#I really should stop posting snippets

[oliveden]

it doesn’t slip past her, either, the confirmation of furina’s strength. it is concerning, certainly, that it is such an entity that clorinde has ended up making a deal with, but it is not like it is anything she hadn’t already suspected. “so,” furina prods, “your ex-girlfriend. tell me about her. is she cute? like you?” “what,” clorinde sputters, flushing bright red. all thoughts of the spirit’s strength are cast aside in favor of hiding her face as she speeds up. furina twists between two mirrors, keeping up with her easily, her grin turning downright scandalous. “aw, nobody’s ever told you? you’re stunning, marechausee.”

furinde mirror spirit au is going. idk how well it's going but it's going somewhere

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Full Tech Day One pic today from kiko laureano (denizen of skid row / ensemble) & video (that's four seconds of "ya never know" playing over the static image) from & ft. marcia milgrom dodge (director / choreographer) double captioning "there might be puppets in this musical ;)" & "Well Shake my hand! Come see LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS @guthrietheater featuring @actually_will_roland's hand!"

[crossbackpoke-check]

a doc of omega yamo being a nuisance, you say?

well…

[misserabella]

@ entersandman

summary; spencer turns to pornography to pay for his phds and careers, but what happens when his secret identity gets revealed? and by no one else than you?

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, imagine is spencer on the pictures, suggestive messages, only fans, straight out porn, live porn stream, sub! spencer, dom! reader, mommy kink, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, sexting, dirty talking… i can’t remember the rest!!

a/n: happy (kink)october!!!

@ entersandman has started a live!

your whole body thrummed at the notification, your thumb quickly pinching on it to open the app, your hungry eyes ranking over the supple soft skin of his toned chest and abdomen.

@ pin_klily; god

@ yourprettyprincess233; i’m so early!!!!!

@ idealisticashee77; so hotttt

your eyes scanned the upcoming and flowing comment section of the stream, your fingers quickly typing to receive the protagonist of your wet dreams.

@ puredoll; hi pretty boy

his hand was slowly caressing his growing erection from over his clothes, and his sultry voice filled your ears, making you squirm.

“hey, doll.” you could hear the hint of a smirk on his tone.

you bit down on your lip.

@ puredoll; missed me?

he hummed, squeezing his crotch with his veiny hand. “missed you so much, baby. you weren’t here the last time.” you could almost see him pouting. cute.

you smiled. he always made time for you, it was as if you two knew each other. by the longest time, you had been following his socials, and had become part of his only fans. you had bumped with his account two years ago, and since then you’d been completely hooked. you could still remember the post that caught your attention.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; would you play with me? i promise i’ll be a good boy.

you weren’t very fond of porn, you barely watched it, but once you entered on his twitter and saw the little snippets of his only fans that he’d post to gain more followers… it was over for you. you didn’t even know you were into more submissive men, always having been the submissive one in your sexual encounters, but once you heard him moaning and begging for more to the camera, completely at the mercy of his watchers, so pliant and responsive… you became obsessed.

you had never bought something as fast as you had bought the membership for his only fans.

he was just so… special somehow. his voice so beautiful, even more when he’d whimper and moan to the camera. and the content was so good…

it honestly made your day to come back home to pictures of him.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; take my clothes off? yes ma’am.

that or his simple comments, like;

@ entersandman; feeling so needy right now. can i bury my face on your pussy, mommy?

he really knew how to get a rise out of you.

@ puredoll; sorry pretty, i was busy. but i never stopped thinking about you…

his hand squeezed his cock once again and a little sound escaped his throat.

“you thought about me?” his breathy voice came through and your thighs squeezed against the other. he sounded surprised, and happy, glad even. as if he thought about you just as much as you thought about him, which was not possible.

@ delicioussin; take the pants off +50$

@ helplesswhore; i wanna see your cock +100$

@ secretiveloveee; play with us

@ puredoll; you see that, baby? they’re waiting for you. why don’t you give them a show?

spencer groaned, his eyes squeezing shut, he couldn’t help the jumping of his dick, not when you talked to him like that.

“should i take this off?” he tugged at his pants, and the chat went crazy, money flowing in, and he chuckled. “alright, alright…” his slim fingers easily snapped open the button, and pulled down the zipper, pushing his pants just the slightest down to show the streamers the sight of his fully erect dick and the stain of precum surrounding his tip.

@ puredoll; haven’t touched yourself and you’re already dripping, so cute…

spencer couldn’t swallow down the moan that left his throat, his cock twitching in need for his hand. he cupped it once again, his length clear as day through the flimsy material. he was big. really big.

“you see this? look what you do to me…”

you moaned at the neediness of his tone, your heart skipping a beat when he pleaded with a “can i take them off?”

@ kittypurr555; get rid of them +100$

@ morppheus_2; show us your pretty dick +100$

@ needyneedyneedy; god he’s so hard!!! +150$

@ uttermostlust; i’m salivating +50$

@ puredoll; so good at asking for permission baby… go ahead, show mommy

he whimpered. and god, you’ve missed that sound so much. fucking finals. fucking school… one of your hands came down to your chest to pinch your nipples as he quickly pushed down his underwear under his balls in between ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’’s. they looked so full. and he was so fucking hard… what you’d do to have him in your mouth…

@ p0rnlover5663; +200$

@ babybluebaby; +150$

@ ashtonishingstamina69; +100$

your tongue licked your lips as you took in the sight of his reddish pretty tip, beaded with precum, the veins that decorated his shaft and the little curls at his base.

a whine left spencer’s lips when his hand wrapped around his cock. “mommy… i’m so hard…” you sighed, smirking at his neediness and tone. gently laughing at the lustful comments in the chat, you typed your response.

@ puredoll; i can see that baby, why don’t you fuck your hand for me, hm?

“fuck…” he moaned as he quickly followed your order, his hand slowly pumping his cock as his chest quickly increased in breaths. his back slightly arched, and his free hand harshly gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

@ puredoll; that’s it, you’re doing perfect, pretty. tell me how good it feels

“it feels so good mommy… so good…” he moaned. money was easily flowing into his account, the chat increasing in thirsty comments. “i wish it were your hand, your mouth…” he was begging as he sped up. the hand that was touching your breasts came down underneath your panties, finding yourself soaked through. you moaned as you started drawing little circles on your puffy throbbing clit. “i need you mommy.”

your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth capturing your bottom lip in a vice grip. you could draw blood if you wanted to. your hips bucked against your own hand when another whimper came through the screen. “fuck.” he looked so pretty, his neck (the last thing you could see, since his face was out of frame) and chest were flushed, lungs quickly taking in air as his hand worked his cock, his thumb gliding against his slit in little circles.

“see this? this is how i’d touch your pretty clit, mommy, would make you feel so good…” your eyes rolled at his breathy whine. jesus christ.

@ purringkitty7; my godddd +50$

@ allsheeatsisdickk; i’m literally dripping +50$

@ itsbonercl0ck; +100$

“would you like that mommy? or would you prefer to have my mouth? fill it with your cum over and over again? suffocate me with your pussy and use me?” you moaned, topping with your non dominant hand –since the other was busy plunging two fingers inside your gaping hole-. “please use me mommy, i want you to use me…”

@ puredoll; such a fucking dirty mouth, baby… i bet you’d love that, huh? to be my little toy… beg for it.

spencer moaned, his cock jumping in his hand. his adam’s apple bobbed right before he went ahead and complied.

“please mommy… can i be your toy? please let me be your toy mommy, please… i need it. need to be your pretty toy.”

your fingers curled against your g spot as his words made you moan and clench.

@ puredoll; good boy, baby, such a good little toy for me

spencer cursed, his pace around his throbbing and leaking dick increasing. you smirked.

@ puredoll; slow down… they want to see…

spencer whined but followed the order, deciding to play with his balls instead, showing off the length of his cock with light grasps and jerks of his hand, making it bob and slap against his lower stomach, precum staining his porcelain skin.

spencer was biting down on his bottom lip harshly, his dick twitching in need of release. his hazel eyes trailed along the comments and donations. looking for you. for directions.

@ puredoll; good boy… is all of that for me?

he moaned. “it’s all for you mommy, all for you.” he went back to slowly pumping himself. you fucked yourself at the same pace. “are you touching yourself for me, mommy? am i making you feel good?”

you could almost scream in ecstasy. why did he have to sound like that?

@ puredoll; so good baby, so good…

to that he whimpered, his hand moving faster. just the thought of you touching yourself because of him, of how he sounded and looked, making his mind dizzy and the pressure building in his lower stomach to grow faster than before.

“mommy i’m so close… i can’t hold it.” he whined, his hand going impossibly faster. “can i cum? please can i cum? wanna cum inside of you mommy, wanna fill you up, please…” those words brought you closer to your own orgasm, moans spilling from your lips as your finger curled against your g spot over and over again.

@ iseered633; so hot +100$

@ bestgirlint00wn; fuckkkkk +150$

@ octoberween666; +50$

@ punkypurr; +60$

he kept begging, whining, moaning, whimpering… until he saw it.

@ puredoll; cum.

it was immediate, instant, hot white and creamy spurts of cum coating his hand and reaching up to his chest as he became a babbling whimpering mess for you, his eyes rolling back as his hips fucked into his hand needily.

your orgasm hit you just as fast, triggered by the sight and sound of him coming undone. your back arched as your fingers kept thrusting, curling, fucking you dumb.

both of you rode your highs until there was nothing left.

you watched as spencer laid there, cock still twitching slightly against a pool of cum on his stomach, his chest heaving as he tried to found his breath.

@ puredoll; good job baby, looked so pretty coming for me

“thank you mommy.” he flushed, as always, feeling conscious of his disarray and state in front of the camera. “thank you for coming, i’ll see you next time.” and with that, he ended the live.

spencer posted hours later on his twitter.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; i see your name and i go crazy

it was another boring day at school. philosophy classes were really kicking your ass.

the professor had gone on a tangent of rambles to which you could not keep up with. that was until he took a deep breath and questioned.

“so, can anybody tell me if abstract concepts, like numbers, really exist?”

someone, someone you hadn’t seen before in your class, which was pretty weird, rose his hand. you couldn’t see much, except for brown hair and his back, clothed in a white shirt.

“yes?”

“from a platonist perspective, abstract concepts exist in a non-physical realm of forms, accessible through intellect and reason. in contrast, nominalists argue that these concepts are mere human constructs without independent existence.”

that voice.

your whole body tensed, your eyes widening and breath hitching. you could recognize that voice anywhere.

entersandman.

“correct, …?” the teacher paused, awaiting for a name.

“oh, reid. spencer reid.”

your heart was about to beat out of your chest. quickly after the class was dismissed since it had come to an end. you were fast at getting out of there to take a look at him.

casual. be casual.

just one glimpse.

but when he left that class and walked into the corridor your eyes couldn’t leave his face. his perfect face.

your heart almost stopped then. hazel eyes, messy curly hair, small nose, pink full lips and high sharp cheek bones. you were fucked.

you could perfectly be gaping like a fish right now, drooling even. he was handsome, pretty, attractive, hot, everything. he was everything. and he was so tall…

you almost moaned when he passed by your side and could smell his cologne.

god…

you could feel yourself getting wet already.

you turned to see him walk away to what you supposed would be his next class. he was here. entersandman was just meters away from you, in the flesh. he was real.

but he didn’t know you knew. he didn’t know who you were. he didn’t know you were the girl that had made him come many times, on and off camera.

but you were gonna let him know.

you had a plan.

that night you came home to more posts coming from spencer.

@ entersandman; thinking about you tying me up with my tie, using me to get off, mommy. want to be your boy toy so badly… can’t stop thinking about your lips on my neck, leaving marks that won’t go away as you take all you want from me.

@ entersandman

@ entersandman; i’ll beg if i have to, baby, i just wanna be in between your thighs

you smirked, your mouth salivating at the sight. so needy…

time to move. you opened his profile and pinched on the message option.

you thought for a minute before typing the decided words and hitting sent.

@ puredoll

somebody’s needy today, aren’t you spencer?

spencer was busy reading his assignments for university when his phone buzzed, a new message notification. his eyes widened when he read your username, fingers scrambling to quickly type his password, unlock his phone and get into the app. but all blood drained from his face when he read what you had written him, more specifically his name.

how did you know it? how did you know him? how?!

you chuckle as the minutes pass and he doesn’t answer.

@ puredoll

cat got your tongue baby?

what a pity, you know i love it when you’re loud

@ entersandman

how do you know?

he bit down anxiously on his bottom lip, his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

@ puredoll

so dry… you hurt me baby, thought you’d be happy to talk with me

@ entersandman

i am, it’s just…

@ puredoll

for all that matters, i’ve gotta say that you’re prettier than i thought, with those puppy eyes of yours and big brain. got me so horny in class…

spencer’s cheeks reddened, his heartbeat loud on his ears, his whole body flushing and cock jumping in his briefs. something about having gotten caught by someone, by you, made his mind fuzzy and his desire stir.

so you’re in his class? which one?

@ puredoll

so quiet… what’s on your mind, hm?

@ entersandman

sorry, so you know who i am

@ puredoll

i do

he swallowed.

@ puredoll

such a dirty boy… going to school by day, stroking your cock for the internet by night.

he groaned, feeling his cock stir.

@ puredoll

and i bet you love it, huh? love the attention. my attention.

@ entersandman

yes

@ puredoll

yes what?

he moaned, biting his lip.

@ entersandman

yes, mommy.

@ puredoll

good boy, spencer.

holy fuck. he could come just by the sound of you calling him by his name. one of his hands came down to his hard dick, squeezing, his lip harshly bit in between his teeth.

@ puredoll

you’re quiet…are you touching that pretty cock of yours for me, baby?

@ enteresandman

fuck. yes, mommy.

@ puredoll

so dirty… let me see.

spencer groaned and quickly followed your orders, opening the camera and hitting the record button, showing you the imprint of his hard cock from underneath his flimsy pajama pants as he stroked it.

@ puredoll

someone’s needy, mh? who are you this hard for, huh baby?

@ entersandman

you mommy, only you.

@ puredoll

yet you have so many clothes on… why don’t you take them off for mommy, huh?

@ entersandman

like this?

he sent you a pic of his completely nude body, and you bit down on your lip.

@ puredoll

exactly like that baby, now go ahead and use your hand

and he did, making sure to show the length of his cock to the camera as he slowly pumped it, whimpering curses and begging for you. yet this time, his face could be seen, eyebrows scrunched, jaw slack as moans spilled out and puppy brown eyes shining with lust.

@ puredoll

so fucking pretty… fuck spencer.

your thighs pushed together as your cunt quickly slicked up.

@ entersandman

please… can i go faster mommy?

@ puredoll

yes baby, go ahead

he moaned and once again pressed record as he sped up, stopping every now and then to play with his balls before going back to stroking the leaking head of his cock.

‘look what you do to me.’ he muttered to the camera, voice sultry and raw.

one of your hands came down towards your pussy, your hand cupping it from over your clothes as a groan left your lips.

@ entersandman

wishing it were your hand, mommy.

@ puredoll

you’re driving me crazy…

@ entersandman

have been thinking about you… want to make you feel good, want to make you cum

@ puredoll

yeah?

@ entersandman

yes…

your hand pushed into your pants and panties, sighing when you felt how wet you were.

@ puredoll

i’m so wet for you, you always get me like this…

spencer moaned, the image of you touching yourself for him driving him crazy, his hips thrusting up into his hand.

@ entersandman

fuck, doll…

you quickly pushed your clothes down, exposing your drenched cunt to the air, your fingers sliding easily through your folds before stopping over your clit and drawing tight circles that made your thighs shake and your back arch.

@ puredoll

you want to see?

