#a reminder to myself. more than anything. there always is and always will be so much good.

[juulessturn]

「 "off record" 」 chris sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . 「 9.2k words . 」

content : angst . fluff . smut if u read far enough . brief mentions of drinking . intentional lowercase .

a/n : " this is a lot longer than it was supposed to be and some of the paragraphs are deadass just awkward. reminder that i write over the course of a few days, weeks, or even months, i do all of my writing late at night, and sometimes high. it's absolutely a wild ride but i hope u enjoy regardless " ✴

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our group was in a pretty chaotic state, to say the least. there were a lot of us for starters, mostly content creators like tara, jake, johnnie, larray, quen, the triplets, along with a bunch of smaller creators, myself being one of them. everyone was joking around, a little tipsy, and the noise level was through the roof. it was technically an after-party, but i felt a bit less on edge since my boyfriend knew almost everyone there.

i was drinking a white claw, standing next to chris as he spoke to quen and his brothers, nodding along even though i wasn’t really following the conversation. the music was playing low in the background–  some playlist that blended early 2010s pop with newer tiktok hits, and people were scattered around the room in little pockets, laughing, filming something, or just talking on the couch.

larray shouted something across the room that made half of us burst out laughing, and someone spilled a drink in the process. i glanced at the mess and then back at chris, who just shook his head and smiled like none of this was surprising.

tara came up to our sub-group, vlogging camera out, and clearly more drunk than most people there. the second i saw the red recording light, i stepped away from chris, casually, perfectly used to it. we’d dealt with dating rumors before– any girl around the triplets got them, but mine were different. mine were true.

chris just wasn’t ready to make it public yet.

so when tara pointed the camera at us, shouting something i didn’t acknowledge, i slipped on a smile, the kind that looked easy and unbothered. chris glanced at me for half a second. just enough to say he noticed, that we were still in sync.

it was strange, pretending not to love someone standing right next to you, but again, it wasn’t new. i was used to being in public with him and having to stand at a ‘safe distance.’

tara drifted off, camera still rolling, shouting something as she disappeared into the noise. the moment passed like they always did– quick, messy, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

chris didn’t say anything right away. he just took a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the room like he was keeping track of the scene. i knew him well enough to recognize that look– half on guard, half somewhere else.

after a beat, he leaned in a little. “sorry,” he said quietly, not really looking at me.

“it’s fine,” i murmured.

“really, i am.” he reiterated, as quen pulled us back into the conversation. pulling our attention with her. whatever was between me and chris dissolved into the noise.

i laughed when i was supposed to, nodded along, let the conversation carry me. chris was still next to me, closer but not touching. i decided that i needed to get over myself and threw in a joke here and there, easing back into my own skin.

chris didn’t look at me, not directly, but every so often, i felt it. this flicker of attention, like he was checking to make sure i was okay without apologizing again. he knew me, and at this point, he knew i didn’t like being a secret.

quen was mid-story about a brand trip when she turned suddenly to me. “wait, weren’t you there for that?”

i blinked. “which trip?”

“mexico, where the hotel lost all our reservations.”

i let out a short laugh, the kind that still carried traces of exhaustion. “yeah. i was definitely there.”

quen gasped, eyes wide with secondhand horror. 

“uh-huh” i nodded at her horror, smiling. “landed in cancún at like ten p.m, got to the front desk, and they were like, ‘you don’t exist.’” i shook my head. “i think someone cried.” i squinted.

“i know someone cried,” she said, grinning.

everyone around us laughed— nick, matt, jake, a woman who i didn’t catch the name of, and chris. i felt him glance at me again. subtle. like he was just checking. i didn’t look back.

quen started describing the rest of the trip, some dinner where the seafood was undercooked and one of the managers got way too drunk and fell into the hotel fountain. someone handed out shots mid-story, and we all clinked plastic cups without knowing exactly what we were toasting to.

someone turned the music up. not enough to make it a dance floor, but enough to blur the edges of every conversation. people started drifting toward the couch or the kitchen or toward whoevers camera was filming at that moment. another camera filming meant me and chris would have to keep our distance. it brought my mood down again.

i ended up in the kitchen not long after, trying to cool down and get water, letting the cold cup press into my hands as an excuse to stay still. the overhead light was buzzing slightly, and the hum of the party felt distant from here, even though it was only a few steps away.

chris found me like he always did. quietly, without announcement.

he leaned beside me against the counter, not saying anything for a moment. the silence between us didn’t feel heavy, exactly, just full.

“you handled that well,” he said eventually, voice low, just for me.

i didn’t look at him. “handled what?”

he hesitated. “tara. the camera. everything.”

i shrugged. “it’s not the first time.”

he exhaled softly, like that answer hurt more than he wanted it to.

he looked tired. not the party kind of tired– the quiet kind. the emotional kind.

“i hate that you have to,” he said, almost like a question, and his voice was honest in a way it rarely got to be in public.

i nodded slowly. “me too.” i chuckled.

someone laughed loudly in the other room– quen again, probably– and the sound bounced off the kitchen tile like a reminder that we weren’t alone, that we never really were.

“one day,” he said softly.

i didn’t say anything. not because i didn’t believe him, but because i wasn’t sure that my belief changed anything right now.

he looked like he wanted to say more, like he was turning something over in his head. i watched him for a moment.

but then someone called his name, their voice echoing down the hallway. chris looked toward the sound, then back at me. his mouth opened like he might stay. explain. say something real.

but he didn’t.

instead, he reached out, just barely brushing his hand against mine. the touch was quick, almost nothing, but it made something in me ache anyway.

“i’ll be right back,” he said.

i stayed in the kitchen longer than i needed to. the party buzzed behind me. music, shouting, bursts of laughter. someone was crying in the hallway– or maybe laughing. it was hard to tell.

people came in and out. looking for soda, a place to breathe, somewhere their phone could hear them. 

i checked the doorway once, or twice, or more. but i knew chris wasn���t coming back. he didn’t go to many parties but when he did, he kept busy. people loved him.

eventually, i pushed off the counter and slipped back into the party like i hadn’t been waiting for anything, or anyone. 

quen was dancing now, barefoot and holding her heels in one hand. tara was filming again, telling her camera someone’s relationship drama. someone had opened a new bag of chips and spilled half of it on the carpet.

it was all still happening, with or without me. i needed to suck it up.

i made my way to the edge of the couch where johnnie and matt were having a debate about something stupid. i smiled at them as i sat down and joined their conversation halfway through. 

chris was across the room now, sitting on the arm of a chair with a drink in his hand, head tilted toward whoever he was talking to. he looked like he was listening. like he was fine. like none of this was difficult at all. the thought gave me a pit in my stomach.

the feeling only grew when a woman came up to him and sat on the arm of his chair, speaking to him like they were already mid-conversation. she laughed at something he said– or maybe nothing at all, and leaned into him, her hand brushing his arm like she didn’t even think about it.

i saw it happen from across the room. i saw the way chris shifted, just slightly. his shoulders tensed for half a second, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. he didn’t lean into her. but he didn’t move away either.

he didn’t stop it.

i looked down at my phone, even though my screen was black. tried to focus on the buzz of the room, on johnnie’s voice, on the couch cushion under my legs– anything but him. 

he could’ve said something. even just stood up, made an excuse. but he stayed there, nodding along, drink still in hand like everything was fine.

matt asked me a question and i answered without thinking. my voice came out calm, maybe even bored. i was good at that now, looking unbothered while my stomach turned. obviously, matt knew about chris and i, and he glanced over to where i was looking and furrowed his brows. when i made eye contact with him he gave me a pity smile.

chris looked over, just once. it wasn’t long, but it was enough. he knew i’d seen it. he knew i was watching.

for a second, i was scared he’d let it go. just keep sitting there like nothing was wrong, but then he shifted.

he said something to the woman, soft and quick, and stood up before she could respond. his drink still in hand, eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. and this time, he didn’t look away.

he walked over like it was nothing, and when he sat down next to me he didn’t say anything. just rested his arm along the back of the couch, fingers brushing my shoulder, like a quiet answer.

i didn’t look at him. but i leaned into the touch. just slightly.

just enough.

his hand found mine, slow and careful, like he was still testing the weight of it all. like he wasn’t sure how much i’d let him take.

i let our fingers link. didn’t look, didn’t squeeze. just let it happen.

when the song ended, quen stumbled toward us and flopped dramatically onto the couch, landing half on the cushion, half on my knee. i giggled.

