: @oopsiedaisydeer @ribbonlovergirl @mattsfrenchtoast @lm-a-mirrorball @urlocallera @kingofeverythingmb @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @malox12 @sturnslux3 @carrielovesmatt @vanillakissesxx @sagesturns @enviedparty101 @kiarasmaybank @mattscore @fmg05 @mattsdiva @kenah-sturniolo @tropicfessed @courta13 @meatballlover10 @ellssturn @idkwhatthisis2009 @mattspillowprincess @chrissturniolodailysluts @babyt0matoes @angelxsturns @mattsbabyangel @mattysmrwrinkleton @beardedbernard @sturnsfluff

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#ceyanabbiolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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pookiesylus · 5 hours ago

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“Can we go to the convenience store?” You say, lounging in Sylus’ arm chair around midnight, your legs propped over his while he polishes his new, fancy weapon.

Sylus furrowed his eyebrows with a gentle smile, slightly confused, but also slightly amused. “What’s at the convenience store, sweetie? We conveniently have everything here.”

“I know…” you guiltily shuffle. Sylus knows your favorite snacks. He always keeps your little corner in his cabinet full, but today, you were craving something else. “There’s a new dessert I wanna try, and it’s only at the convenience store.”

Realistically, Sylus could send the twins or Mephisto to go pick it up, but where’s the fun in that?

He places the piece down, and looks up at you. “Well…what are we waiting for?”

“Yes!” You excitedly get up. Meanwhile, Sylus stands up slowly, admiring your cute expression.

“Let’s go, cutie.” He grabs your hand, but halts at the door. “I should probably change first.”

You look down and realize Sylus is still wearing the soft pajama pants you bought him recently. They’re pink with cute kittens sprawled all over. He teased you at first, but you noticed he started to wear them more and more. Perhaps, they really are that comfortable.

“Why? It’s just a quick trip.”

“Kitten, the big, bad leader of Onychinus can’t be seen wearing pink, kitten pajama pants at the local convenience store.”

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile, “If anything, it’s a disguise. No one will even consider that you are the leader of Onychinus.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He chuckles, looking down at you. “You win this time.” The both of you still hand in hand as you make it down to his garage.

Sylus starts up his motorcycle, specifically the one you designed in pink and black. He slips a helmet on your head.

“Make sure you hold on tight.” He reminds you as he hops onto the bike.

“I know, I know. You tell me every time.” You say, following him.

“I have to, darling.”

You do as he says, and hold on tight to him. Who wouldn’t, when his back muscles are so defined. They make the perfect pillow as you lean against him. You zoom through the city, the midnight air feeling fresh as always.

The trip to the store was very quick. Sylus helps you off, and follows you into the store. The bright packaging of the dessert immediately catches your attention. You hurriedly grab two, and buy them before Sylus could.

“Hah! Beat you to it.” You say, sitting at the table just outside of the store, Sylus sitting a crossed from you.

“Sure.” He chuckles lightly.

“Here.” You hand him one. He looks a bit surprised only because his main priority was getting you the dessert, so he wasn’t expecting one. “Let’s try it together.”

He watched you take the first bite, your eyes lighting up with pleasure. He can’t help, but be curious about how this cheap dessert can make you so happy.

You watch him take the first bite, his face in confusion from the initial taste. But by the second bite, his eyes have a newfound brightness.

You enjoy the sweetness of your treat. Half way through, you look up to see that he’s already finished his. You smile to yourself.

After finishing yours, you stand up. “Mmm.. That was so good.” You go to grab Sylus’ hand only for it to be occupied with a paper bag.

“Hm? What’s that?”

Sylus opens it for you to see about 10 of that same dessert stacked in the bag “I bought it when you weren’t looking. So, actually, I beat you to it. Need to keep your stash up to date.”

You giggle aloud as you take his hand, “Let’s go home you silly goose.”

“Alright,” he chuckles, “Let’s go home.”

#just some fluff for the soul #love and deepspace #sylus #fluff #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x reader fanfic #sylus fluff

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omnitrash · 18 hours ago

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Hiii! I freaking Love your writing! I was thinking ..

Self aware DMC reactions/feelings if you had to play the game on 'easy mode'? Mostly cuz while I've been playing DMC 1 it's offered it a few times...I'm learning lol. Would they tease? Be more protective? Think it was sweet that you're still determined to beat the game even if you aren't great at it?

Hm…well, let’s see!! And thanks for the idea anon!! Take care and I hope you enjoy!! Though I do apologize if it’s rather short

Self Aware Dmc!! - Too easy for us!!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

‘…you really were a newbie, huh?’ Dante couldn’t help but wonder as he found himself dead after yet another beat down from Cerberus. Hearing you cuss out loud once you saw the “Try again?” on your screen

“DAMN IT!…ugh fine, easy mode it is…” You grumbled, adjusting the game’s difficulty before you continued on. Dante snickering to himself under his breath as he you started the fight again and beat the three headed hound with less struggle this time.

“Atta sweetheart…almost a little too easy for us huh? Heh, I’m just messing with ya’…let’s keep going shall we?” He snickered under his breath, sending a small wink in your direction and disguising it as an idle animation.

They found it cute how you had to adjust the difficulty to easy mode just to get by, it made them all the more protective of you. Even if you couldn’t get the combos right and kept using too many items, they found it endearing how determined you were to finish each game despite not being the best at it.

But some couldn’t help to want to push you be better at the game, knowing you could if you just practiced little by little. And by some, I mean Vergil.

‘Hm…perhaps if I…’ Vergil thought, subtly meddling with the code and increasing the strength of the current boss fight so he could help you progress. It wouldn’t be too difficult but definitely a noticeable change in what you’ve gone through so far.

“HUH?! WAIT SHIT- HOW AM I- VERGIL MOVE!” He heard you yelp, making him jump out of the way abruptly before making him go on the attack. It felt a bit reckless but he couldn’t comment on it. Even if he could, he wanted you to figure it out by yourself. He knew his dearest angel was smart enough to do so after all. You just…needed to control your nerves, that’s all.

“nO-“ He heard you yell before sighing as he fell in battle once more. He could feel -and see- how dejected you looked…perhaps he amped it up too much for you at the moment. He supposed he could make it just a little less difficult. You still needed to learn, after all.

But whenever you cheered so cheerfully and successfully beat a boss fight or pass a difficult mission, how could they ever make fun of you? You just looked so happy, it was adorable.

“OH MY GOSH- I DID IT!! HAHA YEAH!! LETS GO, OH GOD-“ You cheered, letting out a wheeze as you let the controller go and let your back fall on the bed. Panting quietly after letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Vergil couldn’t help but shake his head with an almost imperceptible smirk as he sheathed Yamato away. Eyes turned to you as you laid there panting slightly on your bed. You were always the dramatic one…

A shame he wasn’t the cause of that…he wanted nothing more than to have his dearest angel like that under him whenever he could.

“Good job, my dear…maybe try not to panic as much next time, alright?” He shook his head, his gaze softening as you picked up your controller and leveled him up again. Seemingly getting ready for the next mission with him.

“Already roaring to go I see…as you wish. I won’t be so lenient next time, understand?” He sighed, letting you take control as you continued on with the next mission.

He lied, he went easy on you again on the next boss. He can’t help how soft he is for his dearest angel…

—————————————————————————

“Sooooo…” Dante drawled, leaning closer to his older brother with a knowing smirk.

“What was that about not being so lenient with them?”

“Shut it, little brother“

“Oh please, you’re just as soft for the little sweetheart as everyone else! No shame in that!”

