#heinz

Your house always feels different when the boys are over. Louder. Warmer. Like the walls know they’re about to be shouted at for the next few hours.

Cables snake across the living room floor, chairs dragged into uneven lines, half-empty redbulls and buzzballs abandoned on every surface. Someone’s testing the mic levels, someone else is already arguing about something that hasn’t even started yet. The stream hasn’t gone live, but it might as well have, chat’s already feral.

You hover near the hallway, pretending you’re not watching.

“Oi,” Jakey says, glancing over his shoulder. “Why’re you lurking like that?”

“I live here,” you shoot back.

Ryan laughs at that. A soft sound, low in his chest, Irish accent curling around it like it’s got nowhere better to be. When you look at him, he’s already looking at you, relaxed in his chair, arms loose, hoodie sleeves pushed up and chewing on a piece of gum.

“Fair point,” he says. “Would be a bit mad if you didn’t.”

Chat instantly clocks it, the gazes shared.

who’s she why’s heinz smiling like that jakey ur sister kinda bad??

Jakey groans loudly. “Chat, behave. That’s my sister.”

Ryan lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say a word.”

But his eyes flick back to you again. Every time. Like it’s instinctive.

You sit on the arm of the sofa for a bit, half listening, half scrolling on your phone. The boys shout over each other, stories getting louder and more exaggerated with every retelling. Every now and then, Ryan leans forward to say something into the mic, voice smooth and steady, accent thick enough that chat spams REPEAT THAT every time.

At some point, Jakey sends you to grab drinks for everyone.

You pass Ryan on the way to the kitchen. As you squeeze past, his fingers brush your wrist, barely there, like it could’ve been an accident.

It wasn’t.

“Careful,” he murmurs, just for you.

You glance back at him, heart doing something stupid. “You’re the one distracting me.”

His smile is slow. Knowing.

When you come back, he thanks you quietly. Not performative. Not for chat. Just you and him, eyes meeting for a fraction too long before Jakey clears his throat and starts talking again.

The rest of the stream is like that. Small moments. Lingering looks. Ryan going oddly quiet whenever you’re in the room, like he’s concentrating too hard on not giving something away. Chat notices.

why’s heinz so shy suddenly GINGE ASK HIM chazza and tays r making me piss myself

By the time they finally wrap up, everyone’s tired. Voices hoarse, jokes slowing, jackets pulled on as Ubers get ordered.

Ryan stands, stretching. “I might head off, ginge i'll see yous at home,” he says casually.

Jakey and ginge both nod without looking up. “See you.”

You don’t say anything. You just meet Ryan’s eyes. He tilts his head, barely noticeable. Upstairs.

The front door shuts. One by one, the boys leave. Ginge shouting something about going live again later. The house settles into quiet. You’re halfway up the stairs when you hear Ryan behind you.

“Thought I’d lost my chance,” he says softly.

“You didn’t even try,” you reply.

He entered quietly, closing the door behind him. The air between you was thick with unspoken words. "You were quiet tonight," he observed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Just tired," you lied, avoiding his intense gaze.

"Right," he chuckled, moving closer. "Is that why you kept looking at me like that?"

Your breath caught. "Like what?"

"Like you wanted me to follow you to your room," he whispered, his Irish accent more pronounced now.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, hungry and demanding. Months of stolen glances and subtle touches had led to this moment. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, and you melted against him.

"Ryan," you gasped as his mouth moved to your neck. "The boys..."

"They'll think I've left," he murmured against your skin.

His hands slid under your shirt, tracing patterns on your skin that made you shudder. You knew this was wrong, your brother would kill both of you, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

The sound of laughter and goodbyes drifted from the living room as the boys left. Heinz paused, listening, then smiled against your lips. "Perfect."

He laid you back against the pillows, his body covering yours as he kissed you again.

His hands were everywhere at once, grabbing the curves of your waist, touching you and caressing you, savoring you. "Been thinking about this," he breathed against your mouth. "Every time you're in the room." He tugged your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took you in. "Fuckin' perfect."

You arched into him, your own hands fumbling with the hem of his hoodie, needing to feel his skin. He helped you, pulling it off in one fluid motion. The sight of him, lean and toned, a dusting of brunette hair trailing down his stomach, made your mouth water. You leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest trailing up.

"Jesus," he hissed, his head falling back as your tongue reached his neck. His hands found your ass, squeezing hard through your leggings. "Get these off. Now."

You complied, shimmying out of the tight fabric until you were left in just your bra and panties. He stood for a moment, just looking, his gaze so hot it felt like a physical touch. Then he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours as he backed you towards the bed. You fell back onto the mattress, and he followed, settling between your legs.

The ridge of his cock pressed against your core through his sweats, and you rolled your hips, craving more friction. "Ryan," you whimpered, tugging at his waistband. "Please."

He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "Eager, are we?" But he didn't tease for long. He began shoving his sweats and boxers down just enough to free himself. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, thick, hard, and flushed a deep red, the tip already beading with precum.

He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking slowly as he hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them down. "So fuckin' wet for me," he murmured, his gaze fixed on your glistening folds. He ran a finger through your slick, then brought it to his lips, tasting you with a groan. "Taste even better than I imagined."

He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against you. "Look at me," he commanded, and you met his eyes, dark and burning with lust. "I want to see your face when I fuck you."

With one smooth, hard thrust, he buried himself inside you. You cried out, a sharp, pleasured pain as he stretched you open. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours. "Alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, unable to form words. "Move," you finally managed to gasp.

He didn't need to be told twice. He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that made the bed slam against the wall. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, his name a ragged chant on your lips. "Ryan, Ryan, Rya-ah…"

He angled his hips, hitting that spot deep inside you that made you see stars. "There?" he grunted, his rhythm faltering as you clenched around him. "Right there?"

You could only nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. "Don't stop," you begged. "Please, don't stop."

"Never," he promised, his mouth finding yours again in a messy, desperate kiss. He reached between you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

That was all it took. The pleasure built to an unbearable peak, and then you were shattering, waves of ecstasy washing over you as you screamed his name. He followed you over the edge with a groan, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his release.

He collapsed on top of you, his body a heavy, comforting weight. You lay there for a long moment, tangled together, the only sound your ragged breathing. Finally, he rolled off, pulling you into his arms.

"Well," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "That's not how I expected tonight to go."

You laughed, a breathless, happy sound. "Me neither."

He kissed your temple, his arms tightening around you. "Jakey's going to kill us."

"Probably," you agreed, snuggling closer. "But it was worth it."

"Every second," he murmured, his eyes already drifting closed. You lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing even out, a smile on your face.

Later, much later, the house is dark except for the glow from Jakey’s laptop downstairs. He’s half watching Ginge’s stream, half scrolling on his phone.

“Wait,” Ginge says suddenly, squinting at chat. “Ryan actually make it home?”

Jakey frowns. He checks his messages.

Nothing.

“…I thought he left with you.”

Ginge pauses. “Nah.”

Something twists in Jakey’s stomach.

He stands, quiet now, climbing the stairs two at a time. He stops outside your door, hesitates, then knocks.

No answer.

He opens it slowly.

You’re asleep. Peaceful. Ryan’s beside you, arm slung protectively around your waist, face soft in sleep, hair a mess against the pillow.

Jakey stares for a long second.

“…You’re taking the piss.”

He closes the door gently and goes back downstairs.

On stream, chat's still spamming WHERE’S BEANO.