“jesus,” she sighed, dropping her heels on the floor. “i’m done, y’all.”

i laughed, then i saw it. her eyes flicking down, just briefly, to where mine and chris’s hands were linked between us. subtle. fast. but not missed.

she didn’t say anything. just raised one eyebrow as she leaned her head back against the couch, letting it all settle in.

it felt good. it felt normal. until it didn’t. larray sat on the edge of the couch next to quen, and started filming a tiktok. i felt chris shift before anything else.

his fingers slipped out of mine like it was automatic. muscle memory. he reached for his drink instead, eyes flicking to the phone before casually taking a sip, suddenly preoccupied.

i didn’t move or flinch, i just pressed my lips together, slow and tight. like the pressure could stop something in me from spilling out.

we weren’t even really in frame. maybe the corner of my shoulder. maybe the side of his knee. it didn’t matter.

he let go anyway.

i stared straight ahead, face smooth, calm. it had been seconds, not even long enough for anyone else to notice, but the absence of his hand burned louder than the music.

i knew this version of him. the one who knew how to hold my hand like it meant something when no one was looking, but always dropped it the second he felt any attention on him. the version of him that would tell me he loved me a thousand times as long as he knew no one could hear.

he was the version of himself that didn’t owe me anything. not in front of other people. not when it could be traced back, screen-recorded, speculated on. he was warm when we were hidden, he loved me when we were alone, but he was always careful not to leave his fingerprints behind.

he could lean into me in a quiet room, kiss me and have me feel it with every bone in my body, and then walk five feet ahead of me in public like we’d never touched.

and i let him. every time. because i loved the version of him that existed after the cameras stopped rolling.  because that version looked at me like i was his.

still, it didn’t hurt less. it just felt more familiar.

at this point, it was on me. i kept choosing the version of him that only existed behind closed doors, behind quiet walls. the one who whispered to stay a little longer when the party was over, who kissed the inside of my wrist like it was something sacred. the one who told me he wasn’t ready to tell people, but he’d already decided i was home.

i told myself that version was the real chris. the one that mattered. the careful distance in public didn’t mean anything. it was all temporary.

but nights like this –when his hand slipped from mine as soon as a phone came out, they chipped away at me. not all at once, but slowly, each time added up.

“you’re quiet,” he said, voice low enough that only i could hear. i swallowed the knot tightening in my chest and finally turned to him.

“yeah,” i said. he glanced at me, eyes flickering with something i couldn’t quite place. maybe guilt, maybe exhaustion.

i took a deep breath, the noise and chaos swirling around us suddenly felt too much. my voice came out quieter than i expected.

“can we talk outside?”

he blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then nodded slowly.

we stood, slipping through the crowd, the weight of the room fading behind us with every step. the air outside hit my skin. cool and sharp, like a reset.

“i’m tired of feeling like a secret.” i said bluntly when we stepped outside. my voice was steadier than i felt, i could feel my hands shaking. “we’ve been together for like– a year now?” i said it like a question. “but every time someone pulls out a phone or points a camera in our direction, you act like i’m invisible.”

he stayed quiet, but i kept going, like if i stopped, i’d never say it again.

my chest felt tight, breath catching somewhere behind the words. “you- you act like i’m someone you can just let go of without a second thought. and i’ve taken it and i’ve let it happen and i’ve done the same to you but i’m so fucking done with it. it hurts chris.” my voice cracked.

i crossed my arms. he opened his mouth, then closed it again. ran a hand over his jaw, thinking, and it only made the silence worse.

finally, he said, voice low, “i didn’t think it would hurt you like that in the beginning.”

“it didn’t hurt in the beginning.” i verified.

 "i knew it wasn’t perfect, but i thought we had an understanding.” he didn’t acknowledge what i said.

“we did,” i said quietly. “i just don’t think it’s working anymore.”

his voice was quiet now, steadier than before. “baby, i’ve seen what happens. the hate. the comments. the way people pick apart everything. the last few girls people thought i was dating, none of them were even real relationships, they got dragged through hell.” he leaned into me as he spoke. “i’m talking full-on hate campaigns. death threats. people digging through their lives.”

“i know,” i said, and i did. i’d seen it happen too. girls whose names were barely linked to his became targets overnight. profiles flooded with snark and cruel edits. people made entire reddit threads dedicated to speculating if they were good enough. most of the time, the answer was no.

“it’s not just about me,” he said, his voice a little more urgent now. “it’s about you too. i don’t want you to go through that.”

“but i already am,” i said, and my voice came out smaller than i wanted. “the rumors alone have people hating me, and i don’t care if they continue to if it means we can be seen in public together.”

he looked at me for a long time after that. like he didn’t know what to say, like he was trying to piece together an answer that wouldn’t make it worse.

“i didn’t want you to feel like this,” he said finally, his voice barely above the wind. “i thought– i thought if we could just wait it out a little longer, until the timing felt right, until people calmed down..”

he trailed off. we both knew they never calmed down.

i sighed and wrapped my arms tighter around myself, the night air making me shiver in my short black dress. i didn’t respond right away.

chris noticed my shivering. he pulled his hoodie over his head without a word and handed it to me, holding it out like a peace offering. the only times he did that was when it was late at night and we were on the beach with no one there. it was too risky otherwise, so i hesitated.

i took it anyway, tugged it over my head, the sleeves still warm from him. it smelled like his cologne and something vaguely like laundry detergent, and i hated how comforting it was.

he gave me a moment. then, “can we.. go back in?”

i swallowed and glanced at the house behind us. the glowing windows, the echo of music, bursts of laughter spilling out now and then. i thought about how drained i felt, but also about how warm it had been in there. how easy it was to get swept up in the noise. how sometimes pretending everything was fine helped it feel that way, just for a little while.

i nodded. “okay.”

he didn’t smile exactly, but his whole posture softened. like tension he’d been carrying loosened the second i agreed.

“wait,” i paused. “do i look like i was crying?” i ask, dabbing my face with my hands.

“you look beautiful,” he said simply, and came closer.

i chuckled, and he leaned to kiss me. it was quick, but it felt right.

we slipped into the living room. i ended up sitting on the floor by the couch, my legs tucked under me, the hoodie sleeves hanging a bit past my hands. chris sank down next to me a beat later, and our knees touched, steady and casual.

someone passed a bowl of popcorn. larray shrieked about something quen said. music played from a speaker that someone had balanced dangerously on top of a stack of chairs. the room was messy and loud and strangely comforting.

chris leaned in every so often, saying something under his breath– jokes, quiet comments, a random memory. nothing deep, nothing heavy. just enough to remind me he was there. that we were okay. or trying to be.

i let my head fall lightly against his shoulder. just for a second. just to feel him there. he didn’t move. didn’t freeze. didn’t pull away. he just shifted slightly so it was easier to stay like that.

the couch behind us creaked as someone shifted, and larray shouted something about popcorn getting in his shoe. we both looked up, and just like that, the moment passed— swept back into the noise and movement of the night.

but even after i sat up, chris didn’t move away. his knee stayed against mine. his hand drifted just slightly over mine, not fully holding it, but close.

i turned to see nick standing a few feet away, a red solo cup in one hand and his brows raised, not in judgment, just surprise. the way he looked at us wasn’t loud or dramatic. more like he’d stumbled across something unexpected and wasn’t quite sure how to process it.

“hi,” i said, soft but steady.

“hi,” he greeted back. “you okay?”

i nodded. “yeah.”

he held my gaze for a second longer, like he was checking that i meant it. then he relaxed a bit and dropped into the space next to us on the floor, legs stretching out in front of him as he leaned back on his hands.

“this group,” nick muttered with a little shake of his head. “they’re all so loud tonight.”

“are you not part of that group?” chris asked, smiling.

“yeah, but i’m the best one,” nick said.

he glanced over at me again. “i’m glad you’re still here, you’re the only other normal person.” he said.

chris made a face. i giggled.

we didn’t make a big deal of it. no one around us even seemed to notice what had shifted between me and chris. but nick had. and for some reason, that made it feel more real.

i kept my gaze on the room, trying not to lean too hard into the moment, but i was shocked when chris started rubbing my thigh. it wasn’t sexual, wasn’t showy, just quiet and steady. familiar.

someone turned the lights down a little, not dramatically, just enough to make everything softer around the edges. larray was singing into a remote control. quen was now fully horizontal across the loveseat, legs dangling off one side, scrolling through her camera roll and narrating every photo she found. there was laughter, clinking plastic cups, the soft sound of a tiktok audio starting and stopping somewhere in the room.

and still, his hand stayed on my leg.

i finally turned, just slightly, and looked at him.

he met my eyes right away.

“what?” he asked softly.

i shrugged. “nothing.”

his thumb brushed slowly just above my knee. “you sure?”

“yeah,” i said, voice low. “just surprised.”

“by what?”

“this,” i said, nodding toward his hand.

he didn’t pull away. didn’t even hesitate. just looked at me with that steady, unreadable expression he got when he was letting something settle in his chest before saying it out loud.

then, quietly, he said, “i kinda wanna stop hiding.”

“seriously?”

“dead serious.”

i swallowed around something in my throat and gave the smallest smile. “okay.”