“I told you to shut it-“ Vergil sneered, slapping his younger brother up the head. Receiving a small “ow!” in response.

#self aware devil may cry #self aware dmc #yandere devil may cry #yandere dmc #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #devil may cry x you #dante devil may cry #dante x reader #dante x you #vergil x you #nero x you #dmc lady #dmc trish #dmc nico

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angelltheninth · 3 days ago

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Kissing to Believe

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, new relationship, didn't know they were dating, misunderstandings, suggestive, boner, grinding, bad at feelings

Word count: 0.9k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

Ao3

A/N: He needs therapy. Or someone who really loves him. That could work too. Both will help I think.

You and Bakugo have been... something since the start of the new school year. He had no problem pulling you in for a kiss in front of everyone and you had no problem reciprocating. And all this because he kissed you on impulse after the Dabi's attack. At the time he'd been pretty delirious and just happy to, well be alive. Since then he hasn't stopped.

It finally came to the point where, after he'd spontaneously kissed you in the hallway, his hands on your lower back, edging dangerously close to the hem of your skirt, "Hey Bakugo, what exactly are we?" You asked, a little bashful of all the eyes currently on you.

"Huh?" He tilted his head, his good mood quickly replaced by one of confusion and mild annoyance, "The hell to you mean?"

"I mean..." You sighed, not quite understanding what was it that confused him, "Are we dating? Friends? Are you just fooling around or-" The shove was abrupt, the tch audible and his face fully red as he shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking away.

"Don't fucking believe this shit. How the fuck-" You didn't hear the rest as he hurried to his dorm room. You were left in the middle of the hallway, in the sight of everyone, whispering about a lovers quarrel, how they knew that it would end like this, and something about a bet.

Lovers what now? There was a misunderstanding here on a lot of sides.

Quickly you followed after Bakugo, barging into his room and slamming the door closed just as hard. He didn't pay you any mind, laying on his bed with his back turned.

"Stop being a baby." You tried to pull him towards you only to be pushed away by him, "Bakugo! Just tell me what did I do all of a sudden?"

"Being stupid is what you did." What?

"You have a lot of nerve saying that when you're been playing with me for the past month. Now stop being stubborn and look at me." This time he let you spin him around and he used that momentum to push you onto the ground and pin you down.

"Fucking ridiculous." Bakugo growled as he loosened his tie and pushed your legs apart, the position making both of you blush but Bakugo was the faster one, surging forward to kiss you silent. It was so desperate and hungry, the way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue demanded entrance, the way his hands gripped your shoulders, the way his hips rocked against yours to keep you still. "Get it now?" Even if you wanted to reply you were too out of breath to do so, "What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?"

It was your turn to be pissed. You yanked him down by his tie and into another hot kiss, "…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public. Or your hands going down my body, you're lucky I didn't kick you in the-" His knee pressed between your legs hard, making your hips slide upwards, "You... you always do this! You kiss me, you tease me, you touch me, and then you never say anything about it! How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on in your head Bakugo? I don't have a mind-reading Quirk!"

"I shouldn't have to! You think I kiss just anyone? That- that was the first time I- damn it!" Bakugo sat back but still kept his body between your legs, his hand frustratingly raking through his spiky hair, "You know I'm not got with words and that mushy crap. So I thought my actions would be enough to show you. Everyone else seemed to have picked up on it."

"Everyone?" Thinking about it you did hear a lot of talk about you and Bakugo lately, and you did get a lot of questions about how things were going. You assumed this was because they were amused by him teasing you when actually, "We were dating?"

"I hoped we were." Oh. All those kisses, the little late night hang outs, the walks outside campus and the... heated training sessions.

"You should have just told me that you jackass!" You pulled him to the side and got on top of him, trying to ignore the hardness under you, "For your information I don't go around kissing just anyone either, I just thought you wanted to be more free. You'd be pretty popular with the ladies if you weren't so scary."

"Oy! I'm plenty popular!" That was a bold lie and blow to his ego, "And even if I wasn't I already got my eye on you so you better quit this pussyfooting around and tell me: do you want to be my girlfriend or not?!"

Finally a clear question!

"You love calling me an idiot but if anyone's the idiot here its you." Bakugo grit his teeth at you at being called an idiot but you knew how to wipe that snarl off his face, by pulling him into a kiss, the same way he did to you so many times before, just as passionate just as heated, just as rough. "Clear enough for you?"

Bakugo grinned, "Nah. You need to make it more clear for me." His hands settled on your hips, "Really clear." You yelped when you felt one hand sneaking under your skirt before you slapped it away, your face heating up which only made his grin wider.

He might be a hot head but he was your hot head now, and you would make sure everyone knew it from now on.

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cooking-with-hailstones · 1 day ago

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Murderbot 1x08 commentary

Literally so much happened. What the actual fuck. Wow. I have so many feelings. I'm literally about to rewatch the episode and I'll write down my thoughts as I go (obv spoilers under the cut here.)

WOOHOO ANOTHER SANCTUARY MOON COLD OPEN

They are really hamming it up with this whole thing, with the Navbot being a Secunit stand in that Secunit will never ever admit its projecting onto. The whole thing about not trusting a reconditioned unit? The "machine" monologue?? "When you inducted me into this hideous religion called love, you took away the only human who has ever shown me kindness" - I wonder if we're going to get a callback to this scene and if it's going to fuck me the fuck up. Great job Dewanda Wise.

(Now, I am not 100% sold on this because we know Secunit likes escapism, buuut also we know Secunit is a very unreliable narrator, and perhaps its watching this entirely going "haha, wow, so wild and unrealistic. How do humans come up with all these crazy ideas?? Anyways I'm gonna rewatch this scene with the navbot for the 168th time. For no reason.")

Mensah jokingly calling secunit seccy did melt me a little bit SORRYyy

Ratthi, never change. (Except do change. Please. Secunit is going to be very sad if you don't develop slightly more of a sense of self preservation)

HELL YEAH It's Graycris namedrop time! We seem to be setting up the same conclusion as ASR, so this is gonna be fun!!

Murderbot's little snort is so endearing.

Gurathin: "this is how it started" about surgical painkillers? WOW.

GOD. This entire scene... going to be chewing on this for MONTHS.

A while ago I said that this show delights in doing double dutch with campy comedy and heart-wrenching drama. This scene is now the crux of my hypothesis (along with watching SM with Mensah, and singing at the GC secunit)

It's not an episode of murderbot if there's not a teensy bit of body horror! :D

What a day for every single person who enjoys murderathin bondage and feed exchanges (SOMEONE in that writers room has read Enemies, Closer)

"I didn't see it on Sanctuary moon. I saw it on MedCentreArgala" LMAO SCREAMING

Uh.

Uhmm

"Why can't you love me back" OKAY WHAT. SKARSGARD I LOVE YOU FOREVER FOR THE WAY YOU DELIVERED THAT I'M GOING TO CHEW ON THAT FOREVER. God Mensah's faaaace!!!! (also the visual of her dancing? looking generally beautiful? SO lovely)

"Did I just say something?" "NO YOU DIDN'T"

"One moment" OH SHIT OH FUCK OH SHIT OH DAMN!!

Gurathin crying while looking at the footage... I am... wow. Once again hats fucking off to Dastmalchian and Skarsgard.

Muderbot looks so fucking scared and hurt!!! "Don't. Don't!! DON'T!!!" HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL AFTER THIS???

Desperately grasping at straws to explain everything. "It could have been an implanted memory, or, or someone... maybe there was a combat override module involved."

