#and I feel mean to be so annoyed by it but like why are you interpreting a problem I have and then trying to solve it for me I do NOT want

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the catalyst - c.s.

this takes place prior to the two final screenshots in part ten

cw: (almost) cheating, suggestive implications, chris being an asshole

wc: 4k

part of the fwb!chris series

no doubt about it, you had to be drunk if you were going to this party.

normally you would pull up to parties with chris, have him pick you up or at least meet you there and wait outside until you showed up so you could walk in together, but now with him talking to this new girl (lia, you found out), you had to show up by yourself. it wasn’t a problem, you were pretty independent in your every day life, but something about showing up to a party by yourself felt embarrassing when it’s been so long since you’ve had to. despite your feelings, you didn’t want to appear too affected by chris’s new situation he had going on, so you were still going to go, just after pregaming a little harder than usual.

on the ride over there, you almost found yourself wanting to ask the driver to turn around and go back home, not wanting to stumble into somebody’s house an hour after everyone had already shown up and draw attention to yourself and your obvious loneliness. you talked yourself out of it, though, continuing on the short drive until you had pulled up to the typical hang out spot, thanking your driver and getting out.

the door was unlocked as usual, and you pushed it open and went inside as quietly as you could, doing your best to walk past people you didn’t really know to make your way to the kitchen to grab another drink. you were barely two seconds into pouring a mixer into a plastic cup when you feel somebody step up next to you, and you don’t have to tear your gaze away from what you’re doing to know who it is.

“when did you get here?” he questions, standing so close to you your arms are brushing together. you don’t answer him until your drink is made, bringing it up to your lips to take a sip. once it’s swallowed, you turn your body to face him, eyes landing on his that are already watching you. “a few minutes ago,” you answer. “why, were you waiting for me?”

chris rolls his eyes and reaches forward to grab your cup from your hand, bringing it up to his own lips for a taste. he hands it back to you, grimacing at the sweet flavor. “god, you make the worst drinks,” he scoffs. “and no, I wasn’t waiting for you, was just surprised that you came so late, that’s all.” you take the cup back and let your fingers brush over his at the transfer, body already thrumming from how close you were, the feeling of pure want intensified by the alcohol already in your system.

your eyes hide nothing, giving away just how badly you wanted chris in the moment. you thought you’d be able to keep it under control, but with him standing so close and looking so good, the scent of his cologne wafting through your nostrils and infiltrating your senses. maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to drink so much before coming. “chris,” you say in a soft tone, one that always makes him melt, but tonight he just shakes his head at you and reaches up to place both hands on either one of your shoulders. “not tonight. please behave yourself tonight. I have lia here and I really don’t want to mess this up. I promise i’ll make it up to you,” he begs, and he really sounds like he means it.

you always hated not getting what you wanted.

“but, chris,” you pout, dropping your head down a bit to give your eyes a wider appearance, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest. you’re about to speak again when he grabs your hand and pulls it away from him, pushing it back towards you. “i’m serious,” he says lowly. “not tonight.”

you groan and narrow your eyes at chris frustratedly, annoyed at his determination. “fine,” you agree. you take your hand that he pushed away from you and reach between your bodies, cupping chris’s dick through the black jeans he wore, keeping your eyes lock on his. “just know i’ll be thinking about you all night and wishing you would have your way with me.”

chris sucked in a sharp breath at your touch, knowing he should pull away but not having the willpower to. one of his hands leans against the counter for support, the other itching to grab you and pull you closer. you can feel him twitching under your hand, a hint of an erection forming as you groped him. he was about to give into your touch, about to pull you somewhere more private, but an unfamiliar voice pulled you both from the moment. your pulled your hand away from him and tucked it into the back pocket of your jeans that hugged your ass perfectly, other hand bringing your cup up to your lips.

“here you are!” a girl’s voice calls from the doorway of the kitchen, stepping up to chris’s side with a wide grin on her face, oblivious to the tension in the room. chris slings an arm around her waist loosely, now refusing to make eye contact with you, afraid this girl would see right through him if he looked at you. “here I am,” he says with a forced smile, turning his head to face her. she turns and looks up at him, naive adoration painted on her features. “is this the friend you were telling me about?”

he told her about me? you think to yourself, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “yeah,” chris says, clearing his throat as he turned back to look at you. “this is lia, the girl i’ve been seeing,” he introduces awkwardly and you tilt your head at her, smiling sweetly. “lia,” you hum, nodding your head. her hand comes out to greet you and all you can do is stare down at it, judging the way her acrylics were grown out and an ugly color. “i’m gonna go find your brother,” you tell chris, looking back up at him with a smirk, sending him a knowing wink before turning on your heel and heading towards the living room, hearing chris apologizing for your attitude quietly.

you did exactly as you promised, finding matt sitting on the floor with his back leaned up against the front of a couch and his legs crossed in front of him, laughing at something a friend had said. “hi, matt,” you greet sweetly, sitting directly next to him. his attention is grabbed by you immediately, lifting his arm to drape it around your shoulder as he smiled over at you. “hi, pretty girl,” he replied.

you made conversation with him for a few minutes before chris and lia came into the room, him looking uncomfortable and her looking happy as ever. she couldn’t even pick up on his emotions yet and he was so willing to drop everything for her. how could he be so infatuated with a girl that was so fucking dumb she couldn’t tell when she broke up a moment filled with sexual tension?

there isn’t much time to dwell on her lack of social awareness before somebody grabs your attention again, sitting across from you and matt. “okay, are we playing truth or dare or spin the bottle?” he asks drunkenly. chris audibly groans, lowering himself to the floor in a makeshift circle, lia sitting so close she should’ve just sat on top of him. “can we not do some childish shit, please?” he asks, tone laced with annoyance.

“what, scared you’re gonna have to kiss somebody, chris?” matt teases from next to you and you’re unable to contain the small giggle that leaves your lips. “or are you scared i’m gonna kiss your girl?”

matt’s arm squeezes around you when he says this and it takes you a moment to realize he’s not talking about the girl tucked into chris’s side, but rather about you. “i’m not scared of shit, asshole, I just don’t think we should be playing some fucking little kid games.” chris shoots back with a dramatic eye roll. “it’ll be fun!” lia says enthusiastically, wrapping both hands around chris’s bicep and shaking him lightly. he looks over at her and sends a tight lipped smile her way, his hand gently rubbing over her arm. “alright, whatever,” he concedes.

that’s how you all ended up playing truth or dare, spinning a bottle to decide who goes first. after a few rounds of stupid dares and pussy cop outs with people choosing truth, it’s matt’s turn to ask somebody a question. his attention turns to you, and a lazy smirk finds its way onto his lips. “truth or dare,” he asks you quietly and you can’t help but feel nervous at his tone. “dare,” you say instantly.

matt shifts a bit next to you before looking around the room, eyes landing on his brother for a moment before flitting back to you. “I dare you to make out with me for at least a minute,” he says after a few moments of thought. you’re a bit shocked at this, but quickly snap out of it and swing your leg over his lap, sitting atop his thighs happily. matt’s grinning up at you like a sick freak and you feel clued in on his intentions with the way he stares at you, so to bounce off of his energy, you turn your head to chris who’s staring at the two of you with dark, intense eyes, clearly not a fan of what was going on. “hey, chris?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head a bit. “can you start a timer, please?”

chris narrows his eyes at you, not liking the game you decided to play with him. he already wasn’t a big fan of your relationship with matt, but having to sit here and witness it himself was another level of fucked up. after he doesn’t answer, refusing to take his eyes off of you, the stupid, clueless girl next to him whips out her phone. “i’ll do it!” she says with a smile, holding up the timer. you roll your eyes and turn back to face matt, resting your forearms on his shoulders. “she’s so fucking stupid,” you whisper so only he can hear and he laughs at your comment before reaching up to rest his hand on the back of your head, pulling you down to meet his lips.

you’re instantly melting into the kiss, lips slotting together effortlessly, the taste of alcohol and juice on both of your tongues mingling. matt’s touch was so much gentler than chris’s, the way his hands slid up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and the way he took his time kissing you instead of rushing through it. between the way he felt holding you against him and the liquor running through your veins, you felt yourself getting carried away in the kiss, hips subtly grinding down on him as your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him close to you as you made out.

“minute’s up,” chris informs you both, but matt’s hands move down from your waist to your ass, fingers digging into the denim covering your skin, willing you even closer. “hello?” chris says again, louder this time, infuriated at the way you both seemed to get more into it. it’s not fully surprising when chris’s hand lands on your shoulder and roughly pulls you away from matt, almost ripping you off his lap. “enough,” he snaps, hand instinctively moving towards your jaw to turn your head to face him. your eyebrows immediately furrow together at his rough touch, hand pulling away from matt to shove into chris’s chest roughly. “back the fuck up, chris.”

he surprisingly listens, not wanting to cause an unnecessary scene in front of everybody, including lia, sitting back in his original position next to her. she seems slightly unnerved at his reaction, waiting a few moments before she places her hand back on his arm. “are you okay?” lia questions in her soft voice and chris doesn’t even glance her way, eyes locked on you as you climb off of matt’s lap and settle next to him again. “he’s fine, he’s just a little possessive,” matt snarks, his arm coming back around your shoulder. “a little?” you scoff, eyes trailing over chris’s tense frame. “hey, matt, when do you think we should tell chris that I lied about hooking up with you to make him jealous?”

you wish you had a camera to record the way chris’s expression dropped, the way his jaw visibly tensed from his teeth clenching together, the way his chest expanded from the breath he pulled in. “what does she mean?” lia questions from next to chris, turning her body towards him. “nothing,” he immediately answers. “it’s my turn!” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together and letting them fall in your lap. “lia, truth or dare?” you ask her, sending a smile her way. she’s shifting uncomfortably at your words, turning her attention to you apprehensively. “um…” her eyes flit to chris’s face for a moment, but they look back at you when she realizes he’s still staring at you. “dare,” she finally answers, sitting up straighter. you can tell that she only picks dare to impress chris, but he’s focused on anything but her right now.

you hum and tap your index finger on your chin a few times as you think of what to say. “I dare you… to go through chris’s phone!” is what you land on, and chris immediately moves to stand up, brushing lia off of his arm. “can I talk to you?” he directs towards you, not waiting for an answer before he grabs you by your arm and lifts you off the ground, dragging you towards a bedroom down the hall. “you’re hurting me,” you tell him bluntly, trying to pull away, but he just tightens his fingers around you as he shoves you into a room and slams the door shut behind you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he sneers, finally releasing you. you huff and try to fix your clothes, glaring at the fuming man in front of you. “what are you talking about?” you ask him, raising your eyebrows at him. “i’m not doing this little back and forth. stop fucking with her. I mean it, dude, i’m not playing. don’t drag her into your mean girl bullshit. she’s too nice for you and your bitchy behavior.”

you scoff at his words, unable to believe he’s trying to defend this girl from you. “she’s fine,” you drawl, waving a hand at him dismissively. “god, chris, you’re so hot when you’re mad.” you take a small step closer to him, trying to close the distance between you two. “don’t,” he says sternly, bringing his hands up to stop you. you take another step closer, bringing your hands up to rest on his outstretched arms, dragging them up until they were placed on his shoulders. “don’t what?” you ask him, peering up at him through your lash extensions, eyes boring into him shamelessly. “don’t be slutty right now, i’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

you laugh and step even further until your chests are pressed together, bringing your arms up to wrap around him. you rested your chin on his sternum and gazed up at him, smiling at the way he stared across the room behind you, refusing to look down at you in fear of giving in. despite his unwillingness to look at you, his arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, a loud sigh escaping his nostrils. “look at me,” you say softly, squeezing your arms around him gently. you can feel his heart pounding from where you rested against him and you knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in.

when chris finally looked down and met your eyes, you felt the energy in the room shift. his expression softened as he inspected your face and the way that you looked back at him, like you were patiently waiting for him to crack and give you attention. “you’re incredibly rude,” is the first thing he says after locking eyes with you and you can’t help but grin at his statement. “you like how rude I am,” you retort.

chris rolls his eyes and looks past you for a moment before refocusing his gaze on you. “I tolerate how rude you are to me, not to girls I like. it’s not cute, it’s just pissing me off.” his tone is quiet, but you can tell he’s serious with the way he speaks. “i’m sorry,” you say honestly, pouring your bottom lip out subtly. “can I kiss it better?” he laughs at this and tightens his arms around your shoulders, shaking his head. “no, i’m not rewarding your awful behavior. go kiss matt about it,” he tells you, then pauses. “were you serious about what you said? that you lied about sleeping with him?”

you suck in a sharp breath at his words, feeling cornered despite you admitting exactly that only a few minutes prior. “I do think he’s hot,” you start. “but that was the first time we’ve ever kissed. he thinks you’re kind of an asshole when it comes to women so he wanted to see how mad you could get if we both made you believe we were fucking.”

chris purses his lips and nods, almost like he’s impressed by your scheme. “too bad you’re not important enough to make me jealous,” he teases and it makes you crack a smile. “sure, that’s why you ripped me off of him like that.”

“I was just playing by the rules,” chris defends, refusing to be pegged as the jealous type. “can you please just stop being weird and rude? i’m not asking for a lot.” you sigh and press your forehead into his chest for a couple of beats before looking back up at him, nodding your head. “yeah, alright,” you concede. “if you kiss me all nasty right now.”

“oh my god,” chris groans, but he couldn’t fight the closeness between you two any longer, bringing his hand up to the back of your head and leaning down to press his lips against yours roughly, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you made contact. your hands around him gripped at the back of his shirt to hold him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine slipping out of your nose. the kiss only lasted maybe thirty seconds before he pulled away and stared down at you, soaking in your wide eyes and needy pout. “enough. let’s go.”

you nod and let go of him, but not before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on the skin of his neck, pulling away to smile up at him. “i’m right behind you,” you tell him and he steps away from you, not so subtly waistbanding his dick before opening the bedroom door and stepping out, making his way back into the living room.

you both take your respective places back next to lia and matt, looking as inconspicuous as you could after a slightly heated make-out that left you both craving more. matt sent you a knowing smirk, pulling you back into his side once you settled back down, and lia just smiled at chris, completely missing the way he used the collar of his shirt to wipe off his lips from where your lip gloss was smeared along them.

what she didn’t miss, noticing it only seconds later, was the tinged lip print pressed perfectly against his neck, right above his collarbone where you could reach. she stared at it for what seemed like forever, and your heart dropped when you saw what she saw. “fuck,” you breathe out, catching matt’s attention. he’s not even able to question you when he sees lia scooting away from chris, a hurt expression painted on her face.

“what is that?” she asks, voice strained as it comes out. chris is clueless, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “what is what?” he asks her, annoyance lacing his tone. lia only reaches up and touches his neck, dragging her finger through the sticky gloss on his skin before holding it up for him to see. you can tell he feels the same stomach-sinking dread when he notices what he’s being shown, mouth opening to speak, then closing again when he can’t think of a way to defend himself.

you’re scooting away from matt nervously, feeling like you were about to throw up, not because you were worried about this girl’s feelings, but because you were terrified of chris’s reaction. he practically begged you to behave, and you fucked up with a stupid fucking kiss. “oh my god,” you choke out, standing up from the floor. chris’s attention is drawn to you at your movement, pushing himself off the floor as well. “you are so fucking stupid,” he spits, pointing a finger at you accusingly. “I ask you to back the fuck off for one night! you can never fucking listen!”

you flinch at his words, taking a few steps back until you slam into the wall behind you, eyes welling with tears as he nears closer. “it was an accident,” you mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the remaining lip gloss off of your lips haphazardly, even though it didn’t matter anymore. “you are such a fucking whore. always have to ruin everything, don’t you?” he’s in your face now, glaring down at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. “you kissed me, too, this isn’t my fault!” you yell back, voice pinched as you start to get worked up, heart pounding in your chest. “you don’t get to blame all your fuck ups on me!”