“okay,” he echoed, grinning.

for a few minutes, we stayed like that. just the sound of the room around us and the feeling of his hand on my leg. i felt almost feverish, like he was everywhere, like the whole world was narrowing down to the space we shared.

the rest of the hour slipped by in the way only party time does– fast, blurry around the edges, warm in a way that made it easy to forget anything hard had happened.

chris didn’t move his hand, but he didn’t push any further either. just kept it there, a steady weight on my leg, like a reminder. like he was still holding onto what he’d said.

we sat there for a while. i ended up talking to nick and johnnie about old vines we loved, chris chimed in every now and then, laughing when i pulled up a video and started quoting it word for word.

tara was lying on the floor with her feet up on the wall, talking to someone and laughing at everything. an old kesha song came on and the room lost its mind for a full three minutes.

i was surprised how normal it all felt. how easy it was to fall back into the noise. maybe it was the hoodie. or maybe it was just that chris hadn’t pulled away again. not once.

eventually, chris nudged me gently, his voice low near my ear. “you ready to go?”

i nodded. “yeah. i’m crashing.”

he stood up and offered me a hand, and i took it without thinking. his fingers curled around mine like they’d always been there, and to be fair, they kind of had, but it felt so odd to be publicly holding his hand.

“let’s find my brothers,” he said as we weaved through the soft chaos of the living room. the group had thinned out, some people curled up on furniture, others deep in late-night conversations or filming sleepy tiktoks.

we passed quen, still horizontal on the loveseat, talking to larray in half-coherent sentences. she raised a lazy hand when she saw us. “bye, bye..”

i smiled. “night, quen.”

we headed down the hall toward one of the back rooms. music was still playing, but quieter now. more background than anything. when we opened the door, we found nick sitting on the floor, deep in conversation with a guy i didn’t recognize, dark hair, hoodie sleeves pushed up. they were sitting close, their knees nearly touching. 

chris raised an eyebrow. “you guys ready?.”

nick looked up, caught somewhere between flustered and annoyed. “now?”

“yes,” matt said, suddenly appearing behind us, already holding his keys like he’d been waiting. 

nick rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “give me a sec.” he turned to the guy, said something soft that i couldn’t catch, they exchanged numbers, and hugged goodbye quickly before nick got to his feet.

as we walked back through the house, i glanced over and saw the guy still watching nick leave, a little smile on his face. something about it made me grin.

outside, the air had cooled down. the streets were quiet, lit by the soft yellow haze of streetlights. the car was parked a little ways down, and we walked in comfortable silence, the four of us spreading out along the sidewalk.

“that guy was cute,” i said softly to nick.

“you think?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“yeah,” i said, bumping his shoulder. “you gonna text him?”

“already did.”

i giggled. “of course.”

when we reached the car, matt got into the driver’s seat, nick slid into the passenger seat and immediately started messing with the aux.

“don’t play anything sad,” chris called out as he opened the back door. nick frowned

i climbed in beside chris, the door shutting with a dull thud behind me. the car smelled faintly like sunscreen and spearmint gum. i tucked my legs up a little on the seat, and chris settled in the seat next to me.

“can we get food?” nick asked matt. he groaned.

“yes,” i immediately jumped up.

“thank you,” nick replied, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

“oh my god, not both of you.” matt rubbed his eyes.

“actually,” chris added. “ i’m hungry too.”

matt sighed, shaking his head, but chris was already pulling up directions to the nearest drive-thru.

“you’re all the worst,” matt muttered, even as he changed lanes.

nick turned back toward the front, triumphant. 

the car eased away from the curb, and the party faded behind us, just noise and light in the rearview. i leaned my head against the window for a second, the cold glass grounding me, until i felt chris’s fingers lightly brush against mine.

i looked down, then at him.

he didn’t say anything. just lifted his hand slowly and linked his pinky with mine. not a full hold, not a statement. just something small.

i let it stay there. let it mean whatever it meant.

matt turned up the volume just as a soft, acoustic song filled the car.

the city blurred outside, and for a few minutes, no one said anything. just the music, and the rhythm of the road, and the steady feel of chris beside me.

when we pulled into the drive-thru line, the car went quiet again for a minute. the low rumble of the engine, the familiar hum of the drive-thru speaker, comforting in a way only late-night food runs could be. the kind that always felt like a reset button after a loud party or too many feelings.

when it was finally our turn, nick did the ordering, leaning forward with the kind of confidence that meant he was in a very good mood.

once we got to the window, chris handed over his card before anyone else could even reach for their wallets. i gave him a look, but he just shrugged.

“i’m trying to be nice,” he said. “let me be nice.”

nick snorted. “this is him making up for the months of emotional damage.”

“shut up,” chris muttered, but he was smiling.

we took the bags and drinks, the warm scent of fries filling the car instantly. nick immediately sorted through the bags and handed ours back.

i tossed a fry at him, and he caught it in his mouth, immediately celebrating like he’d won the lottery.

“i’m so good,” he said through a mouthful. “matt, did you see that?���

“i’m ignoring all of you,” matt said flatly. he pulled out of the parking lot, the streets were quiet in that comforting way that only happened between midnight and morning.

i shifted in my seat, legs still curled up under me, hoodie pulled tight against the chill. the fries were perfectly warm and my drink sweat in my hand. chris was almost halfway through his burger, taking slow bites, but swallowing quickly.

nick wasn’t done talking about the guy from earlier. “listen, i’m not making this up,” he said, voice low but serious, like he was explaining something important. “he was definitely flirting. like, he wasn’t just polite or friendly. he was really trying to get my attention.”

chris raised an eyebrow but said nothing, still chewing.

“he looked me up and down. like really looked,” nick kept going. “then he smiled, but not just a quick polite smile. his whole face lit up. the kind of smile that’s saying, ‘hey, i’m into you.’”

matt rolled his eyes but giggled anyway. “you sure it wasn’t just a friendly smile? he looked really straight.”

“what? gay people have to look a certain way? is that what you’re saying, matt?” nick accused. everyone burst out in giggles and chuckles.

“no, no, i’m not.” matt shook his head, smiling.

“i don’t know,” nick said, more thoughtful now, chewing on a fry. “he seemed real. not just, like.. interested for the night.”

chris was pulling fries from the shared bag between us, chewing slowly, listening to nick speak half-heartedly, passing me the cup every so often. i didn’t mind. i liked his drink better anyway. matt was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his drink. he sipped it without looking. nick continued talking.

he was already texting the guy he met. like, actively. he’d trail off and i’d catch him glance down at his phone every few seconds, typing fast, pausing, then smiling in that way people do when they’re trying not to.

i nudged him. “you good?”

he didn’t even look up. “mhm.”

chris leaned closer, mock-whispering like we weren’t in a car. “he’s gone.”

nick rolled his eyes but didn’t bother defending himself. he was too busy grinning down at his screen. the glow of it lit up his face, soft around the edges. 

i leaned over to peek and saw a name saved with a single emoji next to it. “miles 🌀”

“you already gave him a name emoji?” i asked, teasing.

 nick didn’t even blink. “obviously. he earned it.”

“earned it how?” chris chimed in, half-laughing.

nick shrugged but his thumbs kept moving, then he grinned again. “he remembered what candy i liked and he said he’s gonna bring me some next time.”

“next time?” i echoed.

nick looked up, still smiling. “yeah. we’re getting coffee on wednesday– or tuesday.”

matt snorted from the drivers seat. “you’re moving fast, damn.”

“he gave me his number and he hugged me goodbye. am i being lovebombed?,” nick asked

i laughed, “it’s not lovebombing if you’re aware of it,”

nick nodded. chris leaned his head back against the seat. “i like this version of nick.”

“you mean emotionally available?” i asked, grinning.

“no,” chris said, eyes closed. “i mean quiet. when he’s texting, he’s not talking.”

nick and matt both made a face. “wow, chris, that’s rich.” nick said, but his thumbs kept moving.

“what are you even saying?” i asked.

“nothing cool,” nick admitted. “we’re literally talking about cereal. he said he likes frosted flakes and i said that’s basic. now we’re fighting.”

i smiled. “true love.”

all three of them chuckled.

chris’s hand brushed against mine again, fingers loose but intentional, and this time i didn’t hesitate. i curled my pinky around his. 

nick made a soft little sound, the kind people make when they’re reading something sweet. he didn’t even try to hide it.

“okay, now i need to know,” i said, leaning over more. “what did he say?”

nick blushed– actually blushed, and tilted his phone so we couldn’t see it. “he said he’s glad i came to the party tonight.”

“aw,” i said, half-melting.

“and,” nick added, barely above a whisper now, “that he wasn’t planning on talking to anyone, but something about me made him want to.”

matt let out a low, impressed whistle. “damn. he’s got game.”

“no,” nick said, his thumbs hovering over the screen. “he’s just.. sincere. i don’t know.”

