River Adams

flynn was someone who got flustered easily, he was shy and nervous, and river was the complete opposite, it didn’t take much, just a look, a touch, a word, and flynn was already blushing and stumbling over himself. "two very different people," he added, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. as river described his boyfriend as experienced and a little dirty-minded, flynn couldn’t help but think it fit him a little too well, and he found himself nodding. "i know you well enough to know you’re a bit dirty-minded," he teased, smiling at his boyfriend. when river leaned closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, flynn let out a quiet sigh, a smile tugging at his lips. "i guess he has an ass worth recording," he murmured, cheeks flushing pink. river was everything to him, someone who loved him, respected him, took care of him, he felt safe with him in a way he hadn’t before. when river mentioned flynn’s ex being his type, flynn pulled back just enough to look at him properly. "i don’t know how i feel about you saying my ex is your type," he admitted, before leaning in and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips, something very him. when he pulled away, his eyes lingered on river’s lips before meeting his gaze again. "your heart melts every day?" he teased quietly, cupping his cheek once more before leaning in again, this time letting the kiss last a little longer. "i love you," he whispered against his lips, "a lot," he added softly before kissing him again, shifting slightly so he was straddling his boyfriend’s lap, a hint of jealousy still lingering beneath the affection.

River just grinned against Flynn’s lips, clearly pleased with the reaction he always managed to pull out of him. He didn’t pull away far, barely a breath between them. At Flynn’s comment about his ex, River let out a soft, amused huff, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp but warm. “Relax,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, thumb brushing lightly along Flynn’s jaw. “You’re the one I chose, aren’t you? I was just saying if he was similar to you then he might've been my type just like you are.” There was a playful glint there, but something steadier underneath it, something certain. When Flynn kissed him again, softer, longer this time, River leaned into it without hesitation, one hand settling at his waist to keep him close. The shift in position earned a quiet, approving hum from him, his grip tightening just slightly as Flynn straddled his lap. The “I love you” made him pause, just for a second, rare for him. His expression softened, something quieter slipping through the usual chaos. Then he smirked again, because of course he did. “Yeah?” he replied, voice softer now but still laced with that familiar playfulness. His hand slid up to the back of Flynn’s neck, keeping him close. “Good." He leaned in, pressing another kiss to Flynn’s lips, slower this time, a little more deliberate. “Mm,” he hummed, clearly pleased. Then he dipped his head, lips brushing from Flynn’s mouth down to his neck, slow, and just enough to make it count without rushing it. Another soft laugh slipped out against his skin, warm and teasing. “I like when you get jealous,” he murmured, voice low, words grazing his neck just as much as his lips were. There was a grin in his tone, unmistakable. “Kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

at his boyfriend’s words, flynn’s cheeks burned red. “one thing is me loving to cling to you every five seconds, the other one is me basically shitting my pants,” he pointed out quickly. “i can cling to you without feeling like i’m about to have a heart attack,” the blond insisted. he had always been clingy, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise—not with his boyfriend. “you definitely have a dirty mind,” he added, giving river a look. “actually, i think you’re both experienced and dirty-minded,” flynn teased. when river mentioned him never complaining when he put that mind to good use, the color on flynn’s cheeks deepened. “i don’t complain,” he mumbled under his breath. when river nudged him again, he chuckled. “i noticed—mostly because they love showing his butt on the screen,” he said, shaking his head. when river’s arm slipped around his waist and pulled him closer, flynn looked up at him with a soft expression. “you’re what i like,” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. when river asked about his ex, flynn’s brows furrowed with a hint of worry. “he’s nothing like you,” he assured him quickly. “and when i said he’s like shane… i just meant he’s quiet, soft, he plays hockey. honestly he’s like the real-life version of a tv character.” he shook his head slightly. “it didn’t work because we were too similar.” he wanted river to know that chapter was closed—his ex mattered in a distant way, but nothing close to how river did. “no one stands a chance against you,” flynn promised softly, following river’s gaze. “you never lose.” and with that, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

River watched Flynn’s face turn red with quiet amusement, clearly enjoying how easily he could fluster him. When Flynn insisted there was a difference between clinging and panicking, River let out a soft chuckle, his shoulders lifting slightly. “Alright, fair point,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Clingy Flynn and terrified Flynn are apparently two very different species.” His eyes flicked back to him with a teasing glint when Flynn accused him of having a dirty mind. “Hey,” he protested lightly, though the grin tugging at his mouth ruined any real defense. “I’m not denying the experienced part, but dirty-minded?” He paused just long enough to make it obvious he was thinking about it. He looked Flynn up and down. “Okay, maybe a little.” When Flynn mumbled that he didn’t complain, River’s grin widened, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, bumping his shoulder gently against him. As Flynn talked about the show, River nodded faintly. “They really do,” he agreed with a quiet laugh. “Guy can’t turn around without the camera following his ass.” His arm slipped naturally around Flynn’s shoulder pulling him a little closer as they watched together, and when Flynn said you’re what I like, River’s expression softened. He held his gaze for a moment before speaking again. “Good,” he said simply. But when Flynn quickly reassured him about his ex, River’s brow lifted slightly, the earlier teasing easing into something calmer. “So what you’re saying,” he said slowly, his tone light, “is your ex-boyfriend is basically my type then if he's like you?" When Flynn leaned in to kiss him, River returned it easily, one hand briefly tightening at Flynn’s waist before he pulled back with a small, fond smile. River’s eyes softened as he looked at Flynn, a small, genuine smile spreading across his face. "You’re so cute,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “You make my heart melt every time you say something sweet.”

as river insisted he’d seen way scarier movies, flynn immediately shook his head. “don’t even think about showing me any of those. i’d probably shit my pants,” he muttered, a visible shiver running down his spine. “or i’d just cling to you every time something happened. honestly? probably both.” his cheeks flushed at the admission. when river teased him about looking too innocent, flynn huffed. “it’s not my fault you’re the first boyfriend i’ve had who’s this dirty-minded,” he pointed out, thinking briefly of sully—soft, gentle, just as inexperienced as he’d been. river, on the other hand, was… not that. at the mention of his celebrity crush, flynn hesitated before nodding reluctantly. “yeah. that one.” his face turned bright red almost instantly. as river started describing the character in far too much detail, flynn groaned. “river!” he covered his face with both hands. “it was not about the ass, okay? i shouldn’t have told you.” still hiding, he leaned sideways until his shoulder bumped into river’s, seeking comfort despite his embarrassment. “and i wasn’t going to say shane. he’s literally like my ex, and we know how that ended.” he finally lowered his hands just enough to peek at him. “but i wouldn’t pick ilya over you. not even close.”