“chris,” matt warns from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder cautiously, which chris instantly brushes off, eyes locked on you. “i’m sorry that nobody wants you, i’m sorry nobody wants to deal with how fucking exhausting you are, but that doesn’t mean you can go around and fuck with me and my life.” chris doesn’t even bat an eye at the tear that slips down your cheek or the way your lip wobbles, only rolling his eyes before turning around and walking back towards lia, helping her up off the floor.

you can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him leave, unable to hear matt as he speaks to you, only focusing on chris as he guides his girlfriend-not-girlfriend out of the house, presumably to explain and try to put back the pieces of what little relationship they had. the second he’s out of your line of sight, you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, turning to look at matt. “can you take me home?” you ask him, and he instantly nods, guiding you towards the door.

the ride home is silent, and you feel like you’re on autopilot when you walk into your apartment and kick off your shoes, only letting yourself process what had happened when you were wrapped up in your blankets twenty minutes later. you tried calling chris, and all of your calls were instantly sent to voicemail.

that’s when you texted him, feeling a new sense of rage at his accusations through the messages he sent, deciding that this wasn’t all your fault and you weren’t the only bad guy here. chris made his bed, too, and you would make sure he suffered as he laid in it.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[kaisentine]

݁ ִ  ۫ ⸺ ❝ 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔　.ᐟ　❞

⌗ ⸺ ❝ 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 . . ! ❞ the one thing you dread the most is your friends overanalyzing and hyping you up all because of a simple interaction with your crush—so annoying! ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, & oliver aiku general cw. just idiots in love, reader is so deep into denial it’s infuriating, highschool au, shidou, fem reader . . . ( MY BAD ) sticky-note i think i just yapped my brains out with this one ( what’s new! ). bomb idea, explosive writing! NAWT PROOFREAD

sticky note. BAEE 😁 thought of this cuz i was also doing snapstreaks

𐔌 . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 is apparently so into you because . . . ❝ he snaps you in the morning ! ❞

your friend seems way more excited than you are. it’s way too early for her to already be geeked out at you opening kaiser’s snap for streaks. “i don’t get it,” you say as you open the image—he’s still at home even though most students are already in their respective classes, it’s the side of his face and really nothing special ( if you didn’t like him ). “he’s the epitome of ‘i don’t snap til i’m done with training.” she explains further yet you still don’t understand why she’s pointing it out. “does that quote even exist?” you ask, she’s off with your phone to observe the very thought out ( not really ) photo and shoves your phone into your face with her manicured finger pointing something out. “never mind that! look!” she has effectively made your brain’s circuit cut short because you don’t understand. you grab her wrist to control the distance so you can actually see. why is she pointing at his hair? “what am i looking at?” you voice your exact thoughts. “not tryna be mean to your crush or whatever, but it’s clear he has bed head!” she exclaims, attempting to remove your hand from her wrist, “there’s a reason he only snaps after training . . .” she ends in a murmur. “ha-ha, very funny. i still don’t get it.” you fake laugh at her sly comment and finally surrender her arm—letting it drop. “he hates people seeing him in the morning because of that,” she contemplates saying what she is just about to say—when has she ever done that? “maybe he wants to be the first man you see in the morning, that’s why!” she giggles, and your jaw drops; that is the biggest stretch she has ever came up with! “are you a lunatic?!? the last thing i’d want to do is show him me in the morning . . . he probably hates me!” this reaction of yours wasn’t what you friend wanted to get out from you. she was expecting to see a gleam of hope in your eyes but instead she’s met with a gloss of panic.

actually, your friend was spot on—he snaps you in the morning because he wants to be the first man you see in the morning. the strategy isn’t as effective as he would like it to be because despite the fact he has a pretty reasonable schedule like how he sleeps 7 hours every night, he only knocks out at about 2 am. he’s probably more effective at being late for school if anything. however, he’d rather you see him as at least one of the first males you see at such an ungodly time with ungodly bed head than you seeing him rush into the classroom because he’s late for the first time you glance at his ( glorious ) face that day. the man also decides he’s way too good for the stupidly cute filters you can find on the app so those are out of question—random wall photos are too. gets ness to hype him up and then chastises him if you don’t even look his way.

sticky note. i feel like this is a stupid reason but it’s such a funny concept

𐔌 . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 is apparently so interested in you because . . . ❝ he ate a fry . ❞

your friend is dead serious but you’re just looking at her like ‘oh you actually serious?’. “sorry, what?” you bring your ear closer to her mouth in hopes you probably just misheard what she said. “he. ate. a. fry.” she repeats—nope she is definitely not joking with you. “i don’t see how sae eating a fry relates to him liking me,” you start deadpanning at her attempt at convincing you itoshi sae likes you—she sucks at this! she cocks a brow and gives you a dirty look, “i have a theory you might not actually like him . . . God that man hates fries.” she shudders at the thought. “they were the fries you brought!” she adds on, quickly regaining her composure from pure terror. “okay . . . yeah but it was one singular—not plural—fry, are you okay?” yes, you have a point, it was one fry, and now you’re concerned for you friend. she raises her hands up in surrender while sighing like she was just defeated—have you finally tamed the hostile creature? nope. there’s a sudden stupid smirk on her face that looks straight-up devious, “and plural—not singular—reasons why he is sooo interested!” she elongates and dramatizes the ‘so’, and you mentally slap yourself to make up for the stupidness you can feel radiating off her words. “i can never win with you, can i?” you ask but the answer is already clear—you cannot.

yup, sae hates fries, dearly—that isn’t some kind of secret because he is pretty open about it. once even telling you friend to . . . “fuck off,” when she thought it was a good idea to offer him the stick of pure deliciousness ( hence why she gets shivers thinking about it ). he doesn’t care about a lot of things like how he doesn’t bother himself with keeping most things private or public because he simply just does not give a flying shit. neither does he really care if he makes his feelings clear or not—mixed signals king! sure, he likes you but that doesn’t stop him from being nonchalant. the only time he’ll make openings are in soccer and anything other than that—he just lets it happen. that means if he is given a chance to ‘make a move’ and it’s served on a silver platter without him needing to excerpt any more effort? he’ll take it. if he isn’t, he waits for the next time. but that man doesn’t know anything about feelings so he thinks eating something you brought is making a move.

sticky note. this man is a FREAK but he’s a simple guy promise

𐔌 . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is apparently so downbad for you because . . . ❝ he said ‘if i was a velociraptor, i’d eat y/n first’ ? ! ❞

your friend reads off her phone and accidentally pushes her desk towards your chair. “HUH?” you’re just as surprised as your friend is—shidou ryusei actually said that? “you have to look at this,” she states and smacks you in the face with her phone ( deja vu WHO ), it’s the school’s blog and the post is exactly what she just said. “that’s just . . . i mean—what?” you find it quite hard to comprehend what you were reading because what do you mean the weird guy you like posted that? “is that edited?” you ask for confirmation—you literally can’t believe it. she clicks the profile and it is him, you feel your face flush when you’re bombarded with images of him. “i get it! i get it!” you bark and swat her hand away, “whydoievenlikehim—“ you mutter before covering your eyes like you just saw something so distasteful. “girl, i don’t know . . . but he totally likes you,” she shrieks, turning off her phone so such madness is no longer seen. you aren’t entirely buying it, “i doubt it, if i was some kind of carnivorous animal, i wouldn’t eat the guy i like—at all!” you say with a frown on your face. she looks at you, looking even more horrified at what you just said to her. “his thinking process is probably out the window, y’know? he probably just means he wants you to be with him forever!” “in his stomach? no thanks.”

what makes you think shidou ryusei is okay in the head in the slightest? if he likes someone—he makes it so obvious! he doesn’t second guess his words, much less his online posts so as soon aas he was done typing out the words, he clicked post almost immediately. doesn’t regret it one bit. his eyes land anywhere but sae? that is truly a feat . . .

sticky note. does this even happen. also nagi really likes sleeping

𐔌 . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 is apparently so desperate for you because . . . ❝ he sleeps on your shoulder . ❞

your friend is referring to the multiple times your crush has decided to accidentally fall asleep on your shoulder. “so . . .” you urge her to elaborate her point further than she already has. “and he only does it when he’s next to you,” she discerned, whipping out photo evidence in the form of a printed piece of paper. it’s really nothing too special—just the two of you sitting next to each other on the waiting lounge’s couch, waiting for your guys’ turn for the school’s mandatory medical check-up. he looks quite comfortable, arms crossed and manspreading ( 😭 ) but his head is rested on your shoulder—sleeping. “. . .why’d you print it,” you gasp at such an absurd action to prove a point and you quickly rip the paper out of her hands, “you’re insufferable.” you shake your head in disappointment. “a girl gotta do what she gotta do, y’know! how much more obvious does he need to be???” ugh, she’s being so dramatic—he’s just sleeping on your shoulder. “he probably realized i . . .didn’t mind so he doesn’t care,” you reject the idea. “you might be the insufferable one—why do you think he keeps doing it?” she says and you so want to side eye her but you aren’t going to turn sideways to do that because that is mad embarrassing. “i don’t know! he’s just some sleepy guy like,” you give her a pout before continuing, “. . .and people said that they feel sleepy around me.” you admit. “nah, they’re just saying you’re boring!” she giggles—did you not put that together? you playfully push her shoulder in annoyance. “but i’ll give you the answer—he wants to close to you, or in other words; he likes you!”

nagi is the type of lazy where he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to confess first but thinks making physical advancements don’t count. he can easily sleep anywhere, honestly. he likes his sleep but he loves good sleep and you just feel like a good person to sleep on so he decides to try it—and he’s right. he did do it accidentally the first time, it was on his mind but he really didn’t mean to! sleep just drenched his eyes and he was out cold—on your shoulder. there, he decides he likes you more than just a comfy pillow to doze off on.

sticky note. i feel like reader is very justified LMFAO. yk i have a friend who has more than a mu or a situationship but aren’t dating and she said he longest more than friends but not not dating was like 4 years

𐔌 . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 aiku is apparently so smitten for you because . . . ❝ girl, he confessed . . . ❞

your friend resists the overwhelming urge to bitch-slap you because you long-pressed your dms with him. the message wasn’t some kind of special confession just a simple ‘hey i know we just started talking but i think i’m inlove with you’ God reading that made you cringe. “yeah nope, not buying it.” you know he probably knows you saw it because of that stupid green dot on your profile but his message is still left on delivered. “why not?” she asks, “he knows you’ve read it, why edge him?” she pulls out her phone from her bag and faces her back towards you. “what are you doing . . ?” you’re honestly scared what she’s planning because even though you could also just stand up and look over her shoulder—she’d run out of the classroom and disappear. “texting someone,” she says while she’s rapidly typing out something, her shoulders shaking. “i don’t like the sound of that,” you refer to the hidden underlining of her tone, “you’re scaring me—ugh—whatever. i just started texting him, he barely knows me, he’s probably had 4 girlfriends in the span of 5 months—what makes me any different?” like—not trying to degrade yourself but you’re worried that he’s just going to play you too. “if he does, i’ll break his heart!” she says in resolve, doing the cliche moment of lifting up a fist and you giggle at her. there’s a quick buzz from your phone and it’s from the girl in-front of you, “what’s this?” you raise an eyebrow, clicking the notification pop-up. “just read it,” okay . . . if she insists. dot. dot. dot. there’s invisible crickets going off in your head. “is this from sendou?” “uh-huh.”

unbeknownst to you, your friend was actually texting her situationship ( of like 8 months LMFAO )—sendou shuto to ask him about oliver’s confession since they’re friends and all. ‘aiku n y/n? oh yeah he’s totally smitten man, i ain’t never seen aiku talk about a girl like he does w her’ is the message she forwarded to you that let the crickets rip! no but seriously, he normally has cycles like when he’s with one girl but then breaks up with her because he got eyes for another but now he promises that he only wants you!

bonus on why reo likes you because i might not be writing as much as i did this week because of school :p

mikage reo ⸺ ❝ he bought your entire christmas wishlist . . . ❞

[hai7ani]

inspired by this tiktok

Ran gifts you a Jellycat bunny on a random Thursday, right after you reach home from class.

You're in his lap talking about your day, twirling hair around your fingers as you ponder, recap, and speak. He still sees glistening stars in your orbs despite the heavy bags under your eyes, the youth in your crooked smile while you tell him about the campus cat who'd recently gave birth to five sweet kittens 一 all in different colours.

And then he reaches beneath his bed to shove an expensive looking box into your hands. He had been waiting for the right moment to show it to you, and he finally found it.

You grow red after seeing it. Ask him why he even bought it at all because it's so expensive and it's not a necessity. At all. It's just gonna sit in your bed and attract dust and it has no proper practical use for someone your age. You're living together in a one-bedroom apartment juggling studies and gigs and a little bit of this and that while struggling with paying rent on time and a Jellycat is definitely not something that he should be spending his money on.

He gets annoyed as you go on and on about it, because this is something that he wants to do for you. He got it for you. Why are you even doubting him? Scolding him for something innocent that he poured effort into?

Though the frown on his face disappears very quickly when he sees the little red on your nose, the tears pooling in your eyes after you stop and take a deep breath.

You're trying so hard to be brave. To remain a big girl.

He knows.

Because despite this stupid toy not being a necessity in your household; despite the awful things you'd said to him and to yourself 一 and about the poor bunny stuffed with cotton that has no feelings 一 to try and make yourself believe that this is as useless as you said it was 一 it is still something that the little girl in you have always wanted.

He sees right through your front 一 right at her, small and shy, crouching in the dark, little hands holding onto the bunny that you've said mean things about just earlier 一 and he softens.

A part of childhood that you never got to have.

You couldn't deny it after all.

He knows.

"You're not worried?" Your voice is small, just like the way you're discretely pushing the bunny close to your chest, squishing its cheeks, flapping its ears, hiding a wet sniffle in between. He hums as a question, for you to continue.

"You spoil me too much. People are gonna say you're dating a spoiled brat."

He knows you're referring to the gifts he likes buying from time to time. Just last week he'd gifted you a pair of earrings way out of your budgets and you'd given him the same reaction then.

Angry and confused.

You're not used to being pampered. Being treated so gently.

And it is true 一 Ran spoils you way too much to be seen as normal, or 'appropriate', traditionally. Been this way since you've started dating. He likes pampering you in his own ways, though you've still yet to grow used to it and you're not sure why. Perhaps it's the guilt for spending money on yourself, or because you're used to not being important at all.

He combs fingers through your hair.

"It's alright." A kiss to the side of your head. Ran has always been open with affection.

"Who the hell cares?" A hand is pressed against your back, pushing you closer to himself.

Into his heart.

"If I don't spoil you, who will?"

[postsforposting]

that's an incredibly negative view. i don't think people should default to steelman; i do think taking a positive view, especially of toneless plain text, should be the default. it makes for a pleasant atmosphere. unfortunately people, especially online, seem to think the meanest view of those around them is.....a good thing? how it should be??? that there's no other way to do things???

we really can just. not. do that. believing other people mean well is....a pretty basic requirement not only for civility but also for simple geniality.

and again, "it sure can be stated in a negative or entitled way, but that is true of literally everything. that isn't the nature of the sentiments expressed here." i didn't rephrase anything.

the difference is your attitude vs mine about other people that neither of us know. everyone knows a "bad attitude" sours everything, not because the rest of the world is suddenly foul, but because that's what you personally see. most people have the self awareness that's a personal problem and they should not change how they treat other people based on....personal mood. you can feel annoyed while understanding "annoyance and selfishness" is your own miasma and not what others meant.

that's. really the entire thesis. if we're going to declare hate is the default, and it's this hard for people to understand, perhaps we need to demonstrate why that's a bad idea.

"where is the content"

if we interpret the meaning in your way, this is someone who is either new to fandom or to a particular website. it is a normal question to ask. most people in the world never even know settings and manuals exist, let alone look at, understand, or change them: the things that control their experience. for clarity given the nature of this conversation, i do not mean "haha what a fucking entitled jackass" in the sense of your use of "ignorant"; i mean "figuring out and understanding things is hard for most people". let alone people who are new to a thing. asking something like this is normal, expected, and necessary. responding in the tune of "what an asshole" is unkind and establishes a gross atmosphere.

i daresay a lot of people are familiar with the lucky 10,000 comic. everyone likes that, but when it comes time to practice it? yeesh.

you misunderstood what i said above; i don't think it would be useful or correct to dismiss that as ""fucking ignorant"". it sure does make a lot of people feel good to do that though. which is the problem.

even going "where is the content????" is often "i am frustrated that i can't find these wonderful things everyone else easily finds, will someone show me". "where the fuck is everything" is the same idea in a much more combative tone; for some strange reason, it seems like that would be seen LESS negatively given the worldviews in this post.

imo, generally people ask "where is the content" to express that they have noticed there is less now than there used to be. hence: i love this so much, why don't other people.

people write in the style of how they talk when having an in person conversation. generally nobody goes around delicately crafting their punctuation to avoid the slew of wrong interpretations that are possible with any statement. let alone the cultural differences that can contribute to that. people assume you're going to understand them, or at least that you'll ask for clarification and not default to jumping down their throat. like, you know. the way people navigate normal conversations.

i don't know why people should have to put that much effort into what they say, while listeners not only don't but aren't expected to put in any thought to how they're interpreting it. the speaker has to accommodate literally every possible way they could be interpreted, including batshit aggressive ones (which means they have to assume their listeners are both.....ignorant....and nasty? unpleasant way to live.), while the listener gets to assume their knee jerk and negative assumptions are perfect and they can't have possibly misunderstood or inserted things that aren't there?

fuckin weird.