“what’s he like?” chris asked. “we saw him at the party and you guys looked like you were about to fuckin’ makeout or something.”

nick laughed under his breath, then shrugged. “he’s calm. like, really calm. like i know i talk a lot, but he doesn’t rush to respond. he just kind of.. takes me in. it’s nice.”

i felt my chest tighten a little. “that’s sweet.”

the car had gone quiet again, just the low hum of the road and nick’s occasional typing. chris had moved his hand to my thigh, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles on it. i could feel him thinking. that quiet kind of tension he got when words were building up but refusing to come out.

then, without letting go of me, he shifted, tugging his phone from his hoodie pocket with his free hand. i watched out of the corner of my eye as he opened his notes app and started typing, his brows furrowed just slightly.

when he was done, he turned the screen toward me without a word.

‘Idrk how to say this but I really really appreciate U. U make me feel like myself. And I’m sorry abt tonight. I promise we can be more public from now on. I’m ready’

i blinked down at the words. “chris,” i said softly, already smiling, i didn’t know what to say. i brought his face to mine and pressed a few kisses to his cheeks.

he didn’t pull away, just let me. his skin was warm under my lips, and i felt the little flutter of his breath as his hand found mine again. it wasn’t much, but it felt like everything.

“i wasn’t planning on saying anything tonight,” he murmured. “i didn’t know i needed to.”

i tilted my head just enough to see him, “i’m glad you did.”

from the front seat, matt made a strangled sort of noise. “you guys need a room,”

nick looked up from his phone, deadpan. “just put the car in reverse and let god decide.” 

we all giggled and i made a face. “you were just fucking swooning over a guy you met tonight.”

nick looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find anything. he settled. “we can both be down bad.”

“i’m not down bad,” i said, though my voice had already gone soft again. chris’s thumb brushed my knuckles once, slow and deliberate. i glanced at him and smiled, quieter now. “okay, maybe i am.”

matt groaned dramatically from the front, but didn’t add anything this time. he just turned the music up a little, some mellow song filling the car like background to the way chris kept looking at me.

the car ride didn’t last much longer. matt pulled into the driveway and then the garage and cut the engine but no one rushed to get out.

nick was still on his phone, grinning at something, and matt leaned forward over the wheel like he needed a minute.

chris didn’t move at all. his hand was still in mine.

i turned to look at him, and he met my gaze like he’d already been waiting. his expression was unreadable at first, all soft focus and something behind his eyes, until he cleared his throat gently.

“you staying over?” he asked, voice low.

my heart skipped a beat, just one. “if i can,”

he nodded once. “of course,”

we all climbed out, chris stayed close, his hand brushing the small of my back as we walked through the door like it was second nature.

the garage door rumbled shut behind us, leaving a soft echo in its place. matt was the first one inside, barely mumbled a “night” before disappearing upstairs to the middle floor.

chris and i stepped inside together, through the door that opened straight into the bottom level of the house. chris’s room was right there, i paused in the hallway with him, toeing off my shoes.

“i’m gonna grab some water,” i said.

chris nodded, “m’kay,” he said, entering his room.

i padded up the stairs, footsteps soft. i glanced down the hallway and saw matt entering his room, a few seconds later, i heard a scratch of furniture as he presumably fell down onto his bed. other than that, everything was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge.

in the kitchen, i filled a glass from the filter and leaned against the counter. the night still clung to my skin.

“hey,” nick said, appearing up the stairs, still scrolling through his phone.

“hey,” i echoed, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

he leaned against the wall, thumbs moving quickly. “just told him goodnight. took me like five minutes to decide if it was too much.”

“was it?”

he shook his head, almost smiling. “nah. he sent a ‘sweet dreams’ first. i win.”

i took a sip from my glass and tilted my head. “you sticking around down here?”

“nah, just needed to breathe for a sec. and make sure you were okay.” he glanced up at me, briefly serious. “you are, right?”

i nodded, letting the glass rest against the counter. “yeah. tonight was– unexpected. but good.”

“yeah,” he said softly, then nodded toward the stairs. “he looked happy. chris.”

i smiled a little. “he is. i think.”

nick pushed off the wall and gave a quiet little sigh. “good.”

he started up the next flight to his room, still scrolling, still smiling. “night,” he called.

“night, nick.”

i stayed in the kitchen a moment longer, listening to the soft click of his door above me. then i turned off the light and went back downstairs to where chris was waiting.

i stepped inside without knocking. he was stretched out on his bed, one leg dangling off the side, eyes on his phone. the tv was on, some old sitcom i couldn’t remember the name of right now. he looked up when he heard me.

“hey,” he said, soft, tired, like we were already halfway into a conversation.

“hey,” i shut the door behind me.

he shifted to make space and reached a hand out lazily. i climbed onto the bed beside him, folding one leg up underneath me. his hand found my wrist like it always did, thumb brushing over the inside of it.

“you get your water?” he asked, smiling a little.

“yep,” i said, “nick said you looked happy.”

chris giggled. “scary.” he sat up.

“actually? kind of sweet.”

he tilted his head toward me. “you think he’s jealous?”

i raised a brow. “of what?”

“me,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a question, just something he’d been holding onto.

i smiled at him, soft. “no. i think he’s proud of you.”

he smiled. his arm came around me without hesitation, holding me close like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you looked good tonight,” he said quietly.

i looked up. “yeah?”

“yeah.” he brushed a piece of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering. “it was hard trying not to stare.”

i grinned. “did you fail?”

he leaned in a little. “miserably.”

i turned just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “good.”

he moved so our lips were together and kissed me back, slow, unhurried, like there wasn’t anything else worth rushing toward. 

i felt his hands on my waist, sliding up my sides, under my hoodie. his touch sent goosebumps up my arms, and i shivered a little, pressing closer to him.

his hands moved to my lower back, pulling me in fully. i could feel him pressing against me now, hard against my hip, and i let out a soft gasp against his mouth. he hummed quietly in response, not breaking the kiss.

he moved to my jaw and then my neck "chris, it's late.." i mumbled. but i didn't stop him, i didn't want him to stop

he murmured against my skin, “you want me to stop?” i felt him smirk and his teeth scraped over my neck. i hummed, not in agreement, but not in disagreement. 

“i want you,” he mumbled. “do you want me to stop?” he repeated, pausing his movements.

i shook my head, hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. “no, keep going, please.”

he chuckled and continued mouthing down my neck, finding a sensitive spot just below my ear. i let my head fall back slightly, giving him more space, and moaned softly when he bit down slightly.

his hands traveled up under my hoodie, he went far enough to where he could tug down my dress, and gently, he did. he then brought his hands behind me and unclasped my bra.

“fuck,” he murmured as he kneaded my boobs. i moaned softly.

he pulled away just enough to look at me, hands moving to the hem of the hoodie and pulling it off me. 

i tugged my dress all the way down, leaving me in just my underwear. he pulled back a little to pull his shirt over his head. i took a second to admire his body, i would never get tired of doing that.

he grinned. “you gonna just sit there and stare?”

i giggled and straddled his lap, kissing him again. his hands moved to my hips, fingers almost digging into the soft skin.

he deepened the kiss, tongue swiping at my bottom lip until i opened for him.

one of his hands slid up the inside of my thigh. i moaned into his mouth, shifting my weight against him.

he broke the kiss, “you’re so fucking pretty.” he said, voice nearly a raspy whisper. he flipped us around suddenly, me on my back on the bed with him hovering above me.

i wrapped my legs around his waist and brought him closer, rolling my hips up against his until he groaned and ducked his head to kiss my neck again.

i moaned, hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “these need to come off,” i murmured, arching up against him again.

he pulled back slightly, just enough to get the jeans and boxers off, then settled back between my legs.

i ran my manicured hands up the front of his chest, feeling how he inhaled sharply as i drug my nails along his abs and back down over his hips. 

he leaned back down, his right hand running up and down the insides of my thighs until he was rubbing me over the fabric of my underwear.

he moved them to the side, and i gasped when his finger ran up my slit.

“oh god..” i moaned.

his fingers circled my clit, spreading my wetness around and pressing a little harder. i moaned again, and could feel him smiling against my neck. “you’re so wet.” he murmured. “you want me that bad?”

“yes,” i nodded.

he moved his hand, pressing a digit inside. i arched up against him, trying to get more. “please..” i said, a little breathless. “chris, please..“

he added a second finger as i moaned.

“don’t tease,” i said, still trying to get more of him. “i need–“ i stopped with a gasp when he curled his fingers. “oh, god.” he let out a laugh.

i smacked his chest lightly, then moaned again when he hit that spot again. “chris, mm!” hips rolling up to meet his hand. he moaned into my neck, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

he pulled his hand out, and i whined, but he was already lining himself up. he slid inside me, my body tensing at the stretch, and we both moaned together. “oh god,” i whimpered, feeling him rock forward slowly. he leaned in to kiss and bite at my neck, giving me a moment to adjust.

he started a slow, steady rhythm as i moaned with each thrust. i moved my hands to his back, fingernails raking over his shoulders. he moaned again, biting down on my shoulder.