"Yes. Maybe." GOD. FUCK. IT REALLY BELIEVES THAT. IT IS SO FUCKING SCARED OF ITSELF

AMANDA JONES you are amazing. The music in this episode is superb.

I'm not gonna say anything more about this scene. I am going to rewatch it a bajillion times though. You should go watch it too.

Woohoo exposition about alien remnants, Graycris, the Company, etc. First time we get Mensah as planetary leader officially mentioned! Honestly, that was A LOT of exposition, and they did that very effectively. High five, writers!

"It is not! your pet!" Mensah!!! I fucking screamed!!! Thank you for saying it!!!

(A little thing I noticed later: after Mensah yells at him, the camera lingers on Ratthi looking at little forlorn and then while everyone's talking about GrayCris, Mensah walks over to him and lightly touches his arm in reassurance. Just a nice character building moment!)

Again, Amanda Jones. I love you, I am metaphorically kissing you. You're amazing.

Hmm, woweee murderbot, your favourite episodes of Sanctuary Moon all center around constructs and the nature of personhood?

. Which could mean nothing. Of course.

"I HAVE A PLAN!!"

...

"I have a... plan..?"

"Fuck"

Cue me, dying.

OVERALL:

I mean, I've rewatched all the murderbot episodes at least once, but this is the only one I've rewatched immediately upon finishing. This is so good, I am having so much fun and also legitimately moved. Alexander and David, you both made me tear up during The Scene. Fuck it. I'm gonna go watch it again right now!!!

OKAY and a few critiques:

I am legit unsure of how I feel about them making Sanctuary moon so... not escapist? Like I know they've been very intentionally using SM as some exposition for MB but this felt too on-the-nose. (Idk, because I also totally get it from a TV standpoint because scenes from this show is the only way to actually show the audience what Murderbot is feeling (it sure as hell won't share that itself). Also there's no point in doing all the work (and $$$ spent) that they've done for SM for it not to be advancing the plot. Okay I think I've talked myself out of this critique. CONCESSION GRANTED TO THE REQUIREMENTS OF DIFFERENT MEDIA)

The skill gap between different members of the cast continues to grow more and more apparent. I'M SORRY they are all doing their best but their bests are... different bests. MUCH LOVE TO ALL OF THEM I ENJOY THEM ALL But Alexander, David, Noma and Tamara are kind of blowing the throuple out of the water.

And another awkward Throuple scene. Okay. It was sweet and kinda funny, but feels very tonally out of place.

"The rogue secunit who betrayed its clients!" aight, writers, come on now. Don't make me retract my earlier high five. This just feels like you're trying to bait the tv audience and irritate the book audience.

#murderbot tv #murderbot tv spoilers #mbtv #mbtv spoilers #murderbot 1x08 #hailstones murderthoughts #murderbot #mbtv 1x08 #once again I apologize for any weirdness or mistakes.#I may come back and edit this tomorrow

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what-th3fucc · 3 days ago

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HTTYD 3 SUCKS ASS

just a list of my complaints for HTTYD 3 lol

so I know I hardly ever talk about HTTYD, but it’s honestly such a big part of my childhood. it even still holds up today. or, the first two movies do. idk I just love the franchise

ok now onto my complaints for the cash grab third sequel

idk why I’m just not a big fan of Toothless’ redesign. like it’s not obvious but they made him cuter in a way. and I get that he’s supposed to look more approachable for one reason or another but HE ALREADY LOOKS CUTE IN THE FIRST MOVIE. in the OG he looks cute when he wants to be but is SUPPOSED to look terrifying as well. that’s why he’s so feared. making him look cute ALL THE TIME completely takes away from what he was built off of. it’s just kinda annoying idk

it never ceases to bother me that Snotlout for some reason has a crush on HICCUPS’S MOM. omfg. imo it would have made more sense and would have been more wholesome if Snotlout and Ruffnut hardcore crushed on each other like they did in the last film RATHER than obliterating the whole ass subplot of him trying to get her attention and then her eventually being like “damn this guy’s a fine shyt” after he saved her. they had a lot of chemistry and the bonehead x bonehead trope could have been fun to work with rather than character assassinating the ever loving fuck out of Snotlout and making him an insufferable annoying little bitch who simps over Hiccups FUCKING MOM. not only that he also makes a joke about Huccup’s dad’s death as if he didn’t treat it maturely in the last movie. it’s just character assassination.

i HATE so fucking much how the light fury is pointlessly gendered. like you DO NOT have to give her softer and more feminine features to show she’s a girl. the idea of a light fury is amazing but making her more feminine and JUST as cute looking as Toothless in tgat movie pmo so much you have no idea. their species are supposed to be terrifying (and have the ability to be cute when they want to be) not a fucking dog that looks adorable and approachable all the time. I feel like she could have been made more fearsome rather than “OH WELL SHE’S SMOOTHER AND SMALLER AND MORE CURVY SO SHE’S A GIRL” because we have seen some pretty fucking terrifying female dragons.

don’t even fucking get me started on the end of the movie. it’s like Toy Story 4 all over again

yeah these are only a few of my complaints so yeah byyyeeee

#httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #toothless #ruffnut thorston #snotlout jorgenson #light fury #httyd 3

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penguicorns-are-cool · 1 day ago

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Ok ok I have some suggestions

Something important is that the effect of replying with actual words to a conversation is that it lasts longer. Nothing else. Sometimes this is a good thing, long conversation can be very cool and fun, but a significant amount of time the conversation is supposed to be short and simple. Sometimes it’s a thing where they’re trying to figure out your opinion and if this is something you feel strongly about. If the conversation is short and easy you either agree or have no strong feelings, if you keep the conversation going it’s a sign that you may have an issue. And sometimes, someone just wants to drop or change the topic and it can be annoying if the other person is dragging it on. Especially if you don’t really have anything to add to the conversation and you’re just saying things to continue the conversation.

What I do is kind of like what you say you used to do with only responding if you have an opinion but with a very important twist. In order to show that you are paying attention and engaged in the conversation, you have to every once in a while make a little noise or comment. By that I mean things like “mhm” “huh??” “Weird” “cool” “completely understandable.” Sometimes people don’t want a long conversation, they just want to know you’re listening and they will keep talking if they believe you are listening, if they want a longer conversation they will make an effort to give you something to respond to.

My advice for you is to think about if what you’re about to say will add to the conversation in any way and if you even want the conversation to keep going. If the answer is no then you can just make a noise to show you were paying attention. (If you do want the conversation to go longer but have nothing to add then you can also change topics)

Also a really good sign a conversation is going a bit too long is if it starts repeating at all

As for the very argumentative sibling. There is a big difference between picking arguments for the fun of it and accidentally extending a conversation to the point where it feels like an argument. Some people genuinely like arguing. My girlfriend is one of them. If I notice she is being argumentative for fun and it’s going a bit too long then I tell her I want to stop talking about it and we change topics.

TLDR: try incorporating non-statement reaction words like “mhm” “cool” or “how dare” into your conversations

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult

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sweetestmilli · 3 days ago

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We Will Be Free

00. | 01. | 02. | 03

an: hello! this is my first fic ever and i haven't written anything in SO long so i'm kind of rusty with this stuff and i apologize for that. english is also not my first language so please, please, be kind. this is unedited and i’m quite unsatisfied with its length and how it turned out but i had fun writing it. still, i hope u enjoy! <3

very short chapter. sorryyyy

there's barely any dialogue on this part!! but the next parts will have many of it

CONTAINS WARNING FOR K-POP DEMON HUNTERS!!!

guaranteed happy ending :p

────୨ৎ────

Rumi hated nights like this.