River only grinned wider when Flynn warned him off the horror movies. He didn’t look remotely convinced.“Oh, Flynn,” he drawled smoothly, leaning back like he had all the time in the world, “you say that like I wouldn’t absolutely love you clinging to me every five seconds.” His eyes dragged slowly over Flynn’s flushed face, teasing but warm. When Flynn huffed about him being the first dirty-minded boyfriend, River placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Dirty-minded?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I prefer experienced. There’s a difference.” His smirk softened into something more deliberate. “And you don’t exactly complain when I’m putting this mind of mine to good use.” At the mention of the celebrity crush, Ilya, River’s eyes lit up with wicked delight the second Flynn nodded. He savored Flynn’s growing embarrassment. “And let’s not pretend you didn’t notice the ass. It’s practically a character trait. The guy's got it out nearly every scene." When Flynn groaned and covered his face, River laughed, low and pleased. He didn’t let him hide for long, though. The second Flynn leaned into him, River’s arm slid easily around his waist, pulling him closer like it was instinct. “You absolutely should’ve told me,” he murmured against Flynn’s temple. “I like knowing what you like." At the mention of Shane, River rolled his eyes playfully. “Your ex is like Shane?” he repeated slowly, eyebrows lifting. “How?” He shifted so he could fully look at Flynn, one arm still draped possessively around his waist. His thumb traced idle circles against Flynn’s hip, but his gaze was sharp now, curious, not jealous. Confident. “And don’t get it twisted,” River added softly, eyes holding Flynn’s. “If he was like Shane, then he wasn’t like me at all.” Then Flynn peeked at him and said he wouldn’t pick Ilya over him. River’s teasing expression shifted, still confident, but softer now. “That Russian wouldn’t stand a chance against me. Let’s be real.” His mouth curved into a slow, self-assured smirk. “Firstly, he’s fictional and I’m right here.” River’s gaze dipped briefly to Flynn’s lips before lifting again, deliberate. “He broods in locker rooms and glowers across the ice. I actually show up. I actually touch you. I actually make you blush.” He brushed his knuckles lightly along Flynn’s side, teasing. “And if we’re talking competition?” River added, voice lowering just a fraction. “I don’t lose.”

flynn’s eyes were locked on river as he talked about the characters in the movie they were watching. "i like drama, just not the kind that makes you scream," he mused; he was all about rom-coms and romance novels, but getting scared definitely wasn't his thing. he watched his boyfriend lean back, analyzing everyone on screen as if he hadn't already seen the film a dozen times. "okay," flynn nodded, realizing he could never do that—if a character was a jerk, he couldn't find them attractive, period. his brain just didn't work like river’s, which maybe wasn't as fun, but it was just how he was wired. flynn totally missed the jokes at first; his mind was too innocent to realize the "sandwich" wasn't some deep metaphor until his boyfriend mentioned wanting to be in bed between the characters. he felt a wave of embarrassment, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning bright red. "oh... well, that's good, i wouldn't want to look like a serial killer anyway," he joked, glancing at river. he secretly wanted to ask what would happen to him if river was actually in bed with those two, but his eyebrows furrowed when the conversation shifted. "my celebrity crush?" he asked, swallowing hard as his heart started pounding. "i don't know..." he trailed off, taking a few minutes to answer—not because he was clueless, but because he was actually nervous to admit it. "you know that hockey show we watched the other night? i think the blonde guy might be one," he nodded. "not the shy one, the blonde guy i think is really hot."

River listened with an easy smile, half-focused on the movie and half on Flynn rambling beside him. “Drama’s fine,” he said lightly, eyes still on the screen, “as long as it’s the kind you can flirt through and not the kind that makes you sleep with the lights on. This horror movie isn't too crazy compared to other's I've watched in the past.” He leaned back a little further, relaxed, and content. When Flynn finally caught onto the joke and flushed red, River let out a soft laugh. “Hey, I was just clarifying,” he teased. “You were looking way too innocent over there. I was starting to worry.” At Flynn’s serial killer comment, River turned his head to look at him properly, amused. “Yeah, that’d really ruin the vibe,” he said dryly, lips quirking up. “Very off-brand for you.” He noticed the shift immediately when Flynn hesitated about the celebrity crush. River didn’t interrupt, just watched him, patient, a little curious. When Flynn finally admitted it, River hummed thoughtfully. “Heated rivalry?” he said, tone casual but knowing. River glanced back at the screen, then slowly back at Flynn, one eyebrow lifting just a touch. “Interesting,” he said, a hint of a smirk forming. “So tall, hot, kind of intense. Maybe a little angry.” His eyebrow stayed raised as he looked at Flynn. “Good to know.” River snorted, turning fully toward Flynn now. “Of course you like the one with the big peen and juicy ass too,” he said dryly, amusement clear in his voice. “Nice preferences."

he knew his boyfriend was having the time of his life with that movie; he had noticed him smile at the characters, smirk at their lines. “the mask guy appears all the time and it scares me, i don’t know why you’re not shitting yourself like i am,” he shook his head. flynn was everything—emotional, dramatic, jumpy—and watching movies with him was a difficult task; within twenty seconds he could be bawling his eyes out, screaming, or just going aw. “i don’t get why you like these movies,” he mused, holding his hand a little tighter. “hot? river, they’re murderers, they can’t be hot,” he shook his head, his attention leaving the screen to glance at river, who was now clearly evaluating both characters on screen. “oh, river,” he rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “a sandwich i’d like to be in between,” he repeated, “where do i belong in that sandwich?” he asked, “i hope i’m the cheese,” he chuckled, looking back at the screen. then he realised it wasn't an innocent sandwich, "oh wait, you'd like both of them with you in bed" his cheeks burned red, "i don't know why i even ask" flynn took his free hand to his face, “do i look like a serial killer, is that why you like me?”

River answered without looking away from the screen at first, amusement clear in the easy curve of his mouth. He squeezed Flynn’s hand back, grounding and steady. “They’re not scary to me anymore,” he said lightly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was teasing, fond rather than mocking. When the masked figure popped up again and Flynn flinched, River finally glanced at him, eyes warm. “Besides, if something jumps out, I’ve got you. That’s kind of the fun of these things. I also like watching your reactions too, it's cute." When Flynn questioned his taste, River hummed thoughtfully, still watching the movie like he was analyzing the art of it instead of chaos. “I like them because they’re dramatic,” he replied. “A little unhinged.” He tilted his head toward Flynn, smirk deepening. “You like dramatic things too. You just scream at them." At the comment about the characters being hot, River didn’t even deny it. He leaned back, clearly evaluating the screen with mock seriousness. “I can appreciate aesthetics and still know they’re awful people,” he said, playful confidence in every word. When Flynn joked about the sandwich, River finally turned fully toward him, eyebrow raised, grin slow and knowing. “If you’re the cheese,” he said smoothly, “then you’re the best part. Obviously.” His thumb brushed over Flynn’s knuckles, affectionate and grounding, as if to soften the embarrassment that followed. “Mhm, that's definitely what I meant. I'd like to be in a bed with both of them." And when Flynn covered his face and asked the final question, River didn’t joke right away. He shifted closer to him. “No,” he said simply. “You look like someone who cares too much, feels too hard, and jumps at fake murderers in movies.” A soft smile followed. “I like you because you’re you. I'd choose you time and time again." River leaned in without making a big deal out of it, pressing a quick, warm kiss to Flynn’s cheek—casual, affectionate, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “So,” River added, tone confident but amused, “important question.” He tilted his head. “Who’s your celebrity crush, huh?”