“faster,” i moaned. “chris, please– faster.”

he obliged, speeding up. he shifted up a bit, pushing my legs further apart, and changing the angle. i almost cried out loudly, covering my mouth. “there, right there,” i moaned, hands moving to grip his arm.

he continued his rhythm and the heat in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. “chris– i’m close,” i moaned, my legs tightening around his waist.

“yeah,” he moaned. “me too– shit.” his rhythm was faltering now, hips losing their steady beat.

his hand moved back down between us and he circled my clit with his fingers, picking up where he’d left off. my moans got louder, almost whiny. his fingers rubbed at my clit faster, harder, more desperate.

he was getting even more rough now, driving into me hard and fast. “chris– right there, right there, don’t stop–“ he hit my g-spot a few more times and that was it.

 my back came up off the bed and i moaned, feeling my walls flutter around him. he groaned loud and pressed deep “that’s it, god’s you’re so tight.” he moaned as my muscles gripped him. he came inside me, my legs shook and my head rolled back as i moaned louder.

his hips stilled and he moaned, burying his face in my neck. i could feel his warm breath as he pressed open mouthed kisses to my skin. his weight was pinning me down, and we just laid like that for a moment.

he shifted a bit, resting his forehead against mine. “fuck. you look so pretty,” he said. i giggled and brought his face back to mine to kiss him.

he kissed me back, gentler now, before pulling out. he flopped back down next to me, and i leaned over him, running my fingers down his chest. he pulled me against him carefully, and i settled myself on him.

he pressed a kiss into my hair. “love you,” he mumbled, hand gently running up and down my side. i hummed happily, pressing a light kiss to the center of his chest. “love you too.”

i was brought back to reality a few moments later. “"fuck, i still need to shower- wait, what time is it?"  i asked. he leaned over to grab his phone from the nightstand. 

“uhh..” he squinted at the time. “2:47.”

i groaned. "shit, chris, i have an event tomorrow," i started to get up to head to the shower, chris’ sheet wrapped around me.

he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back down. “no, i miss you.” he said.

“chris, i’m all gross and sticky, and my makeup’s all ruined. i need to shower.” i whined, but i couldn’t help but smile at his words.

“you’re not gross, you’re perfect,” he mumbled, trying to pull me closer.

"i am gross, and i need to shower." i rolled my eyes fondly, standing up again.

he groaned and pouted. “fine. go get your stupid shower.” he said. i giggled, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “i’ll be back,” i said before getting up and going into his bathroom.

i got to the bathroom and started the shower, while i waited for it to warm up, i took the time to admire the state i was in in the full length mirror. my skin was marked with various hickeys and small bites, my hair messy, my makeup smudged and mostly gone. i touched the spot on neck where he had bit me earlier; i knew it was going to be a dark bruise tomorrow. i decided i would cover it with makeup, wasn’t anything i wasn’t used to.

i was too tired to take a full shower, but i washed my body and face and brushed my teeth with the toothbrush i kept there. when i got out and opened the door back into chris' room, he was clothed and laying back on his bed, scrolling his phone, the tv was still on.

he looked up when i entered the room, and a smirk immediately took over his face at the sight of me in only my towel. “you done being all ‘clean and perfect’ now?” he asked.

"'clean and perfect?' chris, are you seriously not gonna shower?" i retorted.

he shook his head. “it’s like 3 am, i’m not showering.”

i tsked, heading over to look through his dresser and grab something to sleep in. i had my own clothes there, but i liked sleeping in his, i put on my own underwear but grabbed a hoodie and sweatpants that were his.

when i got in bed, he immediately pulled me close so i was laying half on top of him, hands sneaking under the hoodie to settle on my waist.

he rested his chin on the top of my head, and i snuggled into him. it was silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “i know you’re tired, but can we talk about something?”

"about earlier? the whole party thing?" i asked.

he sighed. “yeah,” he said, then paused. i stayed silent, waiting for him to form his thoughts, and he shifted beneath me. “i’m trying so hard to act normal but it’s like–“ he huffed, and i could feel his grip tighten on my waist. “i know most of our friends know we’re dating, and it’s been this like– ‘you can’t tell just anyone’ type of thing, and earlier i said we could be more public, and we really can if that's what you want, but you need to know how insane the internet will be.”

i was quiet for a second. i understood where he was coming from, i leaned up a little so i could look at him. “i know, chris. everything we've done for the last year, every video, every stream, every time we’ve ever looked at each other, it’s all been overanalyzed to the extreme. and they’re never upset with you, they’re upset with me, and i get that that scares you, it kinda scares me too, but...” i paused, shifting my position so i was almost straddling him again, and finding my next words, but he spoke before i could.

“i don’t wanna be scared anymore.” he said. “not when it feels like this..”

he was looking up at me, eyes searching my face and expression, waiting to see if i understood what he was trying to say. i gently slid a hand up to cup his face, thumb running over his jawline in a soothing gesture. “i don’t wanna be scared either,” i said, quietly, and he visibly relaxed slightly, like my answer actually calmed him.

he looked like he wasn't exactly sure where to go from here, so i spoke. "listen, none of this has to be right this second. we don't have to hard launch right away, especially not at 3 in the fucking morning." 

he let out a small laugh. “agreed.” he said, and i could feel the tension leave his body. "we can figure this out in the morning, or sometime soon, but right now i just want to sleep. and cuddle." he said, giving my waist a light squeeze.

"yeah," i whispered, snuggling closer to him. "that sounds good." my body felt heavy, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up with me. i could feel the tension in my own muscles start to melt away, and i relaxed into him, letting the comfort of his presence lull me. he was still tracing small patterns on my side, the motion soothing, grounding.

as i settled in, the quiet hum of the room surrounding us, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over everything, the low murmur of the tv on the wall,  just enough to create a background noise, barely audible over the sound of our breathing.

chris's fingers had stopped their gentle tracing on my skin, and his breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm. the tv’s volume stayed low, a whisper of a distraction, but not enough to pull me away from the weight of his presence next to me.

his chest rose and fell beneath me, steady and calming, and before i even realized it, my mind started to quiet, too. the sounds of the room, the faint laugh from the tv, everything blurred into one soft, indistinguishable blanket of sound. and then, just like that, the world felt small. 

[ao3commentoftheday]

hi, first of all thank you so much for running this blog! i've followed you for a quite a while now and i can't express enough how helpful it has been!

i think this is more of a little confession than an ask, i guess i just want to get some stuff off my chest. feel free to ignore this though because i dont think what i'm about to say here is something that hasn't been said before, now that i've scrolled your blog for like an hour or so.

i've never written really consistently, same goes for my other stuff like art or vid editing. i feel like having a solid plot isn't really my strong suit so i usually just stick to oneshots where there are little actions but a lot of feeling lol, and even with that i have drafts and bullet points from 5 years ago that i haven't touched. there's a lot of struggle with finishing things as well, wips of all kind just keep accumulating and i just feel so guilty over that, especially when i get the idea for something new. i suppose the more i internalize that the more i get intimidated by the mere thought of starting anything at all.

so recently i got a new shiny idea of a multichapter fic, its scope is larger than anything i have ever written or attempted to, and it has plot. i have basically spent weeks trying to piece together a string of plot, setting up characterization and all that jazz. i got pretty ambitious with how the story unfold, so there is considerably more prepping than ever.

i'm now writing the pilot chapter, and honestly it is getting frustrating. i know you have mentioned speedrunning to jump straight into "the good bits" before, but there's just this strange obligation to the opening that i can't quite shake off. i also set up this mental quota for words count, and seeing myself spending days and still not reaching that number is very disheartening.

realistically, i can see many recommending slowly building up my writing, like just biting what i can chew and enlarge the bite as i go. but the idea of shelving this one feels bad, and i wanna ride the high before i start losing interest and eventually look back on this project with some sort of bitter regret like many others. i know the saying about projects not disappearing and i can always pick up from where i left it, but my mind doesn't seem to be happy with that, and this is worsened be the reminder of my other several-year-old abandoned fic.

sorry for the whole rambling. i am aware that this is a mindset problem and i have issues with instant gratification. it just i was so excited during the planning phase and now the actual writing is so stagnant that i feel like im losing hope for a breakthrough. and i couldn't even ramble to anyone about the plans because most of my friends aren't into what i'm writing for/the particular character i'm centering this fic around i'm scared that i'm gonna bother them; i am not actually active in the fandom and joining a server makes me insanely anxious. the whole thing just feels more and more like digging a hole for myself and lie there.

again i am so sorry for the rambling this got out of hand! i hope you have a good day!

Oof. Deep breath, anon! It's okay 💗

You've got several things in this ask that I want to have a quick chat with you about, but feel free to jump to the end if what I'm saying isn't hitting for you.

I want to start by addressing your little personal history that you gave up at the top. This is something that I hear from a lot of people about various hobbies, not just writing. We feel guilty when we don't finish a project. We feel bad when we stop doing something when it stops being fun.