@ entersandman

yes please, please mommy…

you smirked and hit record, pointing the camera in between your legs, filming how you touched yourself for him, letting out little sighs and moans before plunging your fingers inside yourself and curling them to hit your g spot.

spencer couldn’t handle it. the sight, your sounds and the fact that this was you, the girl he had been fantasizing about for months on end, touching herself for him, pushed him straight to the edge.

he came so hard his load hit his chest as he moaned loudly. he shakily recorded the remains of his spurts with whimpers as he made a mess of himself and his hand.

and when you returned the favor with a video of your own release, creamy cum surrounding and dripping from your fingers, he knew he had to have you.

and soon.

a/n; this took so long to write. anyways, would you guys like a second part? leave your comments and reblog and like if you enjoyed it!🤍

[katebeckets]

because tumblr is the gif website, I feel like everyone here should understand the work that goes into creating a gifset. because I think not everyone does, and it’s a huge part of why people don’t respect gif makers the way that they should.

the simplest gifs you will ever see me post still take the better part of an hour to create. because in order to make a gif, you need the material—for me, that means taking screen captures of videos or finding a download for them, both of which take time. then you have to open photoshop and create your gif, which can take a really long time depending on how quick photoshop is, how long the gif you’re making is, the size, any number of variables. and then I always color my gifs from scratch. if there’s dialogue, I listen over and over to try to make sure it’s correct, sometimes I look up transcripts, and sometimes it takes time to decide how to break up the dialogue. so even if it’s a simple two-gif set of a short scene, it will take the better part of an hour at least. and again, this is for the simplest gifsets I create.

so when I gif a scene, I am spending at least an hour with that tiny little snippet of material. which means that whatever it is that is featured in the gifset, it’s something that I like or tolerate enough to spend at minimum an hour with it. and this is why it DOES NOT MATTER if you are not critiquing the gif itself, gif makers do not want to hear every negative thought you have ever had about an actor, character, scene, or anything else they may have made a gifset for. if you want to complain about something, make your own post.

do not take someone else’s creation as a chance to complain or make nasty comments about anything featured in it. if I am willing to gif something, it means that I am willing to spend my own free time looking at it and working with it and creating something with it. so even if it isn’t my favorite scene or character or actor or whatever, I like it enough to watch the same three second clip over and over again for the better part of an hour. and yes, you’re just one person, but imagine a gifset with 100 notes. say 50 of those are reblogs, and 20 have some sort of complaint in the tags. you only see the tags of people who reblog from you, but OP will see all the tags. which means it’s not just your complaint, it’s all 20 different complaints about the thing they liked enough to make a gifset for.

and look—I understand it’s your blog and you can say whatever you want. I understand that I am creating something to be seen by other people and I don’t get to control what people say or do in the tags. if you read this and think fuck that, I can do what I want, you’re right. the purpose of this post is to remind you that you can do whatever you want, but the consequence may be that the people who are creating content for your fandoms stop posting altogether because they get sick of reading everyone’s negative opinions.

all that said, for the love of god: if you like something, reblog it. send asks and tell people you like their creations. say it in the tags. send things to friends. DO NOT REPOST THINGS. if you want to reap the benefits of other people creating things, make them feel like their work is appreciated.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: Spin-off

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. Update: Sylus went ahead and got himself mortalized (That's it, that's the plot). Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, slight crack (literally. lmao, you’ll see), FLUFF! A/N: Finally starting the spin-off! Hello again 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 I’ve got a rough outline for the flow and a few key chapters mapped out, but I’m keeping it flexible for the most part. This isn’t gonna be a full structured story, so think more like vignettes of their life, w/ some world-building here and there (laying some groundwork for future chapters hehe). Come thru if you wanna see what error!Sylus and our lil player are up to post-reality jump 🙂‍↕️🙏🏼 Also: no posting schedule! I’m treating this like a chill side project I can pick up whenever, so not every part’s gonna be lengthy/that polished hehe. Mostly short snippets, unless the chapter calls for a longer one. (P.S. Just send a DM if you want to be taken off the taglist lol. I just assumed you guys would still want to follow along, but no pressure at all if you don’t! 💕)

(main series) - Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

You keep waiting to wake up.

For the sound of your phone alarm to blare somewhere beneath the covers, forcing you to fish it out at seven-thirty-something in the morning. For this absolutely wonderful, absolute mindfuck of a dream, to end—and for the real world to set in. 

For another uneventful day to begin, the way it usually does after a short reprieve from the hustle and the bustle of life.

From behind the bathroom door, the sound of the shower cuts off.

You scramble to open the cupboard overhead, grabbing the pepper shaker from the first shelf. You do four rotations over the half-cooked omelette before flipping it over with a rubber spatula, trying not to lose your cool. Or what’s left of it.

Three days. It’s been three days since it dawned on you that Sylus has actually managed to cross the threshold – through a tiny, impossible fissure in the fabric of reality – just to get to this dimension. Your dimension.

Three days since you locked eyes with the other half of your soul from across a room, no screen separating the two of you for once. No physical barrier to stop him from catching you as you ran toward him past the counter, just as twilight kissed the sky goodnight, sobbing at the first touch of his skin—electric against yours. The taste of his lips, the bittersweet notes of extant longing and pure bliss blooming on your tongue as he captured your mouth in his; the two of you lost in each other, uncaring of anything beyond that precious, shared moment. 

And three days for your mind to finally catch up to the sheer impossibility of it all.

As far as your Sundays go, you’d say this one takes the cake.

He’s been staying in a modest little rental just a couple of blocks away from you. Nothing extravagant – just a transient house he’s leased for the week. Not that you’ve technically been inside to know; he only pointed it out once, the single-storey residential from across the main street, as the two of you were heading back home—your home. To your little studio apartment.

Him. Sylus. In your condo. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around it.

You know that he’d just arrived in town two days before that fateful encounter at the bistro. That he’d already done his research to know exactly where you were going to be during that hour, and that he’s been here, on Earth, for quite some time now. Even before meeting you.

But past this knowledge, you haven’t actually covered much of anything, really. Just this little awkward dancing around you’ve been doing since you’ve been together.

And you know you should ask, probe, have him break down the hows of his existence to you, a clearer timeline of exactly when he popped into this world, what he’s been up to in all the time he’s been here… and why he’s even waited so long to come to you directly.

You’re painfully aware that it’s just you who’s keeping yourself from getting the answers you want. You’re the one making this harder than it needs to be. You can’t help it.

There’s no manual to tell you how to deal with your emotions when your virtual lover appears in front of you, in the flesh, miraculously defying all laws of physics in the process. No handbook telling you what to do next when something you’ve been wishing for every night before going to bed – for the past two years – actually manifests into being. 

Someone you’ve always longed for, staked deep within the confines of your heart, but never truly imagined the consequences of until your wishful thinking bled into reality.

And now he’s here.

All things considered, you think you’ve done an okay job at acting like everything’s normal. Mostly. Probably.

(You haven’t.)

The day after he showed up at your proverbial doorstep, you almost couldn’t believe everything that had transpired a mere twenty hours ago was even real. That maybe your brain had just gotten creative enough to invent a Hallmark-worthy scene to win you a one-way trip to your therapist—and that, maybe, you’d conjured him up simply because you missed him and you’re so down bad, your mind decided to start playing tricks on you.

...which nearly had your soul catapulting out of your body at the sight of the—extremely corporeal, extremely attractive—raven-haired (!) man moving through your kitchen the first morning he stayed over, wearing a black V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants, ambling barefoot like he already knew the place by heart.

You suppose he does, you allow cautiously, an odd sort of warmth blooming in your chest at the thought. Of course he would. 

Still. It didn’t erase the surrealness of seeing Sylus, the Sylus—mortal, perfect, wonderfully alive—brewing you a cup of coffee at nine in the morning, your brain failing to fully comprehend the image of his towering figure working your faulty, secondhand De’Longhi like a pro.

"Are you," he started, eyes zooming in on the spot between your thumb and forefinger, mouth twitching like he's trying not to laugh, "pinching yourself?"

You had quickly withdrawn your hand, schooling your face into a poor attempt at nonchalance as you reached for the steaming blue mug he was holding out to you. "...No."

You can't help but hover around him, like some weird satellite desperate for orbit. You find yourself sneaking glances every five seconds—and more often than not, he meets your gaze with a wayward look of his own.

He never calls you out on it; he just gives you an infuriatingly impish smirk that sends your heart into overdrive, making you feel younger than you are. 

You’re still stewing over the events of the past few days, absentmindedly worrying whether the eggs needed more salt, when you hear the bathroom door open.

You whip your head around, and all systems crash to a stop.

Oh god. Oh fuck. 

He’s standing there—all six-foot-five of pure, lean muscle, like sin sculpted out of marble and left to walk your unvacuumed parquet wood floor without so much as a care for the cluttered little living space he’s in, looking completely at ease. Fresh from the shower, steam rising lazily from every inch of bare skin laid out in front of you, and it’s like The Neuron™ in your brain activates. The towel slung low across his hips leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, reducing your thoughts monosyllabic, like some half-evolved primate ready for mating season or whatever. Hot man. Hot man shirtless. Involuntarily, your eyes track a stray rivulet sliding down; right where the faintest suggestion of a happy trail (!!!) begins and ends… and you’re gone. Lost in some kind of trance. 

Utterly hypnotised, you watch as it soaks into the edge of the borrowed sage green terry cotton, faintly wondering if what’s beneath it could soak you the same way, shit—

A strangled noise slips past your lips. 

It’s terrible. You sound like a dying cow. Hot man’s fault. Bad.  

A snort breaks you out of your shameless ogling. 

Your head jerks up like you’ve been caught red-handed doing something you're not supposed to, guiltily meeting his eyes. You see Sylus already watching you wryly, the heavy drag of his half-lidded stare rooting you in place. 

Your face starts to flush red with embarrassment, heat climbing all the way up to your ears. 

He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe; arms crossed loosely over his chest, completely relaxed, and clearly getting a kick out of whatever expression you’ve got at the moment. His gaze doesn't waver, stuck on you like glue, drinking in every flustered reaction with quiet amusement. 

You swallow nervously. His eyes flicker down, tracing the movement of your throat, and his lips tug up into a semblance of a smile.

Fuuuuck.

"You already started on breakfast without me, sweetie?" He tuts in mock-disapproval. "I told you it’d take me less than twenty minutes to shower."

You don’t manage much in response, just a dumb, garbled, "mhm, s’okay."

You're completely blanked out at this point—bluescreen dead if you will—except for one panicked thought flashing through your brain: Holy shit, he's practically naked. Sylus Qin from Love and Deepspace is practically naked in my house. 

Then, not long after, a chorus of, “oh my god oh my god oh my god” starts looping in your head, overriding what little composure you had left like some raunchy PSA warning you about the dangerous rise of moisture down south.  

Sylus cocks his head slightly, sending you a sly, knowing look—one that says he knows exactly what's going on in that overstimulated little brain of yours.

Slowly, he pushes himself off and saunters closer to where you are, taking his time crossing the distance with easy, measured steps. As if he’s in no rush at all to get to you. As if he’s merely curious whether you’ll combust just from him shortening the proximity between your bodies. 

(You think you just might.)

And when he’s standing barely a few inches away – close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him – Sylus leans down, effectively trapping you between the counter and the solid wall of his chest. Between granite and sinew. 

You lose all capacity to speak.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches out a hand to shut off the burner stove behind you with an easy flick of his wrist, the brief brush of his arm sending a shiver down your spine. Then, with maddening tenderness, he pinches your cheek between two fingers—his thumb caressing the spot right after.

In a voice filled with faux sympathy, he coos, “What’s got you all distracted, poppet?”

He’s teasing. You know he’s teasing. 

He’s done nothing but tease you with his devastatingly good looks, his overwhelming presence, and syrupy words spoken so sinfully in that low cadence of his voice, ever since he arrived. And, oh, you’re not sure whether to scream or kiss the smug look off his face silly.

You’re so bad at being subtle. You always have been, especially when it comes to him. And you know you can’t hide anything from Sylus – from the smallest flicker of microexpression on your face, down to the shortness of your breath. Both of you know this. Both of you painfully aware of the effect he has on you.

And just as much, you know he’s been holding himself back—that no matter how flirtatious he gets, he’s still keeping enough control to pull away whenever you start to get too overwhelmed.

Despite his provocations, Sylus never pushes. He waits, patiently. Giving you the space to volley back if you want to. And if you don’t, he backs off in a second, with the same effortless ease he uses to tease you. Leaving you room to breathe again. 

Rinse, repeat. 

It’s almost as if you two are playing a game with poorly drawn rules. You don’t know who’s winning.

The little spell breaks when you feel a disgruntled meow against your shin; it's immediately followed by a cat headbutting you, twice in succession, with a surprising amount of aggression.

"Not used to sharing your mother, are you?" Sylus sighs, pulling back from where he’d been caging you in—his movements slow, reluctant. 

A warning hiss rises from below. He raises his hands in mock surrender, stepping back to a safer distance, just out of swiping range. 

"Yes, yes. You win,” he grumbles in acquiescence at the testy feline, a comically put-upon look on his face. “For now.”  

You pull your eyes away from his bicep—look, you're just a girl, okay—to blink down at the temperamental little creature who’s now self-appointed himself as your personal foot guard. 

He’s making some vague, cryptic noises, something between a purr and a growl, while keeping his eyes locked firmly on Sylus’ leg. 

"He–um, he might just be hungry," you manage to mutter. A quick glance at the food bowl says otherwise. "...or not."

Sylus huffs under his breath, a low sound, equal parts understanding and mildly affronted. He tilts his head – eyes narrowing at the untouched kibble, then to the small furry menace claiming your feet like a jilted lover.

Unfortunately, Maru’s reception to the new person has been... less than cordial.

From the moment Sylus walked in the apartment, Maru had hissed at him as if to say: There is no reason for a Man to be here, before darting beneath the coffee table – tail lashing with all the theatrics of a petulant child. The churlish product of a mother who's been single for far too long, that he’s decided he’s the only boy she’ll ever need. 

It strikes you as a little odd. He never usually gets antsy around guests, and you'd even thought he and Sylus got along—or at least, back when the man in question was confined to mere pixels on screen. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have counted on that.

Sylus, to his credit, hasn't once tried to close the distance or force a peace treaty. Amused, definitely; the way his eyes glint whenever Maru glares at him could almost qualify as charmed. But since stepping into your home, he’s been mindful about giving the creature a wide berth, moving with the quiet understanding that respect here is sacrosanct, something to be earned. That he’s the one imposing, and the truce between him and the (true) man of the house is a fragile, delicate thing. 

You honestly haven’t decided if Maru’s behaviour is because he’s protective... or just pissed that someone else is hogging your attention.

"It’s alright, sweetie," Sylus—your son’s chosen rival—soothed you reassuringly; his hand rubbing a slow, comforting circle over the small of your back when he caught the slightly crestfallen look on your face. "He’s just feeling territorial about his space right now. Give it some time."

“I’ll get dressed,” Sylus murmurs. “Don’t start on the coffee without me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, then another between your brows; the casual, freely-given affection leaves you warm and gooey inside. He turns toward your vanity, where his black duffel bag rests on the small plastic saddle chair.

You watch his retreating figure for a few seconds—long enough for him to glance back over his shoulder, one brow lifted in lazy inquiry. And the look is so familiar; so painfully reminiscent of the one he gives you in-game, right after you’d deliver a ‘slap’ to his ass, that it knocks you a little off-kilter. 

… Which might explain why you don’t react fast enough when his eyes flash with mischief, and he casually undoes the knot of his towel.

The fabric drops.

You catch a glimpse—more than a glimpse, hello—of the perkiest butt you’ve ever seen in your life, and you spin around so fast you slam your elbow into something undoubtedly solid in the process.

A half-pained, half-mortified wheeze escapes your throat.

"Careful," he calls out to you—and though amusement colors his voice, there's a real thread of worry beneath it, enough to make you want to slam your head against the counter for some inexplicable reason. "Don’t feel the need to grant me modesty on my behalf, kitten."

"Kitten’s about to kill herself," you lament with a whine. 

It earns you an unimpressed scoff.

“I just got here, my love,” he deadpans without missing a beat. “Daddy’s gonna have to ask you to hold on a little longer.”

You choke on nothing but air. Critical system failure. 

Buffering… buffering… buffering…

You inhale sharply.