"why has all the hype died down"

if most people understand this, either this person is one of the ones that do not, or they don't mean it strictly literally.

if they do not understand it, again, asking why is a normal and expected thing. lucky ten thousand, yeah? responding negatively to that is....not nice. does not create a pleasant atmosphere. i don't think most people are familiar with serious fandom; most people aren't part of it, meaning they watch a thing, like it and move on without engaging further. the "fandom" people are generally familiar with is juggernauts that have lasted decades, things with dedicated yearly events: things that have never died down and the average person always likes. it is normal to think that if you like a thing, you don't suddenly stop. that's wrong, but it's how people think of fandom.

if they do not mean it literally, imo it usually means something to the effect of "why did people stop liking this". a normal thing to ask, especially if they also don't understand the fad nature that most fandoms go through.

"Why is there no more content why did everyone leave"

follows naturally from the previous. "there is nothing" generally means "i can't find anything". it's a request for help. people are uninclined to phrase it as "please help" because.....a lot of people respond to that with "haha what a fucking ignorant asshole". it should not be hard to see why that's destructive.

it could also mean "there is way less", which again, is normal to wonder. "there is way less" is only asked if you....want more. because you enjoy it. that brings us to

"it's about the blatent dismissal of creators' work and being content-hungry"

which you unambiguously mean in a negative way.

"i am sad that there is less" does require that the speaker enjoy the content and would like more. that is....the opposite of "blatent dismissal". the most common fan question is "will there be a sequel" and "what's the release date". you seem to think those are disgustingly hateful things to ask, which is a bit odd given that most fandoms get upset when their canon content is cancelled.

"i like this so much that i want more" is second breakfast and elevensies type behavior. of course people are.....content hungry. i think it's a bit mean to take gollum's view that pippin and merry are nassssty wicked hobbitses for that. it should be obvious that such an attitude drives people away and makes it feel like their appreciation isn't wanted.

....

i gotta say, i'm tickled pink that people who identify as "serious fans" deny that there can be meaning beside what you personally interpret, especially when the common fandom sentiment is "oh that was a clumsy accident, it doesn't mean anything deeper" while.....inserting all this extra meaning for actual, real, people who haven't had years to craft what they mean. we imbue two seconds of thought with hatred, but nothing for years' worth of a deliberate act?

"there is less" is about those who stopped. it is not about those who remain. it's quite obviously not about you. to answer with "it's not dead, i'm still posting" is to insert yourself where you weren't addressed. sir this is a wendy's. even when it IS a personal question, that's not inherently a demand to perform, it is literally just interest in you and your thoughts. "why" is not a hateful question. and even, EVEN a personal question, you still really can just. not answer at all. regardless of the valence you assign to it.

people are always going to have the same questions as other people, because every day someone new shows up, or someone old has a new thought. reality and your reaction to it are separate things. if they were not, we would have to shout down every kid asking endless whys, since obviously the parent's annoyance and frustration must be synonymous with the kid being a hateful greedy dismissive monster telling its mother she's not good enough, a child who needs to be taught that expressing interest is a sin. bad way to go about interacting with other people, if i do say so myself.

if you don't enjoy the culture of having everything you say reprocessed into its secret and true evil meaning that you obviously totally intended, perhaps we should. just not do that. to other people. as a general rule.

hostility is unpleasant to be around. there shouldn't even be "doubt" to benefit from, but even then, assuming other people aren't evil should not be treated as a sin. whereas doubt literally is a canonical sin.

'Where is all the Deadpool and Wolverine content'

'Why has all the hype died down'

'Why is there no more content why did everyone leave'

Meanwhile the people who are making the content are left feeling insulted because lord forbid we're not enough. Dude stfu and make your own stuff or didn't complain.

Do you see me whining about Boondock Saints? No! Because that's an old franchise and there's not near as much stuff as they're used to be, but I love everything that comes from it. And I don't ever complain.

[zorosangell]

I'm shocked at the lack of wano zoro fics involving a geisha reader tbh??? I'd expected to find more but there's NONE ... or atleast not ones that isn't your fic

but oh my goddd that geisha reader & zoro fic was beautiful but imagine after komurasaki allegedly dies orochi finds reader to be his new little personal geisha and inviting (demanding) her to come to onigashima with him n zoro poorly receiving the news that'd be funny I think,

⛥ﾟ・。 stupid

synopsis: part two of oiran -- zoro starts an argument over you going undercover as orochi's personal oiran. and it ends... interestingly.

cw: fluffy fluff, microscopic angst ig, zoro don't play about you, reader is just a girl (just like me fr), kinda suggestive

"No way in hell," Zoro denied, not even giving the matter a second thought. "We'll figure something else out."

"Zoro, please... think of Kin'emon... think of Momo."

"I'm thinking of you. And how stupid this plan is."

"It's not stupid."

"Coulda fooled me."

Your brows flattened, growing annoyed with his stubbornness.

'Forgot how much of an ass he can be...'

"Zo', you're being unreasonable," you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh, I'm being unreasonable?" he cocked a brow, letting out a sarcastic laugh before stepping out the way of the door. "Then by all means, please go."

You smiled, surprised by the sudden change of heart.

"Really?"

"No!" he exclaimed, incredulously, eyes widened by the fact that you actually believed him. "Christ, (y/n), you might as well send yourself gift wrapped with a bow!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about you!" he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look at yourself, (y/n)! You're what guys like Orochi dream about. A gorgeous, dolled-up oiran dropped right on his doorstep for the taking."

You paused a moment, processing his statement.

In preparation for your arrival to the Flower Capital—a trip you were already supposed to be well on your way on—you'd fixed your rain-ruined makeup and changed into new kimono, which you'd tucked away in the safe-house in the earlier days of your mission.

You also touched-up your hair, adorning your... everything with jewelry and ornate pins to make yourself look like an oiran fit for shogun.

Much to Zoro's displeasure.

But you weren't concerned with that.

What you were concerned with... was the last part of his statement.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Zoro's breath hitched, a crimson flush rising from his neck to his cheeks, and only intensifying as you stalked closer.

"I...! Well...! You...!" he stammered, slowly backing away while you pressed forward, until his back hit the soft wood of the door. "Quit tryna change the subject!"

"Okay~" you flashed a cheeky smile, moving even closer until your chest was pressed against his, forcing you to look up at him with innocent, doe eyes.

"And quit looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Zo'? Why can't I look at my handsome swordsman?" you cooed.

"'Cause I know you're trying to butter me up. And it's not gonna work," he deadpanned, crossing his arms.

"Dammit, Zoro! I can take care of myself!" you groaned, annoyed that your seduction had failed. "Why won't you let me do this? It's for the mission!"

"Damn the mission! I don't give a shit! Think about yourself for a second, (y/n)!"

You flinched slightly at his volume, and were quick to clam up.

Of course, he noticed this, and took a moment to reign himself back in, taking in a deep inhale through his nose.

"What do you think Orochi wants with you? What reason could a man like him possibly have for asking for you by name? He only wants one thing, (y/n)!"

"And you'd think I'd give it to him?!" you scoffed, incredulously, knowing exactly what he was talking about, and feeling offended by the insinuation.

"Men like him don't ask! They don't care about boundaries, and they don't take no for an answer!"

"So now you think I can't fend for myself?"

"I think you wouldn't have to if you just didn't go all together! I've spent time in the Flower Capital and these guys are nothing like the small fry you were dealing with in the country! They do whatever it takes to get what they want! And I'd rather not fuck up everything the crew has worked for by having to cut down the goddamn shogun for putting his hands on you!"

You faltered a moment, surprised, and he took the opportunity to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you closer until you both were flush against each other, and his lips only a breath away from yours.

"I don't think you understand that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I let you go and do something reckless," he stated, significantly calmer, though not without his firm tone. "You're not some sacrificial lamb, or a soldier for a better cause. You're a member of this crew... my right hand... and I'd..."

He faltered a moment, another flush of crimson rising to his cheeks.

"Be pretty inconvenienced if you didn't come back."

You raised a silent brow, a small smirk rising to your lips that said 'Really?'

He scoffed, avoiding eye contact.

"You get the idea."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips.

He froze, turning stiff as a board as you rested your hands on his chest, before carefully pulling away.

"I get the idea."

With a slight sigh of relief, his shoulders sank, and his index and thumb came up to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"So... no Orochi?"

You nodded, dutifully, the sight causing a certain stir within the swordsman's undergarments.

"No Orochi."

At that, he smiled, genuinely pleased.

Before anything—before Wano, before the Akazaya, before any old daimyo—your safety was Zoro's utmost priority.

And he'd be damned if he let anyone, even the fucking shogun himself, lay a single finger on you.

Using his distraction against him, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, swirling you both around before tackling him to the ground.

"(y/n)?! What are you—?!"

You placed a finger to his lips, the devilish look in your eyes forcing him to swallow thickly.

"If I can't do what I wanna do... then we're just gonna have to find another way to occupy our time..."

Slowly, but intently, you began to tug off your robes and sashes, your eyes not leaving his for a moment as you stripped.

And as day turned to night, and then night turned to day, and then day turned to night again, Zoro only had on thing on his mind.

Especially with you resting on his chest in a spent pile of sweat and bliss.

'This woman... is going to be the death of me...'

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 23: Airport Hug(s) . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I haven't done one of these in a little bit because I'm just getting moved back in at university but I'm glad to be back! This time, we are looking over Mike and El's airport hug vs. Mike and Will's.

These two scenes are extremely different. It is clear which one the writers and directors gave more importance. AKA which one is supposed to be the main focal point of the scene. If you think that the meeting scene in the airport is supposed to be all about Mil*ven and how cute their relationship is, I'm sorry but you are not watching the same show as I am. The airport hug between Mike and El and the airport 'hug' between Mike and Will are supposed to convey these messages:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship and they are trying to push it down, meaning it will come to the surface later.

It has something to do with the way Mike's acting.

Something has changed internally within Mike between Season 3 and Season 4.

This something is to do with Will.

You are supposed to notice Mike's actions towards Will more than his actions towards El.

This is how I will structure this ESSAY ASS POST

Number One:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship. It may not seem this way from the beginning, in fact, it seems very much like they are back to the way they used to be at the beginning of S3, apart from the making out- um yeah, so it all seems well. But that's the thing.

Developed relationships with depth, relationships that the audience need to crave for, do not get presented in this super cutesy, teenager-y love way. Unless there are other stakes. In Stranger Things, it is apparent to us that there is always something off when characters seem Too Happy. Something will go wrong, things won't stay the same as they were at the beginning of the Season. I really don't know how to describe it, but basically what I'm saying is, even in their cute moments, the audience needs to sense that something is off. Even if it's very minute.

The kiss is cute. But that's all it is. There are no stakes behind it, nothing bad has happened yet, which is why an audience who likes the couple already may feel happy with it. But a GA may be able to sense that this is unlike other kisses or meetings in ST. The kiss is not after a fight, the kiss is not after a long time of pining, the kiss is not an 'i can't lose you' kiss, the kiss is not a 'relief after a long time of fighting through something' kiss. It's just a kiss.

You may be thinking this is a bit harsh, but the GA also know another thing. El is lying to Mike. Her letter foreshadows problems for their relationship instantly.

From her letter, we know that she is lying about having a good time at school and in California. The audience may then believe that there must be something wrong with their relationship if she feels the need to lie. Especially El, the one who always says 'Friends don't lie' and got annoyed at Mike lying last season.

So this kiss isn't supposed to be cute. It's supposed to be tense. Because we are supposed to know that she's lying to him, and narratively, the truth always gets revealed.

Therefore, the audience is supposed to take away from this interaction not that Mike and El are a cute couple, but that El is trying to hide stuff for a reason.

And the audience quickly gets their reason why:

Number Two:

The reason why El's been so weird with Mike, the question that is ringing around in the audience's head get's half-answered with the next sequence.

The audience should know that something is wrong based on the way that the happy music suddenly shifts to something far more morose, and El looks hesitant before faking a smile. JUST as she fakes her happiness in her letters.

Therefore, the audience sees it is somehow Mike's fault she feels the need to act this way. So far, we have ticked off two problems in their relationship: El is lying to Mike, and El seems upset at the unfeeling note Mike made. These must be linked together.

I also think that the audience see that it is signed in such an unfeeling way, despite the kiss. This means that the kiss at the beginning no longer seems genuine at all. So obviously, the audience must be wondering where this is all coming from , and why Mike is upsetting El.

Number Three:

Something has changed internally within Mike. The time between Season 3 and Season 4 has drastically changed Mike's actions towards both El and Will. We know that suddenly Mike is being unfeeling towards her in his note, meaning that the rest of his interactions don't seem as genuine to the audience. This may be a different view they had from Season 3.

They have just been introduced to a change in El's behaviour towards Mike (she now lies to him), meaning there must have been a change in Mike's behaviour to have caused this. And this is all internal between seasons:

What changed?

Now, we should get the answer when we look back at the end of Season 3. Mike looks back at Will's house. He hugs his mom like he's numb and just realised something huge. The monologue over the top keeps saying how he doesn't 'want things to change'.

Later, in the apology scene in Will's room, we find out that Mike was afraid of losing Will, which is why he got mad at Will seeming standoffish.

SO WE GET THIS SCENE WHERE WE ARE INTRODUCED TO MIKE BEING SUPER WEIRD WITH EL AND THIS IS ODD SO HE MUST HAVE CHANGED AND THEN HE ACTS WEIRD WITH WILL SO IT ALL POINTS TO.........

Number Four:

The reason why he has changed with El is because of Will. The reason why he seems so unfeeling towards El yet so disingenuous and unlike himself is all because of Will. The way he acts, the way he writes notes, it all boils down to this moment in the scene.

Will is reason he's nervous. Will is the reason things have shifted.

If something has changed internally within Mike to clearly act differently enough with El to make her lie to him, AND something to make him act weird with Will, then they must be linked together.

Besides, if we want to go the super obvious, on the face of it analysis - Mike is simply nervous because his feelings have been realised. He doesn't want to let them show so he can keep up this disingenuous relationship with El. He just wants to seem normal. It all adds up.

Harking back to El's letter, she mentioned one thing about Will, and that was that he was painting something for a girl that he had never told Mike about. And Mike acts standoffish about the painting when Will confirms that it probably isn't for him. It's clear as day - he's nervous to keep up this facade, he's jealous that Will's not making paintings for him, and he's been scared of losing Will (confirmed later on).

I mean, this might be all well and fine. Mike might not be having an impactful scene with Will, after all--

OKAY I CAN'T EVEN TYPE IT OMG ONTO THE NEXT POINT

Number Five:

Mike's big problem has to boil down to Will. This is proven by the fact that we are supposed to focus on this interaction far more than his interaction with El.

First of all, it is important to note that the directors of the show are intentional with where they place extras during a scene. They have free will, and we an see their choices being made during the airport reunion.

In the first and last Milkvan kissing scene, the camera is focused on them, yes, but it is very busy. Watch the shippers try to edit this scene, the duffers really said. I mean, it was so hard to take a screenshot of them without a person in the way of the camera. This is not by accident.

Mike is wearing a visor, he's holding a bag so he can barely hug her, he's also wearing sunglasses inside?? You can't see his facial expression, making this seem even more disingenuous. Again, people are moving in front of the camera, it's very very busy.

It's supposed to be a little overwhelming. That is not a coincidence, they aren't filming in an actual busy airport. So so many extras walk in front of them during the whole scene, not just the kiss, but while they are speaking as well.

Compared to the scene with Will...

No extras pass in front of them, the camera is closed in on their facial expressions, making them very clear without obstruction what they are feeling. This tells the audience to look quickly! This is important!

This is why the main takeaway from this scene is not at all about how 'cute' Mil*ven are. It is supposed to remind you of the problems in Mike and El's relationship, introduce that Mike has changed between S3 and S4, making him seem disingenuous and wanting to seem 'normal'. And that this is all because of something to do with Will.