That's normal. That's a perfectly fine choice to make with how you spend your free time. Just because school and work both require you to finish projects doesn't mean that your hobbies require that too. Just because your parents said you couldn't give up on [insert hobby here] because it cost so much for your lessons or equipment etc. doesn't mean that you have to hold yourself to that same standard when you're the one paying your own bills. Besides, writing is free.

Be a little kinder to yourself and a little more forgiving when you DNF a fic. You're allowed to quit writing as much as you're allowed to quit reading. If it sucks, hit da bricks.

Related to that idea is the way you talk about "struggling to finish fics." Of course you struggle with doing something that you're bored or frustrated with. If the story itself isn't more interesting than the struggle why would you continue with it? Keeping yourself motivated isn't just about energy. It's also about passion. When it comes to a hobby, the only person pushing you to finish a thing is you. And when you're tired after working all day or after finishing a full day of school, you don't want to start writing a fic that feels like homework. You want to work on a fic that feels like play.

It sounds like you got that play feeling from creating the plan for your story. Whatever you were doing at that stage was keeping your passion alive. So what's changed since you shifted from planning to writing?

If you've created a strict outline that you're now trying to follow then it might feel like you're doing homework or just filling in boxes in the fic-writing factory. Try to find places where you can still make creative decisions as you go, where you haven't got things all planned out in advance. Put a little "choose your own adventure" back into your storytelling and that passion might come back.

Try investigating that "obligation to the opening" as well. What's the cause of that? Was the first scene the one that prompted the rest of the story? Are you trying to do the tone setting and worldbuilding there? What expectation have you put in place for yourself, and is there a way to shift that expectation to later in the fic? What's the most basic version of that opening that you can write to get it down on the page? You can go back later to add more to it if you still think it needs it.

One thing to remember when you're writing a large, complex story is that the reader doesn't need to know anywhere near as much as you do. You can figure out 10 books worth of backstory and worldbuilding and relationship history that informs what you put on the page, but you don't actually have to write it all down if the reader doesn't need to know all of the ins and outs. And if you want, you can always create a companion fic on the side where you do go into deep dives or missing moments etc. when those things ignite a spark inside you.

When it comes to word count, though? Throw. That. Idea. In. The. Garbage. The number of words you use has nothing to do with the quality of the story that you're telling. It's a number that you've clearly put some kind of meaning into, but saying that a 100K fanfic is better than a 20K fanfic is kind of like saying that a 6ft tall person is better than a 5ft tall person based solely on their respective heights. It makes no sense!

I'll get off that particular soap box now, anon, but I do hope that you'll be kinder to yourself. You're beating yourself up in a dozen different ways and none of them are a good reason to be so mean to the most important person in your life: yourself. ❤️

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

TWO: LIES

the following days after were absolute hell. no exaggeration. everywhere i went, i could feel eyes on me, hear the murmurs that never quite faded, always lingering just out of reach but loud enough to remind me that people were talking. and the worst part? they weren’t even subtle about it.

if i turned my back? whispers. if i walked by a group of people? whispers. if i so much as existed in a room for more than five seconds? whispers. it was exhausting. seriously, what the hell? we’re literally seniors in university, grown adults on the verge of entering the real world, and yet they still find joy in gossiping like we’re stuck in some high school drama. grow up.

but what really got to me—what really settled into my bones like an uncomfortable itch i couldn’t scratch—was the fact that i hadn’t seen matt since the night of the party. not once. before that night, he was just one of those people i’d run into from time to time. whether i was studying at my usual spot in the local cafe or making my way across campus for class, he was always just... there. sometimes alone, sometimes surrounded by his friends, but always there. and now? nothing. it was like he had vanished into thin air.

at first, i told myself it was a coincidence. campus was big, and it wasn’t like we shared classes or anything. but as the days passed, the absence started to feel intentional. like he was actively avoiding me. like maybe—just maybe—he was ashamed to be caught up in a rumor with me.

that thought made something in my chest twist uncomfortably. not that i cared, obviously. it’s not like i wanted him to be around. it’s not like i kept looking for him in places i knew he usually was. not at all.

with a sigh, i snapped my notebook shut, stuffing it into my backpack and swinging the strap over my left shoulder. i needed to stop thinking about this. matt didn’t matter. the rumors didn’t matter. i just needed to focus on school–to study and get my degree.

"eve? i’m gonna head to class now! i’ll be back in a couple hours!" i called out, slipping on my adidas sambas and adjusting the strap of my bag.

"alright! don’t let the gossipers get to you too much!" evelyn called back, her voice light but knowing.

"yeah, yeah," i muttered, rolling my eyes before stepping out of our dorm room, bracing myself for another long day of ignoring the noise.

as i made my way across campus to my anatomy class, the crisp morning air did little to shake off the exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. i had stayed up way too late the night before, cramming for my biochem test next week, and now, i was running on nothing but willpower and the promise of caffeine.

so, naturally, i made a detour to my favorite coffee shop, the one place that had fueled countless late-night study sessions and saved me from more than a few academic breakdowns. the smell of freshly brewed espresso and vanilla hit me the moment i stepped inside, a welcome comfort against the chaos of my schedule.

as i slid into the line, my mind wandered, my fingers absentmindedly tapping against the strap of my backpack. but then, just as i was settling into the peaceful rhythm of the cafe, i heard it—whispers.

not just any whispers. my name. and matt’s.

“…they’re still together?”

“probably, but i still haven’t seen them together since the party…”

i exhaled sharply, rolling my eyes as i shifted my weight from one foot to the other. seriously, how had this rumor gotten so out of hand? it had started as a tiny spark, something barely worth acknowledging, and now it had spread like wildfire. the whispers followed me around campus, no matter where i went, as if my personal life had somehow turned into everyone else’s favorite mystery to unravel.

eventually, the line inched forward, and i finally reached the counter. the moment i locked eyes with the barista, a familiar grin spread across her face.

“y/n! you’re back!” scarlett, one of my favorite baristas, greeted me warmly. “let me guess—your usual?”

this coffee shop had become my second home during exam season, and after countless hours spent hunched over textbooks and laptop screens in the corner booth, i had gotten to know the staff pretty well. scar, in particular, always seemed to be working whenever i came in, and over time, we’d built a sort of friendly rapport.

“hey, scar!” i greeted, returning her smile. “actually, can i get a medium iced white chocolate mocha with whip today?”

“switching it up, huh?” she teased as she tapped my order into the register.

“figured i’d live a little,” i joked, pulling out my wallet.

“love that for you,” she chuckled. “is that all?”

i nodded, and she spun the screen toward me.

“$5.48.”

i tapped my card against the reader, the soft beep signaling the transaction had gone through.

“you’re all set!” she said cheerfully.

“thanks, scar,” i replied before making my way to one of the tables, sitting down in the wooden chair.

i scrolled mindlessly through my phone, my thumb moving automatically as i tapped through the endless parade of instagram stories. some of my classmates were out at parties, their nights filled with loud music and flashing lights. others posted funny reels, the kind that always seemed to go viral no matter how many times you’d seen them. and then there were the perfectly curated photos—overexposed, with soft pastel colors and just the right amount of "effortless" aesthetic. it was all noise, just a blur of images and videos. but for some reason, i couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t pull myself away. my brain was numb, absorbed in the flickering images on the screen, none of it real. none of it felt like it had anything to do with me.

i was so caught up in my scrolling that when i felt a tap on my shoulder, the sudden touch startled me, and i jumped, my heart thudding in my chest.

"y/n?" a voice asked from behind me.

i froze for a second, blinking up in surprise, and turned around to see matt standing there, his expression a little hesitant but familiar.

"matt? you scared me!" i said, my hand instinctively going to my chest, as if trying to calm the racing heartbeat he’d just triggered.

he chuckled, his lips curving into a soft, apologetic smile. "sorry," he said, his voice light, though i could see the awkwardness creeping into his eyes.

the air between us felt thick, like we were both waiting for the other to say something—anything. i tried to smile, but it came out more nervous than i intended. "sooo…" i started, the word hanging in the air like an awkward balloon.

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes briefly dropping to the floor before meeting mine again. "we should probably talk… shouldn’t we?" he said, his voice low, like it was more of a statement than a question.

i nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. what was this about? why now? why was the world suddenly so loud, so heavy with this unspoken tension between us?

just as the silence stretched on, i heard a voice calling from across the room. "for y/n?"

i turned to see scarlett standing there, a cup in her hand, her eyebrow quirked with that familiar playful look she always had when she was teasing me.

"thanks, scar," i said, grateful for the interruption, even if just for a moment. i grabbed the drink from her hand, offering a smile that i hoped looked less strained than i felt.

i checked the time on my phone: 10:47 am. crap. i was going to be late if i didn’t leave soon.

i looked back at matt, still feeling the weight of the conversation hanging between us. "um, i have to get to class," i said, my voice awkward as i tried to break the tension. "but… do you want to put your number in my phone so we can talk later?"

he didn’t hesitate. he nodded, taking my phone from my hands without a word. his fingers moved quickly, typing something into the screen with the same fluid confidence he always seemed to have. it was like he was used to these kinds of exchanges, while i was overanalyzing every second of it.

he handed the phone back to me, his eyes locking with mine for a moment longer than necessary. 