Ones when it was so dark you could barely see anything and not even the brightest of the bright city lights that shine below helped. Nights when the stars seemed to shine a little duller than the usual. When the moon hid, not daring to show its face and it seemed to have been in a deep slumber way before the thought of sleep even crossed anyone's mind.

But if Rumi had the chance to be honest, what she hated, in truth, was the silence that comes with nights like this. The silence that kept ringing on her ear. The same silence that she once found solace in was now something that she couldn't even bother listening to for a second more. What used to be a comfort was now associated with fear.

Not of monsters and not of demons.

But the thought of him. And this turmoil of feelings that never found peace ever since that fateful night happened almost half a year ago.

She hated how the silence seems to be whispering those last words. The words that’s seeping through her cracks, making its way right into the very core of her heart, twisting it just enough to make her feel the weight but not so much that it distracts her from the things that needed to be done and the words that needed to be said. Gripping it oh so tight but never crushing it.

On her usual days, the thought and memory of Jinu would be something that keeps her moving forward. A source of strength. But seldomly does she let herself go. Let herself fall apart and mourn til her eyes almost fell apart with all the crying. Grieve him and grieve what could've been.

If only...

Rumi shooked her head and waved off the thoughts that were filling her head. She looked around, feeling the air thicken as every second pass. Her footsteps becoming heavier with each step.

Only now does she realize that she often found herself back here. She doesn't know why. Not exactly, at least. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was because here, right here, was the first time she felt free and it was with him.

As she walked past the very same alleyway, her mind flooded with the memories. The words to the song they sang. The almosts. The way his grip on her wrist was so tight yet so gentle and so warm and soft didn't go unnoticed by her. The risks they were finally willing to take.

Her train of thoughts on till to up was immediately cut off when Derpy—with a quick and sudden movement—stood in front of her, its back facing her as it fiddled with something on the ground while Sussie could only look back at Rumi, seemingly tired of Derpy’s antics while Rumi could only chuckle at the sight.

Rumi bent down. "Well, what do we have here?” She asked Derpy, her hand grabbing whatever it was that caught Derpy's attention.

She stared.

And her heart dropped.

Her hand shook as she traced the intricate knot of the bracelet. Colored in blue and purple. Her head tilted to the side as she brought it closer to her, inspecting it, seeing how the bracelet is so identical to the one she'd given to Jinu.

“But that's impossible.” She spoke in a low and soft voice, careful not to let it tremble like the way her hands—heck— perhaps her whole body did. “It's supposed to be gone.” She added, wanting to convince herself.

And suddenly, the wind felt like it blew a little stronger. Like the stars were shining a little bit brighter. And she was quite sure that the moon had finally come out of hiding.

And then she heard a voice. A voice a little too familiar. It sounded so soft but she could swear that it almost made her knees go weak, almost making her stumble and fall to the ground.

“I think that's mine.” The voice said.

She didn't know what else to do but to look up and meet those eyes

“You...” Her breath hitched, eyes almost watering as her heart thumped against her ribs. “Jinu?”

The way his name rolled out of her tongue, it sounded like a prayer. An angel's song. A lover’s poem. A siren’s lullaby.

But he just stood there.

Unmoving. Unaware. Unbothered.

Not even uttering a single word. His eyes—they were not blank but she wished that they were. She wished his eyes reflected anything but this.

────୨ৎ────

all works and contents belong to @sweetestmilli. do not reupload.

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orlaunderrated · 1 day ago

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The Edges of Us: Chapter 13

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 7.0k+

Note: SMUT again!!!!! i had SO many requests to write more so im trying!!! any authors want to give me tips id love that xxx

18+ only, MDNI

content warnings: blowjob, face fucking sorta, cum swallowing, exhibitionism I suppose?? idk what to call it. if I'm missing any let me know <33

xxx

The last three weeks? A blur.

It’s been… about as close to "not casual" as you can get without admitting it’s something real with Will. And I don’t know whether I should feel relieved or like I’m teetering on the edge of some emotional cliff.

He’ll wait for me to finish work, and then we’ll go out to dinner. Always somewhere low-key, somewhere we can avoid prying eyes.

But he hasn’t made me a cup of tea, not once. Not even when I’ve been on the edge of exhaustion, when a cup of Earl Grey could fix everything.

He’ll text me job opportunities his friends are posting—always practical, always thoughtful—but he doesn’t ask about my day, not in the way someone who’s really invested does.

Or maybe he's trying to keep it casual, like me.

And we never meet when the sun’s still high in the sky. It’s like he has this rule, a silent agreement we’ve never discussed: after dark, we exist. Before then? It’s as if we’re just... separate lives.

He hasn’t met my friends. Not Ruth, not anyone. It’s like I’m hiding him away, but I don’t really mind. I don’t want him to be friends with Ruth—she’d ask too many questions, and I’m not ready for that.

We don’t know what the other gets up to when we’re not together, but over text, we’re funny. We send memes, random jokes, and stupid updates, like we’re in some constant, low-stakes conversation. But it’s never about anything real. No talks about our days, no checking in on anything that matters. It’s just… banter.

It’s like we exist in parallel, connected by inside jokes and little moments, but never touching the deeper stuff. Until we come together for our stolen moments.

But god… it’s fun. It’s so much fun. He’s fun. He’s wild and unpredictable, and when we’re together, it’s like the world falls away.

And yeah, he’s pretty. He’s ridiculously pretty. Like it’s almost unfair.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s easy to get caught up in all of it. The thrill. The mystery. But I’m starting to wonder… is that enough?

xxx

Work was hell. One of those days where every email felt like a personal attack and the printer chose violence for the third time this week. My manager spent the afternoon breathing down my neck like I was personally responsible for the state of the global economy, and by the time I got on the tube, I felt like a chewed-up receipt someone had stomped on.

So when I finally unlock the front door, all I want is silence, maybe tea, maybe death.

Instead, it hits me immediately—music, laughter, and the low thrum of voices carrying down the hall from the living room.

Shit.

I thought I’d dodged this.

Chris texted something earlier about “lads round before the pub,” and I’d purposely stayed late at work, hoping I could sneak in, grab a snack, and vanish into my room unnoticed. No small talk. No beer breath.

No Will.

I’m not ready for him to see me like this. In my work clothes, Absolutely destroyed. My limbs are heavy, my brain is fried, and I have zero patience for banter or flirtation or pretending to be even remotely charming. I feel frayed at the edges, like if someone so much as asks me how my day was, I’ll burst into tears or flames—whichever comes first.

I try not to think about the last time I came home like this. When I’d been this wrecked, this worn down, and he saw it—all of it. I remember the quiet way he looked at me, like I wasn’t pathetic for falling apart over spreadsheets and deadlines. I remember how he kissed me like I made sense to him, even when I didn’t make sense to myself.

I almost get to my room. But then—

“Y/N!” Chris’s voice cuts through the noise like a boomerang of guilt. “You’re back! Come sit, we’ve got room!”

I freeze at the corner of the hallway, fingers still curled around the strap of my work bag. Just a second’s pause. Too long. George’s head turns. He sees me.

There’s no escape.

“Just for a bit,” I call back, keeping my voice light, masking the internal oh-for-fuck’s-sake that’s bubbling up behind my ribs .I step into the room and it’s like a spotlight swings right onto me. Seven pairs of eyes. A half-empty bottle of rum on the table. And Will—

Will, lounging across the couch like a Renaissance painting that got bored and discovered sarcasm. Long legs stretched out, one arm draped over the backrest, beer bottle balanced loosely in hand. He clocks me immediately, and his mouth curves—not into a smile, exactly, but into something far worse.

