#I really want to find my old works that I made when I was like thirteen so I can read them again
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redflagshipwriter · 3 days ago
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Hot Ghouls In Your Area 16
Masterpost
Danny snarfed down everything that Jason pushed over to his side of the table with an out of body awareness that his desperation was bizarre. Yeah, he had said he had a big appetite but this was something else. It was frantic and unprecedented.
It was genuinely shocking! Yeah, he was hungry and had low energy most of the time, but the way he was tearing through multiple meals was ringing distant alarm bells in the back of his head. He couldn’t pay attention to the alerts now, though, not when the food kept coming. He ate and ate and the desperation to keep eating grew and grew as his body realized that it was getting unlimited food until one moment it suddenly stopped.
He felt relieved.
Danny put down his fork. He blinked and took a minute to take stock of how he felt. His stomach ought to be uncomfortably, visibly full but that wasn’t the case. He just felt like a distant panic had finally been quashed. Had he felt this good in a while? Come to think of it, he had been frantic and wan for months.
‘...I have not been meeting some kind of nutritional need,’ Danny realized. He gave Jason a sheepish look, hoping that his date/ hostage wasn’t too grossed out. If anything, Jason seemed amused. That was fine… Weird, but fine. “I think I haven’t been meeting a nutritional need,” he said. The man who was paying for this probably deserved some honesty. Danny scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I kind of acted like a wolverine there for a bit…”
Jason had both elbows on the table and his hands bracing his jaw. “I’m not broke just yet,” he said casually. “Want dessert?” It was impossible to really see his eyes, but there was still something warm and fond about the way he was staring across the table.
Danny giggled self consciously. “Ah, it’s alright…” he looked at the piled plates, embarrassed.
It was out of character. It was not how he had been back in Amity Park.
‘Jazz has been really hungry too since we left home,’ Danny remembered. ‘Is there… did we grow up getting calories from ectoplasm or something?’
The realization made him feel a bit foolish. Ectoplasm was energy and he had grown up breathing it in. It made a lot of sense that he had been supplementing his diet with it.
‘Jazz is going to lose her nut when I tell her this. That explains why she nearly ate my fingers last week when I handed her a sandwich too slowly.’
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Danny nodded absently and explained his theory, minus the personal information. “I think my old environment was giving me a lot of ambient fuel, and I didn’t realize I needed more when I moved here,” he explained.
“You moved to Gotham in general?” Japan said casually. He didn’t even seem interested in the topic but it sent a cold sweat down his back. “Here for the long term?”
‘I need to deflect. That’s too close to personal information.’
“You know how it is,” Danny lied, hoping that Jason very much did not know how it is. “You have to stay close to your haunt. But a haunt can be…” he trailed off, trying to think of an explanation that wasn’t the truth: he was attached to people, not places.
‘Would that even be too identifying? I’m not sure that it is. He has my name. If he looked he’d find my parents, and that connects to me. Maybe I should let him think that I’m haunting Danny Fenton.’
“Can a haunt be a person?” Jason said. Oh fuck, that was scary. Was he a mind reader or just smart?
Danny laughed nervously and picked up his drink. He took a very large sip and didn’t respond.
“I’m going to put my cards on the table,” Jason said. “I looked you up.” He rolled his head to the side, neck cracking audibly.
Danny felt his face tinge green.
Jason laughed. “Nothing bad,” he said, but I’ve found that there’s a couple of scientists out there who are, uh, big fans of your work.” His eyebrows went up meaningfully.
As neutral as he tried to be, it was impossible not to hear a bit of irony in the understatement. Mom and Dad had lost their crackers when they’d found out he was Phantom. He almost wished they still believed that ghosts were evil. It would be less embarrassing than the parade float they had made for the Fourth of July in Amity Park. It was just his disembodied head on wheels… Dash had ridden on it next to Tucker. Paulina had taken selfies kissing his cheek. It was the darkest day of his undeath so far.
He hid his face in his hands and thought longingly about a true, final death. “Ahuh,” Danny managed to scrape out.
“Yup. And they’ve had two relatives move to Gotham in the past year.” He had the sense that Jason was raising a pointed eyebrow even though Danny was desperately avoiding eye contact. “You’re haunting the Fenton kids, aren’t you?”
‘Technically, I’ve haunted Tiffany most recently.’
Danny didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to incriminate himself. Was it a crime to haunt people? Jason didn’t look like a narc but you never knew for sure.
“Both of them have lost weight since moving to Gotham,” Jason said casually.
Why did he know that? That wasn’t posted anywhere!
“That’s creepy!” Danny burst out.
“Yeah, well, sorry about that,” said Jason, sounding zero percent sorry. “All three of you could turn sideways and fit through the security bars at the Gotham State Bank, though, so I think it’s a fair observation.”
Danny peeled his hands away from his face long enough to glare.
Jason was totally unbothered. In fact he smiled faintly as he twisted the knife. “Itty bitty. Petite. Skinny and mini.” He took one hand off his face to use his thumb and forefinger to indicate something tiny. “Snack sized. Could fit on my palm.”
“Jazz is six feet and nearly an inch tall,” Danny argued hotly. He barely noticed slamming both hands on the table. “I’ll get taller too! I’m just a young ghost!”
Jason hummed. “I think you won’t get taller unless Danny Fenton gets taller," he said with brutal ambivalence.
Danny was shocked silent.
‘How does he know that? Does he know we are the same? I don’t think so, but it’s too close.’
Danny stared. He realized that he had said way too much. He shut his mouth and he kept it shut, afraid that he would make this even worse.
“Are you an adult?” His tone was perfectly even but Danny had the sense that Jason cared a whole lot about that answer. What? Why? Danny thought it through—
‘Oh. Yeah, of course, we are… married but worse. It would be way too freaky if I was a child.’
Danny pried his mouth open to admit, “I’m considered a young adult. Comparable to 19 or so in a human.”
The relief washing over Jason was faint but unmistakable.
Well, he was glad he had read that correctly, at least. Danny let out a sigh and leaned back. “This is awful,” he complained. “We don’t need to do this.” He gestured between the two of them. “I don’t want to be investigated. I don’t want the pieces of my undeath to get too complicated.” He pushed himself up from the table. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else about separation. So far there’s two ideas and they’re both awful. The first is-” Danny cut himself off with an unfunny laugh. “How high are the odds that you will never die?” He asked sardonically.
Jason snorted and then covered his mouth in shock. He cleared his throat. His voice was a little lower than usual and shook just a little with either laughter or grief when he said, “The odds are not great.”
Danny sighed too hard and blew cold air with particles of ice across the table by accident. “Fabulous, that’s what I thought. So, banishing you from the Infinite Realms seems like a bad idea then, it would be, uh, very bad to be banished from there if you die.” He hedged around it guiltily. He coughed.
Jason got a line between his eyebrows and slightly pinched lips. “Noted,” he said. “The other option?”
Danny hesitated. He twisted his hands together in an unconscious tell of his nerves. “So we aren’t literally married now, right?” He said. He swallowed hard at Jason’s slow nod. “Because there’s a power dynamic issue. My advisor says that we can’t dissolve this without harm to you, but a real marriage could be dissolved. So in order to break our association, we could, theoretically-“
“Get married for real.” Jason leaned back. “Huh.” He blinked a few times as he processed that. “And then divorce.”
‘Don’t get mad at me. Please don’t get mad at me.’
Danny bobbed miserably in the air and pulled his knees up to his chest.
“Does it have to be a specific ceremony? Would any type of union qualify? Could we just sign papers at city hall?”
“…That’s not the reaction I expected,” Danny admitted. He eyed Jason dubiously. “I thought you’d be concerned that an undead entity was trying to trick you into worsening your connection to the afterlife.”
Jason outright laughed.
Danny felt his mouth pop open in indignation.
“No offense,” Jason said, wounding his pride terribly, “but it’s fairly obvious that you aren’t an evil mastermind. You’re not even doing a good ghost job. Why are you haunting two broke college kids? Of course they’re wasting away into thin air, they eat 400calories of ramen daily.”
He sputtered with outrage. He wasn’t that bad!
Jason pressed on mercilessly. “I think that they’re both too damn broke to eat enough to support you, and you’re not holding up your end of the bargain via eating enough ghost sandwiches or whatever it is.” He waved a hand carelessly. “All three of you are going to waste away.”
“I am highly offended,” Danny said. “I don’t have to listen to this—”
“I’ll feed you,” Jason said.
Danny abruptly sat back down. “I am listening.”
“Let’s have dinner again and talk about what progress you’ve made.” Jason flashed white teeth at him in a smile. He had a chipped tooth, Danny realized. It was awfully cute. He ran his tongue over his own fangs thoughtlessly. “What do you say?”
‘I think you aren’t going to defeat me and make me reliant on you,’ Danny thought. ‘If I won’t take Vlad’s strings-attached-money, I won’t take yours either.’ He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know that it’ll do any good,” he said, really playing it up. “And I’m soooo busy.” He sniffed and shook his head. “Ah well, there’s nothing to be done, let’s keep in touch, talk to you next week or something I’m sure—“
“I can just feed you. Do you want cash? A credit card?” Jason seemed ready to slide one across the table.
Danny scrunched his face up in disgust at the concept of charity. “I don’t think so,” he said flatly.
Jason paused. His eyebrows pulled down slightly as he looked at Danny with an uncomfortable level of focus. “If you won’t accept it for yourself, accept it for the Fentons,” he said. He shook his head ever so slightly. “Jazz Fenton might fall through a grate at work and get hurt if she loses any more weight.”
Danny stared at him. He was conflicted. On the one hand Danny Fenton was also him, a guy who did not want charity. He pressed his fingers against his lips to think.
‘But I’d let a man buy groceries for Jazz. Also, he doesn’t know I’m Fenton. Would it be suspicious to turn that down? If nothing else I think I’d look like an asshole for insisting that no one help them when he thinks they’re hungry because of me.’
“I don't know,” Danny said slowly. He really didn’t! Did he have to accept help? Was it okay to get help? “I don’t wanna take all of your money,” he hedged.
“Oh no, whatever will I do, surely I can’t afford to send a couple hundred dollars of chicken nuggets to apartment 302,” Jason said sarcastically. He pulled out a phone and started doing something to avoid eye contact. “I’m only a working adult with a solid income and healthy bank accounts. Doubling my grocery budget might hurt me materially.”
Danny froze. “That’s a lot of chicken nuggets.”
Jason tilted his phone over to show a grocery cart full of temptations both frozen and in preserved cake form. “Would Fenton like these?”
Danny sat back down on the same side as Jason and scooted over close to see what was available for delivery. His mouth watered with greed. “Yes, and Jazz would really like the frozen croissants. Oh! Is that pasta you just microwave?”
“Adding it,” Jason said under his breath. “Will Jazz come to Danny’s place to get some groceries or should I do a second order?”
Danny scooted up close enough that his leg touched Jason’s. The heat of a living person radiated through their clothes to warm his thigh and his next breath let in a clean, warm scent. “Send it to Jazz’s place, I can help transport stuff to Crime Alley,” Danny said, nibbling on a nail. “She has a bigger freezer.”
“Got it.” Jason erased Danny’s address and typed in Jazz’s.
Danny never once, for a millisecond, wondered why Jason had that information memorized. He was too busy wondering what it was that made Jason smell so good. He sniffed as subtly as he could.
‘This guy is enormous. He must use a bar of soap daily to clean all of him. Jeeze, he’s gotta have four times my muscle mass. I don’t know if I’m self conscious or into it.’
Danny stole a glance at Jason’s neck in profile, transfixed by the subtle interplay of muscles as Jason talked. There was not a chance in hell that Danny could get his hands around that neck. He unconsciously lifted a hand to his own neck to do a comparison and then dropped it like the touch had burnt.
Bad. No. He scooted a few inches away and sprawled out on the table so that he had an excuse to move. He leaned his head to the side, cheek brushing cold vinyl. “I feel bad,” Danny said.
Jason stopped talking abruptly and lifted an eyebrow in question.
Danny shrugged. “I took you to a library, you took me out to dinner and then got groceries. It’s uneven.”
Jason snorted. “Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed. He went back to looking at his phone but added casually, “If you want to do something for me, you can take me back to that library again next week. I am tearing through those books.”
‘That does not make it even, but there’s no point in arguing with him about what he likes.’
“Can do.” Danny exhaled a bit too dramatically and cold air hit the table and got blown back to buffet his face. He squinted against the frost that hit his eyes. Jason laughed and oh, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. It was warm and comforting and…
Aww, fuck. He was way too hot to be married to Danny, much less on unequal relationship terms. Danny slumped even more bonelessly into the table and wondered why he was such a sponge of a person. Jason was hot and funny and so, so nice.
‘I need to get out of here before I slip up and ask Jason to date me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘It would not be fair to him at all. I bet it would scare the shit out of him, actually.’ The amusement at his own expense fled as his blood went cold with the reminder that he basically owned Jason. ‘I cannot let him know that I like him at all. It would be terrifying to know that the supernatural entity you were trafficked to might like to keep you around. Maybe if we get a divorce I can ask him out, but it’s not even worth thinking about now.’
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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 1 day ago
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My dear lgbt+ kids, 
Here’s another personal ramble but this time a happy one: I legally changed my name and gender marker today! 
I want to tell you a bit about my journey here. But before we get into that, you may need some context! In case you’re not from Germany, here’s a quick explanation of how the legal stuff works here: 
Until recently, changing your name and gender marker was a complicated, expensive and stressful process. You had to go to court, get evaluated by two psychologists, and jump through a lot of bureaucratic hoops. But as of November 2024, Germany finally has a new law called the Self-Determination Act (Selbstbestimmungsgesetz). 
Under this law, you simply make a declaration at your local registry office (Standesamt), then there’s a mandatory waiting period of three months and then you get the official name change appointment where you just have to confirm by signature that you really want to do it and then you get a new birth certificate! There’s no need for expert reports, medical „proof“ or a court decision anymore.
As someone who has a lot of pre-existing mental health history and not a lot of money, the old system made a legal name change fully inaccessible to me. So this new law is not only a huge step for the trans community in general but also for me personally! 
When it came into effect in November 2024, I wanted to apply right away - but I was in the middle of applying for disability benefits and was advised that a name change in the middle of that process would complicate it, so I had to wait. I’ll admit that it was very hard, emotionally. As happy as I was to see other trans people change their name, I also struggled with some ugly feelings of jealousy. I also kept worrying that, somehow, the law would be rolled back before I get to actually use it (with the lengthy process of fighting for disability benefits and the mandatory waiting period on top of that…) and I’d be stuck with my dead name forever just because I didn’t want to risk complications for my disability benefits application by doing it right away! 
I finally got to apply for a name change in April 2025 (a nice birthday gift to myself!). The process itself was super easy (fill out a simple form and send it via mail to the Standesamt), albeit there were some small confusions that I unnecessarily worried about (I heard from other people that they just downloaded the form on their towns website but couldn’t find any form on my towns website and was torn between just printing out some other towns form and hoping my town will accept it (since the actual content would be the same) or writing them a letter requesting their form, and then ended up doing both just to be safe, and then worried that doing both may lead to confusion and accidentally slow down the process! That was just a lot of overthinking on my part, which wasn’t helped by it taking weeks until I heard anything back - but when I did, it was a letter confirming my application and telling me the earliest appointment date I could get after the waiting period. I confirmed I want that date. 
Having an actual date for it came with a rollercoaster of emotions. It made it so real. When I first came out to myself as transgender, years ago - when I found the words to describe the gender dysphoria I felt since childhood and realized that I’m not a broken, weird woman who is really bad at being a woman, I am simply a man - I still told myself it’d only be my „fun little secret“. I tried to convince myself that I could treat it like some dirty fantasy I only live out in my head and never tell anyone about. Obviously, that wasn’t very healthy or sustainable and only made the gender dysphoria feel unbearable. Looking back at these memories and those feelings, and comparing it to me now having a date where I’ll actually legally change my gender marker, that brought on an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief. 
I felt like I could finally (metaphorically) hug child me who decided he’d rather starve to death than ever eat enough to start puberty and develop boobs and teenage me who decided he’d rather die than ever turn into an adult woman - and tell them that we made it. We stayed alive to grow into a man.  We stayed alive to see a world that acknowledges you, that sees you and knows you need this. You need to be seen as who you truly are, and now our paperwork will reflect that. We made it. We can breathe now. 
I said „rollercoaster of emotions“, so you can already guess that some less happy feelings also sneaked in - but, unlike transphobes would probably love to read here, there were never any feelings of regret. I never worried that I was making the wrong choice in the sense of „What if I change my name and then realize I’m a woman after all“. Never even crossed my mind. 
What I did worry about, however, was encountering transphobia. Either directly at the Standesamt or at the bank, health insurance company, disability benefits office…. all the places I’d have to notify of the name change later. And on a broader scale also by political parties and society as a whole, especially with the Afd (German Nazi Party comparable to Trump in the US) growing rapidly in popularity. I worry about putting a target on my back by leaving a papertrail of me being trans - but I do not worry about being wrong. I never worried that I might be wrong. Only that the world might not let me be right.
I can’t speak for the latter parts yet - but at least at the Standesamt, all these worries were baseless. I came in, equally buzzing with excitement and shaking with nervous anticipation, he said „You’re here for the name change appointment, right?“, I said yes, he smiled and went „It’s so cool you’re doing this!“. I immediately relaxed. 
The actual appointment took exactly 13 minutes. I confirmed that they got my personal information right, I confirmed that I want to do this and am aware of the laws around it, I paid 70 euro, I showed him my old birth certificate and got handed my new one, we had some pleasant smalltalk (he asked if the name Oliver has any special meaning, things like that). He even apologized for also legally having to inform me of the laws around changing back to my birth name if I should ever decide to. I think he was as worried about him (accidentally) being transphobic as I had been! 