their hands were laced together over the armrest of the cinema seat. they were supposed to be watching the movie, but if flynn was honest, he was way more focused on river. they were screening scream since halloween was coming up, and flynn had already jumped a couple of times—reason why river was the one holding the popcorn now, after flynn had showered half the bucket on the man in front of them. the movie was almost over. "you told me this wasn’t scary," he whispered, looking at his boyfriend. @river-adams

River kept their fingers lazily intertwined, thumb sweeping over Flynn’s knuckles in slow, amused strokes. At Flynn’s whisper, he turned his head just enough for the flickering screen light to catch the smirk already tugging at his mouth. "This isn’t scary,” River murmured back, voice low and warm with teasing. “You’re just jumpy.” He nudged Flynn’s knee with his own, eyes gleaming. “Good thing I’m here to protect you from… fictional masked murderers.” Another smirk, sharper this time. “Think you can survive the last five minutes, tough guy?” River’s smirk only widened, mischief sparking in his eyes as he leaned a little closer, their hands still tangled together over the armrest. “The two villains in this are hot though, no"? He tilted his head toward the screen, pretending to evaluate the characters with scholarly seriousness. “Stu’s got that dorky thing going for him. Kinda cute.” His thumb brushed Flynn’s knuckles again, slow and deliberate. “And Billy's gorgeous." River glanced back at Flynn, smirk deepening. “That’s a sandwich I’d like to be in between."

flynn stayed close to him, his breathing syncing with river’s as that steady hand kept tracing wide, comforting circles across his back — grounding him in a way no one else ever had. when river told him to listen, flynn nodded against his chest, taking a shaky breath. knowing river wasn’t mad made his chest loosen; he couldn’t bear the thought of him being angry. “you don’t have to be jealous,” he whispered, voice muffled against his shirt, “i’ll never look at anyone the way i look at you.” when river pressed their foreheads together, flynn closed his eyes, trying to memorize the moment — the warmth, the safety, the quiet promise between them. hearing river say he loved him again felt like oxygen; it was all he needed to hear. flynn exhaled softly, his heart finally steadying. “because you’re more than just your body,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. river’s hand brushed away a tear from his cheek with such gentleness it almost undid him again. “i really love you, river,” he whispered, smiling through the mess of emotions on his face. when river agreed to go home, he nodded. “that’s all i need.” a quiet laugh escaped him. “it’s not my fault i’m taller than you,” he teased, lacing their fingers together. “come on.” but as river mentioned his friends, flynn’s eyes widened — right, the group. “i’ll be right back, but… come with me,” he murmured, tugging him along. they found the group already packing up. “guys, i’m heading home. arden, don’t wait up — i’m staying at river’s tonight.” arden squinted, pointing at river like a protective sister. “sure, treat him well.” “he will,” flynn said quickly, smiling, “bye, idiots.” the grin that lingered on his lips said everything — he was exactly where he wanted to be. as they stepped outside into the night, he gave river’s hand a soft squeeze. “i love you,” he said quietly, looking up at him. “you know that, right?”

River couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as Flynn spoke, his chest warming with every word. The way Flynn’s voice softened — the way he said he’d never look at anyone else — it hit something deep in him. He pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes for a moment, just breathing him in. “I know,” he murmured, voice low but steady. “And I’m not jealous. Just stupidly in love with you.” As Flynn teased him about being taller, River let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Keep bragging, giant,” he said, squeezing Flynn’s hand as they walked. He secretly loved the slight height difference. It felt nice to look up and love someone. When they reached the group, River hung back a step, his hand still tangled with Flynn’s. He caught Arden’s protective look and couldn’t help the amused tilt of his brow. With a grin, River straightened a little and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll treat him right — promise.” There was a ripple of laughter from the group, and River’s smile softened as he lifted a hand in farewell. “Take care, all of you. Get home safe.” Then he turned back to Flynn, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. The noise of the group faded behind them as they stepped out into the quiet night. Under the glow of the streetlights, River glanced at Flynn — really looked at him — and the look in his eyes said everything words couldn’t. “I know,” he said softly. “And I love you, too.” He slipped an hand down to Flynn's bum and gave it a little squeeze as he tugged him a little closer, his smile turning downright mischievous. “So,” he said, his voice full of teasing warmth, “my house?” River leaned in close enough that Flynn could feel the warmth of his breath, his tone dropping into something teasing but fond. “Just want to remind you who’s yours and all that," he said with a small, crooked smile.

hearing he wasn’t upset made flynn let out a sob—not because he didn’t want to be upset, but because the pain inside him loosened for a second; he felt sad, violent, and unbelievably ashamed, but knowing river wasn’t mad made things better. when river told him he wasn’t alone a tear slid down his cheek—he’d never wanted to hurt river, he would never do that; river was too pure, too sensitive for him to want to cause pain. still, he felt guilty for not speaking up, for bottling everything inside. every single touch—river’s hand moving up and down his back and through his hair, the kiss on his forehead—soothed him in a way nothing else could. when river said he loved him exactly as he was, flynn drew a deep breath; that was what he needed to hear. “i know, i just don’t want to hurt you, river, ever,” he promised, voice shaking, “i’m sorry i upset you.” he repeated the apology in his head—he’d fucked up and he needed forgiveness, which said a lot about who he’d been before river. he pulled river close and kissed his forehead, eyes closed—he was his; his heart belonged to river, and that was all flynn knew. when river kissed him back his heart skipped that familiar beat it always did; “i love you more than anything, river,” he whispered, then pulled back a little to see his face. “you promise you’re not mad at me?” he asked. “my friends know i love you and that’s enough,” he added, then laughed softly, “and people like you, river—you’re magnetic. you shouldn’t be jealous; i should be the jealous one. everyone wants you and i still don’t know why you chose me.” he sighed, exhausted from crying. “i’m really tired,” he admitted. “can we go home and sleep on your couch? maybe get something to eat, and i just want you to hold me, river.”