Our eyes meet.

It’s electric. Sharp. Stupid.

He's got that knowing tilt. That lazy smirk. That look that says: You came here for me, didn’t you?

So painfully obvious that I look away almost instantly, like that’ll stop my cheeks from heating up.

Chris kicks the beanbag next to him, indicating the spot he's 'found' for me. “Don’t be antisocial. You’ve earned a drink, coder queen.”

“Only if the drink contains morphine,” I mutter, letting my bag thunk to the floor. I move into the room slowly, careful not to look too long in Will’s direction, which of course just makes me more aware of every molecule of him.

George offers a vague nod from the armchair, glass coke-and-probably-rum in his hand. “Rough day?” he asks.

I shoot him a look that could curdle milk. “Define ‘rough.’” I don't mean to be so curt with him. But its hard not to be recently.

Will hums, eyes glinting. “Did someone interrupt your TikTok scroll with a meeting invite?”

I give him a saccharine smile. “No, just got emotionally waterboarded by capitalism. But thanks for your concern, William.”

He raises his beer in my direction, grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Cheers to emotional trauma.” The room laughs, Arthur snorts into his glass—but Will’s eyes don’t leave mine. Not really.

He’s joking. Obviously. That’s the game. We throw jabs, deflect with sarcasm, act like neither of us is keeping score. But there’s a flicker underneath it. His brow arches just slightly, the tilt of his head barely perceptible—but it’s there.

You alright?

He doesn’t say it out loud, and I don’t answer. Not with words. Just a half-smile, quick and crooked, the kind that says I’m fine even when I’m not. Especially when I’m not. I'm sure he sees right through it but that’s okay.

I take the spot Chris offered me on the beanbag, it's just close enough to feel the heat of Will’s gaze, but far enough that I can pretend to ignore it. The voices swirl around me, but they feel distant. My focus is too busy tuning itself to him. Chris hands me a rum and coke he's just mixed. I take one sip, holy fuck it's strong. I know I insinuated I wanted one with heavy drugs in it but goddamn. I mutter a thank you to him.

Will leans slightly forward, one elbow resting on his knee now. His fingers tap absently on the glass bottle. His eyes flick to mine again, like he’s checking I’m still there, still looking.

I am.

I always am.

The stress starts to slip off me in layers—first my shoulders, then my jaw. He doesn’t even say anything to me. Just exists in the room the way he does, all ease and quiet smugness. This always happens. I show up bristling and bitter, decide I won’t even look at him, and five minutes later I’m laughing at nothing, forgetting why I was mad in the first place.

I scan the room, counting names like mental flashcards. Chris. George. Arthur—both of them. Bach, curled up with a cider and a fresh haircut, hoodie sleeves pushed up like he’s about to solve a mystery or maybe start a band. But then there's a face I don’t recognise.

He’s shorter, with could-be curls and the kind of cheekbones that suggest he’s good at five-a-side. His football shirt is vintage, or at least cool enough to pretend it is. He catches me looking and offers a polite, not-unfriendly half-smile.

I nod, reflexively. Then—without thinking—glance at Will.

And he’s already looking at me.

He clocks the exchange immediately. Doesn’t miss a beat. “This is Stephen,” he says, voice pitched just that bit louder than necessary—like he’s introducing him to the room, but really, the message is mine. A soft thread tugging: I see you.

The conversation ripples with laughter, someone says something about Stephen being “the designated wildcard,” and I manage a real smile this time. Not forced. Not polite. Just… easy.

Will’s eyes find mine again. That same look—subtle and steady, with none of the usual bite. Not quite a smile, but something warmer than neutral. Something careful. Protective. Like he’s flicking the corner of a post-it note stuck to my ribs that says, You’re not invisible.

I want to thank him, for throwing me that social lifeline, for always noticing. For being the first and honestly only person who introduces me to people. It seems like everyone just assumes I should know them.

But the words catch in my throat, too heavy with everything we’re not saying. So instead, I shift on the beanbag, tuck one leg underneath me, and look away—pretending not to blush while the heat creeps up my neck like he lit a match inside me.

Still, I feel it.

That invisible line drawn across the floor. The energy between us shifts. It’s no longer sweet — it’s something else. It’s…

I meet is gaze, steady on me.

Like a secret that doesn’t need to be spoken to be known.

So I take a sip of my too-strong drink, pretending it doesn’t taste like his name on my tongue.

It’s…

Hot.

Heavy.

It’s…

everything I didn’t want to admit.

The conversation rolls on, picks up speed again like it never noticed I tried to derail it by existing. It’s normal. Casual.

I feel anything but.

Every nerve in my body is hyper-aware of Will’s presence. Of the three inches of space between his leg and George next to him. Of the way he isn’t drinking much, just slowly nursing a beer and glancing in my direction whenever someone else is talking.

I try not to notice.

I fail spectacularly.

“So, Will,” Chris says, stirring something neon and suspicious, “what’s going on with you? You seeing anyone? What happened to that girl from Dublin?”

My stomach tenses. I blink hard at the rim of my glass. I didn't know there was a girl from Dublin.

Will grins, infuriating and deliberate. “She moved back to Dublin, plus we couldn’t understand a word each other were saying.”

George scoffs. “Translation: she ghosted him after one mediocre date.”

“Excuse you,” Will says, hand on chest in mock injury. “My dates are never mediocre.”

He says it to the room, but he looks at me when he says it.

Direct. Unapologetic.

Like he’s daring me to contradict him.

Laughter breaks out around us. Chris chuckles into his drink. Arthur-who-i-don't-live-with claps once, delighted. George chuckles too at first. But I feel it. That subtle shift. The way his body leans back, almost imperceptibly, like he’s just remembered something, or just noticed something he hadn’t meant to see.

Will sits back again, smug. His fingers brush the rim of his bottle, slow and rhythmic.

Arthur-who-i-DO-live-with raises his eyebrows. “So what—you are seeing someone now?”

Will shrugs, slow and maddeningly nonchalant. “Yeah, sorta. It’s… early. Kind of nice, actually.”

The word nice lands on me like a spark. My heart flips.

I see George go stiff.

Arthur-who-i-don't-live-with lights up. “Is that an exclusive soft launch?”

Will tilts his head, grinning like he knows the chaos he’s about to cause. “Wouldn’t be very soft if I confirmed that, would it?”

More laughter. But I see it—the small clench in George’s jaw. The way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

My pulse is in my ears, like the room just tilted slightly and no one noticed but me.

I stare at glass, trying to focus on the ice melting. I don’t look at Will. I don’t look at George.

I try not to look like I’m thinking too hard about any of it.

The conversation has shifted again, and now I'm pretending to listen to whatever Arthur’s saying about Fantasy Premier League. Will’s directly across from me, half-lit by the warm lamplight, that same lazy posture like he hasn’t moved in an hour. But I can feel him.

Not see him.

Feel him.

The way his gaze keeps drifting—pulling across the space between us like a taut string. It slides over my cheek, down my collarbone, lingers somewhere just below my neckline. Never obvious. Never quite bold enough to be caught by anyone else. Well, except maybe George.

But I feel it. God, do I feel it.

I keep my face carefully neutral, sipping at my drink and nodding like I’m tuned in. I’m not. I’m hyperaware of everything else—of the way Will’s thumb rests along the bottle’s edge, slow circles, absent-minded but precise. Of the way his knee bumps against George’s once, shifts, then angles ever-so-slightly toward me. Of the flicker of his tongue as he licks a bit of beer from the corner of his mouth.