Before the appointment, I felt a bit down about the fact that nobody would come along with me and hug me right after. I don’t know if that’s a strange or relatable thing, but it’s something I felt. I saw all these posts on social media by trans people who had their appointments in the months before mine and they all seemed to go with their partner, friends or family, with someone who would congratulate them and hug them after. Of course this is something you do for yourself and your happiness and your future, and I can already hear the transphobes say „see, he’s proof they only do it for attention!“ - but it is a big milestone and I think it deserves some attention. I think it’s human to want some attention for positive news in your life. And so I worried I’d come out of the Standesamt, still on cloud nine with excitement.. and then land pretty hard on the cold ground when I stand there alone. This worry flared up painfully this morning when I talked to my mom about the appointment before leaving and she went „Oh, that’s why it has been raining so heavily, God is crying“ - it was a stupid comment that I should’ve easily brushed off but it hit me harder than I’d like to admit. 
The worry didn’t come true, though. I came out of the Standesamt and I texted my partner (who was at work) and then I got myself a piece of cake - and I felt very calm and content. 
My mom did in fact congratulate me after, and so did my siblings. But it turned out I didn’t need that emotional hug right after to celebrate it. I walked out of the Standesamt not just with a new birth certificate, but with a feeling of peace - the peace younger me had been waiting for.
With all my love, 
Your Tumblr Dad 
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avengxrz · 1 day ago
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fic recs while i rest my brain!
hello friends! just wanted to drop by and give a little update. i’m currently taking a break from writing because work has been keeping me really busy, and life has been a lot lately. i just haven’t had the time or headspace to sit down and focus the way i want to, so i’m letting myself breathe for a bit.
however, i’ve been reading some incredible fics recently that made me laugh, cry, and fully spiral in the best way possible. these writers have seriously gotten me through the week, and i swear their work is just that good.
so while i rest and recharge, here are some fic recommendations from people whose writing made me feel everything all at once:
JAKE SERESIN FICS
three steps behind by @hangmanwrites summary: you wore the dress. he wore a t-shirt. you waited ninety-seven minutes. he smiled like nothing was wrong. and when you said you were tired, he still thought love was enough. side note: the writing in this fic is so good. it feels like the author actually lived through it. everything is written in a way that makes it feel real and honest. the emotions are quiet but heavy, and it really sticks with you.
a hangman-made disaster by @hangmanwrites summary: you swore you hated jake seresin, but one drunk night proved you were also stupid. now you're staring at a very positive pregnancy test in your bathroom, wearing an oversized shirt you stole from him, and wishing this was just a nightmare, but it's not. it's real. and unfortunately, so is the seresin baby currently plotting world domination in your uterus. side note: this was so good i am actually unwell. i need a part two so bad it hurts. the chaos, the tension, the way she’s standing there in his shirt like her whole life didn’t just flip upside down? perfection. and the line about the seresin baby plotting world domination? i laughed way too hard and then immediately felt bad for her. please i just know part two would go feral. give us more i am begging.
through the dark, back to you by @all-my-love-for-harry summary: a former profiler. a fighter pilot. a past that refuses to stay buried. when old ghosts resurface in san diego, the truth becomes the most dangerous thing of all. side note: this one had me hooked right away. the mix of mystery and emotion is so good, and the writing makes it feel like a movie in your head.
my boy only breaks his favorite toys by @tw1sters summary: jake seresin has pushed through the worst of war, but nothing can compare to the fear of you saying i love you. so he runs. side note: this one hurt in a quiet kind of way. jake surviving war but being scared of love feels so real. the fear, the running, the way he pulls back when it matters most. i just know this fic is going to break me in the best way.
BRADLEY BRADSHAW FICS
but it's warmer in your hands by @bodhiscurls summary: a night of domesticity is incomplete without you kissing your clingy husband goodnight. side note: i love me some domestic bradley bradshaw, it’s always so good. i swear it makes my heart melt every time. give me all the clingy husband vibes please.
picture perfect by @sometimesanalice side note: oh goodness this one hurts in the best way. please just make bradley her daddy already, he deserves that so much. the way he loves? the way he holds on? i am on the floor actually. crying. screaming. kicking my feet.
BOB FLOYD FICS
what happens in vegas, stays in vegas by @bodhiscurls summary: robert 'bob' floyd and you have always harboured feelings for each other, hidden in hotel rooms, stolen glances and secret kisses shared across the base. except one night in vegas celebrating the end of a gruelling mission finds you and bob waking up the next day unsure of how you made it to his room, the remenants of tequila pounding in your head and a rock the size of san diego on your ring finger. and what scares him the most is just how is he going to explain this to your brother. side note: oh this one had me grinning like a fool. the slow burn tension? the secret kisses? the vegas chaos?? i ate it all up. and waking up married to bob floyd? please. that is fanfic heaven. but the real kicker? the panic over telling your brother (ha it's rooster). i just know that part is going to be hilarious and stressful and so painfully good. i need to see how bob handles that because he is absolutely sweating bullets and still in love.
these are what i just read recently and i loved every single one of them. i’ll probably add more as i keep reading because i can never get enough of good writing. again, thank you to all the amazing writers for sharing your stories, you have no idea how much joy and comfort your words bring. see you around, happy reading!
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maxybabyy · 9 hours ago
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inspired by pictures of max on his yacht | maxiel | 900 words.
He doesn’t know why he sends it now. 
The text has been in his drafts for days, typed out for a laugh back when the news had dropped; nothing more than a quick thought. Only he hadn’t been able to delete it. Even now as he sends it, thumb pressed down until the whoosh sound rings in his ears, he wants to take it back. Erase it and retype it, rework it until it’s better, until he’s sure. 
It’s a joke, obviously, and Max would know that too. 
Daniel doesn’t know if it’s laugh worthy, but for sure Max’s face would do that adorable shit where his eyes crinkle and you somehow forget that he’s a 4-times world champion who kinda, maybe stole that from you. 
It would be a good opener, is what he’s saying. Something to get them going again. 
They haven’t seen each other in a bit: a padel match here, a drink with mutual friends there. But the season has been tough, and Max’s focus has been somewhere else. On shit more important than old friends who find themselves retired at 36. 
Life can be weird like that. 
One day, they’ll introduce you to a guy who has only ever known racing and maybe even still is a little too intense about it, and then someday you’ll find yourself spreading him out in your bed, making love to him like you’ve never done before. Because maybe you kinda like it when he’s that intense about you too.
Sometimes you give it all up because watching him win isn’t enough. You want that for yourself, you need it – almost as much as you need him too. It’s not an either/or – that’s what he tells you – but it kinda is. If you want to be the greatest, it is, and that’s still what you’re supposed to be, right? Only it’s still him holding you together when it all falls apart, when the guy you were brought in to replace somehow finds a way to replace you too. So what the fuck are you supposed to do now? 
hooking up w toto behind russell georges back? such a bad boy maxy
He swipes to the side of the screen, desperate for something to do with himself that isn’t throwing his phone against the wall. He’s halfway through a game of chicken with flight mode when it goes from being delivered to read with barely any change to the timestamp.
Daniel hasn’t had receipts on his texts since he figured out how to turn them off, but he’s always been bad at that, at replying right away. 
Max never was, and the dots appear just the same, mocking him, teasing until his heart has made a home nice and cosy in his throat. 
It’s a better joke now, he reckons. 
Pictures of Max just chilling on his boat and not actually having clandestine contract negotiations with Toto fucking Wolf just a dinghy away. Max in silly little yellow bathing shorts that make his pale thighs look thick and delicious. Daniel remembers how they would look after pressing his mouth against the delicate skin. The bluish marks that would bloom on the inside, barely visible to anyone who wasn’t them. How Max would moan when he rubbed his thumb over it, hips jerking against the bed, “Daniel, please –” 
always you have to go for the gap 
He squints at the screen, at the text he had sent that in no way warranted a Senna quote, when another text from Max ticks in. 
the age gap 😜
It’s such an awful pun – all puns are really. But Max’s crinkled face is back in his mind, wide eyes staring up at him for a response, and Daniel is too weak not to, chuckling to himself as the knot in his chest starts to loosen. 
less than a decade no longer doing it for u?
And then: 
 i hope youre having fun
He’s not a triple-texter, but his fingers twitch over the screen, ready to put in the work now that he’s committed to the bit. 
i like how u say this: less than a decade 
always in my head it is 8 years 
but i think this is very nice also daniel 
Daniel feels heart-sick at the thought of Max thinking about them too. Often, always – like he isn’t the only one kept up at night thinking about what could have been if he hadn’t been selfish. Still he doesn't know what to say, stuck in the same rut of apologies that won’t make anything right, promises that will mean little to Max now, when suddenly: 
always you were the one who did not think it was lovely 
He thinks of Max at 20, kissing him like he wasn’t afraid to touch a boy like that. He thinks of Max at 23, flying across the world to tell him that he loved him. At 25, screaming it in his face like it would make them not break up. He thinks of Heidi and the life he couldn’t give her. 
Martijn will come tomorrow so we will take out the jetskies maybe 
you should come stay a few days also 
He thinks of Max at 28. Sweet, incredible Max who has never asked for anything more than to be loved, and he reckons maybe 8 is kinda lovely after all. 
yeah maxy, i would love that ❤
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ephemeralp1eces · 2 days ago
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You Don’t Have to Choose if No One Makes You - Part XVII
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Summary: With things sorted out between the three of you, it’s back to the daily grind. You finally find each other in between schedules to take some time together, but at the worst possible time, you’re discovered.
What to know: Lando x reader, Oscar x reader, not smut but reference to it from previous chapters
wc; 7,500
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI
We hadn’t meant to all end up in the same place.
But between the heat outside, the downtime between sessions, and the broken AC in Oscar’s room, we retreated to the only space left that promised privacy: the old briefing room tucked behind the garage. It was barely used anymore, mostly storage now, but it had couches, a working fridge, and the quiet sort of stillness that made it easy to talk.
We sat half-curled on the biggest couch: me in the middle, both boys draped comfortably against me, like we’d done this a thousand times before. It was the kind of closeness that didn’t need permission anymore. Oscar was eating dried mango strips out of a random team snack stash. Lando kept stealing them.
No one was in a rush to leave.
No one mentioned the last two nights.. until Oscar nudged Lando. “You’re so smug this morning man.”
“I’m not smug,” Lando said. “I’m just well-rested.”
“And sore?”
Lando smirked. “Can’t help it if I give 110%.”
Oscar huffed “like I didn’t?”
They both looked at me.
I stretched my legs out, dramatic. “You boys really want the post-match interview?”
Lando grinned. “Always.”
Oscar added, “We’re open to feedback.”
I laughed. “Fine. Lando’s night was a bit… steamier.”
Lando looked victorious.
“Wet hair, fogged glass, a whole vibe,” I added. “Very romantic thriller.”
Oscar feigned insult. “And me?”
“You were surgical. Like I was a problem you were solving.”
He choked on his mango. “That’s not true!”
“No, it is,” I said. “You were focused. Intentional.”
Oscar covered his face with his hands.
“Very quiet,” I added.
“I was concentrating!”
We all laughed, real and unguarded.
And when it faded, it left something soft behind.
Not jealousy. Not tension.
Just appreciation.
Comfort.
“I like this,” I said quietly.
They both looked at me.
“I like us.”
Oscar bumped his shoulder into mine. “Same.”
Lando draped an arm behind me and added, “We should do a team-building retreat.”
“Team-building?” Oscar asked.
“Yeah. Like a trust fall. But dirtier.”
Oscar looked mildly alarmed.
I leaned back, smiling. “You’re both ridiculous.”
And that’s when the door opened.
None of us had time to react.
It creaked open, slowly, and a familiar voice said, “They told me this room was free- ”
Then Max Verstappen stepped in.
He froze the second he saw us.
Three people.
One couch.
Legs tangled.
My hoodie, Lando’s socks, Oscar’s McLaren t-shirt barely covering my shorts.
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then: “Oh.”
Lando sat up straighter.
Oscar blinked hard.
I didn’t move, mostly because I wasn’t sure I could. Max stared for one full beat longer than was polite.
Then: “I don’t think this room is free.”
“No,” Lando said flatly. “It’s really not.”
Max lingered in the doorway, hand still on the knob.
He looked at me.
Then at Lando.
Then Oscar.
Then back to me.
“Right,” he said, slowly. “So you’re all… I see.”
Oscar muttered, “Shit.”
“No one else knows,” I said quickly. “Max. Please.”
Max raised his eyebrows. “This is… unexpected.”
Lando tried to recover. “It’s… new.”
Oscar added, “Private.”
“And no one’s getting hurt,” I finished.
Max nodded.
Then looked at me, like he was studying me for the first time. “I didn’t think you were the type.”
“What type is that?”
“The type who could pull both of them.”
Oscar’s mouth dropped open.
Lando looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices.
“I’m not pulling anyone,” I said.
Max hummed. “You are. Just extremely efficiently.”
“You’re not upset?” Oscar asked.
“Why would I be upset?” Max said. “You’re all consenting adults.”
“True,” Lando said slowly. “But…”
“It’s a little complicated,” I added.
Max nodded. “I imagine so. Especially if someone were to… say… mention this to the media.”
That got very quiet.
Too quiet.
I sat up straighter. “Max.”
He sipped his coffee again, infuriatingly casual. “You know how fast these things travel.”
Oscar: “You’re threatening us?”
Max: “No, no. Not threatening.”
Lando: “Feels like threatening.”
Max tilted his head. He stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him.
Then he smiled.
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phantom-fics · 2 days ago
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DPxDC Prompt
Oh shit- fuck- no- no no Ancients no. Danny was currently standing– or well, floating– in front of none other than Tim Drake. Of whom was staring back at Danny absolutely gobsmacked. The teens mouth is desperately trying to form words as he is stood there, hair sticking out in all directions from his earlier nap, cup of coffee going cold in his left hand and his right weakly pointing at Danny. If he wasn’t freaking out so much Danny would probably make a comment about how the other looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He’s just got a great sense of humour like that. Not the time though. Right now, it’s time to make up whatever ungodly excuse he can come up with to explain how he’d transformed from normal, everyday human Danny into the very person Tim and his cohort of bird and bat themed vigilantes have been trying to track down for the past month.
Honestly, Danny almost felt bad knowing all of their secret identities but knowing things you didn’t necessarily want to was all part of becoming a ghost. Such as that time he floated in on his friend Tucker and he was– maybe he shouldn’t continue down that train of thought actually. Eurgh.
Danny’s eyes darted around the ornate hallway they were in for a moment before he managed to settle on a response. “It’s cosplay?” the halfa’s voice lifted at the end, turning the statement into more of a question rather than a fact he’s sure of. He smiled a bit to try to help his case not realising that he had just bared his sharpened canines to the other which very much did not aid him in any way.
Tim blinked. “It’s… cosplay? Are you being serious right now?” he said incredulously.
“Dead serious.” Danny replied, nodding sagely while clawed hands placed themselves behind his back, his hair floatily diving and rising with each movement of his head. Tim released a dry and disbelieving laugh.
“I- I knew it. Everyone told me I was crazy, they told me it was impossible. I knew it. Oh my god, wait until I tell- ,” This is exactly the moment in which Danny realised he had absolutely nothing to worry about. None of the bats believed Tim anyways, what does it matter if he’d just proven his theory when Tim has absolutely no evidence he could use? Danny's memory brings him back to when he met Wes, some guy in his old school who just so happened upon him mid-transformation. How he tried telling anyone who would listen that Danny was Phantom and the result ended up in him being labelled the “weird conspiracist kid”. If it worked once why wouldn't it work again? Danny began to smile as he listened to the other continue his rant. “ -totally stealing the title of best detective- why- why are you looking at me like that?”
“Tim, Timothy, little Tim boy, you know, when I was 14 I died half-way in my house's basement which led to me becoming Phantom,” Tim reeled as Danny explained calmly while floating closer to Tim, the chaos behind his intentions only showing through the sly look he wore. “I also beat the last Ghost King in battle so very technically I’m the Ghost King now, so take that as you will.” although he was finding joy in making Tim distraught he made care not to share anything that could truly be used as evidence or used to fuck up someone else’s well being. What can he say, he’s a really benevolent king. (Plus a whole plethora of characters would absolutely go off on him if they ever found out he accidentally shared some sensitive info.)
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Tim just barely breathed out, feeling overloaded with all the information being dumped on him.
Danny grinned a feral grin, no longer trying to hide his inhuman qualities from the guy he’s about to be harassing a whole lot more often. “Because no one will ever believe you” he says smugly, grin growing to a point where it was unnatural.
He began to slowly sink into the wall leading outside, not breaking eye contact when Tim gritted out his reply “No. No! You sick son of a bitch! You- get- back here-”. With no more regard for his coffee that spilt over his hand as he ran up to the wall and began trying to grab Danny out of it, to no avail. All he was left with was a mildly cold hand and a huge ensuing crisis.
Not very long afterwards Danny was struck with a wonderful idea. Why not make the most of this situation and prank Tim a bit? And the plan was as follows: make the vigilante believe as many lies as he was able. Have some fun and make sure Tim didn't stumble upon anything too important, two birds in one stone.
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a-sweeter-sin · 3 days ago
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Dull Ache
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-Harry Lewis x reader
-Her
Some mornings still start with him
The kettle boils. The toast seemingly takes forever to pop. And in the quiet, I hear his laugh, that gravelly sound, the one that was always too loud for the room. I sit at the kitchen table, legs tucked beneath me, it’s old mahogany, we bought it at an antique store together. Steam curls up from my mug, like smoke from a slow-burning fire.
It’s been ten months and twenty seven days.
Not that I’ve been keeping count.
I take the long route to work, my original path passes the bookshop. Our bookshop. The one with the twisting stairs, slanted bookshelves, the crooked cat and the owner who always smelled like dust and bergamot. We used to go there on Saturdays, sometimes after a night out when we didn’t want to talk too much. He’d pick out a poetry book at random, flip it open and read the strangest lines he could find in a posh accent until I was doubled over in laughter.
He told me he could fall in love with me in a library. I think he did.
I think I did, too.
-Harry
It’s the small things that cut deep.
This morning, someone in the coffee shop was wearing her perfume. Not just something like it. Hers. That haunting, deep vanilla, caramel, and cigarette sweetness she always carried. A comforting sickly sweetness that clung to her skin. My hand clenched around the mug before I knew what I was doing.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her, yet these are the kind of lies I swallow down. Push away.
I walk past her old tube stop on the way to work. The tiles still cracked. The adverts still peeling. She used to leave me voice notes while waiting, rambling nonsense, or even quoting poetry, something she’d recently read. I’d smile like a fool listening, no matter where I was, pretending I hated how dramatic she was. I never hated it. I loved it more than she knew. More than I could handle.