"i’ll text you when i’m free," i said, taking the phone back from his hand, feeling a slight warmth spread across my face. "see you later."

without waiting for a response, i turned quickly, already feeling the pull of time and the pressure of getting to class before i was officially late. the door swung open in front of me, and i stepped outside, trying to shake off the strange feeling in my chest. my mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other. what did it all mean? why had he come over and talked to after he “went missing” for like a week? was this just some casual exchange, or was there something more to it?

but right now, there was no time to think. class was waiting. and i had to face whatever this was when i had the chance.

finally, my last class of the day ended. the usual shuffle of students filled the hallways, some rushing out to get to their next class or head home, others hanging around, lingering in small groups as the day slowly wound down. i should’ve been relieved that the day was finally over, but instead, i felt like the hours had stretched on too long. maybe it was because i’d known all day that i had to text matt.

it wasn’t a matter of whether or not i should reach out—it was more like i had no choice. there was too much noise building up, too many whispers circulating between us. the rumors had started, and i’d been avoiding the inevitable. no one had said anything outright, but i could feel the weight of their looks, the hushed tones whenever we crossed paths. people talked. it wasn’t that they were saying anything terrible, but the implication was clear. no one really understood what was going on between us, and honestly, neither did i.

i pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. matt’s name was toward the top, and for a moment, i just stared at it. i’m not sure why, i just felt hesitant to text him. eventually, i finally grew the courage to text him.

(ignore the time stamp !!)

thirty minutes. that’s all i had until i was meeting matt again. i checked the time on my phone and sighed. it was probably best to put my things down, maybe take a breath before i saw him. i grabbed my bag from the chair next to me and swung it over my shoulder. yeah, i needed to get back to my dorm.

the walk back didn’t take long, just about fifteen minutes, but it felt like the world was moving in slow motion as i made my way down the sidewalk. the usual buzz of campus was still there, people walking between buildings, chatting in small groups, but i felt disconnected from it all. it was like everything had quieted down, and all that was left was this one conversation hanging over me.

when i finally made it back to the dorm, i let out a quiet sigh as i dropped my backpack on the floor. the sound of the door shutting behind me seemed louder than usual, and it only reminded me of how much i had been avoiding this all day.

"y/n! you’re back!" evelyn’s voice called from the kitchen, her cheerfulness cutting through the tension in the room.

"yeah," i replied, pushing my shoes off. "but i’m gonna leave again soon. meeting matt."

she appeared in the doorway with a smile, setting down the mug she’d been holding. "oh, good luck!" she said with a playful salute, her grin widening.

i couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic pose. "thanks, eve. i think i’ll need it."

i walked over to my vanity, running a brush through my hair, feeling the weight of the day settle into my bones. nothing too major, just a quick touch-up. i wasn’t trying to look perfect, just not like a hot mess.

"m’kay, i’m gonna head out now," i said, standing up and grabbing my wallet, keys, and phone. "i’ll be back soon."

"bye, y/n! good luck again!" evelyn called after me, and i waved over my shoulder as i stepped out.

the air outside was cooler than i expected, but it was still a nice change from the warm dorm room. as i walked to the café, i couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my mind. we hadn’t really talked since the rumors started. not directly, anyway. he’d avoided me, and i’d done the same. we were both guilty of letting things get weird.

when i finally reached the café, i was about five minutes early. the place wasn’t crowded, just a few people typing away on their laptops or chatting quietly. i scanned the room, and then i saw him—matt, sitting in the corner with his back slightly turned to the door. he looked up as i approached, catching my eye for just a moment before he smiled and waved me over.

i made my way to the table and sat down across from him.

"hey," i said, offering a small smile.

he nodded, his expression neutral but still somehow friendly, like we were both trying to figure out how to pick up a conversation that had been paused for too long. "hey," he replied. his voice was calm, but there was something in the air between us—something unsaid, something that lingered.

we sat there for a second, neither of us speaking, and it felt oddly like the first time we’d ever met. all that tension from before, the rumors, the weirdness—it was all right there, and we both knew it. but neither of us had the perfect words to start.

finally, he broke the silence, his gaze a little more serious now. "so," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "about all the stuff people are saying..."

i nodded, my fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the table. "yeah. i figured we should talk about it. clear the air, or whatever."

"well, about that," matt said, his lips curling into a cheeky grin. "i was actually thinking of something else..."

something else? my mind immediately went into overdrive, trying to figure out what exactly he meant. this wasn’t the conversation i’d expected. i was sitting here, nervously shifting my leg under the table, waiting for him to say something along the lines of ‘no, we’re not dating, it’s all a misunderstanding’. honestly, that would’ve been so much easier. we could’ve just brushed it off, cleared the air, and gone on with our lives. no one would be any the wiser.

but matt didn’t look like he was about to say that. no, he was looking at me with that look in his eyes—the one that said he was about to say something totally unexpected.

"what are you thinking of?" i asked, my voice a little tighter than i wanted it to be. i couldn’t help it. this whole situation was starting to feel like a slow burn, and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for whatever was coming next.

he leaned forward a little, his hands resting on the table as he gave me a look that was almost too casual for the situation. "okay, hear me out. the rumor’s already spread so much—i mean, legit, everyone is already whispering about it, right? it’s gonna be nearly impossible to shut it down now. and, honestly, ever since the rumors started, i’ve had so many girls stop bothering me. which, not gonna lie, is pretty peaceful."

i blinked, a little taken aback. this was… not what i expected. what did he mean, "stop bothering me"?

but before i could process it, he continued, the hopeful look in his eyes not fading even a little. "so, i was wondering..." he trailed off, leaving the words hanging between us. i could feel my pulse quicken, my brain trying to keep up. "if we could just... keep up the rumor?"

i stared at him, certain i hadn’t heard that correctly. keep up the rumor? what was he talking about? was he asking me to go along with it?

he leaned back in his chair slightly, watching me closely, waiting for some kind of reaction. it felt like everything had stopped for a moment, and my mind couldn’t seem to catch up.

"wait," i said, finally finding my voice. "you want us to... keep pretending? that we’re actually dating?"

he shrugged, his expression casual but his eyes still holding that same hopeful intensity. "well, yeah. i mean, it’s already out there, right? why not take advantage of it?"

take advantage of it? the idea felt wrong on so many levels, but at the same time, i couldn’t deny that there was a strange logic to it. the rumor was already so out of control, there was no way to shut it down now. and if it made matt’s life easier—if it made people stop bothering him—maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

still, something didn’t sit right with me.

"you’re serious?" i asked, my voice quieter now. "you think this is a good idea?"

he nodded, a little too eagerly for my liking. "yeah. think about it. it’s a win-win. no one bothers us, we get some peace and quiet, and maybe people will stop whispering." he paused, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "and maybe we can have a little fun with it. i mean, no one���s gonna know, right?"

i stared at him for a moment, trying to process it all. he was asking me to go along with something fake. something that didn’t exist—except for in the minds of everyone who had heard the rumors. but the more i thought about it, the more i realized that maybe it wasn’t such a simple question of what was right or wrong. it was more like—what was the harm?

"so, we just keep this going? like we’re actually a thing?"

he raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my hesitation. "yeah, exactly. it’s just a little act. no one needs to know what’s really going on between us. we can keep it low-key, but it’ll keep the peace. you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. just... play along."

his words left me in a strange place, torn between the part of me that wanted to put a stop to the whole thing and the part that thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. it wasn’t real, but it felt like it would give us some breathing room.

i let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the decision settle over me. could i really do this? could i go along with a lie—just to make things easier for both of us?

"i don’t know, matt," i said, shaking my head slightly. "this feels… weird."

he nodded, understanding in his eyes. "yeah, i get it. but think about it. we won’t be the first people to fake something for convenience. it could just be temporary. and when it blows over, we can drop it."

i didn’t answer immediately. part of me was still skeptical, still not sure about the idea of playing along with something that wasn’t real. but another part of me—one that was tired of the rumors, of the awkwardness—felt like it might be worth considering.

"i need to think about it," i said, finally. "this is a lot to take in."

he smiled, a bit more relaxed now. "yeah, of course. take your time. i’m not going anywhere."

wc: 3.4k author's note: hai i’m bored dividers: @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess

© HEARTS4STURN 2025

[z-eel]

Hello! I love your work so much and I love rereading through all of my favourites as a past time :) I haven’t seen any x reader stuff and was just curious on if you ever would write something like that.

If so I always think about reader who is like black brothers younger sister, and she accidentally walks in on her brothers making out half naked and is in total shock but even more shock when she feels jealous that she isn’t involved :p

Anyways if you don’t want to do x reader that’s totally cool but I would love anything with black brothers thank you lovely, hope you’re doing well ❤️

yeah sorry i haven't done 'x reader'. especially not fem! 'x reader'... that's just not my vibe, unfortunately. explicit fem! 'x readers' make me a little uncomfortable lol

but i do like to push myself when it comes to writing, so i'll try (but reminder ive never written 'x reader' before)...