He hasn’t said a word to me in ten minutes.

And he doesn’t have to.

That silence between us? It’s louder than anything.

Someone jokes about going out soon, about being already half-cut—and the room laughs, the energy rising. I laugh too, a bit too high, a bit too fast. Will notices. Of course he does.

He lifts his bottle and tilts it slowly toward me. Barely half an inch. Just a twitch of his wrist. But it’s deliberate. Drink, love, it says.

I blink. Tilt my glass back in quiet rebellion.

He smirks.

The bastard.

Chris throws a cushion at Arthur, and the room devolves into a tangle of boys and half-empty mixers. But I stay grounded—anchored by Will’s eyes. Every time I glance up, I find him already looking. Like he doesn’t trust me to be in the same room without watching me.

I shift slightly on my beanbag, tug my work cardigan off my shoulders like it’s casual, like it’s just warm in here. It’s not. I’m ice inside and overheating all at once.

He doesn’t look at the cardigan. He watches my hands as I pull the sleeves over my wrists, watches my fingers fiddle with the hem like I’m trying not to fidget. Like I’m unravelling, slowly, and he’s enjoying every second.

George says something beside him, and Will nods along, doesn’t break eye contact.

Doesn’t need to.

His gaze is that constant hum under my skin. That pressure behind my ribs. That memory of last week’s hands on my skin—of mouths, too fast and too familiar, of breathless laughter tangled in the dark.

I press my knees tighter together, shift again.

Will’s brow lifts—subtle, cocky. Like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

I clench my jaw. Look away.

Then, under the coffee table—light, so light—I feel it. The brush of his foot. Just barely grazing the side of mine.

I don’t move.

I don’t flinch.

But my pulse kicks up like I’ve been yanked out of my own skin.

I glance up again, carefully, slowly. Will’s talking now. Joking about something, deflecting someone’s dig, probably Stephen's, but his eyes flick back to mine mid-sentence. And the corner of his mouth twitches.

That almost-smile. That “I know what this is doing to you” look.

I hate him. I hate how well he reads me. How much I want to close the distance between us in front of everyone. How I can’t.

Someone’s asking me a question—Arthur, maybe—but it doesn’t land. I answer with a nod I barely register. My brain is half-fog, half-fire, and all of it is him.

He shifts again, knees spreading wider, then lets his hand drop to his thigh. His thumb taps once. Still watching me.

I sip my drink just to give my hands something to do. I’m going to combust.

And he knows it.

Xxx

There is a lull in the conversation, and I can feel another story starting, another distraction spinning through the air like glitter. I use the moment and push myself to my feet.

“Gonna crash,” I say casually, stretching like the act of standing isn’t a full-body escape. “You lot have fun.”

There’s a scattered chorus of goodnights. George offers a warm “Sleep well,” and Chris winks like I’ve just admitted defeat to my own social battery.

Will doesn’t say anything.

But I feel his eyes follow me as I walk out.

I don’t look back.

Upstairs, my room is dark and quiet, the low hum of bass from downstairs barely bleeding through the floor. I close the door gently, not quite clicking it shut. Just in case.

I exhale.

Then I sit on the edge of my bed, the silence thick around me, hands pressed into the blanket like I need the grounding. The energy from the night still crackling across my skin.

Two minutes later—barely enough time for me to even kick off my shoes—I hear the floorboard outside my door creak.

The faintest knock.

Then the door opens. Will slips in without waiting for a reply, like it’s not a question. Like this has always been the plan. He clicks the door closed behind him.

He’s holding his half-finished beer. His brows lift when he sees me still sitting on the edge of the bed, like he expected something different—maybe pyjamas, maybe distance.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says, voice low and easy, like the joke’s been waiting on his tongue all night.

I glance up. “Like what?”

He tips his head toward the clutter. “You. Me. This cursed little museum of other people’s bad purchases.”

I snort. “Hey, don’t knock the early-career YouTuber aesthetic. George says the broken drone adds character.”

He glances at the corner like it personally offends him, eyes landing on the toppled ring light still leaning sideways against the wall.

“That tripod’s still knocked over,” he says, mouth twitching. “Should’ve known you’d leave it exactly where we kicked it.”

I shoot him a look. “Technically, you kicked it. While trying to multitask.”

He steps a little closer, slow, smug. He’s still standing. I’m still seated, spine straightening without meaning to as he closes a bit of the distance. “I was very focused,” he says.

“On making a mess?”

“On you.”

God.

That look on his face—just barely smug, but warm underneath, like he’s remembering the exact moment he lost focus. The way his voice drops when he says you.

It does something to me.

I try not to let it show. But suddenly I’m hyper-aware of the way he fills the doorway. The way his shirt clings to the dip of his collarbone. The light catching on the edge of his jaw. He smells like citrus and beer and something faintly like heat.

He’s not even trying, and I feel like I’m about to go up in flames.

That shuts me up for half a second too long. He notices—of course he does—and the smugness softens, just a fraction. Not gone, just folded beneath something quieter.

“Yeah, well, I live here rent-free. I don’t get to be picky.”

“There’s a monitor from 2011 under your bed.”

“And yet you keep showing up.”

He smiles at that—slow, crooked. Dangerous. “Yeah. Wonder why that is.”

He doesn’t move closer. Just lingers near the door, like he's giving me the choice. Like if I said go, he would.

I don’t. Obviously.

He scans the room again, like he’s seeing it for the first time—even though this isn’t new. He's been here before. More times than makes sense, actually.

More than makes sense for two people pretending not to mean anything.

His voice softens. “You alright?”

“I am now,” I say, quieter than I mean to.

He nods like he already knew. Like it’s not the first time I’ve said that to him.

Then a beat. Just enough silence to feel like gravity.

He looks at me, just looks, still standing, beer in hand, five feet of electric space between us, and says, “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“This keeps happening.” His eyes flick around the room—the clutter, the quiet, me sitting there in the middle of it all like a scene he keeps returning to. “Me ditching my mates. You sitting here like you didn’t plan on letting me in.”

I try to look unimpressed. “I didn’t.”

He takes one slow step forward. “You always leave the door open.”

“I always forget to close it.”

“Sure you do.”

His voice is lower now, steadier, pulling something out of me like thread from a seam. I should say something clever. I should move. But I can’t. I just sit there, heart thudding, skin flushed, and think—

He looks so fucking good.

And then I do move.

I stand slowly, like I’m not entirely sure why I’m doing it, like gravity’s just pulled me to my feet instead of common sense. We’re closer now—barely a foot between us—and he watches me rise like it’s happening in slow motion.

He opens his mouth like he might say something else, but I don’t give him the chance.

I kiss him.

Soft at first, but insistent. Like I’ve been thinking about this all night—and I have. His mouth tastes like beer and something sharper underneath. I grip his collar and feel his breath catch against mine.

He kisses me back, of course he does—hands sliding to my hips, grounding me, anchoring us—but there’s something restrained in it. Like he’s kissing me carefully.

I know that version of him. That cautious, thinking-too-much version.

So I tip things.

My hands slide lower, thumbs brushing under the hem of his shirt. I toy with the edge of his waistband, tug lightly, just enough to make a point.

He breaks the kiss with a soft, breathy laugh. “All of my mates are literally a door away.”

I look up at him, deliberately unfazed. “So?”

His breath hitches again.

It’s almost funny, how flustered he gets when I push things. He’s all bark in the living room, teasing across the room with smug little comments and those eyes. But in here, with me? His confidence slips just a little when I’m the one steering.