And that’s the truth of it: I couldn’t handle her love. Not all of it. Not then. Not when it asked for all of me in return.
-Her
It rained hard yesterday.
The kind of rain that pounds down, makes the world feel lonely, all glassy streets and grey breath. My umbrella flipped inside out as I turned a corner, metal limbs snapping like broken wings.
Just like that, I was back there. Another storm. Another street. Him by my side, the both of us drenched, his umbrella useless, our clothes soaked through.
He found a newspaper, held it over my head, laughing like an idiot. It only worked for a moment.
I laughed then.
Now, I just stood, wet, still, the rain beating down on me as I tried to push him from my mind.
-Harry
I keep my coat zipped up, even as the weather turns warm.
She used to say I never dressed properly for the weather. Always too hot, or too cold. I never listened. Not really. But she’d tug at my sleeves anyway, pulling them down over my wrists, as the wind was biting, tuck her hands into mine as if she were trying to fix something broken.
Sometimes I still wear the jumper she knitted me one Christmas. She made it while it was a hobbie of hers. It falls a little short on the arms, and sits all wonky at my waist. But it holds a lingering scent of caramel, and of her.
I went down near Soho last Sunday. Thought I’d pick up some flowers for the flat, in the hope of making it feel less drab and graveyard-ish. There was this stall with tulips. She used to call them ‘shamelessly sappy’, said they looked like they didn’t care how romantical they were.
In the aftermath of a fight, she once brought a whole bouquet to my place. Said, “if we’re going to fight, let’s be sure to make the aftermath pretty.” I’d laughed at her, I didn’t realise she meant it.
-Her
Every now and then he’d carry around a camera.
A ridiculous, clunky old thing with chipped leather and several dents. He said these newer digital ones were too sterile, “memories should be grainy,” he told me, “like old dreams.”
I found one of his prints the other day while clearing out a drawer. A photo of me from the side, taken while I was getting ready in the morning, standing barefoot on the tile, the light streaming in through the window. My spine curved like a cat stretching, nightdress starting to slip off one shoulder. I stared at it for a long time.
I looked so…calm. So unaware.
There was a time I trusted him with everything. My body. My secrets. My insecurities.
-Harry
I don’t take many pictures anymore.
There’s no one to capture in the lens. No one who understands that I don’t want smiles, I want moments. She used to get that. She hated posed pictures. She’d say, “don’t capture me perfect. Capture me real.”
I still have the ones she took of me. One where I’m mid-yawn, sprawled out along her sofa, a coffee half balanced on my stomach. Another where I’m cooking shirtless, some pasta dish. She told me I looked all scruffy, like a tragic husband in a French indie film.
I haven’t deleted them. Can’t bring myself to.
I told myself I’ve moved on, I’m past it. But truthfully, I’m still stuck somewhere in those photographs. Between frames. Between moments. Between Her.
-Her
I see him during the winter.
It’s always the winter. When the streets turn all silver, crystallised, and the evenings swallow you earlier than expected. We used to walk for miles just to talk. Layers of woollen jumpers, and rain-proof coats, hands shoved in pockets, steam rising from our mouths like confession.
Back then he hated the silence. He’d fill it with silly facts, crude jokes, or awkward questions. Once asked me if I believed in parallel universes. I said no, but I now secretly hope there’s one out there where we got it right.
He made me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. Kissed at the corners of my eyes when I cried. He was the first man I ever let see me fall apart.
I wish he hadn’t watched so closely. I wish he hadn’t known where the cracks were.
-Harry
She used to call me whenever she couldn’t fall asleep.
At 2AM. 3:47AM. Once at 5:14, freaked out after she had a dream where she had drowned and she was convinced it meant something. I’d always answer, even if I’d been dead asleep, I think even now I’d come when she called. It was like she lived in the in-between hours, fragile and echoing.
I liked those moments best. No pretence. No performance. Just the sound of her voice, quiet and slow, sweet, like a breeze slipping through a half-open window.
She told me before that being with me felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Equal parts awe and fear.
I joked, “at least the view’s good.”
Back then I didn’t understand that what she meant was: she never felt entirely secure in our relationship. Safe.
-Her
I think I knew, deep down at least.
Not at first. But something shifted. He started talking differently. Laughing at things he wouldn’t have before. Pulling away from kisses too early, too quickly.
Love doesn’t just vanish, it rots. Slowly. Seeping. Quietly. One tulip petal at a time.
I remember the night I found out.
Barcelona. He was supposed to be there for work. But I got a message. A girl I wasn’t acquainted with tagged him in a photo ‘by mistake’. It was blurry, but there he was, his arms around her waist, head tilted, lips too close. I felt my stomach drop before I even clicked on it.
I think betrayal is quieter than people expect.
I didn’t scream, I didn’t key his car, or burn his things, or send her messages laced with fury. I didn’t call him, didn’t text him, didn’t wait for him to arrive home to yell at him. I just went back to my apartment.
The next day I took the Rilke book from the shelf, the one he picked out on our first trip to the bookshop, sat in the kitchen cross legged, and waited for the sun to rise.
I didn’t cry until the morning.
The sun peeked over the hillside, he still hadn’t contacted me.
I felt sick.
-Harry
It happened once. Barcelona.
The city bled wine, breathed lust. And I let myself believe that loneliness was a reputable excuse.
I didn’t plan it. It wasn’t a slow slide. It was a crash. A landslide. A mistake with a face I don’t remember and a laugh I’ll never care to hear again.
When I came home my apartment was empty. I drove to her place, and it was like she knew I was coming. I saw her waiting at the door, Rilke book in hand. Her eyes were glassy, but she pushed her shoulders back, breathing steady. She didn’t scream. Just looked at me like I was something she’d once believed in, now exposed for what I really was.
She said nothing. Threw the key to my apartment I had given her to the floor at my feet. Closed the door in my face, gently, without slamming it.
Her silence, the finalisation of it all.
That was worse than any punishment.
-Her
Sometimes I wonder what I’d say if he showed up now. Apologised. Said he’d changed. That it was a stupid mistake.
I think I’d still want to touch his face. Just once. Feel it it still fit between my hands the way it used to. But then I’d remember what he did. That night. The photograph. His silence.
I loved him more than I should have. And maybe part of me still does, like he etched his way into my heart, sunk himself deep. But I can’t just wipe the slate. Love isn’t an excuse, and I can’t excuse this betrayal. It doesn’t resurrect trust, ease the hurt.
And I’m not the girl who cries on the kitchen floor. Not anymore.
He broke something I can’t give back.
-Harry
I walk past our places on purpose now.
Like penance. Like maybe if I hurt enough, I’ll balance the scale.
She deserved better. Deserved someone who didn’t flinch at the weight of her love. Someone who knew what to do with it.
I didn’t.
I wish I knew then what I know now.
I wish I could’ve been what she deserved.
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plasmapumpkin · 3 days ago
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The Language of the Black Parade
By Nate Piekos
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Soon after being contacted by Gerard Way to work on the 2025 Long Live the Black Parade tour, I thought it might be a good idea to start writing down notes in the event that I decided to compose an article on how the typeface came together. Not really knowing if I’d actually get it done—or have enough interesting info to even justify an article—I just scribbled thoughts and dates on sticky notes which were soon lost to the chaos of my studio. I tried my best to find them all (and I was semi-successful) when the time came to write this.
In August of 2024, I received an email from Gerard asking me if I was up to design a font for the following year’s My Chemical Romance tour. Gerard and I have worked together since the beginning of The Umbrella Academy comic books published at Dark Horse (Wikipedia tells me that was back in 2007). We’ve always gotten along really well. We’re approximately the same age, and we’re both really into comics and music. Of course I said I was interested, so we scheduled a Zoom call to hash out the details.
The afternoon of the Zoom call, Gerard filled me in on his concept of the tour, which would lean heavily on a fictional dictatorship rooted in an equally-fictional Eastern Bloc country. He wanted to create a language that was both made-up, and yet felt entirely real. In fact, he already had a name for this language...
KEPOSHKA
We started delving into 1930s and 40s posters from Russia, England, Italy, and other countries, compiling a morgue file of reference images. We would send pictures to each other and try to figure out what appealed to us. After poster art, we moved on to brutalist architecture and then period typefaces. It was about that time that I broke out the art supplies and started sketching. I used 11” x 17” graph paper, tech pencils, and Copic tech pens.
As I filled out the first sheet of ideas, I would email or text pics to Gerard and he enthusiastically approved pretty much everything—going so far as to hang print-outs in his studio as inspiration for the other facets of the tour’s design work. Quite an honor for me. Other members of My Chemical Romance were now getting their first look at what we had been cooking up. While I didn’t have any direct contact with Mikey, Frank, or Ray, I was told that they were excited at the samples they’d been shown.
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After three or four rounds of this piecemeal approval of ideas, it seemed we were moving in the right direction and Gerard gave me the go-ahead to work independently. While I was sketching, he emailed me one particular glyph that he’d created and was calling, “the hangman” symbol. It was inspired by the old pen and paper game called, Hangman, that kids used to play. Gerard thought the symbol looked like the gallows from the game. This eventually became our Keposhka version of the letter “R”, and you can see it in the translated version of the MCR logo at the beginning of this article.
A second sheet of 11” x 17” sketches followed over the next couple of weeks. When that was approved, I felt like it was time to progress to the next step: bringing these ideas into the digital realm. I began working on vector versions of the glyphs in Adobe Illustrator. Quite a few of the ideas from the sketches were used. When I ran out, I began creating new glyphs without reference. I was finally at a point where my familiarity with the style allowed me to just make up new symbols on the fly.
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We also began thinking about numbers and punctuation. Many other non-English languages use standard numbers. Since these fonts might be used for merch, tour graphics, and other instances that might require understandable numbers, I created a clean, western set of numbers.
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KEPOSHKA CONDENSED & EXTRA CONDENSED
Originally, this whole project was just focused on a single pair of fonts; somewhat wide, very clean, sans-serif versions of Keposhka Regular and Italic—but I began to see that there might be a need for more. I finished up the initial set, I proposed a Condensed Regular and Condensed Italic. Gerard was all for it. Later on, this Condensed set was shown prominently in the initial live-action trailer for the tour. If you look closely, you can see many instances of Keposhka Regular in the final scene of the trailer as well.
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Since I was proposing the Condensed set, I figured an Extra Condensed Regular and Extra Condensed Italic might be useful for scenarios where space was at a premium. Gerard was eager for me to come up with anything I thought might be useful and gave me the thumbs up.
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I took the vectors of Keposhka Regular, Italic, Condensed Regular, Condensed Italic, Extra Condensed Regular, and Extra Condensed Italic created in Illustrator, and ported them over to Fontlab. This is my software of choice for doing all the programming, kerning, etc. involved in making professional, finished typefaces. I think it took about a month and a half to wrap up all six fonts. A well-designed font family can take up to several months to finish, but our deadlines were tight—there were other designers waiting on these fonts so they could get started on other facets of the tour.
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MCRIn late October/early November, with very few corrections from Gerard, the six fonts were approved and delivered, and as far as I knew, I was finished with the project. Little did I know that six fonts was soon to become fourteen!
KEPOSHKA ENGLISH
A few months later, I got an email from Gerard. He’d realized that he needed an English typeface…and it would need to work aesthetically with our fictional language. Off the shelf English fonts might not cut it. Gerard wanted something custom-made. Gerard was already very busy with tour prep, so he let me work almost completely on my own. I found myself re-hired on the project, and I got back to work. There would be no more analog sketching of ideas; I decided to work 100% in the digital realm, creating vectors in Illustrator. We decided on a simple sans-serif. Something traditional, slightly wide, and pleasing to the eye. This eventually led to Keposhka English Regular, Italic, Bold, and Bold Italic (bringing us up to ten fonts total).
I’ve been making fonts for over twenty years, almost all of which are in English and other Latin-based glyph sets, so Keposhka English went more quickly than the fictional language. I didn’t have to imagine how weird symbols would fit together, or how this imaginary culture used punctuation, etc. I was back in my comfort zone.
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I finished and delivered Keposhka English Regular, Italic, Bold and Bold Italic in mid-April of 2025. I thought it meshed with the original Keposhka when displayed side-by-side, and so did Gerard. Once again, I thought I was done . . . but it was not to be! Gerard had one more idea up his sleeve.
[continued in reblog]
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pinkkop · 2 days ago
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This week's recap is brought to you by the prayer circle you're all invited to for Revenge Love to not get taken down or not be allowed to air in full 🕯️🕯️🕯️
QL Recap for Week 28
The 7th of July to the 13th of July
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🇹🇭 Memoir Of Rati
Episode 4 of 12 || Airing on: Youtube, Friday
This keeps being really freaking good! I loved the tricking of the staff with food as a distraction, I loved the phi/nong moment, I loved the prince unknowingly being in the middle of our main pairing. This show just feels nicely cohesive and like it's committing to the genre and era of the plot which is so nice.
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🇹🇭 Reset
Episode 7 of 10 || Airing on: iQiYi, Monday
I love how down bad these two are for each other and Pond and Peterpan are doing a phenomenal job of portraying these characters. I'm so curious about the time travel part of the plot and how Thada is involved in it but for now I'm enjoying seeing it unravel week to week.
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🇨🇳 Revenged Love
Episode 10 of 24 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Tuesday
So many snakes and so much manipulating!! I love it when everyone's trying to play everyone else, it levels the playing field. I loved how Suowei basically shoved it in his ex's face that he now has Chi Cheng! I was debating on whether I wanted to include this show in my recap since it seems it could be in danger of getting taken down any day, but in situations like this with China I think it's more important to support shows while they're happening than to not give them a go because they're at risk of being taken down by the government. I really hope it's nothing more than a delay because of some translation problems.
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🇹🇭 Pit babe Season 2
Episode 11 of 13 || Airing on: iQiYi, Friday
All around this show people are making horrible decisions and it's frustrating to watch but not in a bad way because I feel it makes sense for each of them. It made sense for Alan to disregard what Jeff had said and propose in the middle of work and what seems to partly on a whim and partly in desperation and it makes sense for Kim to be the only person to really care or worry about Kenta. I wish this season was longer so we could really dig deep into these characters and also get more into the side characters.
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🇹🇭 The Bangkok Boy
Episode 12 of 12 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Saturday
This was a really good attempt at a more gritty BL and I enjoyed watching it a lot. There's definitely some things that more funding and time could have done better for this show but I'm not mad about the actual outcome. Loved that Aim hadn't been killed because that scene also felt fishy back when Mr. Joe pretended to kill him. He's alive and thriving and no longer someone else's underling which is a role that always felt like it didn't fit him. It felt like he was running Madam Yao's show the whole time so it's no surprise that he's at the top now.
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🇹🇭 The Next Prince
Episode 11 of 14 || Airing on: iQiYi, Saturday
That archery competition looks like it's straight out of the hunger games! Overall I find the competition the weirdest and out of place thing about this show and it's not really keeping my attention. It just seems so weird for an old royal competition to be no more than a game show. Like for some old stuffy men who talk a lot about tradition this competition seems weirdly malleable. I basically wish the competition had a tighter structure and more lore had been setup for it and that there was no public voting. It feels similar to the protests I was talking about last week: it doesn't really fit into the premise and genre the show is going for if you ask me.
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🇹🇭 My Sweetheart Jom
Episode 9 of 12 || Airing on: Youtube, Friday
Jom and Yo are finally becoming more equal which was part of why I wasn't on board with them earlier but I'm actually kinda impressed with how this show has slowly evolved their relationship and I'm finally ready for them to become more. The ladies keep frustrating me to hell and back because there's nothing interesting about their constant fighting if you ask me. Still not my favorite show but it's doing something right
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🇨🇳 ABO Desire
Episode 3 of 16 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Saturday
I'm actually really impressed with this! For some reason I figured it would be a low stab at ABO but when they decided to do ABO they were not fucking around. They've really managed to build an elaborate and interesting world out of ABO and the plot seems to also be pretty high concept so I'm excited to see where this goes. The intimacy could definitely use some work but that's to be expected from China and it's still better than dead fish kisses if you ask me, it's just a little awkward. Honestly the wildest thing about this show is not the ABO but that for the setting they seem to be using shots of a mix of Shanghai and Seattle, which is such an odd choice!
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🇹🇼 The Promise of the Soul
Episode 4 of 12 || Airing on: Gagaoolala, Friday
These two are so pretty together and I'm liking their dynamic but I do constantly have to try to forget that one is an old man in a young man's body.
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🇹🇭 I Promise I Will Come Back
Episode 8 of 8 || Airing on: WeTV, Monday
This ending was absolutely wild and came entirely out of left field. One thing I've been liking about this show has been that I couldn't predict what was going to happen next because they didn't follow a lot of the tropes and tendencies we see in BL. This ending however made next to no sense. I needed more explanation for why things were happening and why TK jumped to the conclusions he did. I don't regret watching this show because I had a good time but at the end of the day I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else and I probably won't re-watch it myself because the final kinda soured everything else.
Since my summer vacation started last Friday and I'm finally off work for the coming weeks I'm not sure how long these recaps will be and when I'll be able to post them but I'll do my best.
That's it for this week!!
For links and airing schedule check out World of BL (Only for BLs)
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abbysimsfun · 3 days ago
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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 217 (Finding Ophelia & A Ring!)
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Returning to San Myshuno's Spice District, where he grew up, Conrad knew his way around the neighbourhood. Finding the apartment block where Ophelia Nigmos lived with her daughter, he spoke cautiously into the intercom.
"Miss Nigmos? My name's Captain Conrad Gordon with Brindleton Bay PD. I was hoping we could talk about a missing friend of yours: Layne Coffin."
Almost a minute of silence passed through the static callbox, but eventually the front door unlocked with a click. Conrad made his way upstairs, where she stood over a pot of pasta on the stove.
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"Did you find him?" she asked the moment he walked in the door, but her hopeful smile faded as he shook his head. He chose his words carefully, unwilling to reveal Nyon's supposed sixth sense that Layne was dead.
"I'm hoping you might have some insight into where Layne Coffin might be. I've heard from your aunt, Olive, and your cousin, Nyon, that the two of you were - are - close."