(let's also thank aj for helping write this lol)

starcest x reader | non explicit | wc: 797

cw: incest

It's hard staying in the Black family home. Too many empty rooms and not enough noise to fill in the space.

Easy to get lost in the monotony of the seemingly endless day of pure emptiness. Rarely seeing more than a shadow of family members, a mere ghost of a presence.

High-collared necklines and heavy, weighted skirts that dragged along the old tiled floor of your ancestral home. All of it was so suffocating. It's easy to lose your sense of individuality. family comes first, above all.

Duty and honor, hold high the name of house Black.

It’s expected from someone of their social standing to be in attendance to some of the most prestigious events of the year. Tonight was one of the few nights their parents didn’t seem to need their children’s presence to convey the power of their name. 

So they were left behind, alone in a large house with nothing to entertain themselves and with no permission to leave the grounds. Such is the lackadaisical life of being born into the house of Black. You supposed you could work on a few spells, maybe even tend to the nearly wilting flowers on the back porch. Though Kreature would spot you, and insist that such a task is above you. You wrinkle your nose at the thought, not feeling like dealing with the elderly house elf today. 

You were pacing around the house, the only real interesting thing to do was to name each portrait by heart and contemplate if old family members truly looked the way they were portrayed.

Then you heard it, the sound sound of a gasp. 

Regulus, your mind unhelpfully supplies. A gasp of pain? This is debunked when the gasp is followed by a series of whispers.

The house was empty, no one here but you and your brothers. You round the corner that leads to the hallway of the house's bedrooms, trying to get a hint of their conversation. 

“Quiet Regulus, we’ll be heard.” your ever rebellious brother’s voice was practically a stage whisper. He always had an issue with controlling his volume. You roll your eyes, still making your way to the furthest end of the hall where the younger of the brother’s room resided. 

“You said no one was here.” Regulus’ voice was unusually whiny, breathless. A tone that made a shiver go down your spine. You're unsure if the shiver is caused by the irritation that he forgot about you so quickly, or the unusual lilt of his voice.

“There’s three of us here, remember.” Sirius teases.

You near the end of the hall, confirming your suspicions that the voices were coming from Regulus’ room. The door half opened, and the sound only grew louder with each step that was taken to the door

“Wait, Sirius, you promised-” he was cut off by his own gasp. You pressed your back to the wall next to the door. Not quite looking around the corner. You were nervous to see what was happening beyond the door that sat ajar. 

“I know baby, but we have to be quick right now. I promise I'll make it up to you tonight.”  Quick? Baby?! Tonight? You steel your nerves and peak around the corner, your mouth falling open in shock. Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. The tips of your ears grew unnaturally hot at the sight. 

And there they were, on Regulus’ bed. Shirts gone with Sirius leaning over Regulus as he kissed him. Pulling on his lower lip with his teeth, one hand holding on to his cheek and the other down Regulus pants. 

Regulus had one hand on Sirius’ hair, pulling, while the other was wrapped around his neck.

It looked desperate. You’ve never seen something like that.

It was fascinating. 

Seeing Regulus gasp into Sirius mouth when his hand moved. Watching Sirius lean down his neck and kiss and bite every bit of exposed flesh. 

You remained staring, mouth dry.

Then Sirius did something that made Regulus curse loudly and throw his head back heaving.

There was a moment of still silence. Nothing but Regulus desperate gasps filling the empty space.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Regulus' breathless voice was a shock, but seeing him looking at you was frightening.

“Next time you might try and join us instead of just watching like a weirdo.” Sirius turned around, with a teasing smile. The one he liked to give when there was just the barest hint of truth hidden under his word.

It was instinctual the way you stepped into the room. Youngest of the three meant you were always clambering for attention, especially your brother's attention. 

“Does mother know you two do this?”

Sirius and Regulus smiled wickedly at you.

“What mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Out of sight, out of - wait.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[blamemma]

it's so hard to explain, and the facts are strange, but you know what will stay? everything we've made.

jack gilbert, failing and flying // daniel ricciardo's eight wins across his career // max porter, grief is a thing with feathers // bon iver - awards season

[rubber-glovs]

Oooohhh the urge to yap about my ocs and the world they live in......

[erismourn]

thank god moving out is on the horizon because if i have to spend much more time with my father every day i will do something drastic (this is not an actionable threat)

[spookykestrel]

Very frustrated that I keep not getting any of my hobbies or goals for the day done bc I'll sit down after work to eat and stuff and then fall asleep on the couch before I could get started on anything :|

[reminderstodothings]

hello, its time once more, to brush your teeth please and thank you very much

[maliro-t]

veilguard spoilers if you're picky but re: ign today,,,,betrayal of felassan i am unwell

[causenessus]

where do i even start. two people in love, but that are hurting. two people who meet each other and are in need of love and happiness, (“do you think you weren’t loved enough?” “somewhere between ‘not enough’ and ‘not at all’. i was always hungry for love. just once, i wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it… just once. but they never gave that to me. never, not once.”). they’re in need of love; the kind of love that reassures them that they are a person. they are a living, breathing human worthy of love. that nothing of their past defines them, there is always the chance to grow. the kind of love that reassures them they are not hated by the world, but that they are loved. and they find that in each other (“i want to hold this moment. i want to believe it. i want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. i don’t want to be swimming for my life.” -frankissstein) they are two people who have been drowning in silence for so long, but then they find each other. and they keep each other afloat. with promises to keep on living and promises that they will always be there for the other. that they will never leave. that they are there to stay. and sometimes one person is all that you need. iwa and y/n have the type of relationship where they cover the other’s ears when it gets too loud, the kind of relationship where they run into the others arms every moment they get. they know each other like the back of their hands, they know what sets the other off and they always know what the other needs. and when they finally retire to bed after a long night of living, and they let down their walls and they finally say it, “i’m so tired.” the other is there to hold them, saying “i know, love. but it’s going to be okay.” and it will be, because they have each other.

ways to live: h. iwaizumi

he’s depressed. she’s depressed. it’s all they ever talk about. she’s willing to try anything to feel better. he’s less optimistic

pairings: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed, uploading all the chapters today & then disappearing again

tags/warnings: online friends to lovers, blended smau (every chapter has written parts), university au, mini-series, happy ending, hurt/comfort, lots and lots of frank discussions on mental health, depression tweets, casual discussions of suicidal ideation (no death or sh), disordered behaviors, recovery

taglist: i’m not doing one please do not ask to be added

prologue: the list

chapter one: exercise

chapter two: nurture yourself with good nutrition

chapter three: connect with a support system

chapter four: help yourself by helping others

chapter five: demonstrate gratitude

[too-much-boobus]

THIS IS NOT FUNNY GUYS how to become hot enough to justify being so so selfish how to not die AHGHHH AGHGGHHH I HATE HOMOSEXUALITY I HATE GAY PEOPLE AGGHHGGH literally my only weakness. can u imagine my power if i werent gay. i would die meaningless and alone but at least id know id been perfect by everyone else. i was not built for this i was built to be worshipped and yet here i am GROVELING like a PATHETIC FAGGOT because im WANTING SOMETHING which lends myself to VULNERABILITY AND GIVES THE POWER TO DESTROY ME TO SOMEONE ELSE. and WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. KILL MYSELF?1?1!1??1? maybe the problem is having self esteem. id say maybe its ok to be this pathetic as long as it makes them love me but it DOESNT EVEN. ITS ANNOYING AND BURDENSOME. i have to suppress myself if i want any of them at all. FUCK MY BAKA LIFE.and im GRATEFUL for this much but i cant help wanting more to the point the need and denial is interfering with my ability to enjoy anything. maybe buddha was right.........

holy shit i just reached the tag limit. anyways im gonna go take a fat shit and pray to god for a system reset soon plzplzplzplz i neeeed it i neeeed to reforge my identity from a depersonalized perspective chat come on its BEEN SO LONG what do i need to do.. ITS NOT MY FAULT NO ONES BEEN TRAUMATIZING ME LATELY come on now:/ i guess thats a good thing but i didnt know i was gonna turn into such a pissbaby afterward 😭 i hate the concept of regression how about im on top of it forever how about i never feel my emotions and never act my age THIS IS TOO SCARY IM SO BAD AT IT AHGHHHHH i will persevere. i just pictured a locked in chad face as a representation of myself and all my mortal complications have been quelled. Get back to work everypony crash out OVER. 😐🧏

#globs #♡

[dmumt]

genuine question is having a flatmate ever a pleasant experience

[grymmdark]

i just generally don't want anything and i cant tell if it's because I've successfully overcome consumerism and am content with what i have or if it's because ive been in a state of burnout so bad it's basically become a second depression

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)