"Okay, pause," you beg, a slightly hysterical edge to your tone as you claw your way back from a full-blown breakdown. In an attempt to divert the topic, “D’you–uh, do you want anything on your eggs? I’ve got ketchup, hot sauce... barbecue sauce..."

"A proper chef now, are you?" And oh, the next thing you know, he’s right behind you again. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

He smells faintly like your body wash, like Dove nourishing coconut and your calendula shampoo, a heady mix of something sweet and herbal.

The thought of him—of the both of you—smelling the same, actually makes you feel giddy. 

What a stupidly trivial, novel thing to find joy in. 

Snap the fuck out of it, it’s just soap, you chide to yourself. 

You don’t even notice you’re trembling until Sylus curls a large hand around yours; steadying the shaky fingers reaching for the bottle of Cholula on the condiment tray, while his other hand gently cradles your hurt elbow. 

Your breath hitches when he presses a kiss to your temple.

"Oh, sweetie," he murmurs, and it’s the way he says it—low and unbearably fond—that loosens some of the tension on your shoulders. "You’ve wound yourself up."

"I'm good," you mumble, though your voice betrays you, thinner than you mean it to sound.

"It's just me," he says, his tone as gentle as the breeze slipping through the open window, ruffling the choppy bangs that frame your face. "Nothing so different from how it’s always been, hmm?"

And you know he’s right. It's just him. Just Sylus. Your Sylus. No different from the one from two years ago.

"I know," you sigh, finally turning to face him, having to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. 

His expression is softer now, the type of softness reserved solely for you, something that never fails to make you ache. The teasing is gone, tucked away for the time being. 

"I just need a little time to wrap my head around this," you admit, voice quieter now. "Is that... is that okay?"

The greys of his eyes melt into something silvery, moonlit—impossibly tender. 

In one smooth motion, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter and steps between your legs, closing what little space remains between you. You yelp in surprise, but before you can react, he’s already leaning in, stealing a kiss from your lips. Just a quick one, like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed a taste to hold him over. He chuckles when he sees your wide-eyed look.

"Of course, my love," he says, voice wrought with promise—in love with the way your lips part, bitten pink and unsure, as he lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it. "We’ll go as slow as you want. Forever, if that’s what you need." Forever, as what you two have. 

… 

For over a year, you’ve learned how to enjoy the small things alone. And you did—enjoy it, you mean. Once, almost a lifetime ago, you took for granted the quiet joys of a slower life. But you learned to take it day by day. One hour at a time, minute after minute. 

It made room for reflection, and it moulded you into something stronger, and softer, all at once.  

But this—with him—brings you back to another time. A sweeter time; the dog-day summer of your life. 

The morning hums with a kind of quiet normalcy you’ve grown accustomed to. You’re used to the sunlight spilling through the linen curtains, lining the floor with streaks of honey-gold, soft as a happy memory. Used to the noise of the outside world bleeding through the walls, a constant presence you’ve long since accepted as a permanent fixture in this tiny apartment, like a second heartbeat.

He’s right, in a way. 

This isn’t so different from the mornings you once shared with the same man—back when he wore a different face and led an extraordinarily polarized life, completely at odds with yours. The ones spent laughing into a screen, your fingers ghosting across glass, desperate to grasp something you never could. 

That life feels like it belonged to someone else now. Someone lonelier. 

So, no. Maybe not quite the same – maybe not even close.

–

You finally allow yourself to give in; to sink into the warmth of him, folding yourself smaller in his embrace like a tired bird nestling into a safer sky, your heart fluttering wild and restless against your ribs. Too big for your body, too full to contain. Here – tangled together in this sliver of morning light – everything that has hurt you feels small in comparison. You were never alone to begin with. But with Sylus in your arms, the world feels brighter than you ever remembered it could be.

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy @touya-apologist @gladiolus-mamacitia @btszn @wrimaira @writingmyladsdelusions @borkunlimited @magnoliaswriteatsunset

[presepohne]

peaches and wine.

nsfw. Fuckboy!John McTavish x F!Reader [ALTERNATE UNIVERSE]

summary: johnny fucks the sweet innocent bird, just a trailer or intro to the bigger oneshot i'm writing.

warnings: johnny is a filthy man and we love that, the reader is inexperienced asf, virgin, just the reader getting half way naked, mostly for shits and giggles.

note: as i was taking forever for the johnny smut so i posted a small snippet from it.

FULL FIC !

Johnny has seen many men and women in his life, fucked 'em good. Pretty blondes, sassy women, men who could bend him at different angles, women who could step on him, men who would beg for him, women who are sweet and kind, men who are absolutely amazing at their dick game, women who cheated on their husbands, experienced and inexperienced alike.

And gods, he loves women and men both.

But women mostly.

But it bewilders him to see you creep up to him at a party. He knows you, yeah he does. He has seen you lurk at the last benches of the classes, a pen in your mouth or sometimes fiddling with it. You're a good student, great even— top scores always and he admires you for your dedication.

So it comes to him as a shock as you ask him to fuck you, straight up, no bulshit.

Clearly, you are drunk, cheeks flushed pretty as you pouted and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. The shorts looking so fucking good on you and making you ass look so fucking bite-able.

He shakes his head, clearly you're out of your mind. A sweetheart, who has never focused on anything else but her academics asking him to fuck you, without any hesitation.

"Aye lass you sure—"

He just wants to make sure, doesn't wanna take advantage, afterall he's a gentleman fuckboy. He'll ask if you're comfy, he'll make sure consent is consent, hell he'll stop half way naked if you ask him to stop.

But that gets a nervous reaction out of you, lips trembling and lashes damp with tears as you start to stutter, a fumbling mess with words as you try to look away, the soft bloom of red on your cheeks now absolutely flushing you.

That makes him groan, in want. He's trying to think of ten different ways to clam his chubbing up dick down.

Think about her doing maths– that's hot, fuck. Think about Simon– fuck he's hot too, think about Gaz— aye nah mate—

His brows are furrowed as he tries to negotiate with you— "Ay– lass nah me didn't wanne make ye cry–"

But it's already out of the box and you're getting all teary and sobbing so he complies.

He takes you to his apartment, doesn't shove his tongue down your throat— but does squeeze your waist as he leads you to his door— it's a nice place, smells like cheese more than anything. You grimace, but smile at him.

He looks at you, "Should I get ye some water lass?"

"No thank you"

Your head is now drowning in guilt— of using Johnny to lose your virginity. Some sort of pitch black feeling clawing up into the pit you call your stomach— salt already dampening your cheek because—

You are reminded of Simon's words.

Now you know you look all sweet and innocent, kind of a person who would never indulge into such activities, it makes you head spin how easily people fuck each other and give away their body.

It makes you absolutely sick.

But it also makes you feel alienated from your friend circle when they talk about sex, or one night stands. You awkwardly standing and looking here and there to appear nonchalant about the whole sex talk of your group.

It began to get worse everyday when your friends started to coo and coddle you with the tag of the innocent friend. To the point where they wouldn't really take you out— that's bad, that's mean.

Maybe logical too if you tried to squint a little— because honestly you really wouldn't enjoy.

But humiliation plays a bigger role and here you are at Johnny's apartment, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt as you try to undress yourself in a seductive manner failing horribly when you can't unbutton your shirt. Johnny has vanished somewhere in the hallway— you know Simon stays here too.

Simon, that bastard of a man. God's you want to punch him square in his face and maybe break his already crooked nose.

Tears that were on the bay now falling down your cheeks again as you wipe them furiously, recalling his words of dismissing you. Nah, don't do innocent girls like ya sweet'art. And turn around without soaring a second glance.

Johnny is back from god knows where with two popsicles in his hands, honestly he thought of trying to talk you out of it— share something sweet and book you a taxi back to your apartment.

You are half way undressed, bra on the floor, shirt crumpled somewhere along the doorway, your hands on your shorts— clearly unbuttoning it to pull 'em down.

A few minutes might have gone, Johnny gulps, the popsicles melting down his hands as he straightens up. "Ye– ye serious lass?" He's looking like a puppy, too shocked or something– closer to thanking God.

He does, in his head he is reciting prayers in the name of almighty suddenly.

Your skin is so tender, soft to look at and Johnny wonders how it would feel under his hands. Your breasts round and so fucking pretty, nipples perked up because of the cold air of the AC, your shy gaze.

All the fucking sheer will he used to clam his cock down thrown out of the window— (he shoved his dick under the cold tap water, blue balls) and the only thought that consumed him was how many angles would he be able to bend you in and fuck you raw.

You're a shy but squirmy thing now, arms wrapping around your chest instinctively as you look away, a hot blush of red over your skin as you bite your lips nervously, but then again you're more embarrassed and hurt at Simon's rejection than Johnny seeing you naked.

The surge of adrenaline as you look at him again and speak clearly, "John McTavish fuck me" has his blood searing down south.

He whistles, throws the popsicles into the dustbin.

"Aye— as you command mam—"

Oh he's gonna fuck you to oblivion.

[max-nicoxfandom]

Happy WIP Wednesday ! Here is a first draft/snippet of a random chapter in my long fic I'm working on (don't go looking for it, still unsure if I'm going to post it), bc I think I'm gonna take this part out even if I really like the concept.

Danny is like 6-7yrs old in this

Danny is a weird kid.

That's not to say Dick expected him to be normal when his family took him in. No, even if Danny wasn't still half dead, no one in this family is normal. Not even Duke and Barbara, the self proclaimed normies of the family.

Danny has brought a certain life to the manor, even in death, that has Dick contemplating moving back. Somehow, even Jason has been spending more time than usual there. Arguments have been lessened, the manor has been less creaky and more settled, Alfred even looks a little younger these days.

It's both the fault of Danny's sweet exterior, and the odd green that swirls in the blue of his eyes. Not the same hue as Jason's, but something near to it.

He's a lot like Jason, actually. Dick is sure if Jason had come to them just a little bit younger he'd be the spitting image of Danny.

It's the little things that make them look so similar. Almost everyone in the manor has the blue-green eye, black hair combo. It's everything else in Danny that makes him look exactly like Jason.

Danny likes to wish the moon good morning when he sees it during the day, and insists on opening his curtains when he goes to sleep so the moon can listen to his bedtime story too. He likes to check his stuffed animals for injuries when they fall off furniture. He thanks Alfred for his food, and thanks his food for being yummy. When he leaves the manor, he blows the building a kiss goodbye.

Dick does not tell Bruce that the house pulls itself from the ground, and creaks back.

Sure, Jason wasn't dead (not yet, anyway), but he was so excited to be alive. He had that same disposition to do good to everyone and everything that Danny does. Jason may not be some sort of partial human like Danny, but Jason was Robin, and Robin? Robin is magic.

You don't have to believe in ghosts for them to be real, and you don't have to see Danny for him to exist. On the same wavelength, you don't have to see Robin to know Jason made him magic. It was just the truth. Like how the sky is blue and Bruce is Batman.

Dick is watching his life be changed one step at a time, just like it was with Jason–like how it was supposed to be with Jason–and like it was with his siblings.

He keeps flowers in his car now. He didn't before, he never had a reason for it.

But one time, Danny cried as they passed a graveyard. He was sitting curled up against the window in the back while Dick hummed along to some ballad on the radio. It was peaceful, as things tend to be when Danny's around, and even as the kid cried Dick never stopped feeling tranquil. He knew everything would be okay, Dick would stop at nothing to make his new brother happy again.

“I have no flowers.” He’d said. Dick hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what was wrong. “They'll all be so sad I came by, and I had no flowers.”

Danny's eyes were green when he'd spoken. Green, teary, and filled with more mourning a child should ever understand. Dick's heart broke about a thousand times over.

So now Dick keeps flowers in his car. Whenever he drives past a graveyard he throws a flower out the window, just like Danny does. And if the bouquet dies before he gets to give them away, he gives them to Danny, and he buries them in the backyard.

Green eyed and sad. Sometimes Jason joins him, sometimes Damian does. Dick never feels like it's his place.

This fic also has to do with the cult thing I was talking about sometime ago, and the post about big cities. I kinda regret having this take place in Gotham instead of Amity, but it's too late now (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Asks and interactions are always welcome !

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #5

Okay, so maybe Danny screwed up a little big. He was just trying to train some of his powers in secret. Really. And sure, just because he wanted to test the limits of what he could do, he tested and trained with a powered he swore he wasn't going to ever use on anyone.

But that kind of turned out to be one of his worst mistakes.

He was pretty sure Jazz was probably posting missing person posters. Maybe hid parents were also wrecking havoc over Amity, leaving literally no stone unturned to find him. And he didn't even want to imagine what his ghost gallery of rogues were up to with him missing.

Now he really regretted that he started training in secret without telling anyone.

Because now... here he was stuck in a doll sitting on some weird guys shelf that apparently used him as therapy doll and was talking to him. Or maybe the other was talking more to himself than Danny stuck in the doll.

Either way Danny was stuck and currently had no idea what to do, and his attempts in making the move doll didn't work as much as he hoped for. It took him an entire night to move his doll body from the shelves to the windowsill.

Tim swore the doll he had picked up on a whim as a mission souvenir was hunted. He swore he had placed the doll on his shelf several times now, but each morning he found it somewhere else.

He had contemplated installing cameras but fos some reasons his electronics stopped working at night. He had told Dick about it.

And what does he older brother do?

Ask him how much he slept the past week.

He sleeps enough, thank you very much. His sleep schedule was a mess but he sleeps and he functions.

The amount of energy drinks and coffee he consumes has noting to do with that.

Still Tim sat on the couch the doll placed on the table before him as he stared it down like it was a criminal he was going to interrogate.

"I know you can move..." he muttered behind his folded hands as his eyes narrowed. "I will figure out what your deal is..."

Behind him Dick looked worried at his younger sibling, wondering if he should get the tranquilizer gun. "Guys... I think he has one of these phases again..."

Jason next to him scoffed with his arms crossed, already planning on tipping Alfred off to restrict Tim's coffee and energy intake.

Damian only clicked his tongue, watching the older teen. "So Drake finally lost it."

[roc-haze]

Arm’s Length | Will Lenney

Read Part 1 here!

In which Will is all in.

——

Cal: Can we talk? I miss you.

“I didn’t realise that you and Cal were still talking.” Will’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“We’re not, really. Why? Has something happened?” Y/N looked to his phone. “Is he texting you?”.

“Darling, this is your phone.” Will handed it to her, the screen illuminating.

She looked at the message, confused but deciding to lay the phone face down.

“Are you gonna get back to him?” Will asked.

“Not right now. It’s probably a drunk text,” she rested her hand over the top of his. “Anyway… back to what I was saying.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what really happened between you two?” Will chose his tone carefully, not wanting to sound too accusatory.

The group were largely unaware of the small romance between Cal and Y/N. Bach had spotted them walking hand in hand through the tube station on a Wednesday evening, but put it down to nothing after finding Cal swiping through Tinder the following weekend. Will, however, had an inside source. Harry Lewis.

They had been filming a pub golf video for Chris’s channel when Harry had brought it up.

“Mate.. can you believe Y/N and Lux?” Harry lowered his voice.

“What do you mean?” Will hadn’t heard anything from Y/N.

“She hasn’t said anything?”. Harry cocked an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they’re together. Like in a serious way. He was asking if he should introduce her to his family.”

“If it’s legit, she’ll tell me when she’s ready.” Will took a sip of his drink, avoiding meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Do you think she’s embarrassed of him? It seems like he wants everyone to know… but she hasn’t even told you? You basically live in her pocket.” Harry questioned Will, somewhat disbelieving his longtime friend.

“Nah, I don’t think she’d be embarrassed of ‘im. He’s a good lad. It’s probably just a lot to figure your shit out with a group as big as this.” Will had always known Y/N to be calm. Level headed. Always with a plan. She’s just probably not ready to tell people yet. She wouldn’t until she was sure he was the one.

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not gonna lie mate, I thought it would be you.”

Less than 3 weeks later, Y/N had thrown herself into work. Cal had stopped posting stories of two wine glasses and snippets of songs Y/N had just happened to like. But to their friends, nothing had ever happened. They had always interacted politely, and they moved forward normally. Hey Y/N, you look well. A quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. You too! Did you go to the football this weekend?