He sat with Ophelia at the table, glancing around the open-plan living area. This wasn't the same building as the one he grew up in, but the architecture was nostalgic. He fell hard for Brindleton Bay - and its vet - when he moved up the coast, but a part of his heart would always be tied to the city where his parents laid to rest.
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"Can you tell me a little of your history with your aunt, Olive Specter?"
Ophelia frowned. "She raised me after my parents died, but she never liked me. She wanted a child of her own - not a niece who didn't call her 'Mama.'"
"She was cruel to you?"
"Not cruel, just...different. Especially after Nyon came along. I didn't like living there and I didn't like any of her husbands, but then she met Layne."
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Ophelia's expression changed, her eyes brightening at the mention of his name the way Conrad could break into a smile at the thought of his wife. "He was passionate and interesting and adventurous, just like me."
"Does he care about you the way you care about him? He was still engaged to your aunt when he disappeared."
"He didn't love her anymore. He was going to leave her. We talked about it, and then I got pregnant. He said he needed to think when I told him, and he had to go to work. So he came to the city and worked with his symphony, and then he came home we made a plan. I've had a trust fund since I turned eighteen, and Aunt Olive always hated that I had my own money. He was going to leave her and we'd move to San Myshuno together to raise our daughter."
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"But instead he went missing?"
"I left town first. I got an apartment and used my mother's ID; no one asked why I didn't look at least twenty years older. City folks don't notice much, which I like. Everyone knows your business in Ravenwood, and no one cares in San Myshuno. But after I found out Layne disappeared, I was alone here. I didn't know what to do. I made boiled death frog hot pot and took it to the Spice Festival once, just hoping to draw him out of hiding. I hoped he'd come find me, but little Willow and I are still waiting."
"That stuff makes you turn into a ghost temporarily, does it not?"
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Ophelia nodded. "Layne's a tortured artist, in his own way. He doesn't drink, but he has his vices. He said when he eats boiled death frog, he gets so inspired he can compose entire symphonies in a single night, but he doesn't get to eat it much. He's usually working in the city whenever the Ravenwood Festival rolls around - that's the first place he ever tried it."
"Have you thought about returning home at all?"
"For Nyon, I have. But they really don't need me, and I'd really rather Willow not be raised in that spooky old house. I don't want Olive's energy anywhere near her. The creaky pipes in this old building keep her up enough at night as it is."
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Her daughter woke in the bedroom with a cry for her mama, and Ophelia brought her into the living room moments later. "I named her after my mother. Willow Layne Nigmos. But she'll be Willow Coffin if Layne ever finds us again."
Little Willow Nigmos was sweet and oblivious to the cloud of worry that constantly creased her mother's brow. Conrad flashed back to thirteen years earlier, investigating a hack of Landgraab Systems and meeting a young single mother. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for Ophelia and her daughter.
"My aunt Olive is cunning. She can get whatever - and whoever - she wants. If she wants to find a way to use powerful Ravenwood magic, she will, and I don't want her to ever find me or my daughter."
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"I get that, Miss Nigmos. But speaking of Ravenwood magic, you probably shouldn't set out boiled death frog hot pot in a place like San Myshuno." He thought of Pearl Richards' mother, Dylan - who probably ate the dish Ophelia had intended for Layne. "They don't have death frogs here, and they don't know what the dish can do."
"I've never made a dish potent enough to kill someone, Captain. That's not why you're here, is it?"
Conrad shook his head apologetically as Willow cooed in her mother's arms. "Not this time, Miss Nigmos. But if something were to happen with a festival dish in the future, you're the first person the police would call."
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She frowned. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. I'm sorry, Captain Gordon. But I don't know any more than I've told you."
Conrad left Ophelia with his number and returned to the street. He had to pick up Lavender from Henford on the way home, and wanted to get to his in-laws before too late. His phone rang, and he smiled when he turned on the small hands-free earpiece - new tech Ash was excited about, but he was still getting used to it - and Melissa greeted him on the other end.
"Hey, Conrad. Sorry to bother you, but I was washing Rafa's clothes this morning, and I found a ring in his pocket. I feel like I ruined a big surprise and I just put the ring on the kitchen counter. He's going to know I saw it!"
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Conrad chuckled, happy to deal with something so trivial as he compartmentalized the case he'd been investigating.
"Do you want to marry him or not?"
"Of...of course I want to marry him."
"Then it doesn't matter. Let him ask you, then tell him you've been waiting for the chance to say yes."
She froze, then laughed to herself as the tension in her voice disappeared. "You're right, I'm freaking out for nothing. I just...do you think Ximena was right? Are we always going to be looking over our shoulder? The baby, too?"
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In the sea of San Myshuno, Conrad passed a few unknown faces on the way to his cruiser, focused on Melissa's question, instead. "The force in Sulani will keep you safe. Rafa's one of them now. And anything I can do, you know I'll do it."
Melissa smiled through her wavering voice. "Thanks Conrad."
They hung up as he reached his cruiser, and Melissa waited anxiously in Sulani for Rafa to get home from his shift. She hung outside in the cool night air, waiting.
When he spotted the ring box on the counter, he stepped back outside and wrapped his arms around her growing stomach.
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"You found it."
She nodded. "You left it in the pocket of your shorts."
"I was going to propose at the beach the other day, but then we got the call about that kava ring."
"You don't have to tell me about your work. I don't know if I want to know a lot of it, to tell you the truth."
Rafa smiled. "You love your fairy tales."
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She looked away with a fearful pout. "I know life isn't a fairy tale. The cartel might always be around the corner, and that Haumaea, Hanalei - whatever her name is - keeps walking past the house. It's just nicer not to know the whole truth, sometimes, as long as we're safe. You, me, and the baby."
He swayed with her for a quiet moment. "I still think about what Ash passed on from Ximena, too. But I can fight, Mel. You know I'll fight anyone from Los Tigres who tries to take away what we have, and I'll always protect you and the baby."
"I know you will, Rafa. I don't want to spend my life with anyone else. It's just scary to think that the cartel will want from our son what they wanted from you."
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"Our son?"
Melissa turned to face him as Rafa felt her growing stomach. "At my appointment today, the doctor told me it's a boy."
The young officer stood again to embrace her. He reached into his pocket for the ring as he got down on one knee, grasping her hand with the other.
"This isn't the romantic beach sunset I had in mind to ask you to marry me, but Melissa Ramsay, I love you. You motivated me to look for a better life than the one I was living from the day we first met in gym class. Your hair was blonde that week, but we've both been a lot more consistent the past few years. I like where we are. I like who we are, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy and keeping you safe. Will you let me love you until we're old and your hair is silver and teal?"
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She laughed, clasping her hand over her mouth as tears pushed their way to her cheeks. "Yes, Rafa, I'll marry you. I love you. I've been waiting for the chance to say yes." ->
<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary | Gen 2.2 Summary
Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary
NOTE: Melissa totally called Conrad about the engagement ring in a bag and, of course, he told her to go for it. I didn't get a screenshot of the question, just the response, so Rafa and Melissa got engaged without me. Staged it instead, and that's why her belly looks a little bigger than the trimester she was in when she got engaged, but I'm not worried about it. It's not twins or anything! 💘
WCIF Proposal Pose: From the Will You? posepack by SteamErika (formerly Simmerika, the Tumblr is gone but the Patreon is there.)
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pankowcrumbs · 16 hours ago
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The French Family Holiday X Will Poulter
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MasterList
Will Poulter Masterlist
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The gravel crunched under my sandals as I wheeled my suitcase towards the familiar blue shutters of the holiday house. Even at 1am, the air in the South of France was warm, sticky with that humid, sweet scent of lavender and saltwater that always made me feel like I was twelve again, arriving in the back seat of my mum’s car with melted sweets stuck to my leggings.
But this time, I was 26. And arriving alone. And two flights, a delayed train, and a very questionable taxi later, I was exhausted.
I let myself in quietly through the front door with the old spare key hidden in the hanging herb pot, my bag’s wheels softly bumping against the wooden threshold. The familiar creak of the floorboards welcomed me like an old friend.
I paused.
The lights in the sitting room were still on.
That was odd.
I peeked in, fully expecting to see a forgotten lamp or someone’s iPad left charging only to find Will sitting on the worn blue sofa, one arm slung over the back, nursing a cup of tea.
I froze in the doorway. “Oh. I didn’t think anyone would still be up.”
He looked up immediately, his face softening into that lopsided smile I’d known all my life. “Hey,” he said, standing up slowly. “Wanted to make sure you got in okay.”
I blinked. “You stayed up? For me?”
He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Your mum said your flight was delayed, figured you’d be coming in around now. Thought I’d wait up. Didn’t want you dragging your bag through the dark on your own.”
My stomach did something annoying fluttery and I shook it off, brushing a hand through my hair.
“That’s… really sweet,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward in my oversized airport hoodie and leggings. “Thanks, Will.”
“Course,” he said, already moving to grab the handle of my suitcase. “C’mon, I’ll take this up.”
I followed him up the stairs, the familiar creaks echoing up into the quiet of the sleeping house. Our parents and siblings had all arrived the day before, starting the summer tradition early. We'd spent every summer here since I was five and he was eleven two families, one house, and a thousand memories layered into the walls.
Now? It felt different. Not just because I was tired or older, but… something had shifted.
He stopped outside the door to my usual room. His hand lingered on the handle as he looked back at me.
“Same room as always,” he said, a little smile playing at his lips. “No one dared take it.”
I laughed softly. “Probably because it’s got the worst fan in the house.”
He chuckled and pushed the door open for me, wheeling my bag in. “Still beats the tent they tried to stick me in one year.”
“True. You lasted half a night.”
“Because a frog sat on my face, Y/n.”
We both laughed, the sound too loud in the sleeping house. He winced slightly and lowered his voice. “Oops.”
He stood there, in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck. He was wearing joggers and a loose grey t-shirt, his hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it a thousand times. His eyes looked tired but kind, watching me like he hadn’t seen me in years, not just a few months.
“So… how’s work?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Busy,” I sighed, stretching my arms above my head. “But good. Hence why I was the last to arrive.”
He nodded, his eyes dipping briefly to the exposed strip of skin where my hoodie had ridden up with the stretch. When I dropped my arms, his gaze snapped back to mine. “I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too,” I said, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. “It wouldn’t feel like summer without this place.”
“Or without you,” he added, and then blinked like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
I swallowed. “Thanks, Will.”
He smiled gentle, almost nostalgic. “Alright. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
He stepped back slightly, but didn’t quite turn to leave.
I tilted my head. “What?”
He hesitated. “Nothing. You just look… different.”
I raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Older?”
“No.” His voice dropped. “Beautiful.”
My breath caught.
And just like that, the air shifted.
The kind of shift you couldn’t explain. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
I didn’t know what to say. So I laughed. Awkwardly. “Okay, you’re clearly sleep-deprived.”
He smiled softly but didn’t deny it.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, backing away slowly.
“Goodnight, Will.”
“Night, Y/n.”
I closed the door gently and pressed my back against it once it clicked shut. My heart was racing. My skin was warm.
What the hell just happened?
I woke late the next morning to sunlight pouring through the shutters, warming my sheets like it was trying to coax me back to sleep. But the scent of fresh croissants and espresso drifting through the floorboards was stronger.
Padding downstairs barefoot and bleary-eyed, I found our two families already spread out on the sun-drenched terrace breakfast half eaten, coffee cups steaming, conversations overlapping like birdsong.
Will was sat at the far end of the table, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, one hand nursing a cup of coffee, the other flipping through a paperback. He looked up the moment I stepped out, like he felt me before he saw me.
“There she is,” his mum beamed. “The working woman!”
“Morning,” I said, sliding into the empty chair beside my mum and reaching for a croissant. “Sorry I missed dinner last night.”
“You didn’t miss much,” Will said casually, not looking up from his book. “Except your brother trying to barbecue a baguette.”
I smiled. “Tragic.” Glancing at my Brothers Tom and Kane.
“Humiliating,” Tom muttered down the table, eliciting laughter from both mums.
Will’s leg nudged mine beneath the table.
I paused, eyes flicking to him. He still wasn’t looking at me, but there was the faintest smirk on his lips.
It was nothing. Not really.
But it didn’t feel like nothing.
The day rolled on lazily, as summer days at the house always did. People peeled off to swim or sunbathe or nap. The group split and reformed throughout the afternoon like clouds shifting overhead.
I ended up sitting on a sun lounger with a book I wasn’t really reading, sunglasses perched on my nose as I half-listened to the sound of Will, Ed, Tom and Kane kicking a football across the lawn.
At one point, the ball veered wildly. I looked up just in time to see it coming straight toward me but before I could move, Will was already there.
He caught it effortlessly, standing just over me, shirt damp from sweat, hair a mess, breathless.
“You alright?” he asked, towering over me, blocking the sun.
“Not a scratch,” I said, blinking up at him.
He held my gaze for a second longer than he should have. Then he smiled and tossed the ball back across the lawn.
His hand brushed my shoulder as he turned to go.
Accidental. Maybe.
But my skin tingled where he’d touched it.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and the sky turned dusty pink, everyone migrated to the long dinner table beneath the vines. The air buzzed with wine and stories, old memories being dragged out for retelling.
Will sat beside me. Not directly beside there was his sister Jo between us but close enough that I could feel his presence like static.
At one point, someone made a joke about all the family holidays we’d had, and Charlie his other sister joked “You two were practically glued together for years.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Because he always tattled on me!”
“I was protective,” Will said with a grin, reaching for the wine.
“More like bossy,” I quipped back.
Our eyes met for just a second longer than the joke needed.
He passed me the bottle wordlessly. Our fingers touched as I took it from him.
Later, as we helped clear the dishes, I was rinsing plates at the outdoor sink when he stepped up behind me, reaching over to set something down. His chest brushed my back, and he didn’t step away immediately.
My breath caught.
He leaned down, his voice low and quiet.
“Still think I’m just bossy?”
I turned my head slightly, heart thudding. “Are you saying you’re not?”
His eyes searched mine for a second. “I think you know.”
Before I could say anything, someone called out for more wine glasses and the moment broke.
He stepped back like nothing had happened.
But something had.
That night, unable to sleep, I wandered out onto the balcony that wrapped around the top floor of the house. The stone was cool under my bare feet. The sea shimmered in the distance, dark and endless.
I wasn’t expecting to find Will already out there.
He was leaning on the railing, shirtless, staring out at the night like it might speak back.
He turned slightly when he heard me, then smiled.
“Can’t sleep?”
I shook my head. “Too warm.”
“Same.”
I stood beside him, arms resting on the rail. We didn’t speak for a while. The quiet buzzed around us like something alive.
Eventually, I said, “It’s weird being back here, isn’t it?”
He glanced at me. “Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s the same. But we’re not.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “No. We’re definitely not.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. His eyes flicked down to my lips and back up again. He didn’t move closer. Didn’t reach for me. But the air between us felt wired.
“I should go to bed,” I whispered, voice thinner than I meant it to be.
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
I started to walk away.
“Y/n.”
I paused.
His voice was low. Serious.
“If I were less of a coward, I would’ve kissed you under that fig tree when you were nineteen.”
I turned slowly, heart hammering.
“What stopped you?”
He gave a quiet, almost broken laugh. “Everything. Your age. Our families. The fact that I thought I’d ruin you.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I said softly.
He held my gaze.
And in that moment, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. The girl who grew up next to him, or the woman who suddenly realised he’d always been watching her, even when she wasn’t looking.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, and went inside before I did something I’d never be able to take back.
The days passed in a golden blur of heat and long lunches, of lazy mornings and chaotic dinners. The kind of days that only existed in childhood memories and the kind of summers you never think will end.
Will had always been steady. Familiar. He’d tied my shoelaces when I was five, pushed me on swings when I was seven, and thrown me over his shoulder when I was nine and dared to beat him at Monopoly.
But now? His glances lingered too long. His voice dropped too low. And when he passed me a bottle of wine or brushed past me at the dinner table, I felt it. Every inch of him. Like my skin knew him before I even let myself admit it out loud.
I wasn’t imagining it. The looks. The touches. The heat simmering just under the surface of every shared joke and long glance across the breakfast table.
And I knew I wasn’t the only one noticing.
"You’ve been quiet," Charlie said one afternoon, lounging on a deck chair next to me, sipping iced rosé.
"I’m just soaking it in," I lied, pushing my sunglasses further down my nose.
She gave me a sideways glance. “Soaking in the sun or my brother?”
My stomach lurched.
“What?” I laughed, too quickly.
She smirked. “Oh come on, Y/n. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like he’s dying to say something but terrified of what it’ll mean.”
“I think you’re imagining things.”
“No,” she said, her voice softer now. “I think you’re just scared it’s real.”
That night after dinner, when the house was winding down and someone put a speaker on low with old soul music humming through the terrace, Will caught my eye across the garden.
No words.
Just a look.
And I knew what it meant.
A moment later, I slipped inside to grab a towel from my room, and when I passed the hallway mirror, I paused. I looked flushed. Excited. Like I was going to do something reckless.
And maybe I was.
I found him down by the pool. The underwater lights cast a soft turquoise glow over the tiles, shimmering up the trees. He was already in black swim shorts clinging low on his hips, hair damp, arms resting on the side of the pool.
He didn’t speak as I stepped closer, just watched.
I dropped my towel on the lounger and slipped into the pool in silence, the water deliciously cool against the thick heat of the night.
We were quiet at first. Floating. Occasionally brushing past each other in the shallow end. Saying things that meant nothing commenting on the moon, how hot the day had been, whether the rosé at lunch had been too dry.
And then he swam toward me.
Deliberately.
He stopped an arm’s length away.
"Y/n," he said, voice low.
I tilted my head. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want to ruin anything,” he said. “But I’m starting to feel like I already have just by thinking about this too much.”
My chest ached. “You haven’t ruined anything.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, water dripping down his jaw. “But I never let myself think it was even a possibility. You were always… too important. Too off-limits. And now you’re here, and you’re not a kid anymore and...”
I closed the space between us in a single breathless step.
“Then stop talking,” I whispered, “and kiss me.”
His hands found my waist underwater as his mouth came crashing down on mine.
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t hesitant.
It was years of tension and wondering and longing pouring into one kiss.