River kept his hand moving in slow, grounding circles over Flynn’s back, the other brushing through his hair in that calm, methodical way that he hoped would settle him. His voice was low, steady, and clear, with no hesitation in it. “Listen to me,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. Not even close. You didn’t hurt me. I just got a little jealous.” He pressed his forehead briefly against Flynn’s, a simple, firm gesture. “You don’t ever have to apologise for what you’re feeling. You don’t owe me that. The only thing I want is for you to tell me before it builds up like this. Don’t keep it locked inside until it breaks you down. I’d rather hear the hard parts than watch you drown in them.” He kissed Flynn’s forehead again, not tender so much as certain — like a promise. “You’re mine. That’s enough for me. I love you exactly as you are, even when you’re upset, even when you’re messy. Especially then. So stop worrying about hurting me, because you don’t. You make my life better, not worse.” When Flynn brought up jealousy, River huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He gave a short, sharp scoff, shaking his head like Flynn had just said the dumbest thing. “Everyone wants me?” he repeated, a wry edge in his voice. “No, Flynn. People want the idea of me. They want the body, the surface, the show. Nobody’s lining up to see how I’m actually doing. Nobody asks about my day, or what’s in my head. They don’t want me — they want something to look at.” He paused just long enough to smooth his hand down Flynn’s back again, grounding him. “But you? You see me. Not the cover. Not the body. Me. That’s why I don’t care about anyone else. That’s why I’m here.” River shifted just enough to look at him straight, brushing his thumb under Flynn’s eye to wipe away what was left of his tears. “Now, as for being tired—yeah. Let’s go home. We’ll crash on the couch, grab something to eat, and I’ll hold you,” he said, voice even, “but let me get some couch too, lanky. You’re all limbs." River pushed himself up with a deliberate, easy motion and offered his hand without any fuss, palm open and steady. “Come on, baby boy. Time to go home,” he said, voice flat but warm, the kind of no-nonsense comfort Flynn always trusted. He gave a short, crooked smile that softened the edges of the command. “Make sure you say goodbye to your friends first.”

flynn was broken, uncontrollably sobbing and holding himself as if he might shatter, and that was him—the second someone raised their voice at him, everything inside shut off. he couldn’t really listen, he just curled into a ball of self-hatred and guilt. as river pulled him closer, flynn didn’t say anything, his arms still wrapped tight around himself like he wasn’t sure river was really there. it took him a couple of seconds to finally give in, to hug his boyfriend back, crying against the side of his neck, letting everything pour out in heavy, desperate tears. what river said was true, he needed to speak up, but he couldn’t—he physically couldn’t—and so he kept it all locked inside. when river told him to look at him, flynn pulled back, his face red, his eyes puffing from how hard he was crying. “i am the bad guy,” he choked, “i didn’t think of you, i should have told that guy to stop for you, but i couldn’t,” he sobbed, his breath hitching. when river promised he wasn’t going anywhere, flynn only cried harder—how could he still be here? he didn’t deserve him. “but i don’t like fighting,” he whispered, hating himself for ever talking back, convinced river could do better without him. who would want to stay with someone who broke down this badly over an argument? when river’s hands moved to his cheeks, flynn leaned into the touch, eyes closing as he sobbed more quietly. “i love you too,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “i just can’t… i feel so bad every time, i don’t want to let people down. what if that guy stops listening, or stops coming to the concerts? what if he tells people i’m rude? what if everything breaks because i couldn’t handle something so stupid?” flynn always carried it like it was all his fault, every little thing on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t. “i’m really sorry, river,” he breathed, finally opening his swollen eyes to meet his boyfriend’s, “i didn’t want anyone to think you’re the bad guy. i just couldn’t handle you being mad at me. i’m so sorry. i love you so much. please forgive me.”

River’s heart ached as he felt Flynn trembling in his arms. He could sense the weight of the guilt and self-doubt pulling his boyfriend under, and it made him want to shield him from everything. As Flynn’s sobs filled the space between them, River held him tighter, his hands moving over Flynn’s back and through his hair, rubbing soothing circles, just trying to be the steady presence Flynn needed. River’s voice was soft, almost a murmur, but firm in its promise. “Flynn… listen to me. You’re not the bad guy. You’re not broken. You’re hurting, and I get that. But I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m right here with you. I’m not going to leave you just ‘cause you feel like you messed up. I love you too much for that. I was just upset, maybe a little jealous too." When Flynn pulled back, River’s hand gently cupped his boyfriend’s face, wiping away the remnants of tears with his thumb, his touch tender but steady. “You’re not alone in this, Flynn,” River continued, his eyes searching Flynn’s, grounding him in the reality of their love. “I’m not upset at you. I’m upset for you, yeah?" Flynn’s words tumbled out, a mixture of guilt and fear, and River listened, heart heavy but still resolute. The self-loathing that wrapped around Flynn like a second skin was something River couldn’t stand. He shook his head slowly, leaning in to press his forehead gently against Flynn’s. "You definitely didn’t let me down. I want you to hear me when I say this—you are everything to me. You don’t have to be perfect, or never mess up, or always be strong. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.” He pulled back just enough to look Flynn in the eyes, his hands still gently cradling his face. “I love you exactly the way you are. I’m not gonna let some stupid argument tear us apart. I just like to be heard, you know that." River’s thumb gently traced over Flynn’s lips, feeling the tremor in his boyfriend’s breath as he tried to control his sobs. “You don’t have to protect me from this. You don’t have to apologise to me either." He gave a soft smile, the kind that was meant to calm the storm inside. He leaned forward and kissed Flynn’s forehead, then rested his cheek against the other’s, breathing in the comfort of being close. “You’re mine, Flynn. Always. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything." With a soft exhale, River leaned in, pressing his lips to Flynn’s, tasting the salt from his tears but also the warmth of their connection. It was a slow, reassuring kiss, not rushed but full of purpose—a promise in the press of his lips that he was never going to leave him, not when it got hard, not when Flynn thought he wasn’t enough. When they pulled apart, River rested his forehead against Flynn’s, his voice soft but unwavering. “I can deal with your friends' opinions of me, Flynn. If they think I’m something I’m not, I’ll change that. It’s gonna take time, sure, but I can do that. I’m not scared of people thinking the worst of me. Hell, I’m used to it. People don't like me, that’s kind of my default.” He chuckled, a sound laced with both bitterness and strength.