And based on the clues that he's repressing a lot of his emotions all of a sudden, he's heard that Will is painting for someone else, he's being unfeeling toward El because of Will for some reason..... Mike's problem is that he is trying to deny or repress feelings for Will.

Atp it seems too obvious to post.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness V

If you mean Watchdog Ford by @nowimjustastranger, whom is sometimes called "Guard Dog Ford" Those two aren't friends. They just happen to run into each other a statistically impossible amount of times in the multiverse.

Any and all reports that they've saved each other skin at least once, and hang out sometimes are just rumours spread by their mutual ally (ALLY not friend) the Anti-Ford.

If you mean Guard Ford from the AU by @skeptiql... it's their AU, I'm not imposing on it.

If there is a cosmic security guard out there monitoring the Fordverse, considering that all Jerk Ford does in the multiverse is be a total jerk to everyone and cause trouble (and then get banned from dimensions for the two aforementioned reasons), I imagine reactions to him are typically going to be:

He's not heinous, malicious, or evil, he's just a really big jerk for no good reason.

---

Me and @nowimjustastranger are in the process of proper crossover, don't worry.

In the meantime...

Pre-Weirdmageddon:

Jerk Ford: Watch, this is Stanley. Stanley, this is Watchdog Ford and Lee.

Watchdog Ford: ...

Lee: ...

Stan: Well heya pal. It's nice to see Stanford's made more friends! I knew he had it in him to be nice and compassionate.

Jerk Ford: Stanley, I swear to God.

Watchdog Ford:...You're-

Lee: You're tall.

Stan: *looks between Watchdog Ford and Jerk Ford in an exaggerated up-and-down to annoy his brother*

Stan: *to Watchdog Ford* So are you.

Lee: *grinning* Oh, we're going to get along just fine. Let's chat.

---

Watchdog Ford: You... You aren't suffering?

Stan: If you don't call grading two hundred student assignments without assistance suffering, then sure.

Lee: ...nothings wrong?

Stan: Right now, no. I did miss my brother for the thirty years he was gone. It wasn't easy... the townsfolk truly believed I murdered him, and thought that was a good thing. And then acted like I was wrong for missing him.

Lee: So everything went okay for you?

Stan: I don't know what to tell you, pal- excluding not having Stanford in my life for thirty years and the issues that comes with that, things are going fine. If I'm having trouble I can just ask someone for help, and if I have problems emotionally I have friends and family that would lend me an ear or two. Also, I am medicated and seeing a therapist for stuff.

Lee: ...

Meanwhile Jerk Ford is in the corner sipping from his #1 Big Brother mug, and Watchdog Ford gets suspiciously misty eyed.

[Dialogue primarily by @tearosepedall]

---

It's a misconception at that Jerk Ford does not experience empathy (or at least not any for anyone besides his twin brother). This misconception is one of the reasons why The Ford Hate Club is always tripped up by him - they don't understand him. They think he's unfeeling with little to no emotional intelligence.

He has a surprising amount of empathy, you can see in this post he even says that most other Fords do not hate their Stanley, what they really have is resentment.

Jerk Ford just uses that empathy to know how to get under peoples skin and really hurt their feelings. Can't hurt feelings very well if you don't know what they are or how they work!

What he does lack is compassion, as in he doesn't help, support, or uplift people. That's a Stanley thing.

---

Jerk Ford: Your attack misses.

Dipper: Misses?! With my bonuses I had a total of twenty-three to hit!

Jerk Ford: That doesn't even touch the monsters THAC0.

Dipper: THAC0? Great Uncle Ford, 3.5 Edition is over! It's armour class now!

Jerk Ford: I'm the DM, and I rule your attack misses.

Dipper: *flips the battlemap, forgetting that the infinity dice is there*

---

Jerk Ford had such a bad habit of getting engrossed into his research and study that he would overlook things like finances (and showering). Stanley managed the finances between himself and and his brother, and he did send money back to the family, not millions but it was something.

Jerk Ford also had most of the money because he had his grant, and also a few patents, but Jerk Ford only cared about anamolies and terrorizing humanity so money wasn't something he thought about very much as long as their basic needs were being met.

When he lived back in Glass Shard Beach with his family, however...

"We should go graffiti Pines Pawns."

"Hell no, dude."

"What, you scared of Old Man Pines?"

"Forget Old Man Pines, don't know know what his son did to Crampelter? We don't need to be on his sh*t list."

[wlwsoccerfics]

Locker Room Kisses(StephCatleyXReader)

Warning: none.it's just quite short but cute.

Summary: you and Steph are in the locker room before anyone else...

You were the first one in the locker room, listening to some music on your headphones. Putting on your gym shoes, not noticing Steph walking in at first, only when she sat down in her usual spot next to you.

"Hey y/n!" She said with a soft smile.

You happily return that smile.

"oh hi, Steph!" You replied a little too loud which made her giggle. That made you realize you were still wearing your headphones so you took them off.

"sorry for yelling!" You told her. She put on her Gym shoes.

"don't worry about it! It's all good!" She answered gently. Smiling even more now.

"looks like the other Girls are taking their time today!" You stated. She nodded her head in agreement.

"yeah looks like it! I am surprised Leah isn't here yet!" She answered.

What you didn't know was that half of the Team was on the other side of the door. They were listening to your conversation, hoping one of you would finally make a move. Cause everyone knew that you liked one another. Apart from the two of you.

"what were you listening on your headphones by the way?" She suddenly asked. You grabbed your phone and started playing the song.

"emergency contact by Pierce The Veil." You told her. She looked really excited.

"this Is one of my top 3 Songs!" She answered. Now it was your Turn to her excited.

"omg are you serious?!" You grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. You started doing silly dance moves while still holding her hand. She laughed softly. Knowing you only did it to be funny cause everyone on the Team knew you were an amazing dancer.

"i am very serious! It's an amazing Song! Your dancing on the other hand is far from serious!" She said and was Dancing with you now.

You faked being offended.

"excuse me?! What do you mean?! Those are my best dance moves!" You told her. The entire team was standing outside of the changing room now, watching you and listening to you secretly.

"they are taking so long. Why won't they kiss?" Beth whispered out.

"i don't know. they really are taking forever with this!" Kyra replied, she was so annoyed right now.

"pest is right!" Kim answered. Letting out a soft sigh.

Suddenly the Song ended and it changes to a slow song. So you decided to get it together and pull her closer.

"May i have this dance?" You asked Steph. Steph was getting nervous but nodded her head yes. So you started Dancing with her.

"this Is nice." She breathed out. Smiling at you nervously.

"it is...can i kiss you?" You blurted out the question. She didn't even answer but placed her lips on yours. The kiss was gentle and slow but filled with so much warmth.

"FINALLY!" someone yelled from outside. You knew it was Kyra. So did Steph.

"come in, pest!" Steph answered after pulling away from you. But still holding your hand.

To your surprise she wasn't the only one walking in. No it was the entire team.

"surprise!" Leah said awkwardly as they all stood there.

"you saw everything?" You asked them. They all nodded their heads.

"we were wondering how long it would take you two to admit that you liked one another!" Katie explained.

"well technically they just kissed and didn't say it..." Beth answered.

"right, so Steph. I Like you alot. My feelings for you are strong. So would you like to go on a date with me?" You asked her. Steph kissed your cheek.

"yes i would love to go on a date with you!" She replied and smiled gently.

The entire Team cheered and there even was some Applause.

You went on 4 dates with her before she had asked you to be her girlfriend. Which you happily agreed to.

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 6. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four, Post Five]

User: "after [Emmrich and Rook's] argument they don’t really bring it up again, is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" // Sylvia Feketekuty: ""is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" I think either one is valid. There's some time skips, so I figured if you imagined your Rook and Emmrich talking about the argument, it could've happened while, say, they're traveling to the Necropolis. Flow-wise it seemed best to rely on that passage of time to smooth that part over, and get to the point where we enter the talk by the coffin. Or perhaps they're so in-sync that, like you said, Rook and Emmrich feel they can just move on. (If you bring Emmrich to Isle of the Gods he's apologetic there, and Rook picks up on it, so maybe that was enough short as it was.) (To my mind it's not a huge thing to declare one way or another, but I'd prefer this one to be player's choice)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "had a question about emmrich's last name. i know there is a banter with harding that confirms it is a commoner name, but i was interested in what his surname breaks down into meaning? I assumed volk=folk perhaps, but is there any other meaning/significance? thank you!" // Sylvia: "You pretty much have it right with "volk" = people. I liked the idea that Volkarin would sound fancy to someone speaking English (well Harding's not speaking English per se, but you know), but have its roots in something that plain. So yeah basically I got a kick out of the thought that in Nevarra, Emmrich's last name is the equivalent of Smith, or Jones, or Wilson. (The "arin" part is just because I thought together it paired well with "volk")" [source, two]

User: "With Hezenkoss, as a romanced rook, it feels like she's a bit jealous and was stuck in a one sided crush with her "friend" Was this intended? Or was she just competitive and annoyed at his popularity with everyone?" // Sylvia: "I always pictured Hezenkoss as annoyed that as they grew up, Emmrich become popular and effortlessly well-liked, while she, with her sheer brilliance, was clearly resented by jealous fools. Fools!!! (I pictured Johanna needling Emmrich over his romance mostly her going 'now there's some nice sore-spots I can press' because she has correctly anticipated his insecurities.) "become popular" Arg I meant to write BECAME. Cripes." [source, two, three] // Sylvia: "TBC I also don't want to invalidate any head-canons! My general rule is that if it's not stated outright in game, it's up for interpretation, regardless of my thoughts. La mort de l'auteur, etc." [source]

User: "I recently made an appreciation post on reddit how relatable he is for me and how it helped me with my anxiety. There were also other users agreeing and sharing their love for the character." // Sylvia: "I read your post and the others, and I'm glad meeting Emmrich touched people like that. His story was a team effort, and everyone making him knew we needed to hit this theme right. (His actor Nick Boraine deserves especial praise for nailing those lines.) I have indeed experienced what Emmrich does, and from the thread and other fan interactions, it's not an uncommon thing. If I can offer something I read a long time ago: you have the right to think about death without being in a state of absolute fear. I don't know why, but that thought helped me focus when things were rough. Maybe because it was correct: we DO have that right. Even if life and our own psyches conspire against us, it's ours." [source, two, three] // User: "I felt seen in a way I never have when Emmrich said he is terrified of dying. I've had panic attacks about it since I was old enough to understand what death is. Thank you for making so many feel seen and helping people realize its not just *them.*" // Sylvia: "I'm really glad it helped, because the conclusion I've come to is this is more common than we think, it's just not something people talk about." [source]

Sylvia: "(Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on [re: Emmrich], he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source] // Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made him so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

Sylvia: ""who came up with Davrin's "hand-to-bone combat" line?? 🤣" Haha that was Davrin's writer, John Dombrow! I'll let him know you (and other people) got a chuckle out of it!" [source]

User, on Manfred: ""I'm so curious -what about the almonds caught his fancy, and why so many?" Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" // Sylvia: "Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" [source]

User: "When Rook romances Emmrich, through banter we can see that Emmrich is surprised that the other companions know about the relationship, and also h says to Johanna that it's a private matter. Is it because he wants to keep things private only, is it because he is worried that Rook may not be the one true love, or is he worried about the age gap, or all these reasons and/or others?" // Sylvia: "In this particular case, I think Emmrich just wanted to be discrete because he didn't want to assume it was a serious thing, and for people to think HE thought it was serious. (Though his line to Hezenkoss is snappish specifically because he knows she's needling him, haha.)" [source]

Sylvia: Down Among the Dead Men and Luck in the Gardens "mean a lot to me, being my first published stories in a book.)" [source]

User: "Are there any other areas of Thedas that you think young Altus mages would tour? Poor Dorian looked like a fish out of water in Ferelden." // Sylvia: "Completely talking off the cuff here, but Orlais and Antiva, certainly, and some of the "better" Free Marcher states seem like good candidates. (Poor Ferelden! Always forgotten by the north.)" [source]

User: "I know you said previously that emmrich doesn't really vibe with cats or dogs But like if rook already has a dog or something (that someone is like pet sitting for them while they're kicked out of their faction and traveling with varric) would that be a deal breaker" // Sylvia: "Nah that'd be fine, they're not his favorites but he'll put up with them for Rook." [source]

Sylvia: "I have indeed seen Cushing's version of Hound of the Baskervilles, for some reason that part where he whirls around and throws the knife is embedded into my brain. What a great Holmes he made." [source]

User: "1. Where did Emmrich live in Nevarar when he was a child? 2. When do you think his birthday is? 👀 3. How did Johanna know him?" // Sylvia: "1. He lived inside the bounds of Nevarra City itself. He's always been a city boy. 2. For some reason, he feels like a January/February birthday to me. 3. They met as young students in the Mourn Watch." [source]

User: "if Emmrich didn't think it was serious when he'd always wanted one true love -apparently-, why did he embark on this relationship, especially with so much passion?" // Sylvia: "I think he thought it wouldn't be so serious at first, but then things progressed. And people want conflicting things, sometimes." [source]

User: "I really love Strife being a love interest for Emmrich! What lead to him as the choice if he isn't romanced?" // Sylvia: "The writing team discussed who felt right, and I liked that Strife was from one of the factions because it gives the feeling of your followers interacting with the wider world. And I felt Strife would provide a nice contrast with the romance with Rook. Unlike them, he's more established in his place in the world, like Emmrich is. Just felt like a different dynamic." [source, two] // User: "Strife balances Emmrich well since they are both interested in study but have gone about it differently." // Sylvia: "Agreed! (I wish I had thought to put it like that.)" [source]

User: "how are pets and animals honoured in the Necropolis and by the Mourn Watchers? The same as any other being?" // Sylvia: "Beloved animals are absolutely permitted to be buried with families. Mild Necropolis exploration spoiler: inside the passage you unlock after finding all the wisps in the belfry area, there's actually some caskets for faithful hounds interred in the crypt." [source]

User: "My question is do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" // Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "how long has Manfred been under Emmrich's care?" // Sylvia: "That's a good question, yet another thing I left a little vague in case I needed to define it concretely in the future. And since I've left, the answer is very much in my head only. But I feel it's likely to have at least been a decade. (Hezenkoss acts like she knows about Manfred, I figure she could've met him during an earlier clash. But I don't think Manfred was around when she and Emmrich were young students.)" [source, two]

User: "if Emmrich had tattoos, on what theme would they be?" // Sylvia: "Something anatomical/surgical, patterned on the MW's mystic theories of the body and death, feels appropriate to me." [source]

Sylvia: "BioWare put out an infographic about choices a few weeks ago, and "lich" was winning out. 1) When Emmrich says how he feels will change did he just mean his senses or is it on an emotional level?" He's definitely talking about his senses in that scene. On an emotional level: unknown. (I imagine it WOULD change someone because it's such a big shift, but exactly what does it do, mystically, if anything, is something I'd like to leave alone since I didn't really cover that in the game, and it feels like it'd been bigger consideration if that makes sense.) I kind of want how the lich-romance proceeds to live in players' imaginations, purely so people can tailor it to their own story. I'm afraid any writer-declaration would narrow the possibilities instead of expanding them, if that makes sense." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia: ""I've been waiting for Nevarra for years and it was everything i could have dreamed of and MORE!" I'm very glad to hear it. The rest of the Necropolis team and I were very excited to finally get to portray even a small portion of the ancient and hallowed graves of Nevarra." [source]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm so glad you liked meeting and getting to know our necromancer. (Huge props to our cinematic and audio team on that garden scene, it was incredible seeing it come in finished for the first time.)" [source]

Allegra Clark: "I just wanted to say that I miss you so much and I’m so excited for whatever comes next in your career. Josephine means so much to me and I’ve fallen utterly in love with Emmrich (how dare you, he’s perfect). Thank you for trusting me with your child over a decade ago ❤️" [source] // Sylvia: "Allegra! Thank you so much! I'm so excited you've been digging our gentleman necromancer. I hope you've been seeing people ping me about their love of Josephine. I heard someone very good did her voice.. Thank YOU for embodying her so quickly and completely!" [source, two]

User: "how was Emmrich doing when Rook was trapped in the Fade?" // Sylvia: "Probably very poorly! Poor man would've been incredibly anxious and working all hours towards a solution." [source]