His mouth moved over mine with aching urgency. One hand slid up my back, the other tightening on my hip. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, our bodies pressing together under the water.
He groaned softly against my lips. “This is so stupid,” he murmured between kisses.
“Then stop,” I breathed.
“I can’t.”
He kissed me again deeper this time, his hand skimming along my ribcage like he was trying to memorise it.
When we finally broke apart, panting and breathless, I leaned my forehead against his.
“I don’t know what this means,” I whispered. “What we’re doing.”
“I don’t either,” he admitted. “But I know I don’t want to stop.”
I smiled.
“Neither do I.”
Later, when we were drying off in silence under the stars, he passed me my towel and didn’t say anything for a long time. Then:
“This… this stays between us, yeah? For now.”
I nodded.
Because even though every nerve in my body was still tingling from his kiss… I knew the chaos it would cause if our families found out too soon.
But something had shifted.
Something real.
The next morning, I woke up feeling... light.
No guilt. Just heat in my chest and the ghost of his lips on mine.
But the world didn’t stop just because we’d kissed under moonlight. The house was still bustling with siblings, coffee cups, loud laughter, and the scent of sunscreen and buttered toast.
Will greeted me at breakfast like nothing had happened.
Almost.
There was a flicker in his eyes, a half-smile that said we know and no one else does.
And somehow that made everything feel deliciously dangerous.
Later that afternoon, most of the family had peeled off some to the beach, some to the village markets, and Tom had somehow convinced both mums to help him recreate a charcuterie board “for research”, whatever that meant.
I had wandered up to my room, supposedly for a nap, when a gentle knock made my breath catch.
I opened the door, and there he was.
Will.
Looking far too smug in that linen shirt, sleeves rolled, a glint in his eye.
“Fancy a walk?”
“Does this walk involve actual walking?” I asked, folding my arms.
“That depends,” he said, stepping inside quickly and nudging the door shut behind him, “on how long I can go without kissing you.”
Before I could respond, he kissed me.
Soft at first. Just a brush. Like he was asking for permission again even though we’d already crossed the line the night before.
Then I kissed him back and all bets were off.
His hands slid around my waist, backing me up until I hit the wall of the bedroom. My fingers gripped the front of his shirt as he kissed down the side of my neck, murmuring, “I missed you this morning.”
“You saw me at breakfast,” I said breathlessly.
He grinned against my skin. “Not like this.”
I was just about to respond when a very familiar voice floated up from the hallway.
“Y/n?”
We froze.
Charlie.
I shoved Will off me with a gasp, scrambled to fix my shirt, and silently prayed my face wasn’t glowing red.
He quickly moved to the bookshelf, pretending to scan the titles, like that would explain why he was randomly in my room.
Charlie knocked once before pushing open the door.
“There you are,” she said, then blinked. “Will?”
“Hey, Charlie.” He smiled far too smoothly. “Was just checking out this room. Forgot how nice the view is from up here.”
Charlie narrowed her eyes.
“The view, huh?” she said slowly, before turning to me. “Mum was looking for you. You promised you’d help set the table for later.”
“Right, yep, sorry on my way.”
She left, but not before shooting me a look that said: I’m not buying it.
Downstairs, I kept my head down, helping Mum lay out plates and avoiding Charlie’s suspicious glances. Will, meanwhile, strolled into the kitchen like he hadn’t just had his hands up my top ten minutes ago.
The worst part?
Charlie cornered me after dinner, glass of wine in hand, and said softly:
“You know, if this is what I think it is, you could do worse.”
I choked on my sip. “Sorry what?”
She smirked. “I’ve known Will my whole life. And I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Then whispered, “Please don’t say anything.”
She smiled gently. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”
That night, I lay in bed, heart pounding as I replayed every second.
We had almost been caught.
And yet, I wasn’t afraid.
Not of being found out.
Not of what it meant.
I was more afraid of how deeply I already knew:
I was in trouble.
Real, heart-thudding, never-looking-back kind of trouble.
And the worst part?
I didn’t want to be saved.
It was just a walk.
That’s what we told everyone.
We disappeared after dinner a few people still milling about the terrace, others cleaning up, music still playing softly from someone’s speaker. But no one asked where we were going.
Maybe they assumed we needed fresh air. Or maybe they just didn’t notice how my hand brushed against his as we slipped quietly down the narrow path behind the vineyard.
The sun had just set, leaving the sky streaked in honeyed gold and soft lilac. The warm air clung to my skin, my cheeks flushed from wine and adrenaline.
Will hadn’t said a word since we left the house.
Until we reached the small stone lookout point that curved over the hills. The silence between us buzzed louder than any words could.
He turned to me then.
Eyes dark. Jaw tense.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about last night,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Or earlier today. Or how close we just came to getting caught.”
I swallowed. “Neither have I.”
His hand brushed my cheek, thumb tracing just beneath my eye. “We should be more careful.”
“We should.”
He stepped closer. “We’re not going to be, are we?”
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”
His mouth was on mine before the last word left my lips.
This kiss was different.
It was hungry. Desperate. Like all the restraint we’d clung to had finally snapped. His hands cupped my face as he walked me back until I hit the stone ledge. I pulled him closer, fingers in his hair, his body pressed hard against mine as I tried to memorise the exact feeling of him the heat, the weight, the way he kissed like he was starving for me.
When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.
“We should go back.”
I nodded, though I didn’t want to.
He let out a shaky laugh. “Because if I kiss you like that again, I’m not stopping.”
Back at the house, the night settled in. Lights dimmed. Laughter faded into yawns. Doors closed, one by one.
And still I couldn’t sleep.
Not with my skin still tingling. Not with the phantom of his hands on my waist.
I lay on my side, covers kicked off, wearing only an oversized T-shirt. The windows were cracked open, letting the warm night air swirl through the room.
Then I heard it.
The door creaked open with a softness that made my heart jolt.
“Y/n,” Will whispered, barely visible in the low light. “Are you awake?”
I turned, propping myself up. “What are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and crossed the room in seconds, sliding beneath the covers next to me like he’d done it a hundred times.
He smelled like mint and night air. Like trouble.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, giddy.
“Completely,” he murmured. “I blame you.”
He pulled me close, spooning me from behind, his arm wrapping around my waist. Then slowly, maddeningly his lips pressed against the back of my shoulder.
One kiss.
Then another.
And another, trailing down my spine.
I shuddered beneath his mouth.
He grinned into my skin. “Cold?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
His hand slid along the curve of my hip, fingers skimming beneath the hem of my shirt. My breath caught as he kissed just below my shoulder blade, his teeth grazing lightly.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
I turned my head to meet his eyes in the dark.
“Don’t you dare.”
Our mouths met again a different kind of kiss this time. Slow. Deep. Full of all the tension we hadn’t let ourselves act on until now.
His hand explored my skin with reverence, every touch igniting sparks beneath the surface. When he rolled me onto my back and settled between my legs, our bodies aligned in a way that made my heart pound so hard I could hear it.
“Still just a walk?” I whispered, breathless.
He chuckled against my throat. “Not even close.”
And though we both knew there was a risk of creaking floors, of curious siblings, of someone opening the wrong door it didn’t matter.
Because in that moment, with his lips on mine and his hands trailing lower, I stopped caring about rules. About history. About what anyone else would say.
I just wanted him.
His breath was warm against my collarbone as he hovered just above me, arms braced on either side of my body like he was holding himself back by a thread. Our eyes locked in the shadows.
“Seriously tell me if you want me to stop,” Will said again, voice husky, low.
“I don’t,” I whispered, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently.
That was all it took.
He kissed me again, deeper this time not rushed, but full of intent. Like he was committing it to memory, learning the map of my mouth, the way I sighed into him, how I arched just slightly to meet him when he pressed his body flush against mine.
The thin t-shirt I wore bunched at my hips as he ran his hands along my thighs, coaxing them open with a quiet groan. His palm smoothed over the soft skin, reverent, slow and I couldn’t help the breathy whimper that escaped me when his lips began trailing lower again.
From my neck to my collarbone… further down… stopping just above the hem of my shirt.
“Can I?” he murmured, fingers brushing along the edge, waiting.
I nodded.
He didn’t rush. He took his time peeling the shirt away, inch by inch, watching the way I responded to every new inch of skin he exposed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the dip just below my ribs. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
My fingers tightened in his hair as his mouth found its way to the soft skin beneath my navel. Each kiss sent flutters through my stomach warmth pooling low, my thighs pressing around his shoulders as he settled between them with an ease that felt... natural. Like he’d always meant to be there.
Will looked up at me once more eyes burning before lowering his head.
The first touch of his mouth made my back lift off the bed in a shiver.
He was gentle, deliberate, and far too good at this for someone who claimed to be “out of practice.” His hands held my hips still as he worked slowly, tasting me like he had nowhere else to be, like he wanted to learn every inch of me this way.
I gasped his name more than once.
And when my fingers gripped the sheets and I cried out shaking, breathless, undone he didn’t stop right away. He pressed one last, possessive kiss to my thigh and made his way back up, mouth shiny, eyes dark with want.
“You okay?” he asked, lips brushing my jaw.
“I think I saw stars,” I said, still breathless, pulling him down for another kiss.
His body settled between mine again, bare chest warm against mine. He rutted gently into me, letting me feel just how much he wanted me how much he needed this too.
I reached for the waistband of his boxers.
“Your turn,” I whispered, smiling against his mouth.
He chuckled low and rough as he helped me ease them off. And then we were skin to skin. No space between us, no more hesitation.
He paused, forehead against mine.
“This changes everything,” he whispered.
“I know,” I said, curling my legs around his waist.
He kissed me once more, deep and slow, as he finally pressed into me inch by inch stealing the breath from my lungs. We moved in sync, bodies fitting together like we were made for this.
It was intense.
Overwhelming.
Nothing like anything I’d had before not because it was perfect or planned, but because it mattered. Every touch, every movement, every whispered word or broken breath it all felt like claiming, like surrender.
Like home.
Later, tangled in the sheets, the air sticky and warm, he traced patterns along my spine with lazy fingers. Neither of us spoke right away just let the quiet settle, soft and sacred.
Then he murmured, “There’s no going back now.”
I looked up at him through heavy lashes. “Would you want to?”
He smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek.
“Not even if someone paid me.”
And just like that, I knew.
Whatever this was reckless, forbidden, stolen it was real.
And we weren’t walking away from it.
I woke before Will.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet just a pale blush of orange light spilling over the shutters and dappling the room in soft gold. The summer air had cooled slightly overnight, and I was tangled in sheets that still smelled like us: like sweat, wine, saltwater, and something I couldn’t name but knew I’d never forget.
Will lay beside me, one arm flung over my waist, the other pillowing his head. His mouth was slightly open, hair tousled in a way that would’ve made me laugh if I hadn’t still been reeling from the feel of his mouth on me the night before.
My body ached in the best way.
I stretched, careful not to disturb him, and grabbed his white t-shirt from the edge of the bed, slipping it over my head. It fell to mid-thigh. I padded over to the window to peek out the vineyard below still quiet, the house slowly waking.
That’s when I heard it.
A footstep. Sharp. Coming straight down the hall.
My eyes widened.
“Shit Will,” I whispered, darting back to the bed, nudging his shoulder. “Will, someone’s coming”
He sat up fast, groggy and confused, squinting at me. “What?”
“I think it’s one of my brothers!”
That jolted him.
In a flash, he was out of bed, yanking on his boxers and grabbing his hoodie off the chair. I scrambled to adjust the sheets to make the bed look halfway untouched. Will dove for the en suite just as
Knock knock.
“Y/n, you awake?” Tom’s voice called.
I smoothed the shirt over my thighs, heart racing.
“Yeah” I croaked, cleared my throat. “Yeah, just getting up now.”
“You want to join for breakfast? Mum’s making crepes.”
“Sure! I’ll be down in five!”
A pause. Then: “You good? You sound out of breath.”
I laughed. Forced. “I was doing squats.”
…Squats?
Brilliant, Y/n.
Tom snorted. “Right. See you in a bit.”
The footsteps retreated.
I exhaled and slumped against the door. Will emerged from the bathroom a second later, hair a mess, lips twitching.
“Squats?”
“Shut up,” I whispered, laughing under my breath as I shoved him back toward the bed.
He collapsed onto it with a groan, dragging me with him.
“That was way too close,” I murmured, tucked into his chest.
“Do you know the stress that shot through my entire body?” he mumbled. “I thought for a second I was about to die naked in a house full of your family.”
“Very Romeo and Juliet.”
“Don’t say that. That ends badly.”
We both laughed, the tension melting. I rested my chin on his chest, tracing a circle just below his collarbone with my fingertip.
His hand found mine, stilling it.
“Hey.”
I looked up.
He was staring at me with that same intensity from the walk. The same softness, too.
“How long?” I asked, voice quieter now. “How long have you… felt this way?”
He was silent for a beat.
Then he blew out a breath. “I don’t know the exact moment. I wish I did it’d be easier if I could point at something and say that was it. But it’s been years. Honestly.”
I blinked, caught off guard.
“Years?”
He nodded. “I’ve always looked out for you. At first, yeah, it felt like this protective older-brother thing… but then it didn’t. Somewhere along the line, I stopped worrying about you like a sibling and started worrying about you like… someone I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“I tried to ignore it,” he admitted. “Told myself you deserved someone your age. Someone without… baggage. But then this summer seeing you, really seeing you, like this made me realise I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
I swallowed hard, my hand tightening over his.
“I always thought you saw me as a kid.”
He shook his head slowly. “Never. Not really. And definitely not now.”
The room fell quiet.
Then he added, voice low, “I don’t know what this turns into… or how we’ll even make it work with both our families right downstairs. But I know I’m in it. Completely.”
I leaned forward and kissed him.
Not rushed, not desperate. Just a promise.
“I’m in it too,” I whispered.
He smiled against my lips. “Even after the whole Romeo-and-Juliet panic attack?”
“Especially after.”
The beach was loud. Not with screaming children or crying toddlers thank God but with the very specific brand of chaos that came from two families who’d known each other for decades. Siblings bickering over who got the last cold drink, Ed blasting some terrible playlist from his portable speaker, and Tom and Kane attempting to start a competitive game of beach cricket with zero equipment and wildly different rule understandings.
Every time I looked at Will stretched out shirtless on a towel, sun-kissed skin glowing, sunglasses perched on his nose I had to pretend he wasn’t the person who’d kissed every inch of my skin just last night.
I bit into a strawberry a little harder than necessary.
“You good?” Charlie asked beside me, sunglasses pushed up into her hair as she passed a bottle of prosecco to Jo.
“Yep! Fine. Great,” I said, entirely too cheerfully.
Charlie narrowed her eyes. “You sound suspicious.”
“I sound like someone who’s trying not to die from heatstroke,” I said, peeling off my cover-up and tossing it behind me. “Gonna go dip my feet in.”
I didn’t wait for a reply, just padded barefoot across the warm sand. The sun was blinding. The sea was glittering. And he was out there, waist-deep in the water, tossing a tennis ball back and forth with Kane, Tom, and Ed like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He caught it one-handed and flashed a grin up at the beach.
God. I was so doomed.
Just behind the row of umbrellas, I paused catching sight of our mums, Lena and Caroline, sitting under the shade with their big sun hats and bigger opinions.
“I’m just saying,” my mum whispered. “He lingers around her. Always has.”
Caroline chuckled. “I noticed it years ago.”
“Maybe they think we haven’t.”
“Maybe they think they’re subtle.”
My heart nearly stopped. I crouched just slightly behind a cooler, barely breathing.
“They’d make a beautiful couple,” Lena said with a soft smile. “They’ve always understood each other.”
“Do you think they’re…?”
“I’d bet my last pound.”
I spun on my heel and sprinted toward the water.
Will barely had time to register what was happening before I hurled myself at him.
“Y/n!”
We both crashed under a wave with a splash that sent water flying in every direction. He surfaced with a splutter, hands grabbing my waist instinctively as I clung to him, half panicking, half laughing.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Our mums,” I gasped, pushing back my wet hair. “They know. I just overheard them. They know something’s going on between us!”
His arms tightened around me.
“Shit,” he muttered. “What exactly did they say?”
“That we weren’t subtle. That they’d bet on us being together. And something about understanding each other.”
Will exhaled, saltwater dripping down his jaw.
“Well,” he said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, “we do understand each other.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Will”
“What?” He shrugged, water swirling around us. “You tackled me into the sea. I’m allowed a moment.”
I realised suddenly how close we were his hands still on my hips, my arms looped around his neck, his chest flush against mine beneath the surface. To anyone onshore, this looked like… well, exactly what it was.
I pulled back slightly, glancing toward the group.
Charlie had her sunglasses off. Ed had stopped mid-argument. Kane was whispering something to Tom, who immediately elbowed him.
“Oh no,” I groaned. “They’re all watching.”
Will brushed a strand of wet hair behind my ear and leaned in to whisper, “Well… might as well make it worth their while.”
I shoved him, laughing, and he stumbled backward into another wave, dragging me with him.
Later that day, as we all dried off and started packing up, Jo sidled up to me with a smirk.
“You really think no one would notice?” she whispered.
“Notice what?”
“Don’t play innocent. We’ve been waiting for years. Honestly, we were more shocked it took you this long.”
I stared at her, jaw dropping.
“Welcome to the ‘Everyone Already Knew’ club,” she said, throwing her arm around my shoulder. “We’ve got t-shirts.”
Will caught my eye from across the beach as he shook the sand from a towel.
He winked.
And for the first time… I didn’t have to look away.
Dinner was always a loud affair in this house, but tonight felt like it had its own electric current running through the air like everyone was just waiting for the moment to explode.
The table was long and wooden, lined with mismatched chairs. Caroline had lit candles. My mum had opened the good rosé. The evening sun streamed in through the open patio doors, carrying in the warm scent of jasmine and grilled fish.
All our siblings were buzzing with thinly veiled excitement, but our dads Neil and Henry had only just joined after a long afternoon golfing at a nearby course.
Which meant… they’d missed the entire ocean-tackle drama.
And our siblings were dying to catch them up.
“So, Dad,” Kane started, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he poured himself another glass of wine, “did you enjoy your peaceful, drama-free round of golf?”
Dad looked up from his plate, fork mid-air. “I did actually. It was lovely. Quiet.”