River stood in the doorway, chest heaving, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Every word Flynn threw at him cracked something deeper inside, but he refused to let it show. "There you go, turning this around on me." His voice was low, but it carried, coiled with rage and something deeper—something wounded. "I didn't accuse you of anything. I said I'm pissed because you didn't say anything. You're admitting yourself that it made you uncomfortable. Yet I'm still in the wrong?" He paced once, then stopped himself, raking a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. River’s hands shook as he pointed—once at Flynn, then back at himself, then at the space between them. "So you don’t have a problem with my past until you can use it as bait?" he snapped, eyes sharp and wounded. "That’s not fair, Flynn." His voice cracked with the force of it, but he powered through. "All of that—everything you just threw in my face—that was before you and me. Before we were anything. Fuck, you even watched it yourself. Since then." He gestured hard again, stabbing the air between them with his finger. "This? This is different." His voice dropped, not quieter, but heavier—thick with disbelief. " His voice cracked on the last part, but he forced it down. "You want to talk about my past making you feel uncomfortable because other guys have seen it? Then fucking talk to me. Don’t throw it back in my face like that." His eyes burned as he looked at Flynn—really looked at him—and he hated how broken he looked. But he couldn’t stop. River took a step closer, but not too close. He exhaled hard through his nose, voice lowering again, more tired now than angry. "But instead, I get this. You locked yourself away, and now you’re crying like I’m the monster for reacting like a human being. But I didn’t walk away, Flynn. You did." He crossed his arms tightly, bracing himself like the words might be the only thing keeping him standing. "You say you hate how he looked at you and treated you? Then say that to me. Tell me that instead of making me feel like I’m not allowed to feel a fucking thing when someone touches what’s mine. I know you're too nice for your own good to say anything to him or your team. But, I'm not. I'll say it my whole damn chest if needed." River rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stay glued to the ceiling. “Jesus fucking Christ, Flynn,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe they were even still in this conversation. His whole body buzzed with that electric kind of anger—sharp, hot, tight—and it showed in the way he moved, in the way his jaw clenched and unclenched like he was trying not to snap all over again. But then—without warning—he dropped to his knees in front of Flynn. Not in surrender, not in softness. It was intentional, firm, in-your-face. He leaned in, sweat at his temple, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His eyes locked onto Flynn’s, furious and unblinking, the heat behind them unmistakable. “You get to say no,” he growled, voice low and rough, inches from Flynn’s face. “You don’t need to apologise for struggling. You don’t need to be perfect. But you get to say no.” His fingers curled into fists on his knees. “You can have some fucking boundaries and still be a nice person."

the way river was so angry made flynn want to cry, he wanted to cry because river was yelling at him when he didn’t know how to say how he felt, because he hadn’t been able to tell that guy to stop even though he was uncomfortable, because he was too nice for that, he would never be able to. “you’re not in the wrong, i don’t know why you keep talking to me like that,” he cried now, blinking as a tear slid down his face. when river pointed at him, flynn just wanted to run again, to hide. and when he heard river’s voice crack as he said it wasn’t fair that flynn was fine with his past until he could use it against him—he didn’t want to do that, why would he ever want to hurt the man he loved? “i know i watched it, but i need to get this out, you tell me to talk and then when i do, i’m being unreasonable,” flynn sobbed, because crying was the only thing he felt like he could do anymore. his chest was tight, he felt crushed under it all, so alone, being told he was using his past as a weapon when he didn’t even understand how those words came out of him. he felt like the bad guy, hurting river just because he hadn’t been able to say no. the way river looked at him made his chest ache. and now flynn was fully crying, sobbing into himself, arms wrapped around his own body like that could hold him together. he wasn’t really listening anymore, all he could hear was his own thoughts screaming that he was the villain, the one who made river feel like this. he didn’t hear river calling him his, didn’t see the way he was reaching for him, didn’t register anything until river dropped to his knees right in front of him—and that shattered flynn. you get to say no. flynn looked away, unable to see him like that. his arms stayed around his body, small and scared, like a kid who just wanted the world to stop. he couldn’t believe he’d hurt river like that. “i’m sorry,” he finally whispered, voice trembling as he tried to breathe through it. “i’m the worst, i’m the worst,” he said again and again, still frozen in place. “i’m the worst and i hate myself because i hurt you,” he cried harder now, body shaking. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t want to hurt you, i’m the worst, please don’t leave me.”

River was burning with a fierce kind of anger that wasn’t just noise. He was exhausted, every muscle tense, every nerve screaming, but nothing could drown out the storm inside him. When he saw Flynn broken like this—crying, trembling, shrinking away—River’s anger shifted, sharpened into something more desperate and tender. Without hesitation, River pushed himself up from the couch, muscles tight with both frustration and fierce love. He pulled Flynn close into his arms, holding him like a lifeline, like he could keep him safe from every cruel thought that haunted him. He knew Flynn wasn’t like him. Flynn didn’t have that same fire, that same roar to fight back. He didn’t speak up for himself the way River did, didn’t stand tall and angry when things got ugly. But River saw it all. He saw the way Flynn carried the weight in silence, the way he tried so hard to be kind even when it broke him inside. “Hey,” River murmured, voice low and rough with exhaustion, his hands firm but gentle on Flynn’s back. “Look at me.” Flynn’s shoulders shook, and River’s heart clenched. He could feel the ache beneath those sobs—the fear, the guilt, the self-hate. River swallowed hard. “You’re not the bad guy here.” He pressed his forehead to Flynn’s, fierce and soft all at once. “You get to say no. You always get to say no.” His voice cracked, the weight of it all catching in his throat. He tightened his hold, like letting Flynn go would mean losing him. When Flynn whispered apologies over and over, calling himself the worst, River’s anger flared hotter—not at Flynn, but at the world that made him feel this way. “No,” River said, voice shaking now, but steady in its fierce promise. “Flynn, please. You’re mine. And I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed Flynn’s temple, whispering through ragged breaths, “I have been called so much worse. I was just angry, okay? That's it. Couple's fight sometimes." In that moment, River’s fire wasn’t just anger. It was protection. It was love that refused to let Flynn fall apart alone. River’s hand moved gently, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles over Flynn’s cheek. His eyes softened as he looked down at him, fierce yet full of aching love. “I love you, Flynn,” he said quietly, voice thick with everything he felt. “I just don’t want people to take advantage of you. I know that feeling.” He swallowed hard, the memories flickering behind his gaze. He could still remember every part of his past and the situation that he'd gone through back then. “I know what it’s like to have that power held over your head, to have it dangled like some cruel game.” His thumb lingered, brushing away a stray tear. “I don’t want you going through the same shit I had to learn from. You’re too sweet and too pure,” he said softly, voice low but filled with raw honesty, “and it’s poison.”