User: "So i asked you before what music emmrich does like but um is there any music he hates I feel like he'd die if someone took him to a death metal concert XD" // Sylvia: "I think that's a good one to pick, lol. "It's all just noise!"" [source]

User: "Did Emmrich teach (or at least attempt to teach) Manfred how to read?" // Sylvia: "I think that was beyond his skillset, beforehand; Manfred could be taught to recognize objects, but the abstraction of reading was one step too much at that point." [source]

User: "Do Mourn Watchers undergo a Harrowing?" // Sylvia: "They do! You may've missed it but there's a MWer in the Necropolis who mentions MW Harrowings if you go by them. (The MW has had to suspend theirs because chaos in the Fade.) But that's a temporary suspension, probably resolved by the time the credits roll. In general: I figure that if you're a mage who underwent a harrowing in some other circle, that stands, but that the MW would also perform harrowings for students they took in early. Also: not a silly question! It doesn't really come up with the MW except that one ambient line, and it's very easy to miss." [source, two, three]

User: "Doing a 3rd MW playthrough after not playing one for a couple of months feels like coming home again" // Sylvia: "That's some commitment to the dead! The Mourn Watch approve." [source]

User: "if two mourn watchers were to share a piece of grave dowry between them, that's grounds for a serious relationship?" // Sylvia: "You mean like each one having the half of a necklace, or having the same bit of gold made into matching rings? Or swapping jewelry? Either way, what a nice idea. It could be!" [source]

Sylvia: "Emmrichwas very much the work of the team, including some very good feedback early on from the other writers and editors." [source]

Sylvia: "The team and I were also super excited to get to explore the Necropolis. It was an honour to open up the tombs to everyone." [source]

User: "Emmerich's particular respect for trans characters was extremely enticing to me." // Sylvia: "Thanks, I'm glad he resonated. (Some trans colleagues kindly spent the time to give me some feedback on the wording of the lines, which I think made them way better.)" [source]

User: "Emmrich is so amazing" // Sylvia: "Thank you again, that is incredible to hear. (And I want to mention, only possible with the team; they helped improve the story every step.)" [source]

Sylvia: Tevinter Nights "was a fun collection to work on" [source]

User: "Does lich Emmrich feel anything when Rook kisses him or touches him?" // Sylvia: "yeah, I don't think he's "numb" so to speak, he can sense a touch (with his new powers from beyond the graaaaaave 🪦💀🌹)" [source]

User: "about Emmrich so i know he's into flowers and botany but is he into plant meanings and symbolism" // Sylvia: "I think he is - Emmrich mentions some flowers that are "famed in verse and song", I think he'd enjoy reading up on the cultural importance and symbolism layered on to them." [source]

User: "Obv the game mechanics require Rook to make the choice but would a romanced Emmrich choose to become a Lich if the choice was in his hands? Would he abandon his dream for love?" // Sylvia: "I must refuse to answer on the grounds that it's too melancholy to contemplate. ;_;" [source]

User: "On the dinner date in the Necropolis I loved how Emmrich felt philosophical, it was so relatable, especially when he talked about the connection to something finer than we are. It was magical!" // Sylvia: "I'm really pleased that last part of the dinner date, resonated with you, I was trying really hard to get a certain feeling across." [source]

User: "What month do you think Emmrich was born in? I really wanna know what my guy's zodiac sign is" // Sylvia: "I don't know anything about zodiac stuff but weirdly, I do have a range, for some reason I always thought it'd be January or February." [source]

User: "1. How does Emmrich feel about children, both in general and possibly having them? 2. Would Emmrich be into gift-giving?" // Sylvia: "1. In general, he likes kids okay, and tries to be kind, but his students are mostly older so he doesn't really chat with many. Regarding having them, if circumstances aligned so that was the case, I think he'd be excited if maybe a little overwhelmed by the thought. 2. I think so! Not overbearing about it, but he would like to show some tokens of affection at appropriate times. (There's no way he's not delighted to get gifts.)" [source, two]

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 11 - More Then Friends

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: mentions of blood, its all fluff.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Price, Ghost and Gaz left first. Leaving before the sun was up in a somewhat hectic rush. Their plan was to get over the border then commandeer a car or something. Price said it could be a few days before you hear from them but they will send word. 

Soap sulked down the stairs an hour or so later, when the sun was just peaking through the clouds. You can’t wait to leave here and never come back. The whole blood soaked place can burn to the ground for all you care.

“They left already.” You say as he comes to sit on the sofa next to you.

“I know. Si- Ghost came to say bye.” He shuffles on the couch rubbing his burnt arm. You’ll need to change the dressing before you leave. “We should get going soon. We need to get a car. It’s easier to do while it’s still dark out.” 

You follow Soap’s orders in silence, the lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. You change the dressing as Soap grits his teeth complaining about itching. You have no idea if it’s healing or if its still supposed to look the way it does. It’s only been a day or so anyway. 

When you’re done Soap steals some supplies- mostly food -from the safehouse and you set out to look for a vehicle. It doesn’t take you long to find a rather old looking car, you keep an eye out while Soap hotwires it like he’s done this a thousand times. Before you know it you’re on the road driving back to Sakhra.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks after at least an hour of silence, you were starting to doze off. His question jolts you awake and you look over at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask. He smiles.

“I just had to, you’re stunning lass.” He says, it makes you blush. You turn to look out the window of the car. 

“Don’t falter me, a few days ago you would have put a bullet in my head.” 

“Yeah, we’re not merciless killers though.” You scoff, they’re soldiers, they're trained killers. You sit there in silence. 

“You’re a good kisser.” He says suddenly. 

“What- I mean. It was just a kiss.” You say feeling embarrassed, he just laughs. That annoys you, he’s being so chill about it, what if Price found out? What if he finds out then decides you’re a liability?

“You all seem close.” You say trying to move the subject on from you and Johnny. 

“Closer than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re a close unit. Worked together for years. When you spend so much time together, you develop a strong relationship.” He says switching between watching the road and your expression. You have an eyebrow raised, you expected him to continue. 

“Brothers in arms right?” You say, you’ve heard that before from soldiers.

“More than that.” You shake your head scoffing. He’s playing with you, trying to wind you up. What's closer than brothers? 

“You fucking each other or somthing.” You joke back. He doesn’t say anything, you turn back to look at him frowning. He’s just smiling, the cheekiest grin you think you’ve ever seen. “Really? You’re messing with me.” He just laughs, it doesn’t help you decide if he’s joking or not.

You let out a sigh looking out at the winding road. You’re not far now.

____

When you make it back to the ULF base the place is almost empty. You both head straight to the doctor who fixes your stitches and tends to Soap’s arm as well as giving him a pot of burn cream and instructions. 

When you’re done you both go to see Farah. Alex is with her, they both look tired. The table is filled with maps dotted with big red X’s. You look round as Soap catches them up on what happened. You wonder if Price has sent word yet, you hope they’re okay.

“-We take out Konni, before they make it any further south.” Farah says, you look over at them, catching the end of the conversation. 

“We don’t know if Konni are moving or not. Price will be able to give us some idea.” Soap says.

“We could be waiting days for that.” Alex says crossing his arms, he doesn’t have a sling anymore, maybe his arm was just sprained.

“They attacked their own bases?” You ask pointing at the map. 

“They want to shift the blame to us.” Farah says.

“The fact they used American weapons on civilians has got the US all wound up.” Alex says.

“They’re spreading us thin, I’ve already lost 20 men. We can’t fight them on the front without leaving ourselves open to attacks.” Farah sighs.

“You have weapons from the US, why not fight back?” You ask. There’s silence, people look around at you like you’ve just asked them to do something impossible. 

“If we fire on them we lose our advantage.” She says.

“Which is?” Soap asks.

“If the Americans come, they won’t be after us.” She says. You look down at the map, the new line Al Qatala have formed. There’s no news if Konni or Al Qatala forces have made a move from the border, it seems like they’re waiting for the ULF to make a move first. 

It’s too many targets for Farah to handle alone. 

“What about hitting them at the source? Take out the rest of their weapons.” You say pointing at the farm you know they’ve been storing munitions and rockets.

“They were fired from Russia.” Alex said.

“No, they were fired from inside the country. I bet if it's going to be anywhere it’s there.” You tap the map. Farah and Alex look at eachother. 

“A full scale raid is not possible.” She says, stepping back from the table.

“We could go in quiet.” Soap says. “Just the 4 of us.” 

“The place will be heavily guarded. They could have also moved them elsewhere.” Farah says.

“Even if we don’t find the missiles we will deal a pretty big blow to their resources.” Soap says. “You need all the help you can get.” 

“Okay. Tonight, you should get some rest.” Farah says. Soap smiles at her and Alex. He grabs your arm gently pulling you out of the room. You’re heading down to the sleeping quarters before Soap grabs your arm pulling you into a store room. 

“Hey!” You call, you almost trip over something as his hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up against the wall. Before you have a chance to say anything his lips lock onto yours. His kiss is needy, his tongue pressing into your mouth. You hum, closing your eyes and letting your hands drop to his waist. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as he pulls his lips off you, his mouth moving to your neck. His hands 

“What?” He asks, he’s not stopping though, running his tongue up your neck.

“What if Price found out?” 

“What do you mean?” He says. “Want him to join, I reckon he’ll be down for that.” He chuckles, now you’re convinced he's winding you up. You push your hands up his shirt and he grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, you’re sure he’ll be leaving marks. You run your fingers up his chest, feeling each muscle and scar. He’s hairy, you don’t care, now you’re getting needy, his lips running over you sucking on the sensitive spots on your neck. 

He looks up down at you, his hands come to hold your face. “I’m so glad I got you first. I thought I was going to have to fight off Gaz, or Price.” You frown at him but before you can press him further he kisses you. You drop your hands from his chest, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to you. 

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, you didn’t think anyone knew you were in here.

“Soap? There’s word from Price.” it’s Alex’s voice. Johnny smiles down at you.

“We’ll finish this later.” He says quietly before reaching over to open the door. You feel yourself blushing as Alex raises an eye at you both. Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and they walk away.

Banners by plum98

[nameless-jamie]

The Hangover Helper

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

7:32 AM – Jamie Tartt’s Flat

Y/N knew exactly what she was walking into before she even stepped inside.

The second she opened the door (thankfully, she remembered to use the spare key Jamie had given her after the fourth time he lost his own), she was hit with the overwhelming stench of tequila, regret, and expensive cologne.

The place was a disaster.

Clothes on the floor. A half-eaten kebab on the coffee table. A single sock dangling from the ceiling fan—she didn’t even wanna ask.

And then, from the depths of his bedroom, came the unmistakable sound of a dying man.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Here we go.

With her coffee in one hand and zero patience in the other, she made her way to his room, nudging the door open with her foot.

And there he was.

Jamie Tartt. Top half covered, bottom half naked...as usual.

Premier League footballer. Richmond’s golden boy. A man so dramatic he made Shakespeare look like a realist.

Currently, he was face-down in his pillows, covered by half a blanket, groaning like he’d been personally cursed by the gods.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Close the door. It’s too loud an' bright.”

She scoffed. “Jamie, the door is silent. You’re hungover, not a vampire.”

Another groan. “I might be. Feels like I’m dyin’.”

She took a long, deliberate sip of her coffee. “Good. Serves you right.”

Jamie peeked one bloodshot eye out from his cocoon of suffering. “That’s well cruel. What happened to ‘in sickness and in health,’ eh?”

She snorted. “That’s marriage, Jamie. I’m your assistant, not your wife.”

Jamie smirked weakly. “Dunno. Feels like we’re emotionally married at this point. You've already kissed me that one time, remember?”

“I told you it was an accident, Jamie! I wasn't in the right state of mind. You said it's okay and that you won't mention it again! God, if I were your wife I'd want a divorce.”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something along the lines of "How do you even kiss someone 'on accident'" into his pillow

She ignored him and clapped her hands. “C’mon, superstar, time to get up.”

Jamie groaned louder, dramatically flopping onto his back. “Can’t. Won’t. Refuse.”

“You have training.”

“I have a headache.”

“Your fault.”

“You’re mean.”

“You’re annoying.”

Jamie pouted, fully committing to his dramatics. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me.”

She crossed her arms. “I do. Every day. Which is why I know you have exactly seven minutes before I call Roy and tell him you’re too hungover to come in.”

Jamie bolted upright.

His head immediately regretted it.

“Fuck,” he winced, grabbing his temples. “Don’t be evil.”

She grinned. “Then move your fine ass.”

Jamie huffed, flopping back down. “Alright. But you gotta help me.”

“Help you what?”

He smirked that smirk, eyes half-lidded and full of mischief. “Get dressed. I’m all weak an’ vulnerable, babe.”

She rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her skull. “You literally run ten miles in a match, Jamie.”

He made grabby hands. “Too hungover. You gotta do it.”

She threw a pillow at his face.

Jamie cackled, but it quickly turned into a pained groan as his head protested the movement.

“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Never lettin’ Jack Daniels win again.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. “How bad is it?”

Jamie dramatically collapsed onto her lap, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Swear down, I’d die without ya,” he mumbled, half-asleep already.

Her heart stuttered, but she refused to let him know that.

Instead, she poked his forehead. “You wouldn’t. You’d just be late to training and piss off Roy.”

Jamie sighed, sinking deeper into her lap, voice all sleepy and soft.

“Same thing, innit?”

She let out a small breath, barely suppressing a smile as she ran her fingers through his messy hair.

“Alright, drama queen,” she muttered, nudging his shoulder. “If I make you coffee, will you actually get up?”

Jamie peeked up at her, grinning lazily. “Only if you drink it with me in bed.”

She scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Then I ain’t movin’.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll just text Roy then.”

Jamie immediately sat up. “Fuckin’ hell, woman. You’re ruthless.”

She smirked. “And yet, you’d die without me?”

Jamie stretched his arms over his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his abs. He definitely did that on purpose.

“Yeah, well,” he said, giving her a slow, sleepy grin, “at least I’d die lookin’ at somethin’ pretty.”

She rolled her eyes again, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, standing up.

Jamie flopped back onto the bed, making a dramatic show of reaching for her. “Don’t leave me, love.”

She turned around in the doorway, shaking her head. “I’ll be back with coffee. Make some room in bed for me.”

Jamie sighed. “You’re an angel.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass.”

Jamie grinned. “You love it.”

She didn’t answer.

Because, unfortunately for her, he might actually be right.

[beneathsilverstars]

people are wondering about loop in the au where the party stops siffrin from using the dagger in dormont and the ensuing conversation breaks the loops so let's see...

Siffrin would still want to go see Loop first thing afterwards, but everyone else would be verrry worried about him going off alone. He tries to inconspicuously wander off but Isabeau is immediately like, "Heyy buddy where are you off to? Mind if I come with?" Siffrin feels guilty for selfishly making everyone feel obligated to not leave him alone, and getting them all worried about an issue that isn't even what it looked like. So he's kinda hoping they won't be so worried about him now that they've beat the king and decided to stay together... but he's also afraid that if they stop worrying, they'll decide, okay, no need to stay together after all.

But luckily Siffrin doesn't have to sort all of that out right now, because they know Loop has complicated feelings about the party and doesn't want to see them, so they know they have to go by themself if they want a chance of talking to them.

They try to play it casual, "I'm just going to the favor tree, you don't have to come with me." But two can play at surface-level manners so Isabeau says "I want to, though, it's no trouble!" Siffrin doesn't want to refuse him point-blank, but they really want to talk to Loop... so they go back and forth another time or two before Isabeau's like "Look. You understand why I'm worried about you suddenly going off for no apparent reason, right? On your own, when you've been glued to my side for the last half hour? I... I don't want to stop you,'' (Does that mean that he wouldn't? Or that he would, but he'd be sorry about it?) "but I would feel a lot better about it if you brought someone with you? Doesn't have to be me. Or at least explained why you're going...? Sorry, I know it must be so annoying to have to explain your every move, but... it's been less than a day, since. y'know. And I'd be... I just want you to stay safe."

And oh, Siffrin hates that he's made Isabeau so upset, that he messed up so bad yesterday and that he's making it worse right now, that he's made him so concerned over nothing. So he hesitantly, carefully explains, "There's someone I want to talk to. at the favor tree. I... talked to them there yesterday? And. they might be there again today, but. they definitely won't talk to me if any of you are with me." And, okay, it's reassuring that Siffrin has a reason, and it doesn't even seem he's lying, but. Isabeau can't help but be worried anyway. Especially because this is apparently someone Siffrin talked to at right about the same time that he started acting weird, yesterday? What if this person made Siffrin feel worse, what if they did something that pushed Siffrin over the edge??