“That’s funny,” Jo said sweetly, biting into a piece of bread. “Because while you were golfing, Y/n body-slammed Will into the sea.”
Neil’s eyebrows rose. “Did she now?”
I groaned, lowering my face into my hands. “It wasn’t a body slam”
“She ran at him like a rugby player,” Tom said solemnly.
“Full pelt,” Kane agreed.
“I was trying to be playful,” I muttered into my hands.
Tom was shaking with silent laughter. “And then they were just… floating there. Like a Nicholas Sparks film with slightly more panic.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands.
Will cleared his throat. “It wasn’t… I mean, it wasn’t exactly what it looked like.”
Kane leaned forward, delighted. “Wasn’t it?”
I glanced sideways Will’s jaw was tight. The lightness he’d had in the water earlier was gone. He looked cornered, unsure.
“They’re dating,” Charlie said plainly. “We’re all pretending to be surprised, but we’re not.”
Neil nearly dropped his fork. “What?”
Will sat up straighter. “It’s… new.”
Dad raised his brows at me, that signature dad expression. “New, is it?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. “Sort of. I don’t know. Not really.”
Will winced.
“She’s flustered,” Ed said cheerfully. “That’s a good sign.”
“And you’ve been in love with her since she was seventeen,” Tom added bluntly.
Will turned sharply. “Okay, no”
“Eighteen,” Kane offered. “Let’s be fair.”
Now Will looked caught between defending himself and running for the ocean.
“Remember the bonfire in Devon?” Dad said suddenly. “That boy asked her to dance and Will practically squared up like he was about to deck him.”
Will groaned. “I was just being protective.”
“Oh, and the time she had that date with the guy from uni,” Mum added. “You told her you didn’t trust men under 25. You were twenty-five.”
The table roared.
Will ran a hand through his hair, finally cracking a sheepish smile. “You lot are relentless.”
I looked at him properly looked. His shoulders were still a little tense, but the lines around his eyes were soft now. A mix of embarrassment and something warmer. He met my gaze for a moment, and that look said it all:
This wasn’t the plan. But… it’s okay.
He reached under the table, found my hand, and laced our fingers together. I squeezed it.
“I just thought it’d be chaos if they knew,” he said quietly, only for me.
“It is chaos,” I whispered back, smiling.
“But you don’t look like you want to run.”
I shook my head. “Do you?”
“No.” He exhaled. “Not anymore.”
Just then, Neil leaned in. “Look, all I’m saying is if I’d known this might happen, I would’ve prepared a speech.”
“Oh God, please don’t,” I groaned.
“Speech!” Kane chanted. “Speech! Speech!”
The chant caught on like wildfire.
Will leaned close again, lips near my ear. “We’re going to be teased forever, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
“Worth it.”
I looked at him then the boy who used to steal my ice creams, the man who guarded my heart before I ever gave it to him, the one who used to warn me about stupid boys while clearly being one himself.
Now, he wasn’t hiding.
Now, he was holding my hand at a crowded table, letting our whole world know he wanted me.
His smile turned smug again but this time, it was earned. Soft. Certain.
“What?” I asked, raising a brow.
Will just tilted his head, looking way too pleased with himself. “Told you I’d be the one to ruin you for all other men.”
I gasped, cheeks blazing. “Will!”
“Too much?” he said, laughing.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
I did.
God help me, I did.
The house was buzzing with laughter and wine as we all started clearing away from the dinner table. Plates clinked, chairs scraped across the tile, and the summer night air drifted in through the open doors. I was still blushing from the last round of teasing, barely able to make eye contact with anyone.
Will’s hand brushed the small of my back as we headed down the hall, moving in perfect unison comfortable now, no longer needing to pretend. He said something low to Tom about the football game tomorrow, and I could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “Right, I’m heading up for the night.”
That was all it took.
“With Y/n?” Charlie called from behind.
Jo gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, they’re doing it legally now!”
“Do we put a sock on the door?” Ed asked, mock whispering. “Or a tea towel? What’s the adult version of that?”
Kane leaned against the hallway wall like he was preparing a formal announcement. “Look, as one of her brothers, I do feel obligated to object...”
“You had your chance at dinner,” I interrupted, laughing.
Will kept walking, utterly unfazed. “You lot can all shut up. We’re grown adults.”
“You still blush like a teenager,” Tom called.
“Shut up, Tom!” I yelled back.
But Will only squeezed my hand tighter and led me upstairs.
The room was warm and quiet. A distant echo of the house’s laughter still hummed beneath us, but in here… it felt like the world had finally stilled.
I stood by the bed, brushing my hair out, and Will came up behind me arms slipping around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. We just stood like that, looking at our reflection in the mirror.
“Today was…” he started, voice low.
“Insane?”
“Perfect.”
I turned slowly to face him. “You weren’t exactly loving the attention earlier.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “No, I wasn’t. But then you held my hand… and I just stopped caring what anyone thought.”
That stupid ache bloomed in my chest again the one that always came when he said things like that. Honest. Quiet. True.
“I’ve never had someone who felt like mine before,” he murmured, brushing my cheek. “Not really.”
“You’ve always been mine,” I whispered, heart stammering.
He looked at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to the planet. “I love you, you know.”
My breath hitched.
“I know I probably should’ve said it days ago, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“You didn’t,” I said, voice shaking now. “You could never scare me off.”
He kissed me then, gentle and steady no rush, no heat, just love.
“I love you too,” I whispered against his lips.
We didn’t rush that night.
No frantic sneaking. No stolen glances or silent goodbyes.
Just slow hands, soft laughter, a warm bed shared without guilt. He held me like I was something sacred, something he’d waited for his whole life. And I clung to him like I’d been holding my breath for years and could finally exhale.
At one point, he just looked at me, tangled in sheets and moonlight, and whispered, “You were worth every second of waiting.”
And I believed him.
We were still curled around each other when the knock came.
Then the door swung open.
“Hope you’re decent!” Kane called, eyes squinting dramatically. “Oh, wait of course you’re not.”
I let out an actual squeal, pulling the sheet up to my chin. Will didn’t even flinch just draped his arm over my waist like this was a bloody hotel.
“Kane, get out!”
“Look,” Tom said, peering in behind him. “I’m just saying, maybe next time you two go at it like bloody jackrabbits, you consider a bit of noise control. I could hear the headboard in my room.”
Kane nodded. “And I sleep with white noise. That’s saying something.”
Will finally sat up, hair rumpled, voice hoarse. “You two are actual nightmares.”
“I’ve never been more traumatised,” Ed added, joining the doorframe.
“You’re all liars,” I groaned. “We were quiet!”
“Mate,” Tom said, dead serious, “it sounded like someone was killing a fox and also rearranging furniture at the same time.”
Will couldn’t stop laughing now, shoulders shaking with the effort. I punched his arm. “Don’t encourage them!”
“I’m just proud of us, babe.”
I buried my face under the pillow.
Charlie shouted from down the hall, “Let them be! They’re in love!”
“Gross!” Kane yelled back.
But the door finally shut, and quiet returned.
Sort of.
Will looked over at me, eyes twinkling. “You regret any of this yet?”
I pulled the pillow down and smiled, cheeks pink. “Not for a second.”
He leaned over and kissed me soft, sleepy, so full of promise.
“Then let’s get up,” he said. “Because we’ve still got a whole family holiday of this energy.”
I groaned.
But really?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The sky was cotton candy and fire streaks of lavender and amber draping across the horizon like some old oil painting. Waves lapped gently against the shore as the sun dipped lower, casting a golden shimmer across the sea. The fire crackled, spitting occasional sparks into the warm dusk air, and the smell of toasted marshmallows and cheap rosé wrapped around us all like a blanket.
This was our last night in the South of France.
And it was chaos.
Ed had taken control of the Bluetooth speaker, forcing us all into an impromptu dance circle with a playlist that could only be described as “unhinged.” Think: ABBA, followed by Eminem, followed by the Mamma Mia! soundtrack again.
Kane and Tom were spinning each other around like drunk idiots, almost knocking over a deck chair. Charlie and Jo were filming everything while simultaneously heckling them. Will’s mum, Caroline, was trying to force everyone to eat more grilled halloumi, and my mum, was sipping wine and whispering something to her with a smirk that could only mean they were gossiping about us.
I turned, and of course, I caught them both watching me and Will like hawks.
“Oh God,” I muttered, nudging Will. “Our mums are doing that face again.”
“What face?” he asked innocently, though he was already smiling.
“You know the one. The ‘we’ve-known-since-you-were-ten’ face.”
Will just shrugged, far too smug. “Can you blame them? I mean… this,” he gestured between us, “has been written in the stars.”
“More like scribbled in biro with a pint of rosé in hand,” I muttered.
Just then, Kane shouted across the sand, “Oi! Lovebirds! Dance or be banished!”
“Banished where?” Will called back.
“To the land of boring couples who don't participate in family bonding!”
I groaned as Jo threw a blanket over my shoulders like a cape. “Come on, Princess of Sneaking-Around. Let’s see those moves.”
Eventually, Will took my hand and tugged me into the circle, pulling me into a ridiculous spin that made me squeal. The sand made everything ten times more difficult, which only made us laugh harder. My cheeks hurt. My ribs ached. My heart felt like it was glowing in my chest.
And then the music softened. Slower. Warmer. Something acoustic and romantic Ed’s doing, clearly. Everyone gradually slipped away to chairs and drinks and conversations, and somehow, we were left in the middle, swaying.
Will’s hands found my waist. Mine found the back of his neck.
And the noise melted away.
“Can I ask you something?” he said softly, eyes catching the last slant of sun.
“Mmm. Dangerous.”
“I’m serious.”
“Go on then.”
He paused, thumb brushing gently over my hipbone. “Will you come back to London with me?”
I blinked. “Wasn’t that already the plan? I live there too if you've forgotten”
“I mean… as my girlfriend,” he clarified, voice low. “Properly. No hiding. No sneaking into rooms or pretending we’re just family friends.”
I bit my lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… I don’t know. It’s been such a good fling.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Y/n.”
I grinned. “I’m teasing. I thought that much was unspoken already.”
“Yeah, well.” He leaned in a little. “I want it spoken. Because I want everyone to know. I want to be able to kiss you when I want, not just when no one’s looking. I want the late-night chats and the lazy mornings and the horrible coffee you make. I want you.”
The world went quiet for a second.
And then I leaned up and kissed him slow and soft and smiling against his lips.
“I want all of that too,” I whispered. “You’ve got me.”
Will beamed. And in typical Poulter fashion, immediately shouted, “SHE’S MINE NOW, EVERYONE!”
The entire family erupted into laughter.
Tom tossed a marshmallow at him. “Bit possessive, don’t you think?”
“She’s been mine since she was sixteen and refused to speak to me for a week because I laughed at her One Direction phase,” Will called back.
“That was sacred!” I yelled.
Charlie added, “Can we get a group cheer for finally putting us out of our misery?”
Everyone raised their glasses.
“To Will and Y/n!”
“To shutting up finally!”
“To Will actually being nice to someone!”
“To future babies!” someone shouted.
“OH MY GOD, NO,” I cried, face burning.
But Will just smiled, wrapping his arm around me, tucking me under his chin like we were built to fit there. “Let them tease,” he murmured. “We’re the ones going home together.”
As the fire burned low and the stars came out, Will pulled me down onto a blanket beside him, arms wrapped tight around me, body warm against the cool night.
“I like us,” I whispered.
He kissed my temple. “I love us.”
And as our families laughed and bickered and danced around us, I couldn’t help but think…
It had always been him.
And finally, we were exactly where we were meant to be.
28 notes · View notes
heybaetae · 2 days ago
Text
i have so many thoughts on something but no where to vent them all so i'm gonna word vomit it all here and delete it later
basically i had been really losing patience with people over the last few weeks regarding jungkook and his ability to go MIA for long stretches of time and it started to feel inherently demanding when they'd beg him to show a sign of life (most people were joking, but a lot of his solo stans were not and i'll come back to this). i think a lot of people either forgot or arrived during/after 2023 when he was extremely active on weverse live, so it's hard for a lot of people to imagine not hearing from him for weeks, sometimes months. that used to be very normal and idk if people's perception of him is skewed by that era, but it's just so odd to see how comfortable people have become telling him what he *needs* to do to keep the people who claim to support him entertained.
within days of discharging, they'd (solos/shippers) already ventured into the comment section of the instagram account he made for his DOG(!!!) and resorted to writing long-winded, belligerent paragraph rants telling him how angry they are that he's living his own life, not doing lives, travelling with a member because 1. how dare he let himself be forced to do fan service with someone he hates (so they decided) or 2. they're fucking and want everyone to know it and no in-between, working with bts again, not immediately giving them a solo tour, not posting anything, etc.
and it's not like his silence was unexpected? he quite literally said in the post-discharge live, where he was very clearly shy about being on camera and even said so more than once, that he needed time to get back to a condition where he felt comfortable again to show himself. cut to a psychopath trying to break into his house hours later, fast forward to people stalking him all over vacation while trying to safely film a show for us, jump to people analyzing his every move trying to find proof that he's dating ten different people at once every time he breathes in an airport or a restaurant. imagine coming out of conscription to this. his autonomy to exist on this planet without problems has never seemed less his than it does now.
yet despite all this, DESPITE ALL OF IT, he never lets any of it affect his relationship with army when he has every single right to. he always comes back around when he's ready and i don't know how he does it, but i wish people could learn how to be patient with him again. because if i were jungkook. i'd be exactly as turned off to interacting with fans as people speculate he is, but that's never really the case. he's just introverted! he's also shy and i think people don't remember that part about him! he's comfortable with us, yes, but the environment matters. the context matters. when his privacy is hanging by a thread as often as his is, all of it matters. it's human nature to retreat. it's normal to not have his attention for a while. it's healthy to have boundaries. it's safe to keep to himself. i wish people gave him the grace to just Be. because how sweet it feels when he finally pops up will never get old and it's a privilege we have that i think a lot of people take for granted and don't appreciate at face value.
anyway i think that's all. basically i want people to leave jungkook alone and stop projecting personalities onto him that aren't fact and for newer fans to maybe reel it in a little with the dramatics.....you have a lot to learn, my friend lol
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c0wboylikeharry · 9 hours ago
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THE PACT (h.s fanfic)
(masterlist)
(taglist)
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chpt 6
harry styles x fem!reader
summary: Y/N and Harry have always had a complicated relationship. They're friends, then they're not. They like each other, then they despise each other. But something deep inside can't let them stray too far apart, even as everything changes around them. Through the trials and tests of life, the heartbreaks and joys, can Harry and Y/N find their own way? Or will they stick to the drunken marriage pact they made in a time of desperation?
word count: 5.2k
warnings: sexual guilt, anxious thoughts, smut, awkwardness lol, jealousy
a/n: sorry this chapter took so long, i wanted to do it justice. the story’s just getting started…
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
Last week, you officially turned 18 years old. You thought it might feel different, finally being a legal adult and all, but it didn’t. You were still the same old you. That thought alone sparked a near-existential crisis. You did in fact lock yourself in the bathroom to hyperventilate for a few minutes.
But you had to put on a happy face for the day, instead of allowing yourself to feel the dread of aging you had deep inside.
Your friends had thrown you a quaint party to celebrate another year around the sun. Just the group at the lake—which you were quickly realizing seemed to be the only fun-ish thing to do in your town. You swam, had cake, and almost burned your hands with sparklers once the sun had set. It was a fun day, you aren’t complaining in the slightest, birthdays just aren’t your thing. Are they anyone’s thing? Yeah, everyone, let’s gather around and celebrate you being one year closer to the grave. No thanks!
God, you’re being morbid.
In all reality, you did have a really good birthday, you just haven’t been having a very good couple of weeks.
Earlier this month, Harry got that summer job he was talking about. Now, the ice cream shop on Main Street sees him more than you do. Apparently part-time these days means 12 out of the 24 hours of the day.
Okay. Once again, you’re being overdramatic. He works maybe 23 hours a week. But, between that, college prep, and finding time to sleep; his usual visits that you counted on have become sparse.
And you’ve been feeling a bit neglected.
You know he’s not doing it on purpose to hurt you, it’s work. It’s a job! But, there’s a tiny piece of you that feels like a part of him might be avoiding you. When you are together, fleeting hours where he’s either getting ready for work or settling in for the night, everything’s fine. He doesn’t seem off, and yet you still overthink it. Maybe it’s just the fact that he has a new part of his life that doesn’t involve you. Before it was you and him at school. You and him relaxing during summer. Now it’s you at home and him at work.
It feels like things are changing. You don’t like it. Especially since it’s all going to change even more in just a few weeks.
Even though you’re certain it’s just in your head, you can feel him slipping through your fingers. You love him too much to let him fall through your grasp. You have to do something to keep him holding on.
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
“I still think you’re being crazy,” Leah muses as she leans up against your dresser.
Maybe you are being a little crazy, but you’re past the point of caring. “I’m just going to visit him.”
“Yeah, with ulterior motives,” she counters.
“There’s no ‘ulterior motive’ here, Leah,” you try to explain, “I’m just going to visit my boyfriend while he’s at work.”
“Whatever you say…” comes her smartass response.
Truly, you’re not getting all dolled up for any other reason than to see your boyfriend. Sure, you might be putting on a little extra eyeliner to catch his attention, but it’s not malicious. And, okay, maybe you pulled out your good bra for the occasion, but who doesn’t want to look good for the boy they love? If the motives you have are to gain your boyfriend's attention a little more than usual, and that’s wrong, then she can lock you up!
Staring back at yourself in the mirror, you can see the difference the slight changes have made. Your eyes pop with a sultrier allure. The bronzer you borrowed from Leah is maybe a shade too dark, but it makes you look like you’ve been french-kissed by the sun. And the lipgloss that’s coated on your lips sorta makes you want to kiss yourself. It’s perfect.
You stand from your vanity, adjusting the clothes you have on. The scoop neck on your top is accentuating what the push-up bra is giving you. The distressed shorts are riding up in all the right places. And the necklace that rests against the center of your chest, the one Harry gave you for your birthday—engraved with an ‘H’—almost makes your conscious crack.
Everything’s fine. You’re just visiting your boyfriend.
You don’t know how many times you’ll have to tell yourself that before you believe it.