flynn locked himself in the room, overwhelmed, heart racing—he couldn’t believe river had said that to him. he had just been doing his job. it wasn’t because he didn’t care—he cared so deeply about river it scared him sometimes. he ran a hand through his hair, breath catching. river was mad at him. maybe he could’ve told that guy to back off, maybe he should’ve, but he hadn’t, and yeah, it had made him uncomfortable, but river shouldn’t be the one hurting—not over a picture that meant absolutely nothing. it wasn’t like he’d cheated right in front of him. when he heard the door open, he turned instinctively, hoping it would be arden—or at least a version of river that wasn’t angry. he couldn’t even look at him properly. shame and sadness had wrapped themselves so tightly around flynn’s chest he could barely breathe, let alone talk. the way river was looking at him felt like a dagger. “this isn’t to make my friends hate you, you’re not the fucking bad guy—but why do you act like i snogged that guy?” he said, his voice cracking. “why do you get so mad at me? yeah, i could’ve told him to move, i could’ve done a lot of things, but you know i couldn’t.” he turned away, blinking through tears. “why does everything have to be about you?” he snapped. “you’ve got a hundred videos of you naked and touching yourself all over the internet—people look at you like you’re theirs, and you let them.” he regretted saying it even as the words flew out, but they were already out, raw and unfiltered. “but i’m not allowed to lose my mind over the fact that a million people pay to see you naked, i have to stay quiet and just take it.” he turned back to face river, voice cracking again. “but yeah, fuck flynn’s stupid feelings, because that’s what everyone does—think about themselves, get angry at me because it’s hard for me to say no, and suddenly i’m the one in the wrong.” his voice broke as tears streamed down his cheeks. “you didn’t even ask how i felt. you didn’t ask if i was okay.” he shook his head slowly. “but yeah, fuck me, right? because i’m stupid and i keep thinking people will understand how hard it is for me to talk to people, to say no, and this is what i get.” he walked away, sitting down on the nearest couch, exhausted and broken. “don’t you think i hated how he looked at me?” he said, louder now. “i hated every second his hands were on me. i fucking hated it. i feel so fucking dirty right now, knowing you saw it, knowing i couldn’t stop it—and your first reaction was to accuse me.” he looked up at river, eyes shining with betrayal. “thanks, boyfriend.”

River stood in the doorway, chest heaving, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Every word Flynn threw at him cracked something deeper inside, but he refused to let it show. "There you go, turning this around on me." His voice was low, but it carried, coiled with rage and something deeper—something wounded. "I didn't accuse you of anything. I said I'm pissed because you didn't say anything. You're admitting yourself that it made you uncomfortable. Yet I'm still in the wrong?" He paced once, then stopped himself, raking a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. River’s hands shook as he pointed—once at Flynn, then back at himself, then at the space between them. "So you don’t have a problem with my past until you can use it as bait?" he snapped, eyes sharp and wounded. "That’s not fair, Flynn." His voice cracked with the force of it, but he powered through. "All of that—everything you just threw in my face—that was before you and me. Before we were anything. Fuck, you even watched it yourself. Since then." He gestured hard again, stabbing the air between them with his finger. "This? This is different." His voice dropped, not quieter, but heavier—thick with disbelief. " His voice cracked on the last part, but he forced it down. "You want to talk about my past making you feel uncomfortable because other guys have seen it? Then fucking talk to me. Don’t throw it back in my face like that." His eyes burned as he looked at Flynn—really looked at him—and he hated how broken he looked. But he couldn’t stop. River took a step closer, but not too close. He exhaled hard through his nose, voice lowering again, more tired now than angry. "But instead, I get this. You locked yourself away, and now you’re crying like I’m the monster for reacting like a human being. But I didn’t walk away, Flynn. You did." He crossed his arms tightly, bracing himself like the words might be the only thing keeping him standing. "You say you hate how he looked at you and treated you? Then say that to me. Tell me that instead of making me feel like I’m not allowed to feel a fucking thing when someone touches what’s mine. I know you're too nice for your own good to say anything to him or your team. But, I'm not. I'll say it my whole damn chest if needed." River rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stay glued to the ceiling. “Jesus fucking Christ, Flynn,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe they were even still in this conversation. His whole body buzzed with that electric kind of anger—sharp, hot, tight—and it showed in the way he moved, in the way his jaw clenched and unclenched like he was trying not to snap all over again. But then—without warning—he dropped to his knees in front of Flynn. Not in surrender, not in softness. It was intentional, firm, in-your-face. He leaned in, sweat at his temple, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His eyes locked onto Flynn’s, furious and unblinking, the heat behind them unmistakable. “You get to say no,” he growled, voice low and rough, inches from Flynn’s face. “You don’t need to apologise for struggling. You don’t need to be perfect. But you get to say no.” His fingers curled into fists on his knees. “You can have some fucking boundaries and still be a nice person."

they normally didn’t have to deal with these kinds of moments, their fans were always nice. they normally wanted to take pictures next to casey, he was the real star, the voice of the group, sometimes arden—normally women—flynn could get why, they were the main attraction of the group, he wasn’t mad about it. he was glad people liked them. but that fan wanted a picture next to him, and the blonde wasn’t able to say no. it was supposed to be a wholesome moment, but it didn’t feel like it. he wasn’t really happy. in fact, the other had made him feel bad. as river walked towards them, flynn tried to stay calm, maybe river hadn’t noticed, maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but it wasn’t, and river had noticed. “it was just stupid, river, i overreacted, he was just hugging me, that’s fine,” he tried to brush it off, trying to blend into the group’s energy, but it wasn’t working for him. as he lowered his voice, he felt like he couldn’t look him in the eyes. he was nervous. “you’re not just my boyfriend, river, it’s completely different,” he assured, his brow furrowing. as river accused him of prioritizing his own feelings over his, flynn felt his chest tightening. he didn’t say anything, he just walked away, quickly, toward the room they had changed in before the concert. he heard arden saying his name, people chatting loudly—after all, the room still had a little line of people waiting for a picture—but he couldn’t do it.

River wasn’t usually the jealous type. He didn’t need to be. Which was why this hurt more than it should have. They normally didn’t deal with this kind of shit. The fans were nice—kind, even. Mostly just wanted photos. But that one fan had crossed a line. River saw it before Flynn did. Or maybe Flynn had seen it and just... let it happen. That was worse. That was what made River’s jaw tighten as he walked toward them. What made his fists curl slightly at his sides. It was supposed to be a wholesome moment. And River hadn’t missed the way the fan had pulled him close like they owned him—like Flynn was just another prize from the merch table. And Flynn, sweet and non-confrontational to a fault, hadn’t said no. So when Flynn tried to play it down, River didn’t buy it. River watched him closely. Not angry. Not yet. But hurt. “That’s not what this is about,” River said, voice quieter than usual, calmer than Flynn probably expected. “It’s not about a hug.” He stared at him, chest tightening. Because yeah—he knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that when Flynn brushed things off like this, when he tried to make peace with everyone else at the expense of himself. But Flynn didn’t argue back. He just went quiet. Then turned. And walked away. River didn’t move at first. He just stood there, staring at the space where Flynn had been. He heard Arden call Flynn’s name, heard people still laughing and chatting, oblivious to the way things had just cracked open under the surface. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said, already stepping away. “In private.” No one stopped him. He knew exactly where Flynn had gone—back to the small dressing room. River opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a click that sounded louder than it was. Then he leaned back against it, arms folding, one brow lifting slowly. The attitude came naturally. Not out of spite—but because that was how he dealt with things. River rolled his eyes, sharp and deliberate. “Walking away from your boyfriend?” he said, his tone biting but not loud. “Ouch. Next.” But River wasn’t done. He pushed off the door slowly, taking a step forward, pacing now—not with anger, but with energy he couldn’t sit on. “What’s the plan, huh?” he said, tilting his head. “You wanna spiral quietly in here so your friends can hate me outside? ‘Poor Flynn, look what River did to him.’ Is that how this goes?” River shook his head, letting out a sharp breath. “Look, I didn’t come in here to fight with you,” he added, softer now, the edge still there, but blunted. “But don’t act like I’m the bad guy for being pissed when someone touched you like that and you just… smiled." He stopped pacing, standing a few feet from Flynn now. His hands dropped to his sides, his tone dipping lower—less sharp, but not less honest. “Yeah, maybe I’m a little jealous and pissed off,” River said, shrugging one shoulder, like it didn’t cost him something to admit it. “But, dude—you’d feel the exact same if the tables were turned.” He waited. “If someone pulled me in, held on like that, looked at me like I was theirs—and I let them? You’d lose your mind. I know you would.” His voice didn’t accuse. It just told the truth. Then he threw his arms out to the side in pure exasperation, his body tense, eyes narrowing. “But fuck River’s feelings, right?” he snapped, arms still out, like he was inviting some answer that wasn’t going to come.