When Will had asked her about it, Y/N had just said, “nothing really happened between us… we’re just better off as mates.” He had his suspicions that there was something a little more sinister going on. Maybe one of them had been a little controlling. Or there was a third person in the picture. Cal immediately reinstating his Tinder profile reeked of unfaithful. “That’s a shame. You deserve someone good.” Like me, he felt like saying.

“If I’m being perfectly honest… Cal was starting to feel like he was the placeholder for you.” Y/N hesitated telling him the full truth. “I feel like such a dick. He figured out my feelings about you long before I did. I just kinda feel like I’ve dropped him in shit and then left.”

Will’s face softened. “Fuck. I always kinda assumed the worst.” He shifted in his seat, hand covering his mouth. “No wonder he hasn’t called me recently.”

“Oh come on, Will. It’s a two way street. You haven’t reached out to him either.” Y/N pursed her lips.

“I know… we have that dinner for Freezy’s birthday coming up. I’ll try and talk to him then,” Will reached out for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Okay.. let’s make sure he’s okay and finish this conversation. We were starting to get somewhere.”

“Can’t we do that first? I have a lot I wanna say to you.” Y/N stared at him, trailing her eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that… you’re making me feel bad. Just send a welfare text or something. I’m not gonna get pissy at him for messaging me girlfriend if the intention is just to be nice.” Will spoke quickly.

Y/N looked straight at him, a smirk beginning to grow. “Girlfriend?”

She typed a message back to Cal, Will’s hand taking up residence on her knee.

Y/N: Yeah, we can. Is everything okay?

Cal: Not really. I feel like our dynamic is kind of fucked at the moment. What do you think?

Cal: (I also have an insurance question but this is probably an inappropriate time to ask 🫣)

Y/N: I think it’s definitely a little stiff. But I expected that. How would you like to move forward? (Send me a meeting invite for tomorrow and we’ll chat through. I’m free after 2pm)

Cal: I miss my mate. I’d love for us to get a point again where we can have a pint and chat shit

Cal: Also schweeet. That time works perfectly

Y/N: Okay. Are you up for a liquid lunch tomorrow? Half productive business insurance, half gossip? 🤭

Cal: Count me in. Meet you at the usual?

Y/N: Sounds good. See you at 2!

Cal: Great 👍 good to have you back mate

Y/N: You too chief 🫡

“Are you happy with that, William? Do you feel better now?” She placed her phone on the table in front of her, giving her full attention to the man in front of her.

He laughed, taking her hands in his. “That was very nicely done. It just didn’t feel right moving forward until you and Lux were in a good spot.”

“Well. Now I’m gonna talk. You’re not going to interrupt me.” She spoke sternly, before flashing him a Cheshire Cat smile.

Will raised his hand to his mouth, making a zipping motion.

“You and me are meant to be. I am into you in the grossest way. Like I’d happily fold your socks. Pop your zits. Whatever you want. I’m all in, Will. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay but I’m going to have to leave London out of embarrassment.” She sat vulnerably, searching the man’s eyes for any emotion. Suddenly, the room felt heavy and the exit was looking a little more appealing.

Will sat in silence, blank stare on his face. A few moments passed.

“Are you going to say anything?” Y/N exclaimed in frustration, her voice beginning to crack.

“Am I allowed to speak now? I didn’t want to interrupt.” He grinned at her, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “I thought I made it pretty obvious with the whole girlfriend comment, but if you’d like to hear me say it…”.

She nodded, finally sinking back into her seat.

“I won’t pop your zits because you’d just about batter me for not having a pimple patch. But I will carry you home after nights out. Take you on hot dates to the Tesco reduced section. Brag about you to people on the street if you’ll let me.” He stopped to take a breath, captivating her gaze. “I’m all in. Even when you start to think I’m wrinkly and pruny.”

“I thought you were just good looking, but turns out you can sometimes string a romantic sentence together.” She looked at Will sincerely, placing her hands on each side of his face.

“I just speak in syllables. Makes me seem all wise.” He laughed, resting his hands on either side of her waist. He pulled her closer, his breath fanning on her face before their lips met.

The kiss was gentle at first. New. The two of them had known each other so well, but this was uncharted territory.

They pulled away, Y/N resting her hands on his chest. “Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

“Don’t ask me. I’ve been waiting around for you.” Will smiled at her, pulling her into his lap. He joined their lips together again, his hands subtly creeping underneath her knitted jumper.

Y/N ran her hands along his forearms, tracing all the way up to the back of his head and tangling her fingers through his hair. His breath hitched as she lightly pulled on a few strands. Will pulled her impossibly close, attempting to shuffle them into a horizontal position.

As Y/N went to adjust her knees on either side of his, almost in a straddle position, her knee couldn’t get a grip on the leather like material and she started to slide off the couch.

Will, unable to get a grip on her quick enough, decided to go down with the ship. They lay on the soft carpet, side by side.

“Are you alright, pet?” Will tried to hide his laughter as Y/N lay rubbing circles over her elbow.

“Fuck, I think I have carpet burn.” She whined, laughing out of embarrassment.

“D’ya want me to kiss it better?” Will turned to face Y/N, seeing her nod. He sat up, placing a kiss on her cheek. Watching the smile spread across her face, he moved to her forehead, other cheek, jaw, chin and eventually her lips.

She laughed as he pulled away. “Wow, I miraculously feel so much better.”

Before the moment could continue, there was a buzz on the intercom.

“That’d be dinner.” Will sat up, making his way to the door. While he greeted the delivery driver, Y/N made her way to the kitchen to collect the essentials - a bottle of red, two glasses, plates and two sets of chopsticks.

Will met her in the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you.. we’re having sushi”.

“I know. We always get sushi after you film.” She led him back toward the living room, setting up the coffee table to accommodate all of their food.

“I ordered some of the teriyaki chicken salad you like. That way you won’t have to worry about buying any lunch tomorrow at work.” Will grabbed the cushions off of the couch, setting them down so they could sit comfortably on the floor.

“You know me too well, Lenney.” She grinned at him, taking a seat and beginning to search through the Netflix suggestions.

He reached over, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. “Always have, sweetheart. You were only just an arms length away.”

Y/N to Ugly Stepsisters chat: I did it. I got the guy.

———

Author’s note:

All finished! Hopefully not too bad for my first fic out of retirement. If you can’t tell by the title, I have been very much listening to Sam Fender’s new album 🤭

Thanks for reading 🤍🤍

[steviewashere]

To go along with my last line tag game post, here's a little snippet of something I'm working on (I say little but it's roughly 500 words, jeez):

————— Steve has roughly five seconds, the same five seconds it takes to turn and look over his shoulder, before Eddie—in all his scraggly, limb-flailing, wallet-chain-jingling glory—comes speeding and barreling over the Family Video counter. The next time he blinks, he’s flat on his back against the floor, a Reebok squished firmly to his cheek, and a knee to his aching crotch. There are black spots in his vision as he stares towards the ceiling.

Then, a wild mane of hair cascading around him like a curtain.

Big Whopper malt ball eyes.

An impish grin.

Yup, he notes blearily, that’s Munson.

“My tapes,” Steve mumbles, a soft sad coo bubbling the words. Sure enough, peeking around Eddie’s vest-broad shoulders, there’s a scattering of cases. Some of the plastic protectors have popped open—the Disney movies—and a couple cardboard shit-boxes now softened on their edges. He sighs, looking back to Eddie. Who, somehow, is closer before.

Within kissing range if he stops to think about it.

Which he won’t.

Not now, at least. Those are late night meandering thoughts when his house is a little too quiet. Not for middle of the day afternoon shifts before he’s had a meager lunch. Especially not then.

“Dude,” Eddie breathes. His breath ghosts over Steve’s face: menthol and…yeah, that’s a Yoo-Hoo. Pulling back, Eddie now straddles Steve’s lap, slapping hands over his shoulders. “Dude dude dude! Hideout’s lettin’ me do a solo show and you, my sweet baby boy, are gonna be front-fucking-row.”

Steve sighs again. “Did you have to charge at me?”

Eddie shrugs. “Eh. You’d be nose deep in that stupid inventory system if I didn’t.”

He wriggles against the floor, trying to free himself from Eddie’s shockingly sturdy thighs—again, he pushes those thoughts to the late night bin. “Get off me,” he lightly demands. “I’m gonna put barbed wire on the counter, swear to God.”

With a dusting and a few grunts, Eddie has righted them, dusting off whatever crap Steve landed in. It takes everything in him to not say anything about the fingers combing through his hair, parting through, checking up close and personal.

“Y’know, Eds, you should get one of those nose rings. Really, uh, finish off your freak flag and show the world who y’really are.”

“You saying I’m a raging bull, Stevie?”

“Mmm”—Steve throws up his hands, weighing them side to side—“yeah, sure, whatever you call a guy who tries to flatten your dick. All you need are the horns and the ring and the…the whole stomping of your feet. Set the stage.”

“Pssh, you probably liked it,” Eddie fires back. “Probably the most action you’ve gotten in eons.”

Steve scoffs, bending down to pick up the videos—Eddie follows him down, crinkling the plastic Disney clamshells closed, setting them on the counter behind him. “Sure, whatever you say Mr. Dusty-Pack-Of-Condoms.”

“Ooo hit ‘em right where it hurts, I see,” Eddie says around a smarmy grin, “you’re feisty when you wanna be. I commend you, Ole King of Yore.”

—————

[exquisink]

don't let all this be a letdown (polysatosugu x reader)

cw. no curses au, breaking up with one of them and then getting back together, there are no warnings really other than suggestive scenarios and teasing of smut but there's no smut this time, gasp!, poly satosugu x reader, they literally come as a package it's an unspoken rule, this is basically fluff so sweet it'll give you diabetes even though it's also lowkey messy btwn mainly you and sugu b/c you felt underappreciated, i am pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere b/c this was supposed to be TOXIC EX BF SUGURU with you getting back at him but it's somehow weirdly wholesome, never mind some things like the two of them cornering you in public spaces b/c personal space is a foreign concept to these men

wc. 11K... and if i choose to tack on the smut later as a bonus snippet/post then it'll be more

Stop this nonsense, that small, sharp, squabbling voice in the back of your mind scolds you. That little voice of reason bubbles up every time you try to set yourself free from the commitments of a relationship you have ended, all on your own accord, giggling too hard at some random guy’s jokes, or allowing them to brush their hands up their waist. Just a bit too close for comfort should Suguru be near, but he isn’t. Right now it’s just you and Satoru Gojo, mingling with each other and pretending like you’re still involved. 

You have tossed away any cautions, any questionings or doubts or asking yourself why anymore. Satoru Gojo may be Suguru’s best friend but he’s yours too, and each little flirtatious glance he tosses your way is just another ticket toward sweet payback. It’s what he gets for not appreciating what he’s had right in front of him. Of course this is all a charade, because Gojo understands more than anyone what bro code means and he’s only doing this as a favor to you, and in a way to Suguru too.

Get him to open his damn eyes. To read it all, soak it completely in, let the realization of what he lost dawn on him, and weep waterfalls upon waterfalls of tears.

Gojo may have gotten a little too into the charade but so have you. Those little late night texts, which he may have sent screenshots to Suguru ‘on accident’ but he definitely wants him to know. Let him simmer and stew in sheer anger over the fact that you’re just over being an afterthought.

Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been anything other than playing the role of the understanding, kind girlfriend. But all he’s ever done is taken your character and your time for granted, and you’re just finally cutting loose after everything you’ve done to try to make that fucking relationship work.

Oh, but it’s like you already said, you may have gotten a little too into this. Soaking up all of this attention Satoru is happy to fabricate for you all in favor of the drama, but also you have been actually actively responding to other suitors who have flooded your phone with messages since you have set yourself free.

That much you can admit to, but who can blame you when your ex’s best friend can be just as petty if not more so than you? Suggesting to send snapshots of your outings together in some of the most suggestive situations. Gojo has been nice enough to go run errands with you and while shopping for clothes, joins you in the dressing rooms for a quick way to set your ex off. Nothing too scandalous–just a snapshot of you two undressed in a few questionable positions but it’s not like you two really did much of anything. You don’t see how, not completely,  because your goal is just to drive that point home–he fucking missed out and now he has to deal with the consequences of missing out on someone like you. After a certain point, you have to put your foot down. You can’t remember at what point when you checked out of the relationship in your mind, because by the time you cut things off, it was too late for him to try to change his ways because you know how it always goes. They change for maybe a few weeks and then revert back to their typical behavior. No one can actually ever change overnight; you definitely didn’t.

Getting into the relationship and basically all throughout the relationship, you have always put your best foot forward for Suguru. Giving him moral support before huge exams. Hearing him out when he’s venting to you instead of spewing solutions. Giving him space when he needs it. Planning dates. Remembering birthdays. Remembering his big events and attending them. Obviously it’s all the basic stuff but they matter. Of course they all matter. And in the beginning, he’s just as supportive, but then maybe he’s gotten too comfortable with a girl like you. 

And that’s his biggest fucking mistake.

“You know,” Gojo comments as he hops back into his slacks and smooths out his hair, scrolling through his text thread with Suguru while waiting for you to get dressed. “There are ways we can amp this up but I don’t know if you’d be game to try it out. Even while you were dating him, you seemed so innocent.”

“Well, obviously, I proved you wrong,” you huff as you straighten yourself out, glancing at yourself in the mirror for a moment before your gaze flits back to Gojo. “It’s not like I’m getting into any of his friends’ pants. I just have to make him think I am.”

“And you’re doing a swell job with that,” he laughs with a wide grin brightening his features. He flashes his phone screen with Geto’s reply, and now you find yourself grinning.

Geto: what the fuck is wrong with you actually

Geto: she hasn’t been responding to any of my calls or messages. So this is what she’s been up to? 

You wish you could see his face, but all you can imagine is him attempting to remain calm and collected, suffering in silence like he always does. You always kind of loathe how he acts like nothing bothered him, and that’s another reason why you broke it off. Besides getting too comfortable and not trying anymore. There’s actually a whole textbook you can write at this point on all of the reasons why you two were better off not together.

Your stomach twists a little at the idea of actually not being with him, but you have to be stronger than your feelings sometimes and you know that all too well since that’s something you had to do far too early in your life. You deserve better, all you’re asking for is some reciprocity for fuck’s sake, and he probably knows that and is threatened by the idea of you actually leveling up your life. And that’s why he’s fighting a time where you doubt you can change your mind.

“So what was your suggestion? About upping the ante, I mean,” you ask as Gojo thinks of a way to respond to Geto’s messages. 

“Well, I mean, I can ring up some of our friends and they can get in on it. It’s not like they don’t like you too, you know. For as much of an idiot Suguru can be, he’s not wrong about people and we all like you.”

You sigh, flashing him your phone screen with a few threads from Toji, Sukuna, and Shoko. Toji keeps spamming your photos with fire emoji comments and Sukuna has sent you not so vanilla messages that you have no idea how to respond to, since you’re not that into the guy, even as a friend. A shiver dances up your spine as you glance at one of the raunchy messages he’s sent you upon the other couple hundred, frowning until your forehead creases and Satoru catches onto your discomfort, sneaking a glance at the thread. Even he grimaces, swiping the thread out of your line of sight. 

You breathe out in relief. Satoru really is a good friend, isn’t he? 

“No kiddin’. I mean, Toji and Sukuna are kind of expected, but Shoko? That’s something I would have never considered because she likes you guys so much,” you reply, but your eyes roll upward as you ponder over the situation you have found yourself in, wondering what to make of it. “Though, she is my type…”

Gojo whistles at that. “Okay, damn. I didn’t expect that from you, either.”

You beam at him with your eyes twinkling like little gemstones, standing on your tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. 

“Thanks, Satoru. You’re a great friend,” you tell him, and he’s grinning wider while dreamily sighing. “To me and to Suguru. He’s lucky, you know? To have someone like you who reminds him what’s important. I just think it might be too late this time, but who knows?”