“Even though I have my qualms about this, you do look hot,” Leah finally says something of substance, eyeing you through the mirror from behind.
“It’s not too much?” Now you’re the one second guessing it.
“Not for what you’re planning.”
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. You just have to be confident. Don’t let the rest of the world get in your head. You’re okay. You and him are okay. Everything is okay!
“Let’s go.”
As you and Leah make your way out of your house and to her car, you feel a bit nervous. You aren’t sure why. You’re just going to visit— Okay! No more saying that! Even you know that’s not true.
You asked Leah to drive you for two reasons. One, you felt the need for back up and emotional support. Two, Harry would immediately recognize the loud engine of your truck if you showed up in it. Not that this is an ambush on him or anything… More so, hopefully, a happy surprise!
The rumble of her outdated sedan underneath you makes your stomach feel even queasier. Not even the radio playing can drown out the doubtful thoughts in your head. You have half the mind to tell her to pull over so you can puke. Or so you can run back home. Maybe this was a mistake? But you need to know. You need clarity. You need him back.
The drive up to Main Street feels a little too short today. One minute you’re running through how you hope the interaction will go in your head, and the next Leah is trying her hardest to parallel park outside the shop. You can’t even help her steer, too preoccupied with staring into the windows of the store to try and make out the moving blobs inside. When the car is put into park, extremely crookedly, the anxiety welcomes itself into your body without an invitation. There’s no turning back now.
Leah’s the first to get out of the car, easier for her since she’s not being crushed with nerves. But you force yourself to move. To hold your head high. To definitely not trip on the curb and make a fool of yourself before it’s even started. With one foot in front of the other, you make it to the door, and Leah has to open it for you. Your hands are too shaky anyway.
The bell above your heads rings, alerting the few people inside that more have joined the party. It’s intimidating.
And there he is. Standing behind the counter in his ‘Scoops!’ branded t-shirt. You can’t help but notice the way the material hugs his biceps. It reminds you of the other activity he’s been using to—maybe, possibly, hopefully not—avoid you. All the boys have gotten scarily obsessed with their physiques this summer. Four days out of the week, they all make their way to the gym to work out. It has definitely paid off for Harry. But is he trying to look good for you in the same way you did for him today? Or is it something else?
Green eyes flitting to your face, a casual smile he’d give anyone to greet them into the shop. It falters when he registers it’s you. You can’t be sure if that’s because he doesn’t feel the need to be in customer service mode for you, or because of something way worse. God, your stomach is turning, and it’s not from ice cream cravings. But his face snaps back into place as he finishes up with the customer he’s helping. You wait idly by as his strong hands scoop mounds onto the cone. And once he’s finished, he hands it off to the cashier.
Delilah.
You don’t know her, but you’ve heard about her. Mainly from Harry recounting his days at work. She’s one of the few employees here that is your guys’ age. The daughter of the owner. Nepotism at its finest. From what you’ve heard, she’s nice. Welcoming to Harry when he first started, and a great teacher. They always work together, another thing you’ve deduced. If Harry’s ever telling you a funny story from work, no doubt Delilah is an instigator or an accomplice.
She’s prettier than the picture you painted in your head. But, then again, you had to deem her a beast for you to be able to sleep comfortably at night. All of her features are the polar opposite of yours. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You also can’t tell if the brush of their fingers in the ice cream exchange was purely accidental, or way too intentional. What you do know is her smile casted at him during it makes your blood pressure rise.
You have to force your attention away from the way her hair sits perfectly curled over her shoulders. Or the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks that prove she can be this pretty without any makeup. And you pray the pounds you caked on today aren’t creasing and giving away your secrets.
Dragging your focus back to the man of the hour, Harry stands behind the ice cream case, his eyes already on you. You don’t miss the way they drag up your whole frame—bottom to top—like he’s studying you. Is it a judgmental look? A look of appreciation and approval? You can’t be sure. Your head is a jumbled mess right now.
When he leans his arms over the glass, you move closer, hoping his eyes will stay on you and not drift to her.
“Hi…” you practically whisper, but with your throat constricting, it’s the best you can do.
“Hey… What are you doing here?” Oh God, the dreaded question. What are you doing here? You know it’s not for the lie you’ve been spewing since the idea formed in your head. But you can’t tell him the truth…
Okay, the lie can’t hurt just one more time. “I came to see you.”
He smiles at that, a real one. One that has your shoulders relaxing just the slightest amount. Maybe you were overthinking everything.
“Hold on one second, I’ll go tell my boss I’m going on my break.” His knuckles tap against the glass casing twice before he pushes off and starts to walk to the back.
“Oh… Okay.” You weren’t expecting him to do this. You merely came to hopefully overwhelm him and observe his cracks. But that’s not happening. He’s giving you the time of day. More than that! Okay, you were definitely over—
“Hi, I’m Delilah!” You know who she is. “You must be… Harry’s girlfriend?” The way she phrases it as a question shouldn’t piss you off, because she’s merely just wondering. But it does. Is it not plausible to her that you could be his girlfriend? Oh my God, you’re really overdramatic. Calm down.
“Yeah… Y/N.”
Her eyes trace over you as if inspecting Harry’s work. You almost want to scream out that you normally don’t look like this. That you aren’t so fake looking. That, just like her, you can consider yourself having some natural beauty. That you only look like this today because you were trying to get a reaction out of your boyfriend that you’re afraid is losing interest.
That last thought might give her a motive, though, so you stay silent. And, apparently, she doesn’t have anything else to say either. Again, you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“I’m gonna…wait in the car.” Leah can obviously feel the tension flooding the space. Lucky for her, she doesn’t have to sit around for the bloodbath.
When Harry reappears from the back, you can finally breathe. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Delilah’s shoulders sag a little too. He undoes his apron and tosses it on one of the back counters, hands flying up to his hair to muss it up a little. Is that action for you, or…?
“I’m going on my break, Del.”
Del. Oh, now you’re sure your heart has just broken in two. He has a nickname for her? One he seems very comfortable using. One that just slipped off his tongue like he repeats it in his dreams. God, you might be sick.
He rounds the counter and comes out the other side of the service door. The metaphors you could make of him being on your side now are endless, but you refrain. You’re still a bit nauseous.
“Come on, we can chill outside,” he urges you, already heading for the door. But you take the bait of the war raging on in your head.
You grab onto his hand just as he’s passing you and pull him to your still body. He stumbles a bit, surprised by your move. Even more surprised when you rise onto your toes and press your lips to his. It takes him a second to reciprocate the kiss. You push back the thought that he didn’t want to kiss you and replace it with the fact that he just wasn’t expecting it. Hopefully that’s the truth.
You can feel it in your bones that you’re making a fool of yourself. Putting on a show to prove something to someone who doesn’t care. The kiss isn’t one in simple greeting of your boyfriend, you know that. Delilah probably knows that. Hell, Harry probably knows it too. You are such an idiot.
Pulling back and resting down on the heels of your feet, you try not to cry when he wipes his lips. It’s just because of the lipgloss, you tell yourself. Nothing more. Right?
Finally, you two make your way outside to the front patio. The sun is hot and it makes your clammy skin feel ten times grosser. He leads you to a table that’s somewhat in the shade, but the fire in your blood doesn’t give you any chance at cooling down.
“It’s been crazy busy today,” he starts. You have to bite your tongue from yelling that you don’t want to talk about his work. But you also aren’t sure how to broach the conversation that you do want to talk about.
“Oh, yeah?” you fake interest.
“Yeah, but, I don’t want to bore you with that. Oh! Actually, there was this one customer who came in and—oh my god,” he can’t contain his bubbling laughter, “Del was so…” You tune out as soon as the nickname leaves his lips.
Watching the way his lips form the words as he goes on and on about whatever hilarious thing his beautiful coworker did, it's entrancing. You’ve always loved the way he talked. The way his lips curl at the edges on certain syllables. The way his two front teeth hang just a bit lower than the rest when he enunciates. His dimple popping out when he feels the story gets extra funny. All of it. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. And you love him. So much it’s actually making you panic a little.
“Hey, do you want to come over tonight?” You aren’t even sure if you just interrupted his story, but the words just slipped out.
“To yours?” he asks, as if that wasn’t implied.
“Yeah, to my house. My parents are going to my Dad’s work party.”
“So… It’ll be an empty house?”
You gulp, audibly. “Yeah.”
“Yeah… Yeah, we can just…watch a movie or something.” Or something, you almost say. Instead, you just nod. “You look pretty, by the way.”
“I do?” You almost aren’t sure if you believe him. And it almost makes you feel worse about your appearance, even if he’s telling the truth. Face caked with makeup, boobs pushed up to the sky; you don’t even recognize yourself. Is this the version he likes more?
No, don’t overthink this. It was just a compliment. He was just telling his girlfriend that she looks pretty. That’s all it was.
And that’s only assured when he responds: “Yeah. You always look pretty, but those little…” he motions to the black wings you drew on your eyes, “things are cute.”
“Oh,” you laugh nervously, as if this is the first time he’s ever complimented you. “Thanks.”
“Shit, I gotta get back inside.” He checks the time and your heart sinks. Even with how tense this conversation felt for you, you didn’t want it to end. Back to work he goes. Back to her.
Both of your chairs skid against the concrete as you stand up. Rounding the table, he catches your hand for the small walk to the shop's front door. It reminds you of when he did it before graduation, when he grabbed your hand to walk to your car five feet away. The butterflies in your stomach make a sudden appearance.
Multiplying when he tugs you to him right in front of the glass. One arm snakes around your waist while the other reaches up for your face. His warm palm cradles your cheek, and you have half the mind to nuzzle it like a cat. This is your Harry.
He pulls your face toward his as he leans in. Lips meeting in a soft caress. Interlocking in trust and love. It’s all the reassurance you needed. The confidence you need for tonight.
When he pulls back, just enough for his nose to still brush yours, a small smile is already on his face.
“I’ll see you once I’m off.”
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
Harry’s lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy, hot and rushed. If you had the time to calculate, you’re sure you could deduce that these kisses are different from any other you’ve shared before. Deeper, and more desperate. And this time, it’s not just him giving all the energy.
“Fuck, baby… What’s gotten into you?” he laughs lightly in between caresses of your tongues. Little does he know there’s a very real, very intentional, reason you’re suddenly so passionate.
While the lingering fear of his boredom with you is a real threat, it’s not like you feel forced to act like this. If anything, it feels natural to reciprocate his needy actions. You’re scared of sex, sure, but you’re more scared of losing him. And if you had to be honest with yourself, you’ve been ready just like him, you just needed a little push. One he’s too nice to give you, so you had to push yourself.
Your hands find themselves at the hemline of his shirt, slowly dragging it up his body. He doesn’t protest, and it’s not new. It’s not like you’re pushing yourself to run a marathon with no training tonight. You just need to jump over that final hurdle. His skin is hot under your fingertips as you trail them over his shoulders and down his chest. The muscle he’s been gaining ripples under your touch, fueling you to continue.
With your legs wrapped around his hips, you drag him closer, pressing him fully against you. He gasps into your mouth at the sensation. Again, it’s nothing new, but this time you won’t call a timeout.
“Harry…” you breathe his name in the split second he takes to catch his breath. His hips roll against you at your tone, making both of you audibly react. “I- I’m ready.”
That’s it. The words are out there—solidified. You’ve sealed your fate, and you’re not going to chicken out this time. You want this. You want him—in all meanings of the word.
All of his movements still at once. No more wet kisses against your lips, no more frenzied touches trailing over any inch of your body, and no more slow rolls of his hips. He pulls his head away from yours to stare into your eyes, to try and decipher if he was just hearing things. They dart back and forth between yours—an investigation. You can practically see all of the emotions flickering in his irises. Surprise, confusion, lust, and excitement.
“You— You’re what?”
“I’m ready,” you reply, more sure of your words this time.
“You are?” he triple checks. He can’t believe it, and you understand why. After seemingly months and months of turning him down, you practically just gave him the golden ticket. It’s taking him some time to process, so you nod to confirm his suspicions. “Oh my God, baby.” His head drops into the crook of your neck with a sigh of—what seems to be—relief. And as if what you said were the magic words, his hips start to roll again. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, baby,” you practically whisper, “I want this.” I want you. Only you. Only me. No one else. Forever.
“Fuck…”
If you thought his movements before were chaotic and sloppy, they’re nothing like now. His hands nearly rip down the middle of your shirt to get you out of it, but he settles on just ripping it up and off. Lips, everywhere, immediately. Down your jaw, along your neck, across your collarbones. Your back arches like an instinct, and you finally believe that you want this for you, not just for him.
It’s you who reaches for the button of your jean shorts, popping it effortlessly and letting him hook his fingers into the waistband. Despite his buzzing energy, he takes his time dragging your shorts down your body. You’ve been in your bra and underwear in front of him before, but you can feel the difference in the air this time. It’s all so…intentional. But even with your newfound confidence and self assurance, your hands still shake as you reach for his waistband. Just as his hands snake behind your back in search of the clasp of your bra, you push the cinched material down his hips.
It’s only a few minutes later, separated by languid kisses and quiet sounds of approval, and you’re both stripped down bare. You’re not sure if you’ve ever felt so naked before. There’s always been some sort of cover between you two. Whether it be his hand in your underwear, still concealing a full glance, or a comforter thrown over you both just right, you’ve never had such a view of one another. There’s no more hiding. This is happening.
“D-Do you have a condom?” the words feel awkward on your tongue—dirty—but they’re necessary, and he seems to like them. He groans against the skin of your neck, where his face has been buried since you dragged your panties down your legs.
“It’s, uh… I have one in my wallet,” he grits the words out, pained and strangled, like his brain isn’t complying anymore.
With major reluctance, he pulls away from you, scrambling to the floor in search of his wallet in the sea of clothes. You just lie there in the center of your bed, as naked as the day you were born, giving yourself a pep talk for the milestone you’re about to embark on.
When he climbs back into your bed, hovering over you just as he was before, he has a small foil square in his hand. You try not to think about how long he must’ve had that stored, waiting for the white flag you waved today. Watching his sex-ed lessons show, he rips the packet open and pulls out the rubber circle. Your breath immediately hitches. This just got very real. Now, watching his inexperience show, his hands shake as brings it to his length. You decide to look away, the moment seems kind of private. But even with your gaze focused on your ceiling, you can hear his small groans of pleasure at the feeling of touch against himself.
When he has everything situated, he leans back over your body, caging you in with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes are closed as he takes steadying breaths, and you can’t help but watch. It hits you then how truly special this moment is. Two people who love each other, about to share such an intimate side of themselves. The innocence behind it all really gets you. You both have no idea what you’re doing, and yet you’re so ready to do it. To cross that bridge. When his eyes open again, he looks incredibly young.
He’s not an experienced man ready to take and take and take. He’s the boy you love. The one who’s waited and waited for this day to come. The one who has to take deep breaths to keep himself steady. The one who stares back at you with nothing but love in his eyes. The boy who looks increasingly more nervous the more the moment dawns on him too.
It’s your turn to ground him. You wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Letting him know you’re right here with him. You’re feeling all the same things. The anxious excitement. The hesitation and restlessness. The love.
“You’re absolutely sure you’re ready?” he checks in, his voice strained as he tries to stay still.
It’s kind of too late to turn back now, you hold your tongue, deeming that joke distasteful at a time like this. Instead, you nod and whisper, “I’m ready, Harry. I love you.”
His sigh turns into a moan as he guides himself to the most intimate part of your body. “Fuck, I love you, too. So much, Y/N.”
You gasp and tense when you feel the tip of him at your entrance. Telling yourself to breathe, your chest inflates shakily. You need to relax, you know this. If you don’t, this won’t happen, and you won’t let that happen. Luckily, he can sense the slight change in you, leaning in to press his lips to yours. It does work to calm you, slightly, but it’s a distracted kiss. It’s practically forgotten when he pushes forward ever so slightly.
His jaw drops open against yours, and you know he’s overwhelmed when he doesn’t mention your state of ‘wetness’. It’s something he’s always addressed when you’d partake in other activities. It’s just his heavy breaths hitting your face as he presses in again, inch by inch.
You can’t help your eyes from squeezing shut when you feel the ache that’s already building. The more he sinks in, the harsher the stretch is. You can feel his struggle at keeping this slow for you and letting you adjust. You sort of wish he’d just rip the bandaid off and push all the way in. But when he moves again, you scratch that idea—and his back. Sucking in a sharp breath at the pain, your nails dig into his shoulders.
“You’re so…tight, baby.”
And you agree. For once, you can finally feel what he’s said in the past during the heat of the moment. You can feel your walls trying to push the intrusion out, not accepting the horrid ripping sensation happening.
“Harry,” you gasp his name, almost a signal of your discomfort, but he takes it otherwise. On your inhale, he finally reaches his hilt.
He’s a mess of moans and choking breaths above you, but at least he has the common decency to stay still. Probably for both of your benefits. In a total state of euphoria, his head plops back into the crook of your neck. He’s trembling slightly, holding back so much pent up energy. You wish you could give in and tell him to do as he pleases, but the throbbing ache in between your legs is a reminder that you need to adjust. Will the pain ever go away? Why do people speak so highly of this?
“God, please… Please, baby, can I move?”
He gives a tiny, little thrust. Most likely accidental, but it has both of you gasping. Him in pleasure, and you in shock. You weren’t expecting it. And you weren’t expecting it to not hurt that bad. Sure, the pain is still there, but if anything, it hurts more when he’s just sitting here letting you feel the stretch of the muscle. When he had moved, it dulled the pain to an ache.
So, you find yourself pleading. “Yes, please… Move.”
Like he’s under your spell, his hips draw back out, so slowly you might scream. He thrusts back in frantically, whimpering into your skin. You can’t stop wincing and gasping. Every time he pulls out, it stings, but when he pushes back in, it shocks. When he gains a sporadic rhythm, you’re already out of breath.
He’s loud in your ear. Every small movement elicits the dirtiest sounds from him. Ones you’d only picture coming out of a professional porn star. Groans, moans. Whines, whimpers. All of the above, hardly a second in between them.
He’s close. It’s weird that you can tell, but you can. From the twitches you feel inside of you, the sudden sloppiness of his already uncoordinated movements, and his labored breathing. The pain seems to be the least of your worries now. Your focus is all on him, watching him slowly unravel.