"I think they're about—” he starts, but he doesn’t finish.

I kiss him again, firmer this time, my hands threading through the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like I own this moment. “We’re already being stupid. Might as well commit.”

Will leans back against the door, just like the first time he pressed me here—his body a solid frame against mine. The heat between us sizzles, silent but undeniable, like electricity sparking in the tight space.

My fingers move to his chest. I pull back just enough to catch my breath, eyes locked on his. “I need five minutes and a hairtie,” I say, voice low, teasing with a dangerous edge.

He arches a brow, a slow, reluctant smile curling his lips. “Five minutes? What’s the plan, boss?”

I step forward, voice dropping to a sultry whisper as I lean close, so close he can feel my breath against his jaw. “You’ve been looking at me like you can’t resist me all night," I murmur, "may as well give you what you want."

He laughs, rough and easy, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, I know he's nervous, with all his mates next door but let's be real, he's a guy. He won’t think about the consequences of a blowjob if it means getting a blowjob.

“Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” I murmur, my lips brushing his ear, “because I like you exactly where you are.”

I step back just enough to grab the scrunchie from the messy bed, my fingers trembling slightly over the pile of clothes and tech junk. The crooked ring light teeters but doesn’t fall.

Will watches every move, his gaze sharp and hungry, the light catching the planes of his face—jawline, collarbone, that subtle crease above his brow.

I twist my hair up slow, deliberately, locking eyes with him the entire time. When I turn back around, he’s still by the door, eyes dark, lips slightly parted.

Without warning, he reaches out, fingers sliding around my waist, pulling me close again. His touch is firm, possessive, and completely sure—like he’s claiming every inch of me without holding anything back.

My hands press against his chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath his shirt, matching the wild racing in my own veins. I let my lips drift lower, tracing a slow path along his jaw, brushing against the sharp angle, every kiss deliberate, every breath warm against his skin.

Will's breath catches. I bite lightly at the curve of his neck, my teeth teasing, my tongue on his skin just enough to make him shiver. My fingers find their way back to his waistband, and I feel his bare skin under his shirt, my fingers ghosting along his hips.

Without breaking the kiss, my fingers fumble hurriedly at his belt buckle, the tension making my hands tremble just enough to slow me down. It catches on the metal, stubborn. He leans in, breath warm against my ear, and with a quick, practiced motion, frees the clasp.

His hands slip around my waist again, fingers pressing into my skin, pulling me impossibly closer—solid, grounding me in the wildfire sparking between us.

His eyes darken, shadows deepening into something fierce and hungry, raw and unfiltered, completely caught in this moment like nothing else exists beyond us.

I can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat syncing with mine, every second stretching out, heavy and electric.

Theres no hesitation now, just the undeniable pull, the raw energy crackling through the air.

I kiss him again—no time for pleasantries—my tongue sliding boldly down his throat, hungry and demanding, like I’m trying to swallow every word he’s left unsaid.

I push his jeans down his legs, just enough to give me access to his briefs. I palm his dick through them, a moan escaping his mouth into mine. His knees buckle just slightly, but enough for me to notice. I giggle softly, breathless, and he responds by moving his hands up, cupping my face gently—his touch warm and steady, grounding me even as everything else feels like it’s spinning.

I want to tease him a little longer—draw this out, keep the heat simmering—but I’m wary of the time, the situation.

I told him five minutes. I’ll deliver on my promise.

So I pull back just enough to flash him a sly smile, my fingers trailing teasingly down his chest before stepping away, leaving the tension hanging between us like a spark waiting to catch fire.

“Five minutes,” I remind him softly, voice low and mischievous.

I drop to my knees faster than he’s expecting. I know because when I look up, his eyes widen—surprise flickering across his face.

My hands work quickly, sliding his briefs down, then his jeans, the fabric slipping and pooling around his ankles like they don’t belong.

He’s exposed and vulnerable now, and somehow it only makes my grin widen.

His hands find my hair, fingers curling tightly around my locks, tugging firmly—sharp enough to sting but slow enough to tease—setting the tone so fast it knocks the breath out of me.

Heat surges through me, but I have to steady myself, remind myself we don’t have all night to make this flirty or even sexy.

There’s no time to ease into it, no room for slow burns or soft teasing.

Just this—raw, urgent, and real.

I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his tip, trying to make it as slick as quickly as I possibly can. I can taste his precum, and I catch every last drop.

I move forward, taking him into my mouth as deep as possible, my hand covering the rest. I'm still not over how big he is. For a skinnier guy hes a) strong and b) hung. I press one hand lightly on his bare thigh, using it to steady myself—feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm, grounding me in the moment.

I look up at him, drinking in the way his chest heaved and how his eyes were screwed shut. His mouth is hanging open, He's trying to not moan, I can see it in how he bites his lips, how tight the grip is on my hair. I wish he would, he has the prettiest little moans I've ever heard.

He tells me late at night, when we’re soft and happy and talking about anything and everything, that he doesn’t moan.

I’ve learned otherwise.

And tonight? Tonight is just more proof.

“holy fuck.” he breathed out, as quietly as he could. He's not able to stop himself from thrusting down, his eyes blinking open, a shocked face looking down, looking at me. I look back, hollowing my cheeks, taking him deeper. He hits the back of my throat over and over, im gagging slightly, but not too loud.

I hope.

His hips were shaking now, and he was twitching in my mouth.

"Love can I - " he breaths softly, looking down at me. One of his hands is now detangled from my hair, finding its way to my cheeks.

Even now, like this, he’s soft with me.

Despite everything, there’s a gentleness in the way he holds me, in the way he lets himself be vulnerable—right here, right now.

“Can I move? Can I…” It’s so cute and honestly downright hot when he says things like that—when he asks sweetly before taking the next step, like he’s checking in, making sure I’m okay. Before he fucks my face.

I nod, mouth still full of him. He smiles at me, hands returning to my hair, further back now, and much tighter.

his hips set a restless pace, it's hard to breathe, but god. If he looks like that he can do anything to me.

My name spills from his lips, soft and quiet—like a prayer. Like a plea.

It catches in my chest, a tender weight I didn’t expect but don’t want to ignore.

He moves a hand, ushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead, my fingers trembling just a little.

Tears start to well in my eyes, blurring my vision until I can’t see him clearly anymore. My body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve alive, every breath catching like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“god, fuck, yeah-,” he stumbles over his own words, the pleasure taking over him completely.

Will's muscles are strained in his long sleeves, and he pushes my head further down him.

He groans quietly—low, guttural, a sound that vibrates through me and sets something deep loose.

I blink, tears falling from my face. His pace falters for a second, but I softly move my fingers on his thigh.

Its okay, keep going.

His pace resumes, but not for long. “sh-shit, I’m gonna… fuck.” his body began to shake, and I restrict my mouth around him one last time. His pace stops, and his body shudders forward. Hands still firmly tangled in my hair.

I felt his hot, desperate load down fall down my throat.

and I swallow all of it, like a goddamn champ. I clean off his cock with my tongue and finally let him drop from my mouth, wiping the sides of my lips with my thumb. He whimpers, clearly overstimulated, and is looking at me like I just sucked his soul clean out of him.

Maybe I did.

Will is still catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he recovers. I revel in the site. A silent I did this to him.

He pulls his jeans back up his body, fixing his belt. Then, slow and steady, he extends a hand to lift me off the floor.