But he knows that's edging past reasonable concern into paranoia, so he just asks, "Would it be alright if I walked you to the edge of town at least? Since you're still kinda woozy, and, that way I'll be in earshot if you need me...?" And Siffrin agrees, very relieved to have found a compromise and actually glad for the continued company. And it occurs to them that Isabeau might be less worried about them if they didn't have their dagger on them, and, the day has already been saved... So he gives Isabeau his dagger, along with a promise that he's not gonna do that, and Isabeau does seem happier!

So off they go through Dormont. Isabeau stops farther back on the path just a bit before the bend, where he won't be able to see Siffrin or overhear casual conversation, but could definitely hear a shout and coming running. And Siffrin goes to the tree, and sees the coin, and... twohats ensues! The dialogue is somewhat different, though, because they never did entirely figure it out in the end, did they? They had started learning about wish craft, but Loop hadn't quite connected it yet and of course Siffrin refused to look at their own wish. And then, what a dramatic final loop!

So. More along the lines of, "That was it? Really? You just had to kill yourself in front of them to get everything you ever wanted? To break the loops? To never be alone again? To guilt them into staying forever, because they think you're going to slit your own blinding throat if they let you out of their sight? Sure! Whatever it takes! Never let anyone tell you suicide threats don't work~" and "Do you know how many times I killed myself? How many more times I died?? Did I just not do it right? Wrong time, wrong place? Did I not suffer enough? Was I not selfish enough? What did I do wrong!! Why do you get to escape and not me! I deserve this happy ending, not you!! Why do you get to stay with them and not me!!!"

But, hm. Loop was kinda really raising their voice there at the end, weren't they?

Loop's voice still sounds a bit odd — part inhuman form, part new habit, part intense emotion — but, they're not putting active effort into keeping up the mask right now. Not when they're this upset. Not when Siffrin already knows. And Isabeau hasn't seen Loop yet; he just heard their voice. And a couple of the things that voice said.

So Isabeau makes it around that corner while Loop is speaking more quietly. And then Loop says "STARS, killing you will make me SO HAPPY," and Siffrin reaches for their dagger and freezes as he realizes and remembers it's gone, and Isabeau speeds up, and Loop looks up and see him and freezes too.

And Isabeau says, "Sif?? I thought you promised you weren't going to kill yourself over here???"

Long story short, Loop panics and runs, Siffrin follows while shouting things trying to convince them to come back, so of course Isabeau follows too, and Siffrin almost collapses because they're still craft exhausted. Loop gives up and lets them catch up, and I do mean gives up, they just wanna lay down and die, if you can't go out with a bang there's nothing wrong with a whimper. But Siffrin and Isabeau refuse to leave them there, so they wait around and talk at them, and then run out of things to say and wait some more. Eventually Mirabelle finds them and she's very upset and glad they're okay, and at that point Loop gives up on giving up and quietly follows them back to Dormont, so Siffrin won't get himself more sick and all his friends more worried, staying out in the forest all night.

And so! The party knows who Loop is from the very start, but not anything about the time loops! Just that something very strange must have happened, to end up with two Siffrins and one of them a star.

[barrenclan]

NUMMMBAAAAAHHHH EIGHT!!!!

COOTSTORRRRRRMMM i want to dive into this beast’s brain LET’S GOO

oh no NOT THE CYCLE!!!!!

goldenhowl looks like such a dog. that’s probably on purpose though but i love his doggy self

BECAUSE GETTING HURT AND DOING HARD THINGS.. was she mean to pine because she thought that would help him LIVE?? coot no. coot. therapy for you NOW get in the car

RAAAAAH

that little annoyed cootstorm is so cute wtf

personally i’m going on the side of “cootstorm stays BUT imagines herself leaving. and doing nothing about it” but i love how vague it is!!!! a discussion in the works!!!!

cootstorm is my silly

This epilogue has been my favorite one because I just got to grime around inside Cootstorm's fucked up brain. What makes you tick you horrible old woman?!

I designed Goldenhowl aaaages ago and I always wanted an excuse to put him in the comic, so here he is. :)

Yes, Cootstorm was always hard on Pinepaw because she wanted to mold him into the kind of person she respected and thought would survive :( their relationship wasn't always so terrible either - I'm gonna put some examples in another ask but while she resented him for making her feel old and replaceable (that's why she didn't want an apprentice "so soon" to her), she didn't hate him until they really started clashing.

I will never confirm one way or the other what happens to Cootstorm after the comic because I want people to see how they feel about her, and what they think she would do. I bet there's plenty of people who think she'd leave, and plenty who think she'd stay!

[lenreli]

i still feel your touch in my dream [dreamling]

[AO3]

M, 8.8k. Asking your best friend to be your fake boyfriend when you're straight is a foolproof plan. Or so Dream thinks.

-

“You’re―what,” Hob says, confused as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Can you repeat that?” Well, maybe confused doesn’t cover it. Flummoxed, maybe. Bewildered. Definitely bewildered. 

“I want you to be my plus-one to the wedding,” Hob nods, getting that part easily. “And since you’re one of few people I trust, and as my best friend, we should pretend to be together. To piss off Desire,” he says slowly. Hob’s brows raise. 

Then he sighs, “I get the plus-one, I’m for the pissing off your sibling with―I’m just. You’re straight,” Hob says, hand chopping down between them. “Dream, you’re―did you forget that? Suddenly?” Hob’s voice gets very high-pitched at the end, making Dream quash a smile. 

“I do know, yes,” he says with a nod, “but it has been said that sexuality is fluid, and I’m quite frankly annoyed at Desire disparaging me for being the token straight,” he puts in air-quotes, “whenever I meet up with my siblings.”  

Hob opens his mouth, then shuts it, looking contemplative, “oh yeah, I could see that getting nasty,” Hob mutters under his breath. And it definitely has, Desire constantly poking and prodding him until there’s violence. Or he walks off. “And the wedding is―the weekend? At some fancy hotel or something, right?” Dream nods. Hob scratches an eyebrow with a nail, then sighs deeply. “Better be good food there.” 

Dream finally smiles, overjoyed even as Hbo stares into the distance intently, probably working out his work and whatnot. “Thank you very much, Hob,” he says, rocking on the heels of his feet. “Now, about your suit―” 

Hob groans and looks to the ceiling, “I have savings! I can afford a new one! Not like, fifty-thousand suits like you have somewhere, but fancy enough,” Hob waves him off. 

-

 “A taxi? Couldn’t afford a limo?” Hob asks once he’s inside said taxi, Dream giving him a look as he hangs up the garment bag on the handle inside, Hob’s own suitcase stowed in the back, along with his. “Couldn’t resist,” Hob says once he meets his eye, grinning. Dream crosses his arms as the taxi starts to move.

“Maybe if you showed me your suit I would’ve gotten a limo,” he retorts dryly. Dream stares intently at the black garment bag, hoping that unknown x-ray powers would appear. “If it’s some sort of monstrosity, for my sister’s wed―” 

“It’s not! And it matches yours! There’s black,” Hob defends with a shrug, and Dream huffs, placated. 

Hob gets out his phone, meanwhile Dream gets out a book, happy to spend time with each other in silence. At least, until― 

“Are you really sure you wanna do this?” Hob asks, once again. Dream’s eyes go to the ceiling, annoyed with Hob’s constant pestering about this. “I just don’t want you freaking out!” Hob says. “We’re gonna have to kiss! And―well, kissing, mainly.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a sigh. Hob gives him a skeptical glance. “Even with not liking it, I know how to act,” he reminds Hob, and there’s a split-second of an emotion he can’t recognise on the other’s face, which gives him a spike of irritation, not knowing what it means, or why Hob hid it so quickly. 

“That’s true,” Hob sighs, hunching on himself as he scratches an eyebrow with a thumb. “I just hope you’ve mentally prepared yourself for the kissing and how touchy-feely I’m going to be.” 

“It’s more tiring work to deal with a whole wedding than that,” he says, and he’s mainly used to Hob in his space, legs brushing or Hob picking grass out of his hair, the other’s touches always pleasant. And never draining, like dealing with a loud wedding for example. “I hope you’ve prepared not to fall in love with me by the end of it, at least,” he says flippantly, not serious in the slightest.

Hob slides down the seat and looks out the tiny strip of the window not covered by his garment bag, “don’t worry, I won’t be.”

Dream, inexplicably, is cut deep by it.

-

The White Lotus is on the beach, the weather grey and dreary. Despair, like him, probably favours it, especially for her wedding. And he’s pretty sure they’re not going to go outside much, the schedule only allowing a dinner tonight, which they have to be dressed up for, then the wedding the day after. 

Even with the fake-boyfriend with Hob being there, he’s at least happy with the other man being there, always finding comfort with him. The shower cuts off and Dream blinks, stretched out on their one bed. His suit, all black, is itchy. Or maybe it’s because of some other reason as he waits, anxiety creeping slowly as he thinks of seeing his siblings, the dining room full of people which they passed on the way to their room― 

The bathroom door opens, and Dream sits up, breathless from the sudden movement as he scrutinises Hob’s suit. Pinstriped trousers and jacket, white shirt and then a blue tie. Though, the thing that catches his eye more is the eyeliner, making the other’s brown eyes even more intense. “Acceptable,” he says, swallowing as Hob smiles. “Eyeliner?” He asks. 

Hob shrugs and sits next to him, warmth pressing into his side, “we are together, so we should match,” Hob says with a smile. 

“Good thinking,” he nods. “Thank you for coming,” he breathes, anxiety dwindling as Hob leans into him. 

“Of course,” Hob says quietly, then eventually an ah, and Dream looks over as Hob gets something from an inside pocket of his jacket. “Got these for you, since you probably lost yours under all the black in your suitcase,” he says with a smile. 

Earplugs, the background-noise cancelling kind that he probably left at home, in the bag he usually carries. “Or the kind I accidentally left at home,” he replies with a huff, and Hob gives him an even brighter smile as he takes the earplugs, putting them in his trouser pocket. 

-

“Wait, how many times?” Hob asks on their way to the dining room. 

“This is her sixth marriage,” he explains. “Desire keeps making jokes about Despair―well,” he shrugs, “there’s a betting pool between my other siblings as to how long her current soon-to-be-wife will live,” he says quietly, Hob’s eyebrows raising higher. 

Hob lets out a quiet whistle, face baffled, “and? What did you bet on?” 

Dream sniffs, jaw setting, “of course, I’d never stoop so low,” he says as they stop outside the dining room. Hob blinks, clearly not buying it, “a year, at least,” he whispers between them.

“Wow,” Hob says, countenance showing nothing of what he thinks as he glances at the dining room. “Ready, partner?” Hob asks, an arm going around his waist, and Dream swallows at the warmth radiating from the other man. 

Dream sighs, then nods, walking past tables of people until they reach the table closest to where the brides are ― the family table, with his siblings, his and Hob’s names emblazoned on cards as they sit down. 

“Gadling? What is Gadling doing here?” Desire says across from them, tone judgemental as they stare at Hob, and Dream scowls, Hob’s hand still on his back as Hob smiles pleasantly. “Well?” They demand, glittery red eyeshadow sparkling in the light, matching their lips. 

“I’m his partner,” Hob says simply, and the table stops, everyone else’s eyes on swiveling to them. He can feel it, even as Hob’s other hand caresses his jaw, turning him to look at Hob, brown eyes kind― 

There’s gasps, but everything else seems to fall away, the kiss chaste―but luxurious, hands scratching through his hair as Hob pulls him closer. Hob’s tongue slowly presses into his mouth, teeth biting into his lips and he shudders, can only focus on the way that Hob tastes of chocolate, of the stubble scratching hard-soft against him, insides tingling and light-headed as he holds onto the other’s thighs. 

The kiss ends with another press of lips, and Dream hears himself make a small sound in protest, wanting more. 

… Wanting more? Dream blinks, looking over to see Desire gaping―which he also feels like doing, if it didn’t feel like― 

His atoms were being rewritten, can barely hear everything else over too much and not enough. Hob’s satisfied? He can only hear because of putting his head on the other’s shoulder, feeling him speak more than hearing it, and Hob’s hand on his neck, softly stroking the skin. 

Dream’s unwilling to let go, sounds slowly filtering back to him in a cacophony of noise, which makes him pull away, sitting back in his seat as he takes out the earplugs Hob got him, putting them in and then sighing as he only hears the table, Hob talking with Death. 

Hob’s hand is still near him, can feel the heat of it on the back of his chair, pressing into him, thumb rubbing up and down his shoulder blade and Dream’s lips tingle. Even the joy at seeing Desire still gaping is muted under the way he would rather be kissing Hob again.

-

“You good?” Hob asks, snapping Dream of of his daze between courses and speeches with Hob’s other hand coming up to his cheek, can feel a thumb trace his cheekbone as Hob smiles, brows showing worry. “Not too much?” 

“No,” he manages, and Hob slides his chair closer, legs brushing and Dream almost resists the way he wants to nuzzle into Hob’s hand ― until he does, and he can hear Hob’s small chuckle, bright and making him relax even more into it. 

“Good,” Hob whispers, brown eyes soft and fond, affection clear to see and Dream’s throat closes up at it. Hob sighs and presses their foreheads together, and Dream’s lips tingle at their breaths, at the odd feeling of wanting Hob to kiss him again. Can feel it building up, the yearning for it. 

A small, miniscule part of him still thinks it was a fluke, that he’s― 

“You don’t mind?” Hob asks, lips brushing, and Dream’s heart jumps into his throat. 

“No,” he says after a breath, not wanting to be too eager, even though he is. 

The kiss is soft, indulgent and chaste, and Dream melts into it, remembering he has hands as he holds onto the other’s waist with one, the other petting at the soft-rough of Hob’s beard. It deepens and Dream swallows down a shiver, feeling like the air in the room is rapidly disappearing with how all-consuming it is.

There’s vague sounds of disgust, but Dream doesn’t register it, can only press into Hob more as a thumb touches his bottom lip, the rough drag of it he can feel down to his toes― 

And suddenly, it ends and Dream takes a deep breath, blinking as he looks at the waiters, bringing them another course of dinner, leaving him achingly bereft of Hob. 

Not a fluke, he thinks distantly. Dream wants to―for Hob to touch him more, searing hands and soft lips, wants more than just the arm on the back of his chair, Hob easily going back to eating and talking, and not at all like he’s changed everything Dream thought he knew about himself.

-

Dream wakes up the next morning, feeling like yesterday was a fever dream.

Or that may be because of Hob, who runs searing hot. And he’s holding onto, forehead pressed against the other’s back, sheets bunched down to his lower half as he touches Hob’s waist, skin soft. And hot. And, even just like this, Dream thinks of kissing the back in front of him, of waking Hob up with them, who’d smile and― 

Gently, he slips out of the bed and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door. 

Taking a deep breath, he sits on the cold tiles and rubs his face. So he may not be as straight as he thought, however it’s still terrifying. Especially with Hob, who’s―his best friend! 

Getting up, he moves to the basin, noticing his heart beating quickly. And. Fuck. Why is he hard?! Muffling a groan, he washes his face with cold water.

Maybe a cold shower would be more effective. 

-

“I have an idea,” Hob says, looking away from him as a hand tugs his ear, and Dream sits on the bed. “But I just, it’s silly―” 

Dream blinks, considering. Hob knows him, and he trusts Hob. With far more then he’s even beginning to realise. “Okay.” 

Hob’s head whips around, eyes wide, “you didn’t even hear my―” Hob wheezes out, sitting closer to him. “It’s―” the other’s loss for words, red on his face makes Dream confused. Though the hand on his shoulder makes him less so. “Because,” Hob whispers, and Dream swallows a sound as he’s gently pushed onto the bed, nails scratching up and down his throat―with Hob’s breath on the other side. 

Suddenly the cold shower doesn’t seem like enough as Hob bites into his neck, and he shivers, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as Hob licks and nibbles at his throat. The other’s stubble is pleasant, makes him arch up into it as Hob sucks at his skin. Gasping, he holds onto Hob’s shoulder, body tingling as a final lick gets placed over the stinging marks. 

“Not too much?” Hob asks, voice rough and eyes dark as they stare down at him, fingers still lightly caressing his neck. 

Heart racing, Dream gulps down a―whine, pathetic and needy as he shakes his head. Can feel the sting of it, the blood rushing towards the marks, towards his face. Doesn’t want to speak, with only more and yes on his mind. Especially if it involves Hob’s gaze so heavy, almost palpable on him.