“Y/N, shit… Oh my— I-I’m… Ah! F-fuck!” His hips jerkily snap against yours and you fight through your winces. You’re front and center for what you’re sure will be a core memory for both of you, you won’t miss it.
“Let go, baby,” you whisper. Instead of clawing at his skin like you were seconds ago, you smooth your hands over his back to comfort him through this.
His moans start to sound like cries as he reaches his peak, thrusting in and out of you without thinking. A string of curses leaves his lips, straight into the shell of your ear, and it makes you feel giddy. While you’re both acutely aware that you’re nowhere near your peak, watching him—feeling him—be overwhelmed with his pleasure is nice.
When he stills on top of you, muscles tense as choked sounds escape his lips, you can finally breathe.
“Holy…shit.”
Yeah, holy shit.
Flood waves of emotions crash into you as he collapses, resting his whole body weight against yours. Your heart and mind are waging a war inside of you. Two very different discussions going on. Your heart is excited, a rush of adrenaline pumping through after the crazy experience. But your brain is already clouded with a jumble of emotions. It can’t tell whether you should be relieved, happy, guilty, or scared. And you’re not sure why you’d be feeling any of them either.
Relieved because you got it over with? But that’s horrible to say, it wasn’t a chore, you wanted this. Happy because you shared this vulnerable moment with him? Or is it happy because you feel a sick sense of winning at something? Guilty because you’re still second guessing your reasoning for doing this? Or scared because you’re feeling too much in a time that you should be feeling nothing but peace?
And it is too much.
When Harry’s head drags up from your neck to stare back at you, a lazy smile painted on his face, your brain goes quiet.
You love him. He loves you. This was good.
Right?
.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.
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thnksfrthevenom · 11 hours ago
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my (underrated) frerard fic recommendations that nobody asked for
No Chance of Getting Out
Description: Gerard awakes in an insane asylum after a suicide attempt that he doesn’t even remember doing. There, he meets Frankie, a patient at the asylum who he’s lucky to be his roommate, and guide through this place, instead of the wicked nurses that he learns way too soon how horrible they really are.
Holy shit when I say this fic actually made me sob. Its similar to asotm in a way but in my opinion is WAY better and the character personalities are more accurate. Had me staying up til 5am just so i could know what happened next. This will not disappoint especially if your a fan of old, creepy psych wards. 10/10.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/46583695/chapters/117308290
The Results of Yesterday
Description: Gerard's a prostitute who is responsible for his little brother Mikey who has been plagued with cancer for most of his life. Afraid of losing his brother, Gerard is desperately trying to secure himself a wealthy boyfriend. Often sacrificing his needs and wants for his little brother's. Gerard is just trying to take each day as it comes and to keep Mikey safe and healthy. Gerard knows that he would do anything to keep Mikey's happiness, even give up on his own.
(Warning for violence, r4pe and CA)
Honestly another one of my top favorites, im surprised it hasn’t gotten more attention. This fic is really unique because they aged Mikey down a lot, so in a way its like hes Gerards kid. Idk. Youll have to read to find out, its another great one. Some of the later chapters are a bit upsetting i will warn though, especially for child abuse and stuff. Sadly I dont think it was ever finished and Im not sure it ever will be, but the ending as of now isnt too bad. 9/10.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739207/chapters/8289682
Disenchanted
Description: After his failed suicide attempt, Frank meets his new psychiatrist, Gerard Way, and his perspective on the world starts to change slowly but surely.
OHH man the story is so much better than the description i promise. It is a bit lengthy and slow moving towards the middle but i promise its worth the read. 11/10 (bonus points for it being another psych ward au hehehe)
Blind in a Way
There isnt really a description but basically Gerard is blind and Frank is an asshole to him before realizing hes disabled, and then they become friends. Maybe more than friends.
I really hate reading on wattpad but this fic was worth it.
Shelter from the Storm
Description:
Gerard's life is miserable. Abused at home and bullied at school, that was his daily life. For him it's clear that things aren't going to change, but what happens when a new music teacher comes to school? Will he be able to trust again?
Mannn i loved this one. Again, not sure if it will ever be finished but theres already a ton of chapters.
This AU is very unique and i like how patient and kind Frank is through all of it. Obviously its a teacher/student relationship but compared to a lot of the other things ive read, the relationship in this one is pretty innocent (and im pretty sure Gerard is of legal age) 9/10
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143977/chapters/40587608
Trauma
Description:
Gerard Way and his brother Mikey Way are living their life like every kid or teen would; trying to find what's normal and what's not. But when your normal is different from everyone else's you start to realize it...or do you?
Honestly the only reason im putting this one on here is because of how hard it made me cry. Some of the characters in this are so fucked up. The grammar in this isnt the best (im one to talk haha) but its still good. Warning for r4pe and abuse. 8/10
https://archiveofourown.org/works/950528/chapters/1858297
**Bonus Rikey fic**
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62454691
I just read this last night and it made me cry.
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howlingday · 1 day ago
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My Caliente
Jaune: (Thinking) This is such a beautiful park... Who knew Vacuo would a place like this here?.
???: Hello? Are you Midoriyama? I'm Buenaverde from My Caliente.
Jaune: Huh? My Caliente? Buenaverde?
???: Yes. Um, the dating app? Are you not Midoriyama?
Jaune: Uh, n-no. Sorry.
???: It's just... you have blond hair, blue eyes, and you're right here...
???: Oh, excuse me, miss, but are you...
???: Oh! You must be Midoriyama! I'm so sorry to bother you, sir. I must have got the wrong person!
Jaune: Heh heh... No problem! I'm glad you both made it~!
???: It's nice to meet you, Mr. Midoriyama. If I must say, you're a lot taller than I expected.
???: The pleasure's all mine, Ms. Buenaverde, and you are so much cuter than your pictures~.
???: Aw~! That's so sweet of you~! So, um, are we going somewhere?
???: Sure! Wow... You really are my type from the looks of it... My Caliente really doesn't miss~!
???: Right? My Caliente is like a Love God in your pocket~!
SubStory 7: My Caliente
Jaune: (Watches couple walk away) Sounds kinda interesting... My Caliente, huh? What the heck is it even?
Maria: (Behind him) Hello, dearie~!
Jaune: ACK!
Maria: Manners tip; "Ack" isn't a nice way to greet a lady.
Jaune: Sorry about that. I was just surprised because I was thinking about My Caliente.
Maria: Ohoho~. So you're that impressed by my app, eh~? You certainly know how to flatter a girl~.
Jaune: So she made My Caliente? So far it seems to be working for that couple.
Maria: Are you dozing off again?
Jaune: Sorry! It's just that couple earlier. They were saying how My Caliente helped them meet. It's impressive! You must be some kind of psychic or something~!
Maria: Don't believe a word of it. It's all a load of hooey. When I was younger, I used to run guessing booth where I got all kinds of skeptics and bastards.
Jaune: Uh, hooey?
Maria: Of course! If I was really psychic, I'd use it on investments, not this thankless scam.
Jaune: Uh, that couple seemed to be thanking you, weren't they?
Maria: Hmph! They were thanking this. (Reveals app on scroll)
Jaune: What is it?
Maria: A dating app. Designed it myself~.
Jaune: Really?!
Maria: Mhm! The app is even named after me. M. Calavera, My Caliente: Hot Dating for Hot Couples~!
Jaune: Huh... It really is!
Maria: Honestly, it's the name that sold it; nobody wants hot, they want caliente~!
Jaune: Right! Of course! So, uh... What's caliente exactly?
Maria: It means hot, as in hot dates, as in online dating? What, have you never tried it?
Jaune: Not really. I'm not exactly great with tech stuff...
Maria: Well, a dating app is for meeting people online and go on dates to find a romantic partner. You enter your preferences and the app finds a compatible person near you. That's about the long and short of it. Of course, you can always make the first jump and message whoever you like. It's little more than a way to mingle.
Jaune: Ah, I see, I see~! So you find people you're interested in and... then what happens?
Maria: You talk to one another, see if there's chemistry, and, if so, then you meet in person. Happens all the time. Dating apps exist because meeting in the real world is harder than ever these days. They're how people make connections now.
Jaune: And what happens when you meet?
Maria: That depends on the meeting, obviously. Usually, it's a simple first date. You see if there's sparks... or the shits. Some couples get married shortly after, though some young folks are only in it for the you-know-what~. It takes all kinds.
Jaune: You... You-know-what?
Maria: Oh, did that get you interested~?
Jaune: N-No, uh, not like that! But, um, your app does sound pretty useful!
Maria: It's not exactly what I imagined I'd be doing with my life, but it's not like I'm needed to be a huntress these days. I would have been fine giving romantic advice face-to-face, but young people would rather do everything online. I had to adapt, you know? It's not quite popular to get your aura read by an old woman these days. But a monthly subscription to an app, though? Hah! That's where the lien is~! Learning to code was hell, but certainly worth it.
Jaune: That's a hell of a story... Wow!
Maria: Well, the story's not over yet. The app is still in beta. There's still a few bugs and glitches to work out.
Jaune: ...What's a beta?
Maria: You really are out of the loop. It's like a trial run before the product's finished. When it's done, it'll be released worldwide, but until then, it's only working here in Vacuo.
Jaune: Wow...
Maria: The limited scop has made it harder get people to sign up. Strangely enough, we're low on men more than anyone else. The bigger the userbase, the easier it is to know what needs improvement. I really need to look into recruiting... Hm... Would you like to try it out~?
Jaune: Who, me?!
Maria: Oh, yes, you're perfect! Completely and totally romantically illiterate! Not to mention your eyes went wide at the mention of you-know-what~.
Jaune: H-Hey! Come on, Maria! That's- You-know-what is NOT what I'm interested in! Besides, I've got my heart set on someone special. There's no way I can start fooling around on her.
Maria: A-HA! And there it is~! The telltale words of the adult virgin! Absolutely textbook~! That's the kind of attitude women can't stand. Tell me; has this "special someone" returned your feelings, or has she left you in the cold~?
Jaune: Huh?! Huh- How did you know that?! Are you really psychic?!
Maria: I already told you that's a crock of nonsense. Believe me, I don't a special power to see your cold streak. It's fine to have a crush, but obsessions are no good. Not to mention there's the old saying; the best way to catch someone's eye is to look out of reach~.
Jaune: Huh? What do you mean by that?
Maria: Think of it like this; when you're at the grocery store, do you buy the brand of cheese that's going untouched, or the one flying off the shelves?
Jaune: I'd... get the popular one.
Maria: And who wouldn't~?! And right now, you are one reject slab of cheese, my friend. If you want to win this girl's heart, you need to spruce yourself up~! Would you date a butcher who says, "My cheese may look and smell nasty, but it'll treat you well if you try it~!"?
Jaune: W-Well, isn't pure love attractive...? And wait... Am I the cheese or the butcher?
Maria: Ugh... You're hopeless is what you are! Let's say you're right and pure love is what you can offer; how has it worked for you so far~?
Jaune: Um... Not that well, I guess...
Maria: And there you have it~. I may not be psychic, but I can see your future plain as day. You will dry up, old and alone, never getting the girl or sowing your oats. The only people who will ever care for you are the nurses in whatever hospital you croak in.
Jaune: NO! That can't happen! Wh- What should I do?! Help me...
Maria: I already told you the answer, dearie~! Sign up for my service~! Use it to experience the highs and lows of dating, and let every encounter refine you. THAT is how you become the kind of man she's dreaming about; the kind of man she WANTS.
Jaune: B-But... I'd be talking to other women, wouldn't I? Isn't that, like, cheating on her?
Maria: You really are dense, aren't you? You can't cheat on someone if you're not even dating in the first place! Honestly, it's like you're a child in a grown man's body! You don't even have the prerequisites to cheat!
Jaune: Ugh... I'm just getting depressed now...
Maria: Ah ah ah~! Listen! The best thing for you would be to talk to women- as many as you can! Polish yourself up into a proper man. Think of it like you're readying yourself for the one you truly love. Got it?
Jaune: You really think so?
Maria: Try it for yourself. It'll be way more effective than anything I tell you.
Jaune: Mm... Well, maybe if I just give it one, little try...
Maria: Great~! We'll step into my office~!
--------------------------------------------------
Jaune: This... is your office? It looks more like Dr. Polendina's workshop.
Maria: Hush now! No more backtalk! If I say this is my office, then this is my office! No woman wants a man poking around in her business for every, little detail. Pietro lets me use this side of his shop when he's not using it and all I have to do is change the coffee filter! Ha! You try finding a better deal!
Jaune: Yeah, uh... I guess that is a pretty good deal...
Maria: Now, let's give it a whirl. I need data for developmental purposes, so I'll have you using this scroll.
Maria: Ready to begin~?
Jaune: (Takes scroll) Alright, let's do this.
Maria: Excellent! Time to cast your wide net into the depths beneath the surface~! Heh heh...
--------------------------------------------------
Jaune: I get it now... Words ARE mirrors, and the way you speak reveals the kind of man you really are! I... I kinda said some not-so-great things to that girl I like. At the time, I thought I was just expressing how I felt sincerely, but now I see that I probably just let out way too much. Maybe the words I chouse ended up driving her away. Now I get it. It's not enough to be sincere; you have to make sure the person actually understands you- that you're reaching them!
Maria: Hmhm~! I think you're growing up a bit~. It'll be alright; just use the app to improve yourself through self-reflection. With time, you'll figure out how to express yourself effectively. You're not a bad guy; just a little too naive. Once your communication skills improve, I bet that girl on your mind will take notice of you~.
Jaune: You really think so?
Maria: I know so~! I am good at guessing, after all~.
Jaune: Heh.. Don't jinx me now.
Maria: You want to win over the girl of your dreams? Keep using the app and learn the language of love in Vacuo and return home as the conquering hero~!
Jaune: Yeah~! I will~!
Jaune: A dating app, huh? I've never been great at talking to women, so this might really come in handy. My heart is set on her, but until I learn how to properly tell her how I feel, I'll just come off as an idiot again! If I want her to see me as a man, then there's only one way forward!.
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yandere-fics · 1 day ago
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♡ Pauline's Sister Went Abroad ♡
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Your trip abroad was never meant to be what it had gradually become, you really didn't mean to stay away from the manor as long as you had, it was just to be some distancing yourself from your sister to clear your head after… things had happened faster than you could comprehend but each time something came up you almost leaped on the opportunity to stay longer turning your studies from two peaceful years to nearly five. Of course your parents were perfectly okay with it as well, you were more of a disappointment than Pauline and with you gone their awful heir seemed to finally become motivated so they gladly paid for all your expenses just to keep you out of their face as long as you were able to come up with a reason it was necessary. Tragically it could only be delayed so long though, you'd graduated your foreign academy nearly a year ago and hadn't been able to find any work over there and with your parents not wanting to pay for you to live there any longer, you were forced to make the arduous task back to the manor. It didn't matter that you didn't feel ready to face Pauline again after your last fight, where you said you hated her for being too possessive, it was approaching rapidly no matter your personal feelings on the matter. It was an long and very emotionally draining trip home though, you kept having to force your feet to move forward every time you thought about what awaited you, if your dear sister would be angry at you for running away from her, or worse, act as if she was completely over it. Of course Pauline would have gotten a new lover than wasn't her no good, ungrateful sister, you just didn't want to meet this lover. Frankly you would have rather dropped dead than do that. It was your fault though, after your fight you stormed to your parents asking to travel abroad and that was it. You hadn't stayed to make up after the fight and then you avoided her even longer. There was no way she was still waiting for your return after that.
And almost like the world wanted to punish you for running away when you arrived at the manor there was no one there to greet you apart from a couple of maids, your family and Pauline were nowhere to be seen leaving you to return to your old bedroom solemnly. It had been slightly redecorated, new decor that honestly looked like what you had in your dorm abroad, most likely just because it was what was trendy within nobility recently. Pauline didn't show her face until later that night, you were on a walk because it was hard to sleep being back and she'd gasped, running towards you and holding you tightly before seeming to remember you were both in a public hallway. She hadn't scolded you like you expected, just pulled you into her room and draped herself around you so you were unable to get out of her firm grip, holding you as her personal pillow all night and occasionally biting you. Barely said a word in the morning though, insulting you for being away so long before leaving the room and locking her bedroom door behind her. You think she forgot you were even in there, you had to pick the lock just to get out and return to your bedroom.
"Hey! Idiot, like why would you leave my room? I like went through a lot of trouble to get those locks put in!" She barged into your room later that night, not leaving much room for you to speak as she decided she'd just sleep in your room instead if you were going to bust out of her room. Every time you tried to speak she just said she didn't want to hear your idiotic excuses yet so you were left confused as for weeks Pauline held you at night but didn't do much else.
She actually didn't seem to like anything you did anymore, she'd panic if you went into the garden, tear through the house if you were in a room she didn't approve of, she didn't even want you sitting in the same room as her when she did work claiming you made her so mad it was distracting her. Then about two months later she beckoned you closer to her as she was sitting at her desk, snapping a collar on your neck.
"W-what?" You tried to unlatch it or something but it was on there pretty firmly, it wasn't uncomfortable but you couldn't be walking around with a collar on your neck.
"Well since my idiot has like a problem with running off, this will like zap you or something if you go more than fifty feet from me. I could have like just cursed you butttt, since my idiot would probably just crawl if I made you unable to walk away from me, zapping is better!" She gave you a kiss on the cheek, happily pulling you onto her lap like she was so pleased with herself. "I'm like way less mad now that you can't like leave or anything ever again."
"I-I'm sorry-" You looked down avoiding eye contact with her.
"Uhm yeah you should be sorry, idiot. You like left me alone or whatever, but it's like fine or whatever now. Now I just have to kill our parents for separating us." You think you being gone might have driven her mad because she was way too cheerful about killing your parents. Not that you didn't think they deserved it, it was just weird.
"D-do you really have to? We're together a-again-"
"Just shut up, my cute little idiot really shouldn't be trying to like make decisions on anything." She held onto you a bit tighter, leaning her head on your shoulder as she started to focus on the documents on the desk.
"O-okay Paulie…" She let out a hum of approval, already starting to zone in on whatever it was she was working on, probably something to help her kill your parents but as she said, it wasn't your business to make decisions.
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