“I’d really hate to see the two of you not work things out in the end,” he remarks, as another stream of notifications clutters his lock screen from Suguru. “Sheesh. He’s not a happy camper, but it’s one thing to say it and another thing to do something, right?” 

You nod. “Right. Sometimes it feels like that’s all he is.”

“All talk, right?” he replies, sighing as his shoulders sag a bit. “Yeah, I get that. I really do. He’s a bit too wrapped up in his own bullshit sometimes to understand what’s going on around him. And sometimes, the best thing you can do in these situations is just let ‘im figure things out for himself. I mean, you can’t force someone to change, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing at the time on your phone. “Should we get out of here? I think the store’s closing up in like an hour.”

“Sure. But you should still get that dress. With legs like yours, you’d kill it,” Gojo suggests, swiping the dress for you. “And it’s on me, as a token of apology for dealing with someone as dense as Suguru.”

“My hero,” you tease, exiting the fitting room with Gojo following suit. He catches onto the little skip in your step and there’s a hint of a small smile. That’s the happiest you’ve been since you broke it off with him. He can’t help shaking his head to himself before paying for your dress and leaving the store with you. Now you’re practically frolicking like you’re in a fairy world. Glow any brighter and maybe you can hear a choir of angels singing. 

Suguru is an even bigger idiot than he is, and that’s saying something. 

Geto does confront Gojo later. 

Shoving him into the wall after showing up at his penthouse (unprompted but that’s essentially routine for them at this point), indigo eyes practically oozing rage and gritting his teeth like he may pummel him six feet under. Gojo knows he’s not going to, of course, out of everyone Geto knows Gojo’s still the one he can’t say no to who isn’t his girlfriend, but Gojo digresses. 

“What the fuck, Satoru?” he growls, and Gojo merely picks at his cuticles, avoiding his eyes. Geto knows Gojo is stronger than he is but he lets him get his way. Sometimes. Sometimes. “Why are you fooling around with my girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrects, pushing him off with slight force, catching Geto off guard for a moment but he bounces back, shooting a death glare as Gojo goes on. “And she’s been your ex longer than when she finally dumped your crusty ass.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Geto mumbles, “And my ass isn’t crusty.”

“She’s been over you for months before she broke up with you,” Gojo explains, “What, you really haven’t noticed her distancing herself?”

“Of course I have,” Geto shoots back, his posture relaxing. “I just didn’t think it’d get to this point.”

“Aha! And you admit it, you don’t think! That’s your problem,” Gojo counters, matching his glare now. “Just because you get the girl doesn’t mean you don’t stop trying. You have to show up for her, you know, like she’s always been.”

Something flashes in Geto’s eyes. Realization, perhaps? Or regret? 

No, maybe Gojo’s giving him too much credit there. 

“Suguru,” he starts, taking a step forward. “You can’t just stop trying. She never did until the last few months.”

“Well, what the hell do I do? She’s not responding to any of my messages or calls,” he shouts back, “Do I just show up at her doorstep or…what?”

“You’re going to have to go a little beyond that to make up for all of the things you missed,” Gojo shouts back, “And disregard anything performative. She can sniff you out like a drug hound, so don’t bother.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know!” Geto retaliates, folding his arms as he tries to collect himself. Rounded grounding breaths and whatever else. Gojo has no idea how that’s supposed to keep him centered, but what the hell does he know about mindfulness anyway? He’s just as clueless as Geto is in that regard, if not more so. 

Gojo sighs, exasperated, just seconds away from punching the lights out of him. Yeah, mindfulness and whatever, but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about that stuff when both of his best friends are being fucking idiots.

And if that’s coming from the likes of him? Well, clearly there’s an issue. He’s not even saying this to be self-deprecating or whatever; he’s not that kind of guy and everyone who knows him knows that a little too well, but this whole charade is just appalling. 

Gojo wants to see both his friends happy again, but they have to motherfriggin’ cooperate.

“I am, but I’m not going to solve your BS for you!” Gojo shouts back after a beat of tense silence. The air suddenly feels staticky and stiff, and he wonders if his judgment is clouded concerning this whole ordeal.

“Yet you’re fooling around with her to what, piss me off?!” Geto questions, pinching the bridge of nis nose as he struggles to control his emotions. He is many things, but violent he isn’t, and Geto doesn’t want anything to escalate around here for absolutely absurd reasons.

“Well yeah,” he scoffs, glowering at him like somehow he’s lost more brain cells. “She wants to have fun a little, and wanted to have fun with just me this time around. You can’t fault her for wanting a piece of this.”

“You’re part of the package when we are together, Satoru,” Geto grumbles. 

“It’s almost like I’m well aware of that, Suguru.”

Geto’s eyebrows furrow; that tone Satoru tacks on is… curious. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Geto quizzes, wary. Like he shouldn’t hope for more, but if Gojo is on his side like he claims he is…

“I don’t know, man. Figure it out, or do you truly have no brain and that noggin of yours is just hollow?” Gojo mocks while playfully knocking the crown of Geto’s head. Geto swats his hand away, appalled. 

“I just fail to see what you hoped to achieve, fooling around with her without me present,” he says, “I can’t imagine the kind of trouble she’s getting herself in just to cut loose. Has she done this with anyone else?”

Gojo shakes his head. “Not as far as I know. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she wants you to reach out.”

“You say that and yet she leaves me on delivered,” he mutters, more to himself as he whips out his phone and opens your shared thread. 

“Well, like I said, you have to go a little harder than what you have been doing. Spamming her is so three decades ago. But it’s also like I said, don’t do anything too out there or performative because she definitely won’t buy it.”

“Sometimes I don’t know whether to punch you or kiss you,” Geto mumbles, “And you swear she hasn’t fooled around with anyone else? It’s just been you? Which doesn’t bother me for obvious reasons…”

“Of course not, I still have my rights to her!” Gojo laughs, “But in all seriousness, you should act or something before things really begin to escalate. She’s already deleted some photos off of her phone and has warred with herself about straight up blocking you, so…”

“You’re telling me this now?” Geto rubs his temples as a headache comes on from all of this unproductiveness between the two of them. “Since you clearly want me to make amends, what do you suggest should be my first move?” 

Gojo whacks his shoulder. “I told you countless times in this one conversation alone: I can’t do the work for you. This is something you have to figure out for yourself. I’m just here to support you, whatever it is you decide to do, alright? That’s what friends are for… even friends with certain additional benefits.”

Gojo winks at him, with that fucking look on his face that he always sports when he has something up his sleeve and Geto can’t even decipher it himself. 

Geto scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“So nothing performative, nothing over the top… that doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for anything too creative if you ask me,” Geto muses out loud as he racks his mind for some kind of solution because this has gone on long enough for his tastes. He wants you back. He wants you, period. The idea of any other man touching you is completely out of the question; just entertaining the idea has Geto seeing pure firetruck red, clenching his fists at his sides as the impulse to punch something out wash over him. He’s not violent. Not really. He doesn’t want to resort to violence. Not even if it can be argued it’s warranted, like if another man touched you in ways you weren’t okay with, for instance… 

Oh no. No no. Get those images out of his head NOW! That’s just adding fuel to the fire unnecessarily! 

Gojo rests his hands on Geto’s shoulders, and all of the tension suddenly melts away. Gojo, as infuriating as he often is, has a way of being his calm, tranquility, and peace, too… you know, It’s actually quite perplexing, but that is the beauty of love, isn’t it? In all its nuances and complexities and mysteries.

“Come on, you’re doing so well. You’re just a whirlwind of emotions in just nanoseconds,” Gojo teases with a grin playing on his features. Somehow even in these moments, Gojo seems to glow, radiant, snow white hair shimmering and those electric blue eyes boring into the very essence of Geto’s being. 

Geto kind of hates how much he loves this guy too.

But it’s also the most thrilling thing in the world, simultaneously.

“Okay, okay but can we stop dicking around and figure this out?” Geto sighs, “The more we stall, the further away she is from me. And I don’t like that I let it get this far already. I mean, for fuck’s sake… she can’t be having that much fun without me.”

Gojo flashes back to the way you had a little skip to your step finally having a chance to fool around and be a little silly for the sake of it besides just proving a point. As much as he wants to tell Geto a harmless little white lie, he’s not known to sugarcoat things… 

“Eh… well, actually… this is the most relaxed she’s ever felt in a long time. So you really have to act fast, buddy!”

Geto’s eyes widen, perplexity shining in them as he grumbles out loud once again in sheer annoyance at Gojo’s ‘impeccable’ timing. “And again, you’re telling me this now?” 

“Sorry, Suguru,” he quips with a shrug. “I can’t exactly go against either of you in this scenario. I can’t offer any bias toward either of you and as much as I love you both, I’m trying to stay objective here. This is something you have to settle between the two of you, and I”m just here to be of any kind of assistance. Anywhere feasible, I mean.”

“Duly noted,” Geto snarks back, as his mind wanders, swimming through a sea of clashing thoughts and ideas that don’t seem all that fitting for what he hopes to achieve, and that’s you back into his arms, safe and sound, loved and cherished and spoiled, something he should have still been doing even months and months into the relationship and he can’t believe he’s been so blind to see you haven’t been all that happy with him for that long. Come to think of it… 

“Suguru, what do you think of this dress for our anniversary date?” you ask as you twirl around in a flattering LBD, with a sultry, darker makeup look. Geto barely looks up from the papers he’s too busy scribbling on to acknowledge it or appreciate the view. Even if he does see her every damn day, he should still take a moment to show he appreciates the effort she puts into everything with them. 

“You always look lovely, pretty girl, but I’m in the middle of something…” 

He can’t believe he missed the way your voice cracks, or your wistful expression. “Okay…”

Geto’s gaze flits down at his hands, these negligent hands which have failed to grab you by the waist and pull you in for affectionate kisses while he’s doting on you about how good you look in that dress. He’s wincing at his own negligent behavior… how has he been that blind? He knows that’s not the only incident, either; more and more recent memories flash before his eyes and he clenches both fists, groaning at his own idiocy.

“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m actually the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.”

“Actually I can argue you’re a step up from the majority of men but you’re still right,” Gojo wisecracks. 

Geto glowers at him but he just grins back; he keeps grinning like that and it’s going to be permanent.

Oh wait. Too late.

“Sooo, now that you actually acknowledge how much of a piece of shit you truly are, how are you going to change it? Or at least begin to? Because once you start, you can’t stop. You can’t let things go again like you did the first time. Your shot at a second chance with her is already slipping from your grimy fingers so hurry the fuck up and think of something.”

“Satoru, I swear to God if you don’t shut up so I can hear myself fucking think, I’ll shut you up myself.”

“How? With your lips? Because that’s not the productive route we’re aiming for right now, though under any other circumstances, I’d have not hesitated to take you up on that offer–!”

Suguru bites back a groan.

“--Satoru, are you absolutely shitting me right now!?--” 

“--hey, I’m just saying sometimes talking your head off can help you come up with ideas  on the spot so I’m just trying to get your creative juices flowing here!–” 

“--by annoying me half to death in the classic Satoru Gojo fashion?–” 

“--Exactly! So did you come up with anything yet?” 

Geto scowls, but a lightbulb does click on in his head as actually, by some amazing miracle, Satoru annoying him to death does help him think of some viable solution to the mess he’s created for him and the girl he’s so madly in love with but didn’t express such emotions well enough, Because he may as well be so emotionally constipated you’d need to shove a stick up his ass to get him to squeal! 

“Satoru, does anyone ever tell you that you’re actually a genius, never mind the image you often set yourself up as?”

“Not routinely,” Gojo admits, his voice trailing off. “But it’s a refreshing change of pace to hear that every once in a while. So, what’s brewing in that puny noggin of yours?” 

“That I’ll keep to myself,” Geto remarks, his eyes flitting to Gojo’s phone stuffed in his back pocket, buzzing with notifications. “But I can assure you it’s… a start, which is better than what I had before.”

“Ah, so you are catching on,” Gojo replies with a nod as he whips out his phone, typing away at a message thread with you. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised her I was going to meet up with her as a plus one at some party her roommates are dragging her to.”

“That’s usually my job,” Geto points out, shooting Gojo another glare but to that Gojo raises his hands in defense. 

“Yeah, well, you can easily get that position back, if you just act now. So get dressed and go there with me. If she sees you with me then she’ll have no choice but to confront you.”

“Dressing up to the nines is certain to sweeten up the deal, don’t you think?” Geto murmurs while pondering over what could make you fold immediately as soon as you see him again since the breakup. He’s still not convinced you want to completely move on if you’re still messing around with Satoru, so that must mean there really is hope that things can still work out between the two of you, right? 

…Right? 

“Don’t ask me, you figure it out!” Gojo retorts with a huff. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to freshen up for a lovely girl waiting for me that you so stupidly let go!”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Geto exclaims and Gojo mock sympathetically pats him on the shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gojo dismisses, making an incessant yapping gesture with his free hand. “Thank goodness I'm not in my designer clothes or you would have owed me thousands right now.”

Geto’s jaw hangs open. “I’m in a crisis right now and that’s what you’re more worried about, wrinkles on designer clothes? God, that really is some nepo baby shit…”

“No, nepo baby shit is worrying about someone suing you for a car wreck just to scam you out of some money. This is just wanting to look fresh and clean, man!”

“Whatever, fucking nepo baby,” Geto counters with a little smirk playing on his lips now, which means at the very least, he’s feeling something other than mental turmoil at the idea of you slipping away from him.

Gojo straightens his posture, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You love me anyway.”

As per Gojo’s request, Geto doesn’t pick you up with him. Not unless he wants to be stuck in the car the entire time there, avoiding looking each other in the eyes, talking over the other because they don’t want to discuss anything around Satoru and not being involved in conversations involving the other. Gojo knows better than to put either of you on the spot like that; he has more class than he ever cares to let on (because he’d much rather be a show off and not let people know he has much depth to him at all). 

Still, though. It’s not exactly becoming of a man like Geto who’s sitting somewhere at some secluded corner of the bar, dressed in a sapphire button up and black slacks, his black gauges accompanied with other piercings (some of which he’s still borrowing from your collection of diamond studs, just to sweeten the deal a little more). He’s set his obnoxiously thick hair free, cascading around his sharp face, accentuating his unique features. He’s definitely attracted potential rebounds but he’s not interested in rebounds. He’s only interested in winning you over again, whatever it takes. And he really means whatever it takes, because here he is, reapplying the cologne you love on him the most, hiding the necklace you’ve given him earlier on in your relationship beneath his skin tight v-neck top that usually gets you going because it still leaves just enough room for the imagination (as if you don’t already know and adore what’s underneath)… 

This is just the bare bones of how far he’s willing to go just to drive the point home: he’s not going to lose you over the fact that he’s just a fucking idiot. Sometimes he doesn’t realize what’s in front of him. Good God, how long has it taken him to realize he’s fallen so hard in love with Satoru that he practically smacked his head onto the pavement when it dawned on him? 

It’s not your fault he’s so fucking dense. He’s just as slow as Satoru, sometimes if not worse than he is when it comes to acknowledging anything because of how one-track minded he can be, and he’s willing to admit that to himself but never out loud. He and Satoru are far too alike than they ever even realize.

He breathes out through his nose, burying his head into his hands as he bounces his leg against his stool, waiting for the next course of action in whatever Satoru has planned with you tonight other than just being your plus one.

He has caught onto some of your roommates conversing with one another and trying to pick up some men who are too engrossed in some sports game on the televisions hanging above the bar, but he doesn’t bother going out of his way to exchange pleasantries. If any of them acknowledge him first, he does flash them a smile, at the very least, because even if he’s not that kind of guy he’s not going to be outright rude. If he’s going to win you back, he may as well try to win your friends over too. Their approval matters just as much as yours… he understands all too well how much what your circle of friends believe may influence your own and that’s precisely why he keeps his so small. (Aside from the fact that he is a firm believer in quality over quantity…)

His phone dings. A text.

Satoru: we’re going to be there in like 10 minutes or so, how’re you holding up?