fans weren’t normally a problem when it came to the group. they were usually nice and fun to be around, and that was one of the things he loved most about taking pictures with them. it felt good seeing who was behind all those views and listens their songs got. but if he was being completely honest, he hadn’t liked the way that last fan made him feel. obviously, he wasn’t going to say anything—he was way too nervous and anxious for that. he tried to keep it to himself, but it had been hard, and judging by the way river looked at him, he had noticed too. he’d been uncomfortable, but he hadn’t said a word. as his boyfriend greeted his band, flynn couldn’t help but smile—it kind of felt like a soft launch. they all knew he had a boyfriend, but meeting them all in person felt like another step forward in their relationship. after all, the band was like his family. at his question, flynn looked away, trying to act unbothered by that fan, but it hadn’t worked. he bit down on his lower lip, feeling a little ashamed. he heard arden joke about not doing a boudoir shoot with a fan, which made everyone laugh, but flynn was too embarrassed to say anything. at river’s words, flynn looked back at him. “it was,” he finally admitted, “but it was just a picture… i didn’t want to make things awkward or have him get mad, river,” he said softly. “was it that obvious?” he asked, worried, his eyes searching the taller boy’s face for reassurance.

River had seen the shift in Flynn the moment that fan leaned in a little too close. He’d tried to brush it off at first—he knew Flynn hated making a scene, especially in front of people. But he could read Flynn like a book by now. The forced smile, the slight edge in his voice, the way his shoulders had tensed just enough to give him away. River had clocked all of it, and it had made something tight coil in his chest. The group had moved on quickly, the band cracking jokes and ribbing each other like always. River had played along, greeted everyone with that easygoing charm, but his mind had stayed half-focused on Flynn. He saw the way he avoided eye contact, biting at his lip like he was trying to swallow down the discomfort. That fan had crossed a line—even if it was subtle. And even if Flynn didn’t say it out loud, River felt it. "Yeah,” River said quietly, not in a teasing way but like he was just being honest. “It kind of was.” He stepped in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough so the others couldn’t hear. “No one gets to make you uncomfortable like that." River glanced over at the group, all wrapped up in their jokes and easy laughter, before turning his gaze back to Flynn again. He furrowed his eyebrows as Flynn said it was just a picture. It didn't make it right. "It’s just a picture?,’” he repeated, slightly annoyed. “... And I’m just your boyfriend.” River knew he was being dramatic. He knew it. It was just a photo. A quick, passing moment with a fan who probably didn’t think twice about it after walking away. But that didn’t stop the way his jaw tightened, or how his stomach had knotted the second he saw Flynn lean in—even if it was just to be polite, even if it meant nothing. “You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Cool. Glad we’re prioritising his feelings over mine."

meet and greets weren't something the band had done for a long time, only after that big concert did people start talking about it, and the band couldn't say no to the opportunity. the moment they shared, exchanging a few words with fans and taking pictures, was always fun. sometimes, they'd get weird requests, like one time when a fan asked the band to pick them up bridal style, and they couldn't say no to such an odd request. but the guy who came up to take a picture with his friends actually made flynn feel uncomfortable. flynn was always kind and gentle, trying not to think of this guy touching him as anything sexual, but the way he wrapped his arms around him and placed his hand over his chest was making him nervous. he could feel the guy noticing how fast his heart was beating, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. when the guy unwrapped his arms and waved goodbye to the others, arden looked at flynn, wordlessly asking if he was okay, having noticed that her best friend wasn’t comfortable. but then there was river, one of the next people. he smiled as he walked closer. "hey, stranger," he mused, trying to sound casual, wanting to push that image out of his mind. "any requests?"

River’s eyes narrowed as he watched the fan wrap his arms around Flynn, the touch far too familiar and not in the friendly way the meet and greets were supposed to be. Flynn’s body stiffened instantly, and River could tell by the way his shoulders tensed and the subtle shift in his expression that he wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t just the fan’s behavior that bothered him—it was the fact that Flynn never said anything, that he always tried to hide how much he hated being in those situations. River couldn’t stand it. He hated seeing Flynn let people cross boundaries like that just to keep the peace. The fan’s hand lingered too long, resting over Flynn’s chest in a way that felt too intimate for a meet and greet, and River’s patience snapped. He watched as Flynn forced a smile, doing his best to stay kind, but River was already on edge. He wanted to walk over and push the guy off, but he knew Flynn would be pissed if he did. Still, he couldn’t shake the irritation bubbling inside him. River’s jaw clenched as he turned away, trying to shake the frustration that was rising within him. He was the next to approach. River walked toward Flynn, a slight annoyed expression on his face. The meet-and-greet had been going smoothly, but there was a lingering tension in the air, especially after the way that last fan had made Flynn uncomfortable. River couldn’t shake the thought of how the fan had touched Flynn, how the discomfort had been so visible on his face despite his best efforts to stay composed. It didn’t sit well with him. As he drew closer, River tried to push the irritation out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on the moment in front of him. He didn’t want to make things awkward, especially for Flynn or his band, but a part of him couldn’t just ignore what had happened. He stepped up, his smile warm but with an underlying tension that wasn’t entirely hidden. "Hi Flynn, Arden, Nate and Casey." He couldn’t help but glance at Flynn, watching him closely, wanting to make sure he was okay. River’s mind was still reeling a bit, but he wasn’t about to let it show. He knew Flynn would try to brush it off, but River wasn’t going to let this moment slide without making sure his best friend was alright "I don't know. Is any pose off limits or is it just a free for all out here?" He hoped Flynn would speak up if he needed to, but for now, River just wanted to make sure he felt uncomfortable too. He leaned in a little closer to Flynn, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance, though he tried to keep it low-key. “Call me a bad boyfriend or whatever,” River began, his voice slightly tight, “but I didn’t like the last guy’s pose with you. A bit too much, no?” River wasn’t usually one to make a big deal out of things, but seeing Flynn try to grin and bear it when clearly unsettled made him mad. Flynn deserved to be comfortable, and River hated that he felt like he had to tolerate things like that.