Hob licks his lips and Dream can only watch, transfixed as Hob gives him a once-over―and he’s glad that his black shirt and pants are loose enough to hide the start of an erection. 

“I’ll―I need to get ready,” Hob says with a bright smile, walking off to the bathroom in the next breath. Dream inhales deeply, closing his eyes as a hand comes up to cover the bruises, heart beating out of his chest as he wonders if he’ll even survive the day. 

-

Dream’s focus throughout the day is shot, to put it mildly. Even as he stands with his siblings as the vows are made and papers are signed, the bright red mark on his neck aches and itches, showing close to his collar, his suit out for another day. Desire gaped at the sight of it, while Hob just smiled and kissed his cheek, the hand on his waist leaving as Hob sits down in the aisle, pinstriped suit on. 

After ― so many pictures, he’s happy to sit down next to Hob, groaning as he finally gets a chance to rest his legs. And putting his head onto Hob’s shoulder, sighing in relief as Hob laughs and pats his hair. 

“All done?” Hob asks as he’s pulled closer, the pleasant warmth of the other man making him relax even more, uncaring of the chaos around them of people talking and congratulations to the newly-wedded couple. 

“Had to stop Delirium from going into the ocean, at least until after lunch,” he mumbles. “And Desire kept bringing attention to―” my hickey, he doesn’t say, can feel his face heating just thinking that. 

“Poor baby,” Hob coos, kissing his hair softly―and there’s only a skipped beat of Dream’ heart as Hob guides his face up with a hand, more pecks against his forehead, down to nose. The soft, chaste kiss on his lips makes his insides flutter. 

Groaning, Dream hides his face back under Hob’s head, putting his arms around warm shoulders as he tries to not let his brain focus on the entirely new way he appreciates Hob in his suit, the hot rush of seeing him in it once they got dressed in the morning. 

-

The rest of the day seems to fly by ― the time creeping closer to them leaving. To Hob no longer having a constant arm on the back of his chair, or around his waist. 

A press of lips to his hair, a kiss that feels like all the air is sucked out of the dining room, indulgent and makes him light-headed. He can only follow uselessly as the kiss ends, and he shivers as fingers leave his hair. 

Dream is in a daze, has never been punch-drunk off of kisses as he doesn’t remember eating his lunch, or dessert. Can only think of the tingling of his lips, the pleasant scratch of Hob’s beard and gentle hands. Though, there was that moment of embarrassment, clarity as Hob put a spoonful of dessert in front of him, citrus-y in comparison to the chocolate mousse that he got. 

Lunch done, people leave or split off into groups, going to the beach or nearby bars. Hob and Dream end up sitting outside, people watching. “Aren’t you going to go in?” Dream asks eventually, though he would miss the warmth around his waist. 

“I’m good,” Hob says with a shrug, using his free hand to point out a group of people .”Polycule or messy divorce?” He asks. 

Dream stares at the group, two of the people talking intensely, the others watching on in worry. “One or two of them want out of the polycule, obviously,” Dream replies dryly. 

“Ah,” Hob says, gently nudging him to look at a waiter, strained customer-service-smile in place as he’s talked to by a particularly passionate customer. “He’s totally gonna get a special for this one.” 

“Disgusting, but likely true,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, making Hob laugh and lean into him. Dream’s heart races. And something springs to mind―that Hob’s only been the one giving kisses. Pulse in his throat, he presses his lips to Hob’s, can still feel the laughter as Hob stills, brown eyes shocked. 

Running off instinct, he presses forward, putting his hands onto Hob’s cheek, stubble soft under his hands. Hob lets out a small sound and returns the kiss slowly, even as the arm around his waist moves, nails digging into his spine, and Dream swallows a gasp, brain full of static pleasure. 

His pleasure only doubles as Hob’s free hand sits on his neck ― fingers pressing into the mark that was left, Dream can’t help the shudder, the overwhelming need to get even closer, wants to crawl into Hob’s lap as Hob’s lips move down, teeth scraping against his chin and down― 

“Ugh, really? I just got my appetite back,” a voice says in disgust, making Dream overtly aware of Hob at the edge of his jaw ― and Desire in front of them, a metaphorical splash of cold water. 

Hob breathes against his skin, which he can feel heating up at his sibling’s gaze, and Dream keeps his eyes somewhere on Desire’s red one-piece, bejewelled and bedazzled, skimpy and costing a small fortune, probably ― and Dream bites his tongue at the smile from Hob that he can feel before they part. “We weren’t doing anything,” Dream says eventually, voice rougher than it was before. 

Desire rolls their eyes and breezes past, saying ― something. Which he doesn’t catch due to the redness of Hob’s lips as he watches Desire walk by, an eyebrow raised. 

-

Usually, Dream would already be back into his hotel room by the time the sun sets ― but finds it hard to leave Hob’s side, the casual affection he experiences. And Hob doesn’t expect him to join in with a conversation as he talks with some of his sibling’s friends, a hand around his waist or on his shoulder as Hob talks about his job as a professor. 

“Sorry,” Hob says bashfully after they’ve left, apparently going back home. “Should we get room service, or dinner here again?” 

Dream blinks, can vaguely feel hunger underneath the pleasant haze of Hob’s attention. “I saw an Indian place on this road,” he offers, feeling pride as Hob brightens. “When we were in the taxi.” 

“Brilliant!” Hob says enthusiastically, close―and Dream freezes at the sudden kiss, hands cradling his face. 

He can feel Hob’s smile, his joy as he’s pulled closer, Hob’s body warm against him, and he relaxes slowly into it, grabbing onto Hob’s pinstriped jacket. And he thinks of Hob reacting like this outside of this hotel, heart in his throat as Hob ends the kiss with a lighter one. 

“Let’s go!” Hob tugs him along, and Dream can only walk forward. “No offence to your sister, but her food choices were certainly choices,” Hob says under his breath. 

Dream chuckles as they walk out of the hotel, “yes, her taste is quite… bland,” he grimaces. “Aside from desserts. She does love those,” he nods. 

“I need some complex spice or I might just go insane,” Hob mutters, making Dream smile as he looks down the road, this time Dream tugging Hob into going across the road. 

-

The next morning, Dream wakes up in Hob’s arms, can feel a forehead against the back of his hair. And they’re leaving― 

Which means no more kisses, no more of the casual affection, or this, Hob’s body searing and wrapped around him, and Dream feels heavy. 

Opening an eye, he sees they still have a few more hours before checkout. 

So he ignores it, putting his hands on the arms around him, and even with all that he’s recently learned, he shuts his eyes and lets the time pass. 

Hob’s leg between his ― the way Hob groans, arms wrapping tightly around him, and Dream swallows, worries that the other man’s waking up―but Hob just lets out a sigh. Hob’s head is now closer to his neck, can feel the breath on the back of it as Hob stretches behind him with a groan, their feet tangling. 

And a hardness against his lower back, only briefly. Dream’s mouth dries, skin feeling too-warm and too-tight suddenly, not helped by Hob’s body. Body warm and somehow right, and Dream stops thinking before that sentence ends.

-

Hob and Dream live together, have been roommates for years, fitting into each other’s places easily. And coming back from the weekend, there’s an oddness, a wrench thrown into the works. Hob is more closed-off, not as affectionate― 

And Dream can’t stop thinking about the weekend. It probably needs to be called The Weekend, capitalised. A moment between how they were before, and how they are after. 

Before, he felt no weirdness, stepping into Hob’s room, seeing Hob at his desk, marking papers in a ratty pair of sweatpants and shirt. Wouldn’t even register the bed as he steps, not thinking of Hob’s warmth, thinking of breath against the back of his neck as they slept. 

“Hob,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to fidget, still smelling of smoke and sweat from a club. A gay one.

Just to know that it’s not some Hob-shaped thing, these feelings―which, some of them are. Even with the kissing being good from these other men, the casual way he went about, almost detached and scientific, wanting to quantify it. This one’s beard didn’t scratch as nicely as Hob’s, that man’s eyes weren’t brown enough, this other man’s hands didn’t hold him as nicely as―Hob hums, still going through his work, and even with knowing that Hob won’t react terribly, he works through the tentative fear with a deep breath, stepping closer.

“I don’t think I’m straight,” he says, and that makes Hob stop his work. There’s heartbeats of silence, Dream’s heart racing at what he said, making it something real. 

Hob puts his pen down, still not facing him. “Oh.”

Dream swallows, feeling a bit confident now that nothing’s happened with what he said, “I went to that club you go to sometimes. It was nice,” he offers. Of course, he doesn’t says that you may have ruined me for all other men before I even knew or something else that would ruin their friendship. 

“I’m happy for you,” Hob’s tone is odd―indescribable, and Dream frowns, walking closer until he leans next to Hob. At this, Hob looks up to him and smiles, “really, I am,” he says, voice more matching to his words. “And thank you for telling me.” 

Dream tilts his head, relaxing against the desk, “how did you realise?” He asks, hit with the knowledge that over their many years of friendship, he’s never learnt. 

Hob shrugs, going back to his marking. “When I was teenager. It was like getting slapped over the head with it,” he says with a laugh. “One of those dramatic moments when you see―well, you know.” 

He’s happy to note that Hob’s arm presses into his waist, the careless press of before, that Dream now appreciates in another way, “and figuring out your sexuality?” 

“Well, that took a while. But honestly, it’s different for everyone,” Hob rests his head on his hand, pen tapping against his cheek, “no pressure from me for you to figure it out. Even just being not straight or queer, or feeling an affinity to any of the labels, or not. Whatever!” 

Dream nods, sliding up onto the table, pulling up the papers as he does so. “How goes academia today?” 

Hob groans, resting his head on the one he’s marking. “I’ve read through two AI essays. I wish they knew more!”

-

Dream wakes up, sheets tangled and blood rushing, reaching across his bed for― 

A Hob from dreams, dark eyes staring down at him, and he groans, pulling the sheet over his head. His cock aches, leaking as he shuts his eyes, trying to keep the remnants of the wet dream in sight. The pressure of Hob’s hands trailing down his body, the long-healed bruise on his neck, more being bitten onto him. 

He can’t remember the last time he got so worked up from a dream, not even during puberty. 

There wasn’t even anything explicit, just the pressure, the sight of Hob on top of him. Fingers trailing down his body, down to his thighs, Hob’s lips following his hands. Dream shivers at the remembrance of it, overwhelmed with it. 

Biting his lip, he takes a deep breath as he grabs his aching cock, sparks of pleasure making him gasp as he imagines it’s Hob stroking him. 

Hob’s hands, searing hot, pleasantly rough and he whimpers, dick leaking around his fingers incessantly. Hob staring up at him, eyes dark and black, the gaze tangible and fuck, he wants it, pulse jumping under the imagined weight of it. 

Biting his cheek, he lets out a small cry as the orgasm rushes up to meet him, come coating his hand, and the sheet on top.

In the post-orgasmic haze, he can only manage a small amount of shame, thinking of Hob as he did.

-

Dream stares down at the text message, dread already making its home in his stomach. 

Desire

that boyfriend of yrs should come ;) unless… 

Sure, Hob and he are still ― that’s not the problem. He doesn’t even know how to articulate it, considering Hob’s either hot-or-cold with him, entirely randomly. And today Hob’s been distant, smile not reaching his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, he goes to the kitchen, where Hob’s making dinner. “Hob?” The other man hums, focusing on a pot of pasta. “You should meet up with my siblings and I this Saturday,” he says lightly. 

“As your partner?” Hob asks, voice flat and Dream winces, his silence telling. “Think I’ll be busy that day,” Hob says, turning to give him one of those smiles that doesn’t show in his eyes. 

Walking closer, he watches as Hob puts things into another pan, “are you sure?” 

“Can’t get out of it. Sorry,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all as he shrugs. Or truthful, either, which feels like the worst part. He has heard from many of Hob’s exes about his lying, among many other flaws, but he’s always willing to tell the truth to Dream. At least, until this. 

“Okay,” he frowns, not wanting to call it out. Hob gets out some small spoons and tries the pasta sauce, humming in consideration. And suddenly Hob is staring at him, a happy smile ― which does brighten up his eyes ― on his face, and Dream blinks at the spoon in front of his face, pasta sauce on it. 

“Spicy enough for you, or more?” 

-

There was sound coming outside of the apartment, but Dream waves it off as Hob, putting on his sleepclothes after a shower. Opening the bathroom door, he absently dries his hair, then freezes. 

In front of him ― well, not him ― but in front of Hob’s door, is Hob, every ounce of attention on the man he’s crowding against the door, sharing small laughs and words. The man is is tall and dark-skinned, thin dark locs in Hob’s hands as they kiss. 

The man glances over at him, and Dream jolts into awareness, somehow freezing up even more as he gulps, insides twisting in― 

Jealousy, the way the man starts to speak up more ― then a hand covering his mouth as Hob shushes him, eyes sparkling even from the side as he finally opens his bedroom door, more hushed talking as the door shuts, Hob not even aware of him. 

Wide-eyed, he quietly goes to his own room, noting that he has felt this before with Hob’s exes, or hookups. Which he wasn’t aware of, the jealousy, until it flooded through him, always thought of it of―he wasn’t sure, something about Hob’s attention, about stealing Hob away from him, he’d thought once. And the envy of it, can think of a yawning void of Hob’s casual, flirting touches with others.

 Putting on his headphones, Dream puts on his music and tries not think of how he wants to be the focus of that attention again, those heady kisses and― 

More, even, he thinks, can feel his face heating as he gets out a book to read. Though he ends up stuck on the first page, unable to retain more than the first word, can only think of wet dreams and the ache of wanting to be the one Hob is paying singular attention to. 

-

Desire gives him a judgemental look, making him feel small in between the rest of their siblings. “Your boyfriend’s failed to show up again,” they say acridly, and Dream tries not to grimace. Considering the way Desire’s eyes light up, he’s failed. 

The judgement is suffocating, and Dream considers running away. Or getting a seat outside this suddenly stifling restaurant. 

Work thing. Can’t miss it, was Hob’s lie this time ― and ― he gets it, that they’re not in the actual relationship his sibling’s think it is. The relationship that he wishes it was, but it’s not like he’s going to say to Desire, who lorded it over him when his last relationships broke. 

He can’t do that. 

“Well?” They drawl, looking smugly satisfied as they twirl blond hair around their finger. 

“He’s busy,” Dream says with heat, unwilling to give in to the pressure. Desire scoffs. Dream opens his mouth― 

“Sibling, let it go,” Despair replies with a sigh, and Dream boggles, feeling as surprised as Desire looks. “I wish I was with my wife right now, but alas,” she continues with a pout. 

Desire squint-glares at him, but does let it go, though they settle on a scowl and a huff. “Fine, but only for you, sister dear.” 

Next to him on the left, Death groans, “now that that’s over with, can we order? I only have so much time―” 

On his right, Delirium speaks up, “you always say that!” 

-

“What happened to you?” Hob asks, and Dream freezes, gingerly stepping into the kitchen ― which he was hoping to sneak past, unable to account for Hob’s apparent radar. Hob gives him a once-over, and he resists the urge to curl up on the small stool, head pounding.

“Nothing,” he says, not wanting to talk about the weird tension between them. Or the excellent idea he had to get drunk enough to actually have a one-night stand. Which is more Hob’s thing, Dream at least preferring at a bit of emotional connection before doing that. 

And so. Alcohol. And a particularly nice man, eyes more of a hazel than brown―”if you say so,” Hob says dryly, eyes on his throat. Ah. Hickies. He  groans as he cups his throat, skin tingling as he flops onto the counter, the chill of it nice compared to the heat in his face. “Painkiller?” 

Dream groans, nodding against the counter, “please,” he says, hearing Hob move around their tiny kitchen. “Aren’t you meant to be at work?” He asks, reasonably sure today is one of those days where Hob leaves. Which he was kind of hoping for, and didn’t get. 

“The semester ends soon, and so I just decided to Zoom for those who really want to ― or need to do more,” Hob explains, and soon enough something cool is pressed against his temple, making him open his eyes, blankly staring at the glass of water against his forehead. Sitting straight, he downs the painkiller next to the glass, drinking most of the water before he puts it down. “Sorry to ruin your apparent sneaking,” Hob says, expression intensely focused on him, and Dream scowls. 