Geto: that’s up for debate

Satoru: always so cryptic and ominous… you might as well be a member of the addams family 

Geto: don’t text and drive

Satoru: awwwww someone’s worried about me ;) 

Geto: satoru i WILL punch the lights out of you when you get here.

Satoru: you’re going to punch your face with my face? :D

Geto, having no way to respond to that, sets his phone down and signals the bartender for something stronger than a Screwdriver. Whatever they make him, it’s all going to be on Gojo’s tab anyway. He’s going to need that liquid courage for what he’s about to do tonight just for the sake of a girl. 

But you’re not just any girl–you may as well be the love of his fucking life and he doesn’t use such language lightly. 

No matter what, he’s winning you back. It is an inevitability in his life that you belong in it, and he knows better than to make the same mistake twice. What is it that they say? One time is a mistake. Twice is a conscious decision. Any more than twice, then there’s no chance of things ever being the same again and that’s the last thing he ever wants for someone like you, who is one in a billion, in his eyes.

But it’s one thing to say it and another thing to show it. And that’s where he fucked up.

He won’t ever again.

And as if the universe wants to toy with his feelings just a little more, someone shouting your name catches his attention and he twirls around on the bar stool he’s sitting on, jaw agape as he watches you strut into the bar with the sexiest LBD… is that the very LBD he’s ignored you putting on for him with that slit showing off your gorgeous legs? With that subtle shimmer and you’re even sporting that darker, sultry makeup look that’s excellent for a night out where you want to forget the fact that you’ve just called it off with your deadbeat boyfriend.

And he REFUSES to be the deadbeat boyfriend. Glancing at the drink the bartender so generously mixed for him, he dismisses it, adjusting his suit and tie as he hoists himself up from his seat and strides over toward you and Gojo who is lagging just behind you as your plus one like he promised with a kind of confidence and swagger he’s always been known to carry. Because for fuck’s sake, Gojo’s his best friend and maybe some of his behaviors have rubbed off on him a little.  

The worst part is throughout the entire time he’s spent building the courage to do something about what’s become of the two of you, you haven’t even spared him a glance. From the moment you enter, you are soaking up the attention you get from your friends, some he doesn’t know, and your mutual friends, practically glowing so bright it might rival the full moon tonight. You have never looked happier, more at peace, and it’s because you kicked him out of your life. 

His eyes bulge out of his sockets when he watches you saunter up to Ryomen Sukuna, of all the people in the world you are choosing to talk to, with a little flounce to those luscious hips of yours Geto is dying to sink his fingertips into while kissing you like he never wants to let you out of his grasp again… and he genuinely doesn’t, he understands his mistakes now, he wants to change himself, change for you, as long as he can make you happy and no one else. 

Call him selfish, but the only person he’s ever going to allow sharing you is with Satoru Gojo. He’s never had an issue with sharing anything with his best friend and that includes you, but with Sukuna? That prick with that hard stare that looks like he’s undressing you with his eyes every second he gets and this time, for some reason, you aren’t quivering and are instead leaning into it? Do you know he’s standing there, completely dumbfounded as your hand slides up Sukuna’s chest, your shoulders shaking as you laugh at one of his super unfunny and probably downright creepy jokes? Haven’t you told him on several occasions Ryomen Sukuna does nothing but give you the fucking creeps? And not only that, but even Toji Fushiguro has shown up to your side, greeting you with a bear hug that you don’t shy away from for reasons that are utterly lost to him. He’s drinking in the sight and hating every flavor he’s being introduced to and he doesn’t know what to do to cease all of this nonsense. He has to make a move though and fucking sooner than too late.

He inhales sharply, adjusting his posture and continues to weave through all of these sweaty dancers who are holding their drinks up in the air while singing along to some cheesy pop song but none of that is even important to him right now. His eye is on his prize but your eyes are on everyone else but him.

He stops as someone zooms past him, almost wanting to cuss the person out but he decides that’s a battle not worth fighting because he’s only focused on you and how you seem to be so keen on feeling up Toji’s pecs now! God! Doesn’t that guy ever skip a workout? It might do everyone around him a lot of favors–like having a shot at winning their beautiful girlfriend back! 

He stops, wetting his fingers and smoothing back his slick back bun of any flyaways before rubbing that hand on his slacks and using his dry hand to rest his hand on your back. He tries to put on that picture perfect smile but he can feel himself seething so much behind this smile of his that his teeth may crack from the pressure. 

And then he catches it: the way your shoulders lock up, the way your eyes dull ever so slightly under the cycling LED disco lights flashing everywhere around the bar. Toji gives him a look but says nothing; he and Sukuna know what type of person not to cross and Suguru Geto definitely isn’t one of those people they should mess with at all. 

You finally whip around, and his breath catches as he takes in your ethereal beauty, unmatched, no one in the world other than him can properly make it known just how much of a beauty you are to him. And he’s never going to make you feel anything other than beautiful and wanted. 

He’s never going to let you slip from his grasp ever again.

This is the moment of truth.

“Hey,” he greets with a low purr, as his fingers spread across your back. You shiver under his touch. Ah. He still has an effect on you whether you choose to acknowledge it out loud or to yourself or not; that’s reassurance in a way. That means there is still a chance for the two of you to live a happily ever after together, frolicking in the sunset as the credits begin to roll in the film or whatever it is people these days find to be the pinnacle of romance.

“Um,” you blink, eyes flitting from one area to another–perhaps in search of Gojo? “Hi.”

“Stop giving me the cold shoulder, pretty girl,” he drawls with that classic smoldering look on his face which may as well rival James Dean himself, as he draws you closer into his body. He’s impressed you don’t openly protest–perhaps your conviction in the breakup isn’t as strong as you made him believe it is? Or is he just clinging onto false hope? Either way, he’s good with either option because there’s something he can shape and mold from it. “Why don’t you let me dance with you?” 

“Because you’re not my date tonight,” you retort while sticking your nose in the air. “Satoru is.”

And speak of the fucking devil, he slides into the scene with a club soda in his hand because he’s not much of a drinker, casting Geto a look as if he hasn’t been plotting with him about winning you back just hours before all of this.

“Yeah, and I don’t exactly appreciate you trying to hog her attention, Suguru~” Gojo chides as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you toward him, or attempts to, anyway. Because Suguru’s grip isn’t budging. Not one bit. Even if Suguru has no problem sharing with Satoru, the whole point is that they share you. That’s the agreement. That’s the arrangement. He cannot let you go; he’s been dragged to the water and now he’s going to fucking take a sip.

“Fuck off, Satoru. For once,” he sneers, keeping his grip secure around your waist like you’re some consolation prize and he has a feeling this isn’t helping his case at all but what the hell else can he do right now if he wants to get you alone to talk? “I need to exchange a few words with her if you don’t fucking mind. YOu can have your fix of her later, but you remember what the rules are, don’t you?” 

“Rules schmules,” Gojo quips, pecking your ear and making you giggle, which makes Geto’s blood sizzle beneath his skin. Gojo really is trying to stir the pot just because he has such a fucking appetite for the drama and not because he actually wants to help him out, huh? “All I can say is you snooze, you lose, Suguru, and I can’t believe you slept on a beauty like this lovely lady who I get to spoil all night. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?” 

That look of disgust immediately melds into one of adoration when you look at Gojo and Geto’s heart sinks into his stomach at the mere sight of you like this. That look should be toward him, not just with Gojo. 

His grip tightens around your waist and you yelp a bit from the sudden pressure of Geto’s fingertips digging into the areas of your dress which expose your skin. His breath fans against the crook of your neck, and suddenly you’re covered in goosebumps. This position they put you in is definitely … 

“Ummm…” you trail off, your face flustered as you try to wiggle between the two men who are acting more like grade schoolers on a playground right now… which is 100% your fault. You put yourself into this mess all because you wanted to feel more seen and this is not exactly what you had in mind… “Guys, don’t I get a say in this? You know I adore the both of you–!”

“--then why did you break up with me? You know by extension, that means breaking up with Satoru too, right?” Geto challenges, yanking you closer toward him but Gojo doesn’t lose his grip on you either, stopping him and now the two of them are closing in on you to the point where you can feel their pelvises grind on either side of your hips.

Oh for fuck’s sake… 

Gojo’s breath fans against your face; your eyes fall to his face before flitting up to meet his electric blue eyes which are full of heat like blue stars. 

“Did you know he was going to show up tonight and you conveniently left out that little detail, Satoru?” you ask in a demanding tone, and Gojo returns with a noncommittal hum while Geto doesn’t waste his time, feathering his lips along the crook of your neck like he’s reclaiming his territory.

“We’re in the middle of a fucking bar,” you point out with a growl and both men laugh. 

“Come on, Princess, have a sense of adventure,” Gojo chuckles with a little twinkle in his eyes which can only mean trouble is brewing in that noggin of his. “Besides, we both really miss you, you know.”

“And just whose side are you on!?” you cry, exasperated as Gojo mirrors Geto’s movements, peppering kisses on the opposite side of your neck.

“Ours, by that I mean all three of us,” Gojo mumbles into your skin. “I want us to work out.”

“Ugh,” you groan, smacking your head. “This isn’t the most appropriate way to go about it when I just wanted a carefree night.”

“A carefree night when you look this good and I can’t be the one to sing praises to you like I’m part of a church choir?” Geto snarks as he bites onto your shoulder, making you jolt in place but they keep you secure. Arms snaking around your waist like chains. They’re not tugging and pulling you toward their direction and instead opting to share like they always do. 

“And did you really think, even if you broke up with me and ended up going out with Satoru, it meant you lost me? We come together whether you expect it or not.”

“In more ways than one,” Gojo adds with a playful wink, but Geto shoots him a glare. 

“While I appreciate the comedic timing, this isn’t the time, Satoru. Can you give us some time so we can talk about this for real? Go annoy Shoko or something. Or kick Toji in the dick for getting too close to her.”

“Toji would never have a shot with her and you know it,” Gojo replies easily and you can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I’m not attracted to bums,” you state, your stare boring into Suguru’s. “Clearly.” 

Fucking ouch. You don’t need to read him to filth like this but Geto knows he definitely is deserving of all that and probably more and he’s just being let off a little easy with a few blows to his ego…

But he’s willing to swallow that along with his pride right fucking now! 

“Baby,” he purrs, “I’m only here to take back what clearly belongs to me.”

“I’m not an object,” you sneer while narrowing your eyes into slits at him. The corners of his mouth twitch. So that game isn’t going to work on you either, huh? You’ve always been a tough nut to crack and that’s what he admires so much about you, and clearly he’s making an insult of that trait of yours now so he may as well backtrack and come up with an alternate plan on the spot! 

His eyes roll up to meet Gojo’s, which are still occupied on you (and who can blame him? You’re a shining star amidst all of these duller ones). 

“But seriously, Satoru,” Geto begins, as his hands slide slowly down your hips. You stiffen in their shared hold over you. “If you still want access to her you have to be fighting for her back with me, don’t you?” 

“I mean,” Gojo retorts with his voice going up an octave. “I see your point and I raise you: I can’t fight all of your battles. You’re on your own here. I wasn’t the one who was neglecting her!”

Geto glances at you, then back at Gojo, and then at Gojo’s hands still around your hips, tangled with his. Something hitches in his throat. This is not the most ideal situation to put you in, he can see you attempting to wriggle your way out but with both him and Gojo keeping you in place that doesn’t make it easy for you at all. 

“So will you let me take this elsewhere with her?” He meets your eyes. “Are you willing to hear me out?” 

You mirror his actions before turning over to Gojo, nodding at him and with a little scowl (which you quickly remedy with a smooch on the corner of his lips), he separates from the two of you. 

“Go kiss and make up with each other and hurry back. In the meantime, cheap bar food is waiting for me and I think I’m going to go annoy Shoko to death–”

“--I already pity her,” Geto snarks while scooping you into his arms practically and some brave soul whistles at his action while he whisks you away. 

To the fucking restrooms. How fucking glamorous and romantic. Holy shit, is that some dried piss on one of the stall doors? Gross! 

You glance around, fluffing your hair as you catch your reflection in the mirror. Geto peers at all the stalls ensuring there’s no one there to listen in (not that it matters, this should end as soon as it begins). If he thinks he’s going to get any just because he’s making an effort now then he’s got another think coming.

As well as more blows to that swollen, oversized pride of his.

Tapping your foot against the cold tiles in an impatient kind of rhythm, you wait for him to break the ice. You think you have done enough talking yourself, and you are a woman of your word, about hearing him out. See where that leads him. Maybe a black eye? A kick to the groin? That’s still letting him off easy because for fuck’s sake, you know how much you’re worth, and it’s not whatever he’s been giving you, for fucking sure. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, he wrings his hands together as he meets your eyes. Those beautiful glittering eyes of yours that may only rival Satoru’s. Your eyes and your heart are like an atlas in his world. Such a cliche line but it’s true. 

He addresses your name. You quirk an eyebrow, beckoning him to get a move on with this before you decide to walk out instead.

“Listen, I…” he starts, racking his mind for some form of a coherent argument as to why he hasn’t been as attentive as a partner as he should have been all of this time. “I don’t have an excuse, okay? You have every right to be upset with me, but what was with all of that before?” 

“Shifting the blame onto me? Is that where we’re starting with this?” you shoot back with another narrowing of your eyes. Oh he’s never felt more judged in his life but he deserves every bit of it. 

He takes a grounding breath. Here he goes again fucking up everything even more. Dragging his hand down his face, pulling down on his lower lip, he is still pondering over his words. If he’s not careful he’s going to dig himself into a six foot deep hole for you to kick him into and bury him alive. And maybe he’s not going to protest, because he almost would rather that than you moving on from him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Geto finally says after a beat of silence. He takes a step forward toward you. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I get it–I was inattentive. I know I was. I wasn’t making you feel seen or appreciated and I’m in pain just thinking about how much I neglected you without realizing it before it was too late. This can’t be the point of no return for us if I’m trying to reach out, right? I’m not asking you to give me any credit because I don’t need you to. What I want is for things to be better between you and me, and you know I’ll do everything to make that happen.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, biting back a groan. “Suguru, I’ve said it a million times: it’s one thing to say it and another thing to act on it. Love by itself isn’t enough, you know. It’s a choice. You have to make it work. Otherwise there’s no spark here.”

“Don’t say that,” Geto protests, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I want things to work.”

“Trapping me in the middle of a bar and pinning me against you and your best friend isn’t exactly the best way to go about it! I felt completely objectified!” you counter, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Sometimes I just don’t know who the hell you and Satoru think you are! Like what, you think I’m your property, or something? You have rights to everything about me as if I’m not my own goddamn person?”

“Of course not!” Geto retorts, appalled that you would even consider such distasteful things about him among all of the other distasteful things you have accused him of since you broke up with him. “Of course you’re your own damn person! Satoru and I got a little ahead of ourselves, sure, but only because we find you irresistible and perfect. Goddamn it, I”m sorry I wasn’t attentive enough, but you have no idea how much I adore you and need you with me. I love the way your eyes sparkle whenever you talk about something that happened on your favorite drama series or how engrossed you get when you’re in the middle of something that means something to you. I love that when your favorite song plays you have to act as if you’re in a music video or a play with that song and you drag me along to do your silly little skits. I love that you call people out on their bullshit and don’t pull your damn punches when you do. I love–!”

–your eyes soften as your voice drops to a whisper. “Suguru…”

“--I’m not finished, dammit. I love that I spend most of my days knowing I can come home to you. I get through my days knowing that you’re who I get to come home to and I fucked that up. I fucked that up royally and I get it, words are cheap and actions are louder. But goddammit, if it’ll take me until my dying breath to get a smile on that stupidly gorgeous face of yours, then I mean it when I say that I will do everything to make that happen.”

You’re rendered a speechless, blundering mess, face flushed a deep yet flattering shade of red for your complexion. Maybe you have taken this a few steps too far yourself, but all you wanted was to be seen and you suppose you are after all.