everyone knew flynn was a very anxious person with a tendency to overthink, worry about the details, and be dismissive about his abilities. he could tell how much river was really enjoying seeing him like that, but he was struggling to admit it or even let himself feel it. he was better at acknowledging others' feelings—his own? that was a whole different challenge. he could have been more like nate, casey, or arden and simply told river that he had watched and rewatched his video, that he had even used it when he was needy, but that wasn’t flynn. flynn was going to blush and try to see where that took him instead. he was nervous; he had never been in this situation before. when river told him he looked cute when he was nervous, flynn couldn't help but glance at him, his cheeks burning red at the comment. flynn could be really outgoing, but when it came to those kinds of conversations, it was hard for him. of course, he wanted the real thing—he had probably memorized the whole video. "you're glad i watched it?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. he wasn't expecting that. as river took the pillow away from him, flynn was about to protest, but then he found river climbing on top of his thighs, straddling and sitting on top of him. he felt his breath hitch, his heart racing inside his chest. how was he so good at this? that was a mystery to flynn—one he didn’t mind seeing more of. the tension in the air was making flynn feel dizzy. how was river so captivating, sexy, and confident? "yes," he simply answered, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it. as river told him he didn’t have to feel pressured, flynn’s eyes moved to meet his boyfriend’s, and he let out the air he had been holding. "i do want to kiss you right now."

River watched Flynn closely, noticing the way his cheeks turned red as the conversation went on. There was something so endearing about Flynn’s nervousness, how he tried to hide it, but River could see right through him. It was clear Flynn wasn’t used to being so open, especially not about something so raw and real. River found it charming—how Flynn always overthought everything, worried about the details. It made him want to reassure him, to draw him out even more. When Flynn asked if River was glad he’d watched the video, River’s smile spread, amused by the surprised tone in his voice. Flynn really didn’t realise how much his actions spoke for him. River tilted his head, his gaze never leaving Flynn’s. “Glad?” he teased lightly, leaning a little closer. “I’m thrilled. It's saved me the job of telling you." The warmth in the room between them was undeniable, and River could feel how the energy shifted as he moved to sit on Flynn’s thighs. Flynn’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, River couldn’t help but notice how much he was affecting him. It wasn’t just physical; it was everything—the way Flynn looked at him, the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty, yet his body was telling a different story. River’s confidence grew as he leaned in just a little, keeping the space between them charged with possibility, but he was patient, waiting for Flynn to find his own rhythm. When Flynn finally spoke, his voice softer but clear, River’s heart gave a small beat in his chest. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” River said, his voice calm and warm, a hint of playfulness. “But you don’t need to be. Not around me. I'm not thinking any more or any less of you and I hope you don't think any more or less of me because of my past too." River felt a smile tug at his lips. It was a small victory, a gentle affirmation of what had been simmering between them. He gave Flynn a moment. River leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving Flynn's face. He could feel the tension in the air, the way Flynn was trying to figure out what to do next, unsure of himself, but River wasn’t about to leave him hanging. His gaze flickered between the other's eyes and mouth. “Flynn,” River said softly, his voice gentle but filled with something undeniable. He gave Flynn a small smile, a knowing look. “You don’t need to overthink this. Just follow your instincts. If you want to kiss me... then do it.”

he knew there wasn’t an easy way to tell his boyfriend what his best friend had found out about him. it wasn’t like arden had stumbled across his instagram account—she’d found a much more explicit site with his content all over it. at his question, flynn could feel the redness creeping up his cheeks. “she technically did, but they’ve all been dating for years now,” he explained. “we were the single ones for a long time. i mean, i’m not now, but we were,” he added. arden wasn’t just a friend; she was his best friend. even though she loved teasing the hell out of him, he loved her so much—she was the best roommate anyone could ask for. “oh, i don’t plan on sharing a bed with her. she kicks in her sleep, and i’d end up sore in the morning,” he chuckled, shaking his head. the tension hung heavy in the air. it wasn’t just awkwardness; when flynn admitted he’d seen the video multiple times, it was clear he was getting nervous. but river didn’t seem nervous—he seemed amused. “i’ve seen it,” flynn finally admitted, like he was confessing to something huge. as river responded, flynn felt his heart stop—or at least it felt that way. he didn’t expect it to be this obvious. he grabbed a pillow on the sofa, trying to cover the growing evidence of his arousal. “i–i don’t know,” he stammered, “i guess i didn’t want to admit how many times i’ve replayed that video,” he confessed, his voice shaky. “i got nervous... but i want the real thing. i didn’t want to pressure you—though i guess that doesn’t matter since you’ve posted yourself on that page and i...” he started rambling, words tumbling out uncontrollably. “i got nervous. you make me so nervous. and hard. right now.”

From River's perspective, the moment felt almost like a game, but one with higher stakes. He watched Flynn squirm on the couch, trying to cover up his obvious embarrassment, and couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement. It was adorable, really. Flynn was clearly struggling with something that, to River, wasn’t all that difficult to navigate with his own feelings. He leaned back against the couch casually, giving Flynn an easy smile. River was well aware of the video in question—the one Flynn had clearly watched over and over. It didn’t surprise him. A lot of people had watched it. “It’s cute that you’re being so nervous,” River said with a little chuckle, watching Flynn fumble with his words. "It's a video. It was made with the intention of being watched. I'm glad you added to the views on it." Flynn was still rambling, trying to get the words out in a flood of nervousness, but River simply raised an eyebrow. “You wanted the real thing, huh?” River let the words hang in the air, taking a moment to study the other’s face, the way he flushed and stammered. It was endearing in a way that made River feel a little more at ease with his own feelings. It wasn’t hard to see the desire in Flynn's eyes, even if he was still a little unsure. River wasn't going to rush anything. He liked Flynn too much for that. But teasing him a little? That was too tempting to resist. With a smooth, fluid motion, he reached out, grabbed the pillow from Flynn’s hands, and tossed it aside without a second thought. Without giving him a chance to protest, River climbed over Flynn’s lap with a practiced ease. His knees brushed against Flynn’s thighs as he positioned himself comfortably, straddling Flynn in a way that was both intimate and teasing. River grinned, leaning in just enough to feel the heat of Flynn’s breath on his face. He let the silence stretch between them for a second, savoring the electricity in the air. "Still nervous?" River asked, his lips just a breath away from Flynn's ear. His leaned down and picked up the other's hands intertwining them with his. "I don't feel pressured."