“How did you know?” He asks, can feel the other’s dark eyes on his neck, on the marks put there. They didn’t even do anything ― just heavy petting, the other man citing the alcohol on his breath. Though there was a handjob, quick and yet a marvel, the feeling of another’s man’s dick in his hand― 

Hob’s face becomes hard to understand, but only briefly before he smirks. “I have my ways,” Hob says. Dream gives him an unimpressed stare as he puts his head onto his arms on the counter, which also helps with the scrutiny he can still feel. “Your boots are very stompy,” Hob says, solemn. 

Dream stares down at his black platforms in betrayal as he pouts into his arm. “They are,” he mutters, in the end deciding to let go of the betrayal. He can’t stay mad at them. 

A bowl gets placed in front of him, and Dream stares in confusion at the cereal and milk in it. “You should eat,” Hob says as he puts a spoon in the bowl, pushing it into his arms. Dream blinks and can only agree. “My classes start in two hours, so wanna watch more of that show?” 

Nodding, he takes the bowl, absently eating it as Severance gets put on. 

-

Dream swallows the hurt as Hob’s hand, coming up to his shoulder ― stops and goes back to Hob’s side. They were so good, and suddenly, this again, the aborted touches, and he resists the urge to ask why? 

Mainly because he’s not sure he’d like the answer. Hob gives him a smile before he leaves and Dream sighs, flopping down onto the sofa. Can only think of the way Hob continues to not touch him. 

And that Weekend, where Hob was always touching him, and for all that he did appreciate it, he wants it even more now. Closing his eyes, he brings up the memory of it ― a hand on his shoulder, or on the small of his back. Fingers in his hair and a soft beard. 

Putting his arms around himself, Dream grabs onto the echoes of them, desperately wanting it to be Hob. 

He considers ― briefly ― of getting up, going to a club and trying to push himself in the easy skinship of that, but discards it, mind still spiraling on why won’t you touch me anymore, not even a pat on the shoulder― 

His phone rings and he startles, pulled out of his head as he opens it, Death’s face on the Calling screen. Huffing, he accepts it. “Sister?” He greets in confusion. 

“Desire set up another meeting, and this time didn’t say that Dream’s boyfriend should show up or else,” she mutters, and Dream’s heart drops, rubbing his face. Fuck. “So, you know. Just saying it here and not in our groupchat so Desire won’t be so, well.” 

“They will be,” he says, suddenly a lot more tired. Especially with Hob’s constant lies, the lack of touching, Desire’s apparent need to see Hob as his partner― “thank you sister,” he replies shortly, hanging up as he grits his teeth. 

Grabbing a red pillow next to him, he screams into it, at least transferring the screaming inside his brain to the outside. 

-

Dream is ― between jobs, at the moment, unsure what to do next― 

And there’s bashing on the door, which thankfully distracts him from looking at employment listings. Sighing, he opens it, then blinks at Matthew, with Hob hanging off his shoulder like a limpet. “He’s your problem now,” is Matthew says before Hob is shoved to him, and Dream freezes as Hob groans into his shoulder, the soft heat of Hob making his skin tingle as Matthew leaves. 

Blinking, he shuts the door as Hob leans into him, and he scrunches his nose at the beer he can smell from the other man. Dream doesn’t want to take of a drunk Hob ― but also, Hob isn’t shifting away, so he pats the other’s shoulder and takes them to their kitchen. “Usually you’re better at this,” he comments as he gets out a glass of water, putting it into Hob’s free hand. 

“Dr’m,” Hob slurs, staring at him with wide brown eyes ― and the hand leaves the glass to hold Dream’s cheek, and he stills, can feel his blood rush wildly up to the touch as he swallows. “‘Msorry,” Hob slurs, pressing into the where his ear meets his jaw. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he chokes out, confused as he soaks up the other’s body heat, the press of Hob against his side. Swallowing again, he picks up the glass and puts it up, Hob grabbing it. “Drink.” 

Hob huffs, but drinks. Dream tries not to stare too obviously at the way Hob’s throat works, at the odd amount of stubble leading down to soft skin ― and Dream looks away hastily as the glass is put down on the counter. “Dream,” Hob says, sounding a bit more lucid. Though, hands do grab his cheeks and he can feel his skin heating under the touch as Hob turns his face until their eyes meet. 

His mouth dries at the intensity of Hob’s eyes, brain no doubt working hard in between all the alcohol. “Hob,” he says, matching the other’s tone. “You’re drunk,” he says, unsure what pointing it out will accomplish. 

Hob’s hands caress him, and he shivers under the callused fingers, not wanting to break the contact ― but also, he should, before something regrettable happens. Like Hob coming closer, and Dream can’t find it in him to break from the other’s gaze, “I want,” Hob whispers ― and a thumb grazes the edge of his lip― 

Dream’s mind crashes as he pulls away Hob’s hands, who stares down at them in confusion as Dream takes a deep breath. “You’re drunk,” he repeats, more for himself as he wills his heart to not beat out of his chest. “Let’s,” he mumbles, leading Hob to his bedroom. 

“Sometimes, I think,” Hob says, pressing him against the doorframe, and he sucks in a breath at hands going into his hair, pulling him to look at Hob again. 

Hob’s expression is that inscrutable type again, and all Dream can think is I’m gay. Which feels like a very fucking inopportune time to think that, considering how, again, drunk, Hob is. 

It doesn't stop him from thinking it again as Hob chest presses against his, fingers threading more through his hair deliciously, and Dream’s sure Hob can feel insanely fast his heart is beating, can feel his pulse hammering in his neck as it arches. “Dream,” Hob says, voice rough and low― 

His name said like that becomes a reality check and he forces him away ― or pushes Hob into his room, the door shutting loudly. Dream presses his head against the door, cool against his heated skin as he takes calming breaths. 

Drunk. He was drunk ― he’s drunk, Dream thinks to himself desperately, can still feel Hob’s touches, the searing heat down to his bones.

-

A finger presses into his mouth, rough and shiveringly familiar, arousal coursing through him at the simple touch. “My partner,” Hob says, other hand coming up to caress his cheek. “All mine, aren’t you?” 

Dream whines, arching up into the solid body above him, the  heat of him maddening. “Please, yes,” he keens, shuddering as Hob leans down to kiss him, slow and toe-curling deep, the press of it going into his bones. “Please,” he croaks. 

“Dream, my Dream,” Hob whispers into him, sharp teeth and soft stubble making him gasp as they go down his jaw, down his throat ― with Hob’s hands trailing down his naked body. The teeth biting down his throat make him ache, wanting it all over as he scratches up Hob’s arms to scratch up his shoulder blades. 

“Yours,” he breathes, senseless to anything that’s not Hob, that’s not the overwhelming bliss he feels, cock leaking under Hob’s dark stare. 

Hob presses down on his lower half, hazy heat making him whimper as his hands go into Hob’s hair as more marks get placed on his throat, down to his collarbones. Fingers enter his mouth and he licks them, sucking them until Hob lets out a breathy moan. “I want you,” Hob whispers, a finger flat on his tongue as the other’s trace around his mouth, making his whine.

The fingers leave and Dream misses them already, mouth feeling empty as Hob rests his forehead against his cheek ― and he can only cry out as slick fingers touch his cock, stroking it gently. “Hob,” he keens, stars exploding behind his eyes as Hob strokes him to a hurtling orgasm―

“Hob!” He cries out, snapping to awareness sharply as he wakes up. Slapping a hand around his mouth, he groans at his sticky pants as his heart-rate calms down. Letting out another groan, he curls up and pulls a pillow close, hugging it tightly as he tries to linger in the wet dream.

-

Dream feels he’s going insane, just a bit. Which isn’t helped the meet-up with his siblings tomorrow, Desire texting him every day about his boyfriend― 

And said ‘boyfriend’ being even more reserved than usual. With an added bonus of being angry, that Dream knows more from the way Hob slammed the door shut in the morning, then anything else. 

Even Dream’s resurgence of wet dreams, filled with comforting and rough hands is only enough to keep him from―well, he doesn’t know, but at least the memories are enough to keep him somewhat sane as he comes to terms with the enormity of his feelings towards Hob. Mainly because there’s an absence of Hob’s smile and laughter directed towards him, or the inane things Hob would talk about.

Dream stares at Hob on the other sofa, nose in a book. At least Hob doesn’t seem as angry, though he can’t help the dread he feels at what he’s going to ask. Dread and exhaustion ― over all this. 

“Hob?” He says, taking a deep breath as Hob hums, still reading his history book. “I’m meeting up with sibling’s tomorrow, and―” 

“Can’t make it,” is all Hob replies with, voice short and final. Dream scowls, some of his exhaustion turning into irritation, prickling in his bones. 

“But Desire has been―they’ve been, and having my partner there―” 

Hob finally looks up, a scowl on his face, “but I’m not your partner. I’m―why not just ask any of the other men you’ve been fucking?!” Hob asks, tone acrid at the end, book fluttering as he gestures with his hand. 

“Because they’re not you!” 

The silence is absolute as Dream realises, belatedly, what he said in the moment. Hob’s brows furrow, anger leaving his face as Hob gives him a confused stare. Sighing deeply, Dream covers his face with his hands, too tired to take it back, and apparently wanting to bare his soul. Where it’ll likely be crushed, he’ll deal with those emotions in about a week or so. 

Dream chuckles, and it sounds insane to his ears, “they’re not. I did ― be with other men, just to know, that I’m not,” he frowns, annoyed with the way his words come out in a jumble. Frowning, he considers his next words, “you ruined all those men for me. I kept searching for the way you held me, or the way you kissed, and in the end they never matched up because I wanted―I want. You,” he finishes quietly.

“Me?” Hob asks, the almost-amazement in it making him look up. “You’re not just saying that?” 

“Why would I just say that?” He hisses. “I discovered I’m gay because I enjoyed kissing you so much, then discovered that I have feelings for you which I never realised because I thought I was str―”

 Mercifully, his ramblings are cut-off. By Hob’s lips on his, hands framing his face and Dream lets out a sound of relief as he grabs onto the other’s shoulders. The kiss itself is chaste, but considering how sparsely Hob’s touched him, this is all he needs as they press against each other, Hob gently leading them over to the larger sofa. 

“I have feelings for you too,” Hob says against him, brown eyes soft and affectionate. 

Dream huffs and pulls away, grabbing Hob’s wrists tightly and tugs them down to the sofa. “I thought you said you wouldn’t fall in with me,” he states, confused. 

Hob smiles and gives him a you’re an idiot look, “I’ve been in love with you for ages, long before that,” Hob says, tone much like his expression. 

-

His lips feel bruised and bitten, but pulling away from Hob is ― unthinkable, unfathomable. And Hob is the same, hands on his waist and biting down his throat, skin tingling as he shivers, Hob biting over already-made marks. 

“I missed this,” he whispers, patting the other’s beard. Though, some things are not that familiar, the way he sits on Hob’s lap, and he definitely would’ve missed this if he had it, the solid heat beneath him. “Not just the kissing, but you touching me. You stopped,” he breathes, can hear the whine of it as Hob kisses him, hands going under his shirt. 

“I missed it too,” Hob replies quietly, nails digging into his waist and Dream shivers, pleasure zinging up his spine. “It was just easier not to ― otherwise I’d never let go,” Hob says into his skin, and Dream swallows, nails scratching up his sides, “I’d never stop.” 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, moving one of his hands to get under Hob’s shirt, feeling the hot skin ― and Dream keens, fingers stretching into the hair on Hob’s belly. He can feel Hob’s moan, can feel him pressing up as they share a spine-tingling kiss. Or maybe that’s the nails trailing up his spine, then back down. “Hob.”

The hand traces the edge of his pants until it reaches the front, making Dream’s dick throb, bringing awareness to how hard he is, “can I?” Hob asks, voice rough and eyes dark as they stare at him. 

Dream spares a moment to think how he’ll survive this, when this already feels like so much, but saying no ― or peeling himself off Hob isn’t an option. “Yes,” he whispers, bracing himself mentally as Hob kisses him again, and he almost bites Hob’s tongue as the hand goes into his pants, fingers trailing up his cock. Dream lets out a startled sound, mind firing at the touch as fingers caress his balls, then make their way to his leaking tip. 

His own furtive imaginings pale in comparison to the explorative way Hob strokes him, wiping his head clean of thoughts as he holds onto Hob’s chest, rough hair under his hand as he gasps into the other’s mouth. Grinding down, he can feel Hob’s cock, hard and ― untouched, which Dream wants to remedy, remembering his other hand as he undoes Hob’s pants somehow, running on instinct and need as he slides his hand to hold Hob’s cock, which is worth it alone for the way Hob’s hand jerks, the way he moans. 

Somehow, they separate enough for Hob’s shirt to disappear, showing heated skin and hair as they stroke each other into a frenzy, and Dream’s teeth ache. Hob’s so warm and responsive, a delightful stream of moaning his name, and Dream keeps staring at Hob’s throat, at his collarbones, the sweat gathering on them from their rutting― 

So he bites down near Hob’s adam’s apple, tasting the tangy sweat, can feel Hob shudder, can feel the startled whine ― and the sudden wetness coating his hand as he sucks a mark into Hob’s throat. “Dream,” Hob breathes, an arm pulling him closer, the hand on his cock pressing into him in ways that make him feel even more senseless, fucking into Hob desperately as his orgasm crashes into him. 

He can feel Hob breathing into his hair as Dream rests his forehead against Hob’s collarbone, brain taking it’s time to be more than the orgasm he just had, can feel Hob stroking his softening cock and he shivers at the feeling, letting out a whimper. 

Letting go of Hob’s cock, he looks down at the come covering it, and then wipes it onto Hob’s jeans. Hob yelps in offense ― then takes out his own hand, wiping it on Dream’s pants. “The nerve,” Hob mutters, and Dream smiles, though it disappears as Hob tenses, arms keeping him trapped against the other man. Blinking, he puts his arms around Hob’s shoulders, pulling up to look at the other’s wary face. Dream just kisses Hob, who goes oh, relaxing into it. 

“Will you,” he frowns, the words sudden, brain still getting itself together. Though, it’s what he was planning to ask anyway, “willl you join me as my actual partner, tomorrow? Entirely optional, the thing tomorrow, I just―” 

Hob’s brows, raised high as he talks ― rambles, again, that’s meant to be Hob’s quirk, though he did also pick up Hob’s quirk of thinking Shakespeare is overrated―until Hob cuts him off with a kiss, fingers stroking his hair. “Magically, I think tomorrow’s been cleared, and would love nothing more than to join my partner,” Hob says, eyes sparkling.

-

Walking on the sidewalk to where they’re meeting his siblings, Dream frowns, “we could always go back home,” he states, and he can feel Hob chuckle, the arm on his shoulders pulling him even closer to his partner. 

“Tempting. But we should probably let the place air out first,” Hob points out reasonably, and Dream pouts. “And I want to pay for your lunch!” 

“Hm,” he says, knowing the place they’re going to is very expensive, so Hob may change his tune once they’re inside. Speaking of, they walk in, his gaggle of siblings sitting at a large table in the centre. Death waves him over, and Hob squeezes him tighter, a kiss placed on the side of his head. Dream can feel his face heat up as they sit down. “Hello.” 

“What’s he doing here?” Desire asks right off the bat, golden eyes narrowed at Hob. 

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” Hob says, cheerful grin obvious in his voice as Dream picks up the menu, Hob’s chair squeaking closer to look at it with him. Dream looks over as Hob pales, noticing the lack of prices on it. 

“Desire is paying today,” he points out quietly, “you can buy me dinner tomorrow,” he offers in compromise, and Hob takes a deep breath, their heads brushing. 

Hob frowns, “fine,” he says, pouting and Dream smiles, oddly charmed that Hob’s so disgruntled by it. 

Desire makes a disgusted sound, making Dream look at his sibling over the menu, “what exactly were you expecting, sibling?” 

They cross their arms and sniff, “another no-show, of course. Or even terrible news,” they say with glee, like a break-up clear in their unsaid words. 

“Wow,” Hob whispers next to him. “Don’t you have better things to do than be obsessed with me?” Hob asks, and many of his siblings crack up laughing as Desire sputters. He’s even chuckling as Hob tugs him into a kiss, soft and pleased, ending with their noses brushing. 

“I’m not obsessed with the likes of you!” Desire hisses, face a bright red. “I’m not! Right, sister?” They say, facing Despair, who just shrugs. “There is ― I’m not!” 

“Alright, enough of this,” Death says between laughter, her stern look quieting the laughs, with Desire grumbling to themself as they hide in the menu, “we should order!” 

[Fin]

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.