If you don’t know any better steam might be blowing out of your ears out of sheer embarrassment over how far you’ve blown this entire thing out of proportion. Now you’re the one feeling like a total ninny, certain your body is going to melt into a puddle of goop because there’s a part of you that can’t resist Suguru Geto like some shriveling school girl who keeps tripping over herself. 

Suguru calls your name again, gets your attention. Ugh you hate that his voice pulls you in even when you’re frustrated as fuck with him and with yourself. 

“S-sorry, that was just, um, a lot to take in at once,” you stutter, trying to compose yourself and find some kind of footing again in this conversation. Aren’t you supposed to be having a screaming match with each other? Instead he’s going on listing off all the things he loved about you which means yes while he has been negligent he still has paid attention to you. 

“Take your time,” Geto tells you, which makes your heart sink to your stomach this time. He’s always so goddamn patient with you, even when you don’t deserve his grace! “I’m not going anywhere. Not any time soon.”

He glides closer to you, cupping your face. You sniffle a little, feeling far more than just a little silly for everything that’s happened all because you let your feelings get the better of you. It’s human to err, but this is a royal fuck up on your part, too.

So you begin to apologize. 

“I–!” 

–yet he silences you with a tender kiss, which that action alone speaks for itself, speaks louder than any words he’s going to pull right out of his ass but you still feel like you need to address your own shortcomings… 

He pulls away for a moment, staring down into your eyes with that soft look he reserves only for you or Satoru. It’s maddening how easily he forgives you compared to how easily you forgive him. His thumbs stroke your cheeks and your mouth is suddenly void of moisture. 

No words left in you right then, either. So if you’re going to get onto him about not acting, you may as well follow up on your side of the argument. Grabbing a fistful of his fancy dress shirt (he’s not vain like Satoru), and pulling him in for another desperate kiss.

Soon you find your back hitting the edge of the sinks behind you, and Geto takes the liberty of hoisting you up by your bottom and helping you perch on there while he deepens the kiss, humming in approval. He doesn’t seem all that angry with you… but somehow you find that maddening because he should show more emotion sometimes!  He is always so… reserved and collected like nothing touches him when you know for a fact that isn’t true. He thinks he’s above feeling anything other than completely alright with the status quo which is another thing you have to address but one day at a time.

You find yourself swinging your legs while wrapping your arms around his neck, nipping onto his lips and playfully pulling on his bottom lip. He stares down at you with that trademark wolfish grin on him that makes him so unbelievably irresistible in that moment. You’re about to lean in for another kiss, but then the door swings open with Gojo holding a few plates of food and the background noise of some of the bar music seeming kind of distant where you are. 

“Did you two make up and fuck yet? Ohoho, I guess I checked in on you two right on time before someone else waltzed in here!” Gojo laughs, “Seriously guys, as brilliant as it is that you’ve made some progress here I don’t think it’s sanitary to fuck in a public restroom. We should save that for after we stuff our holes and then stuff someone’s gorgeous holes later.”

”Satoru!” Geto yells at him, exasperated and unimpressed. You can’t help but cackle, never mind how crass Gojo is (that’s basically ingrained in his DNA).

You sneak a kiss while Geto’s caught up in reprimanding Gojo on the corner of his lips, and Geto gasps while he glances at you, this time his face flushing a beautiful crimson and that’s not the only place that’s going to be red later if you have anything to say about it.

”We can talk more about this later,” you tell him, “This might not have been your greatest plan but thank you for reminding me of something important.”

”Oh? What’s that?”

”That you and Satoru really do see me,” you answer as your lips quirk into a small grin. Geto’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest, and he rests his hand over it to ground himself. 

“I never meant to make you feel anything less than.”

”Huh? Less than what?” you beckon, tilting your head.

“That’s it. Less than. Less than what you’re worth, which is everything.”

Ugh. 

“You’re going to make me lose all feelings in my legs,” you mutter, but you’re not angry, just frustrated because how can someone be so poetic without meaning to be? 

Geto grins wide, so wide it eerily resembles Gojo’s when he is scheming something.

”Not yet,” he promises.

You smack your head as you follow him out sometime after Gojo leaves. 

Oh no… now he even has a little skip to his step as he takes your hand in his, leading you toward one of the more spacious areas in the bar. Your roommates acknowledge you and one of them is pumping her fist, cheering for you, and you try not to read too much into it but you’re glad you have a good circle of folks around you. One of your roommates who has never felt any kind of way toward Geto does give him a bit of the stink eye but that’s only because she’s more on the protective side; she harbors similar feelings toward Gojo. The rest of the night moves faster than you can blink, and you exit the bar with your arms hooked around one of Gojo’s and one of Geto’s.

After your personal afterparty with the two of them, the three of you are tangled in Satoru’s bed together while you mindlessly scratch along Satoru’s scalp like a calming exercise. Whether he admits it out loud or not Geto is a thousand times clingier especially after sex with you than Gojo is so he has his head resting on your chest while playing around with your phone instead of his. All about that skin on skin contact even when all of your bodies are drenched in sweat… it is both disgusting and weirdly intimate all at once, but that’s the nature of sex itself, isn’t it? 

Gojo eventually into the cuddle fest confesses to Geto that the two of you never did anything together after you broke up with him and it was all just a charade to get him to act, to which he says he doesn’t mind, because he deserved it. And yes, indeed he deserved every bit of that and then some because you put him through way more than just fooling around with just Satoru. 

“I still didn’t like the idea of you humoring any of Sukuna’s texts to you,” Geto scoffs as he scrolls through your text thread with the aforementioned acquaintance. “This guy ought to get buried six feet under for how he’s talking to you like you’re just a fresh piece of meat.”

”You make him sound cannibalistic,” you remark with a teasing grin. Geto shakes his head as he hones in on a particular text, making him grimace.

He presents you with your phone screen. “What the hell? ‘Would love to see you on all fours, gorgeous thing’? Is this grown ass man for real? Is that supposed to be flattering?”

”Sounds like borderline harassment to me,” Gojo comments while chewing on some licorice. He offers you one and you decline. Geto takes a small bite off of his piece, but makes a face at the taste. Not a fan of sweets as a whole but he still tries whatever Gojo shoves down his throat (especially his dick). 

You curl your lips in disgust again. How can anyone like black licorice? Apparently Satoru… who otherwise has the palate of a five year old. 

“Fuck, yes it does. Should we pay him a visit?” Geto suggests and Gojo nods eagerly, making you bury your face into your palms. These two… 

“We’re just saying—you don’t deserve to be objectified. You said so yourself you’re not a fan of it,” Geto brings up, and you sigh, relaxing your shoulders. 

So he really does see you, huh? Shaking your head to yourself, you find yourself snorting at your own foolishness. Silly. So damn silly you are. For someone who makes a big deal about ensuring there is ample communication between the three of you, you sure feel like a bit of a hypocrite right now. But again, it’s not like you haven’t tried to talk things out with Suguru far before all of this began. 

Speaking of which… 

You plant a swift kiss on his cheek, and his bewildered indigo eyes meet yours. You smile a little. There’s still plenty of time to discuss the elephant in the room, but not when they’re all appreciating each other’s afterglow. Suguru traces a finger along your collarbone, leaving a reverent trail of kisses after. 

“Man I didn’t expect to be third wheeling in my own relationship,” Gojo interjects with an exaggerated frown on his face. You laugh before planting a kiss to his lips, which instantly makes that frown disappear. No one likes to see such a ball of sunshine (and insufferableness) upset too long. Time to make that frown upside down! (Ah it seems he is rubbing off on you too…) 

While you’re attending to Satoru’s neediness, kissing down his neck and making him purr like a content kitten, Suguru continues to trail kisses along your cleavage before trailing to your back, kissing down your spine, hiking your leg up— 

“—if you try anything, I’m going to kick you in that stupid pretty face of yours,” you warn, “I don’t think I have another orgasm in me.”

”If you would be so kind as to let me challenge that theory…” he murmurs, face inching closer to your intimates.

”Suguru,” you chide again, “Not now.”

”Fiiiine,” he pouts, behaving as indignant as Satoru would be when he’s denied his favorite sweet. 

He still doesn’t stop himself from kissing along your thighs and just in general continuing other ways of spoiling you to death, which in that case, who are you to deny him something like that? 

Satoru lets out a little yawn that surprises even him as he tries to snuggle you a little closer into him and you nuzzle your face into his strong pecs. He may be skinny and lanky like Geto but his build is still sturdy. You draw circles around his unoccupied pec and he responds with a dreamy sigh. As messy as things can get with the three of you—a lot of it’s your fault this time—you can honestly say with your full chest that it’s in these moments where all of those other trying times make it all worth it. You don’t want things to go south with any of you so as long as they try to remember not to take each other for granted, then this could be all you need in your life. This is worth settling down for—these two gloriously hopeless men who you have fallen helplessly in love with yourself. 

“Baby?” you hear Satoru sleepily murmur as he decides it’s time to retire to sleep finally… you glance at your phone screen to see it’s just over a quarter after 3AM and you know at least for yourself you have a pile of work to attend to tomorrow. That can be tomorrow’s issue, along with still talking things out… 

“Hm?” you acknowledge him as both you and Geto join him. 

“You’re going to stick with us forever, right?” he prompts, glancing at you with hope in his eyes like some impressionistic child. 

“What are you, five? You do forget how finite our lives are, don’t you?” Geto interjects with a judgy look. You huff at his remark, which while true and another inevitability about their lives, he should still be a little more sensitive about Gojo’s feelings as well.

”Humor him, Suguru,” you chide with a playful whack on his shoulder blade, making him grunt in response. “Of course, Satoru. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncertain.”

”I know,” he remarks, before glancing at Suguru. “Er, we know.”

You chuckle at their antics, as Geto and Gojo simultaneously cage an arm around you and keep you snug in between them like nearly every night spent together. Just the three of them. The three of you work as a unit; you can’t believe you’re about to let all of that go just because you didn’t communicate your needs effectively enough. You have learned your mistake; you only hope Geto has learned his. There’s more to discuss when your mind isn’t about to drift off into blissful unconsciousness with the two men you love completely and wholly and hopelessly. 

Both Gojo and Geto plant a kiss on your cheeks, and you stifle a laugh. Oh, how silly you are,  how silly, indeed. 

“You better not break up with me again,” Geto warns but you pick up on the playful undertone. You roll your eyes, before exchanging a look with Gojo.

“Way to ruin a moment, Suguru,” Gojo scolds, shooting him a look. “And that’s usually my role! We were just getting all cozy and stuff and you had to go and make some empty threat.”

“It’s almost like that was the idea,” Geto counters with a smirk. 

“Just go to fucking sleep you two,” you groan as you flutter your eyes shut. “If I hear one more word come out of either of your mouths I’m washing them out with soap tomorrow morning.”

“Jesus,” Gojo breathes, his breath fanning your forehead a bit. “Whatever you say, Princess. We’re just glad you’re not leaving us for real any time soon.”

“Damn right she isn’t or we’re going to have serious issues,” Geto grumbles. You fall asleep to a bit more of them arguing as per tradition at this point, but it’s all white noise to you now.

It’s something to remind yourself to be grateful about having in your life.

[crushpunky]

social media!reader and joe’s first “lesson”

masterlist

Joe hated social media. I mean, he liked posting about things he liked and seeing what his friends and people he followed posted, but that was about it. He didn’t like reading comments or answering dms or god forbid doing some stupid Tik-Tok trend. It all just felt so pointless.

Well, unfortunately, his team disagreed.

“You need to… really improve your social media.” Joe’s manager told him with a sigh as she scrolled through his latest Instagram posts and stories.

“What are you talking about? I am great at… social medias.” Joe scoffed, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Joe’s manager stopped her scrolling before looking up at Joe with a quirked brow.

“Joe, this is an actual picture that you posted yesterday on your story,” Joe’s manager sighed as she turned her phone to show Joe his picture. It was a picture of him and one of his high school friends out at a bar, though based on the blurriness of the photo as well as the fact that half of Joe’s face was cropped out, it would be quite difficult to discern that.

“That’s a great photo.” Joe said simply.

“You misspelled your friend’s username and just tagged some random account.” Joe’s manager sighed. “And how did you add a .5 second snippet of a song from the Lion King? I didn’t even know that that was possible.”

“Alright, alright! Fine.” Joe groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, we have two options: either we can have someone take control of your accounts—” Joe’s manager started.

“No. Absolutely not.” Joe said. “That’s for like… famous people. I don’t want that shit. I can handle myself.”

“Joseph, whether you like it or not, you are famous. You are a famous figure. This stuff matters.” Joe’s manager said. Joe propped his elbows up onto the table before dropping his head into his hands with an exaggerated sigh.

“What’s the second option?” Joe mumbled into his hands.

“You can work with a social media assistant who can help you to curate your online presence.” Joe’s manager explained as she tapped through her phone. “She’ll show you how to use each of the platforms, how to keep an organized online space, and keep you up to date on the trends.”

“So, this is like a person’s job?” Joe asked, peeking up from his hands. “Helping clueless people figure out how to use the internet?”

“Yes,” Joe’s manager smirked, “and she’s quite good at it, see?”

Joe’s manager turned her phone around once more to show Joe an Instagram feed. Each of the columns and rows were well organized, fresh and authentic, yet classic and sophisticated. However, while Joe’s manager might have been expecting him to look at the well maintained account, Joe found his eyes locked squarely on the girl behind the page: y/n.

“So, uh, this is her?” Joe stammered, reaching out to scroll through his manager’s phone. As he scrolled and scrolled, more photos of her filled the screen. Pictures of her and her friends, her on vacation on a beach, her sitting in a bookstore, her lounging by the pool—

“We’re going with option two then?” Joe’s manager said with a small giggle as she pulled her phone back, Joe blinking harshly as he returned back to the present.

“Uh, yeah, option two is good.” Joe said, swallowing harshly as he nodded.

“Alrighty then,” Joe’s manager smirked, “we’ll get started on Friday.”

Joe sat in the cafe, anxiously drumming his fingers against the table. It was a lowkey spot about an hour outside of Cincinnati, far enough away to keep their meeting away from the prying eyes of the public but still close enough to give Joe some amount of comfort knowing he wasn’t too far from home. Surprisingly, Joe’s manager had been the one to suggest the two of them meet here. Something about y/n being a “chill girl” and “the two of them should get to know each other outside of the confines of an office”. He had a suspicion she had noticed his reaction to her profile and decided to stir the pot known as Joe’s romantic life… not that he was complaining, though, it had been a while.

Suddenly, the front door to the cafe swung open. The bell chimed throughout the space as a girl walked in, her eyes warm as she scanned around the cafe before finally landing on Joe. Joe smiled gently, standing from his seat as y/n approached the table.

“Hi, you must be Joe.” Y/n grinned, offering her hand out. Joe took it, his much larger hand enveloping hers as he shook her hand. His brain paused, continuing to shake her hand as he noticed the softness of her hands gentle against the calluses that marred his palms. Once he noticed, he quickly stopped, causing y/n to giggle, her laughter almost melodic.

“Sorry, yes I am Joe.” Joe chuckled, clearing his throat before he sunk back into his chair. “You must be y/n.”

“That I am.” Y/n said as she sat across from him, resting her forearms on the tabletop. She fiddled with the various rings adorning her fingers as she continued to look at him, a gentle smile on her lips. The light shined through the windows of the cafe, casting the girl in front of him in a beautiful, golden glow.

“So, uh, do you— would you like something to drink?” Joe asked, running a hand through his hair. As his fingers combed through his locks, a single curl fell perfectly on his forehead.

“Uh, sure. That would be great.” Y/n said sweetly.

“Whatever you want, it’s on me.” Joe said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“An iced matcha with oat milk would be nice. Thank you.” Y/n smiled, twisting one of her rings around her finger.

“Ok, yeah. I’ll be right back.” Joe cleared his throat before heading over to the counter. As he went up to order, y/n began preparing her “lesson” for Joe, opening up her Instagrams, the cute presentation she’d thrown together, even a little printout she specifically made for Joe. Y/n put together the final touches of her set up, setting out a bright orange pen for Joe (he probably liked orange, right?), just as Joe returned to the table.