His fingers brush the tears from my face, wiping them away gently. He smiles at me—sweetly, innocently—as if we hadn’t just committed filthy sin in his mate’s storage cupboard.

He kisses me, deeply, and tastes all of himself on my tongue.

"Holy… Fuck" he says. Our faces only inches away. "You weren't kidding about five minutes. I've never cum that quick in my life".

"What can I say? I'm a woman of my word, I say, cheeks very warm. I can feel my own heat sticking through my underwear. I'll have to sort myself out later, when the flat is empty.

Oh my god. The flat isn't empty.

If anything its very full.

Will’s breath is still warm on my neck.

We haven’t said anything in a minute, he's holding me close to him, his back still against the door, like he didn’t actually want to pull away. My chest is flush against his and his hands are still resting on my waist like he's forgotten how to let go.

“Think they’ll notice I’m gone?” he mutters, voice low against my skin.

I don’t get the chance to answer, because right then, through the door, we hear it:

“Oi, where’s Will?” George.

Will stiffens. I feel it immediately — every muscle in him goes tense.

Shit.

We’re still standing way too close. I try to move but he doesn’t step back. Not right away. He just lifts his head, eyes flicking toward the door like he can see straight through it.

“He was just here?” says Arthur-who-i-do-live-with.

They don’t sound suspicious. Yet. Just drunk. Loud. Careless.

Will finally shifts, just enough to ease the weight between us, but he doesn’t step away.

His arms stay around me, loose but certain, like letting go isn’t an option yet. One hand trails slowly down my arm, brushing my skin in a way that sends shivers up my spine—but instead of stopping, he links our fingers together, holding me there.

Close.

Warm.

Silent, but full of something neither of us dares to name.

I take a shaky breath, still wrapped in him, pretending I’m fine.

Not flushed.

Not trembling.

Not wildly aware that we’re tucked away in my bedroom with friends just metres away and his heartbeat still thudding against mine.

And even though we should be moving, disappearing before anyone notices—we don’t.

Because neither of us wants to be the first to pull away.

“Bathroom?” someone says. Then there’s the sound of doors opening — hallway cupboard. Not mine.

“This is bad,” I whisper.

He shrugs, but his eyes are still locked on the door like it might vanish if he stares hard enough. “Only if they find me.”

I look up at him quickly. He grins. Bastard.

“Come on, we’re heading out!” Chris calls. Muffled, but definitely closer. “Will, don’t make me come find you!”

Outside, someone knocks on the bathroom door. A beat of silence. Then George again: “If he’s having a tactical, he better hurry the hell up.”

They’re all still yelling and fumbling around out there, no idea he’s right here, ten feet from them — hair messy because of me, shirt untucked because of me. I hold onto him, heart racing.

Will and I both freeze when we hear the bathroom door open.

“Nope,” George calls. “He’s not in there. Ghosted us.”

Will glances at me. He looks amused.

I don’t.

Outside, footsteps echo down the hallway — Chris stomping like he’s on a mission, Arthur’s voice somewhere behind him, probably making sarcastic commentary, and Stephen mumbling something about just leaving without Will entirely.

Will leans his head closer to the voices, listening carefully.

He holds up a finger: wait.

And then, the second their voices fade past my room and toward the front of the flat, he opens the door just enough to slip out.

It happens fast. Quiet. Like he’s done this before.

But right before he disappears fully into the hallway, he glances back at me — not a smirk this time, not a wink. Just… a look.

I don’t know what it means.

Then he’s gone.

I hear his voice seconds later, chiming in with the group like he’s been there the whole time.

“Oi, I was getting my jacket. Calm down.”

They laugh—one of those tired, half-drunk bursts of laughter that echoes down the hall.

Chris curses him out, but it’s half-hearted, more fond than furious.

And I can hear Stephen’s already halfway out the door—his voice going all echoey as it carries from the shared hallway, fading in and out between open space and walls.

They’re leaving.

They think Will’s just behind them.

And I’m still here, tangled up in him, trying to catch my breath while pretending this doesn’t feel like more than it’s meant to be.

But then there’s a pause.

A beat.

Arthur's voice isn’t loud — just close. “…You didn’t get your jacket from Y/Ns room, though.”

Silence.

My phone buzzes.

I ignore it.

It’s probably Ruth. Or maybe it’s Chris asking if I want to come with them. Either way, I don’t have it in me to check right now.

I curl onto my bed, knees pulled in, face pressed to the pillow that still smells like his shampoo. I can still sort of hear them, I guess they're at the front door, dicking around with the uber app, realising they need an XL.

Will’s voice is the first I catch.

“yeah were… It’s… a thing. Kind of.”

The words hit like a slap I saw coming but didn’t move fast enough to dodge.

I don’t even know what the question was. Doesn’t matter.

The way he says it — awkward, hesitant, like he’s embarrassed to say more — that’s the part that sticks.

Not a relationship.

Not I really like her.

Just a thing. Kind of.

God.

What happened to "it's kind of nice, actually." from before?

There’s a short silence, and then George pipes up, far too quickly.

“I’m happy for you, mate.”

But his voice betrays him. There’s something sharp under the words. Brittle.

And the others go quiet, like they heard it too.

I go still, barely breathing, straining to hear anything else — but the silence that follows says enough.

Because I know George, better than most.

Will doesn’t reply right away.

I imagine him there — shifting uncomfortably, maybe rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s not sure if he should push or back off.

I almost wish I could see his face.

Almost.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door shut. Voices blur into the street noise—Chris yelling something, someone laughing too hard—and then the house finally settles.

Quieter. But not quiet.

Not in my head.

I don’t move. I just sit there, staring at the chipped edge of my bedside table like it might tell me what I’m meant to feel.

I want to be angry.

At George, for whatever that was.

At Will, for saying "It’s... a thing. Kind of.”

Like I’m a side quest. A rumour. A shrug.

But the worst part is—

he's not wrong.

That’s what we agreed to. No pressure. No label. Nothing real.

Just fun.

But it's not just fun anymore. I'm sure of it. It's changed somewhere.

Somewhere between when he notices when I’ve had a bad day before I say a word.

When he brings me the crisps I always pretend I don’t want. When he lingers after everyone else has left — just long enough to ask if I’m okay, but not long enough to make it obvious.

Somewhere in the way he kisses me like he means it.

I rub my palms down my jeans, still not sure if I want to scream, cry, or just disappear into the mattress entirely. There’s a twisting feeling in my chest—hot and stupid and hard to name.

Not heartbreak.

But definitely something cracked.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, screen lighting up in the dim room.

lol cat’s out the bag

The boys are teasing me for how fucked my hair looks.

I don’t respond to him, not yet.

You alright? Want me to come back up?

I stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply bubble, but I don’t type anything. Because I don’t know what I’d say. Not yet.

Lol

Probably should've thought that more through

Enjoy your night!!

I feel so tired now. The heat in my cheeks is long gone, replaced by something strange and hollow—like whatever was burning in me has cooled too quickly, leaving just the ash behind.

I want to forget about George, I really do. Because this—this sharp edge under his words—it's not just a random mood swing. It’s personal. And it’s unfair. Because he was the one who rejected me. Not the other way around. But I don’t want to think about George. I don’t want to untangle the way my chest tightens when I hear his voice. Or the way his eyes flicker when he catches me looking. I want to focus on Will.

But George—George is a weight I can’t shake, and it feels like he’s dragging me back every time I try to move forward.

And it’s not fair. Not to me. Not to anyone. I rub my palms against my trousers , willing the knot in my stomach to loosen.

But it won’t.

xxx

Taglsit: @meglouise00@migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz

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