“Is this supposed to be green?” Joe asked, peeking at y/n’s drink in the sunlight. In his other hand he held his own drink: a plain, black coffee. A boring but foolproof classic.

“Yes, it looks perfect!” Y/n smiled, taking the drink from him. “Thank you, Joe.”

“Yeah, n– no problem.” Joe stammered, his heart skipping a beat the moment his name left her lips so sweetly. Y/n took a sip, humming to herself as she savored it.

“This is really good, you killed it on the ordering.” Y/n teased. Joe chuckled a bit to himself, swirling his coffee cup on the tabletop.

“Dang, maybe I should’ve got that instead.” Joe said as he took a sip of coffee, the bitter liquid sliding down his throat.

“You can try some, if you’d like.” Y/n said, sliding the cup across the table towards Joe. His eyes flicked down to the green drink in front of him before looking back up at the smile on y/n’s face. Joe reached out hesitantly, lifting the cup to his lips. He took a small sip, the grassy drink causing his brow to furrow as he swallowed.

“Do you like it?” Y/n asked, blinking at Joe as he smacked his lips slightly. He sat the drink back down, mulling over the taste.

“It’s… interesting.” Joe shrugged simply. “Don’t think I’ve had anything like that before.”

“Wow, you’re already learning so much.” Y/n teased as she took a sip of her drink. Joe chuckled, leaning against the table as he scanned over the various materials y/n had spread out across the tabletop.

“Well, I did come here to learn.” Joe said, his fingers reaching for the orange pen. He spun the pen between his fingers as y/n spun her computer around to show him the presentation she’d made for today. It was a cutesy pink background with various photos and stickers, even a few football and tiger ones she’d added for Joe.

“And I came here to teach.” Y/n said, clearing her throat dramatically as she slid one of the printouts towards Joe. As she launched into her “lesson”, Joe tried his best to follow along, but he kept finding himself getting distracted by the excitement that arose on her face as she spoke enthusiastically about posts queues or story formats. His eyes lingered on the way she fiddled with the necklace that rested atop her collarbones, his stomach feeling the slight buzz of butterflies over the almost childlike wonder he found himself entrapped in.

Before he knew it, y/n was closing her laptop before turning to him with a warm smile on her face.

“So, do you have any questions?” She said sweetly, Joe blinking blankly back at her.

��Oh, uh, I don’t think so.” Joe stammered, fiddling with the orange pen between his fingers.

“Do you maybe want to practice?” Y/n said.

“Practice?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, show me how you’d… post an Instagram story.” Y/n smiled, gesturing to Joe’s phone that sat on the table between them. Joe’s eyebrows raised, nodding to himself as he picked up his phone. He opened the Instagram app, fumbling a bit through the screens until he got to the Story tab.

“Just… take a picture?” Joe asked, to which y/n nodded excitedly. With a deep breath, Joe lifted his phone. He focused the camera on y/n, the bright light filtering in through the windows and highlighting her face beautifully.

“Oh, you don’t have to take a picture of me—” y/n started, but Joe already pressed the “capture” button. His flash went off, nearly blinding y/n because of the already very bright room. Y/n blinked quickly, her eyes adjusting back to the light.

“Sorry, I didn’t— I don’t know what happened.” Joe swallowed as he looked down at his phone. The photo was entirely blurry, Joe’s shaky hands combined with the fact that y/n was in the middle of talking, making it almost entirely impossible to make out what was happening. It also didn’t help that his finger was blocking half the photo or that the flash made it way too bright.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Y/n said, peering at Joe’s phone as he frowned down at the photo in his hands. Joe sighed, running a hand down his face with a groan.

“How about we try again and I’ll walk you through it.” Y/n said, nodding gently to Joe.

“Yeah, ok. That’s a good idea.” Joe nodded, closing out the photo and returning back to the camera.

“So, first let’s turn off your flash.” Y/n said, tapping a fingernail on the top of Joe’s phone. His fingers hovered over the top of the screen, searching for the flash, a confused look on his face.

“I… I don’t— where is that?” Joe asked, looking up at y/n hesitantly. Y/n stood from her seat, rounding the table to stand next to Joe. Her shoulder brushed against his, the soft floral scent of her perfume immediately filling Joe’s lungs in a way that made it difficult to focus as she tapped away on his phone.

“Got it?” She said, turning to him, Joe’s eyes already focused on the profile of her face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” Joe nodded, his eyes flicking to her lips before his attention returned to the camera in front of him. His fingers rested slightly above the phone screen in his hand.

“So… you wanna take a picture?” Y/n whispered with a slight giggle.

“Yeah, sorry.” Joe murmured as he focused his camera on the table in front of them. He zoomed in, pushing his coffee cup forward to sit next to y/n’s matcha, adjusting his posture once more before finally snapping the photo.

“Oh my god, you did it!” Y/n said, bumping her shoulder against Joe’s as she let out an excited squeal.

“I did it,” Joe said simply, grinning slightly to himself. “Now what do I do?”

“Well usually you would press the post button, but—” y/n said as she pointed to the button in the corner, but before she could finish Joe pressed the button. The photo closed, loading quickly as it was posted to his story.

“But we don’t need to do that…” y/n finished, blinking at Joe’s phone as he tapped onto the posted story. He swiped up, showing that already within seconds the story had garnered hundreds of views. Joe groaned, putting his phone face down on the table as he rested his face in his hands.

“It’s fine, it’s ok!” Y/n said earnestly, placing a hand on Joe’s back. “We can delete it… I mean people have already seen it, but it’s not that big of a deal. We just know for next time, right?”

“I’m helpless.” Joe sighed as he lifted his head from his hands. Y/n let out a small chuckle as she returned back to her seat opposite him.

“Hey,” y/n said, reaching a hand across the table to rest on Joe’s forearm gently, “you’re still learning. You’ll get there, I promise.”

Joe felt goosebumps spread across his skin under y/n’s touch as he moved to meet y/n’s comforting gaze.

“Thanks. Thanks for doing all this.” Joe said, gesturing to the materials spread across the tabletop.

“No problem, it’s seriously my pleasure.” Y/n grinned, retracting her hand to rest in front of her.

“So… same time next week?” Joe said, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

“Same time next week.” Y/n smiled, her sweet grin causing his heart to skip a beat once more.

[specialshinytrinkets]

Chat, I think either school or something else has Affected My Brain. Badly

But hey, at least I'm not nervous about university or whatever. Who gives a shit. I've submitted all the documents and wrote a review-essay as a ✨️creative✨️ task for Journalism faculty. I think I'll do great

...

I'm still fucked up though and I don't know what it is

Last exam done today, now it's time to wait for the results

*drawing of a werewolf ripping apart his shirt while transforming*

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.  

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 2

[Link to Part 1]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this.

Character Creation

It is the best CC BioWare has ever made in a game [source]

The faction we choose will determine who we as protagonist Rook were before they were recruited to put a stop to Solas [source]

Certain conversation options are only available to Rooks of certain factions. For example, Grey Wardens get conversation options that are focused on the Blight, as they know more about it from other people. It also impacts how people talk to Rook (reactivity from characters and then faction reactivity from plots relating to that faction) [source]

Faction choice affects a lot of things [source]

There aren't unique missions (I think this means like the playable Origins in DA:O), but faction choice does set the course for Rook for the rest of the game [source]

"body customization and morphing. From more muscular characters, to curvier builds, and just about any shape you want to give your character, there are all sorts of toggles to adjust so you can give them any figure you want". "There's even features that let you choose proportions, so you can alter their height, give them wider shoulders, and much more" [source]

There are makeup options [source]

There are tattoo options [source]

The hair uses a "Strand system" to "make them behave and move in a believable way for the different races" [source]. (Fel note/speculation: I think "race" here refers to irl, as opposed to like human vs qunari or something, as the language they are using for human/elf/dwarf/qunari is "Lineage")

There are 4 voices to choose from for Rook: two feminine and tow masculine (one American, one British for each) [source]

In CC, 'Lineage' is the game's parlance for race i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari [source]

We can pick Rook's name, but the dialogue calls them 'Rook' [source]

In CC we can "make a few key decisions that will impact how The Veilguard begins" [source]

"I really do think its our most feature-ful character creator ever." [source]

Story and lore

In the opening segment of the game (see more on the story's opening moments here), we're too late and Solas' ritual worsens, so Rook and the companions go to stop him. When travelling to the next location (Arlathan Forest) in the chase after Solas, the characters travel through an eluvian [source]. The Forest is where his ritual is taking place. Varric then asks the player if he should confront Solas, and players then work to take down the surrounding statues in order to stop the ritual. "I won’t spoil what happens next, but I’ll just say the player and Veilguard have a tall task ahead of them if they want to save Thedas." [source]

Four of the 6 faction options for Rook (Mourn Watch, Lords of Fortune, Veil Jumpers, Shadow Dragons) are "rooted in northern Thedas" [source]

Certain conversation options are only available to Rooks of certain factions. For example, Grey Wardens get conversation options that are focused on the Blight, as they know more about it from other people. It also impacts how people talk to Rook (reactivity from characters and then faction reactivity from plots relating to that faction) [source]

There aren't unique missions (I think this means like the playable Origins in DA:O), but faction choice does set the course for Rook for the rest of the game [source]

A line of dialogue Dorian had at the Winter Palace in DA:I about what Tevinter is like informed the devs' approach to bringing to life the setting of Tevinter: ""There's a line in Dragon Age Inquisition that we always like to call back to," Epler says. "Dorian goes to the Winter Palace, which, up to that point, is probably the most impressive thing you've seen [as the Inquisitor], and [he] says something like, 'Oh, this is cute.' And we had to ask, what does it look like? What is Tevinter if Dorian sees that [the Winter Palace] and thinks that?"" [source]

The fact that Minrathous used to be the land of the elves was factored into the location's design. John Epler: "You can see the architecture has changed. It's become a lot more elven focused. And something that we've kind of hinted at, but we've never really shown explicitly, is the idea that Tevinter is built on the bones of the ancient elven empire. Tevinter itself, Minrathous itself, all the magic you see, that's just a pale imitation of what the elves are capable of. So you'll start to see as you get deeper into the game, the elves, for example, worked Lyrium into their building materials. Tevinter can't quite figure out how to do that. So instead, you'll see more gold and gems, kind of imitating it, but not ever quite approaching what the elves are able to do, and really creating that continuity of the space. Obviously, Solas isn't too thrilled that this world is the way it is, because he lived in a time of miracles and magic, and even the most magical place in Thedas isn't magic like the elven people used to be able to do" [source]

At the end of the opening portion of the game there is a "jaw-dropping title card cliffhanger" [source]

On the opening sequence: ""One of the things we wanted to do with this game is make the prolog feel like the final mission of a different game," John Epler says. "We really needed to get the stakes, the spectacle, right off the bat. Obviously, players who had been waiting to confront Solas have been waiting for just this moment."" [source]

Each companion has their own storyline that runs parallel to the main story [source]

You cannot succeed without the companions. Each of them has a reason why they need to be part of your party, why they need to help you stop the end of the world [source]

All 7 companions are recruited in the game's first act [source]

The firey demon looking guys shown near the start of the Gameplay Reveal are Rage Demons. Demons in general got a revamp in this game "to more closely align their look", this can be seen with the shades and the Pride demons as well. "they’re creatures of emotion so they have a spectral nervous system look" [source]

The Pride demon the group fight at the Solas face-off in the Gameplay Reveal video "was more a direct tie to Solas than anything else, but it didn't escape us how much it echoed the beginning of DA:I". they wanted to show the stakes and the scale of Solas' power [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Harding was one of the earliest characters that the devs wanted to bring into DA4, because she was such a fan favorite. She is this game's 'traditional returning' character [source]

Each character's romance flavor or style is different. They don't want every character for the romance to feel the same. They want everyone to have their own flavor that's appropriate to them as a character [source] [two]

"We found as we were building a story, more than ever before, it's a story about the people around you; a story about building this team, and working with them." [source]

Each companion has their own storyline that runs parallel to the main story [source]

You cannot succeed without the companions. Each of them has a reason why they need to be part of your party, why they need to help you stop the end of the world [source]

All companions are pansexual (specifically pansexual, not playersexual) [source]

Their pansexuality may come through in what we learn about their backstories [source]

No companion romance is race-locked [source]

Companions reference their past experiences or partners, and they reference who they'll become romantic with. [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may find a different partner for themselves. This could be within the companion roster itself or outside of it in the broader world. [source] For example, if the player does not romance Harding, she may get together with Taash [source]

The game is rated M [source]

The game contains nudity [source]

We can start flirting with the companions pretty early [source]

All 7 companions are recruited in the game's first act [source]

It is not until later parts of the game that you really commit to romance and things get pretty spicy [source]

The nudity, spicy things etc is more towards the end of the game [source]

The devs want the companions to be relatable and fully realized. So things get spicy, but in a more relatable way for people than e.g. some of the more shocking and comical scenes of this nature in Baldur's Gate 3 [source]

How sexually explicit the scenes are varies between characters. Some are more spicy than others. They have diverse personalities like in real life. "Some of them are more physical, more aggressive, and some of them are more... we have a gentleman necromancer [Emmrich], for instance, that is more intimate and sensual." [source] "some characters may be a little more steamy while some characters maybe a little bit more innocent" [source]

The romance and relationship system is more fleshed out than in previous BioWare games. A character's romance will be better woven into their personal story arc and into their involvement in the core questline of the game [source]

"BioWare has also worked to ensure that getting to know your characters as friends feels just as satisfying - and that just because you're not banging your buddy, their (platonic) relationship with you will still continue." ""One of the things we tried to do with The Veilguard is it's not just romantic relationship building," Epler continued. "You need to get to know a person before you can really build that kind of relationship with them, and if you choose not to build a [romantic] relationship, we never want to feel like you're being cut off. There's no 'okay, well, their arc isn't progressing, I'm done'." We want to make sure the non-romantic relationships are deep as well, with friendships not just for companions and yourself, but also between companions across the party."" [source]

GDL reprises his role as Solas [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

The game has a photo mode [source]

Combat is fast-paced [source]

If you pause the game using the ability wheel you can scan enemies to learn more information about them [source]

Each of the 3 main classes is distinguished by how it generates and spends energy for abilities [source]

Each of the 3 subclasses for each 3 main class promise to offer some meaningful distinctions from each other [source]

for this, rogues have momentum. You build momentum by attacking, by dodging, by parrying, and you lose it by being hit, so there's really a focus with rogues on avoiding damage, avoiding attacks. They build momentum quickly, but they lose it quickly. Warriors have rage, which they build a little bit more slowly, but they don't lose [source]

Attacks can be cancelled [source]

Regarding enemy weaknesses, some of these are elemental. In other cases their defenses are more vulnerable to specific types of abilities [source]

Combat seems to be a matter of managing our abilities as best we can to whittle down enemy defenses and take advantage of their weaknesses [source]

Over the course of the game we get access to three abilities per companion as well as an additional two abilities we can slot, and an additional ability that coms off of items that the devs will not talk about for now [source]

Fully offline single player, no EA account linking, no micro-transactions [source]

The game uses advanced rendering tech in Frostbite, nice subsurface scattering, high quality meshes, while having a striking pseudo-painterly look [source]

There are blood spatters in the game [source]

Production values on the game have gone through the roof. It looks like a big improvement on what came before [source]

On the music: "lots of foreboding tunes mixed with epic flair" [source]

Good voice acting, great facial animations, good hair tech, busy-looking environments and worlds [source]

It's not open world. "There are open areas you can explore around in, but it's mostly structured/mission based, sort of like Mass Effect." [source]

There are difficulty options [source]

They will talk about PC spec stuff at a later time [source]

There is probably an option to see damage numbers [source]

There are many reasons why the game is M-rated [source]

There are lots of abilities, with 3 swapped in on the wheel at any one time [source]

There are a bunch of accessibility options and they will talk about these soon [source]

The ability wheel gives you flexibility to enhance your playstyle. If you don't want to use it at all, you don't have to and that's no issue as shortcuts are available [source]

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