#but when he relaxes they immediately soften

[amourquinn]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 ; quinn hughes

( short fic )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.3k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : quinn is feeling sore before valentine’s day, so you show up early to take care of him proving that love isn’t about grand gestures — it’s about being there when it matters most

you sighed in relief as you pulled into the driveway of the lake house, the familiar sight of the cabin-like home easing the weight that had settled on your chest for the past few days.

quinn had been here with his brothers for nearly a week, taking a much-needed break from the season. but then, two days ago, he got injured. nothing major—just a rough hit during their pond hockey game that left him with a bruised rib and a sore body. he assured you over the phone that he was fine, but you knew him better than that.

which was exactly why you were here now, a full day earlier than planned.

you stepped out of the car, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder, and made your way inside. the house was warm, a stark contrast to the winter air outside, and mostly quiet except for the faint sound of a tv playing in another room.

“y/n?”

you turned toward the familiar voice just as jack appeared in the hallway, his face lighting up in surprise. “hey! i thought you were coming tomorrow.”

“i was,” you said, setting your bag down. “but someone i love is too stubborn to admit when he’s not okay, so i figured i’d come early.”

jack snorted. “yeah, that sounds about right.”

“where is he?”

“upstairs, passed out in bed. he’s been exhausted all day.”

you nodded, already making your way toward the stairs. “thanks, jack.”

“no problem. and, y/n?” you paused, looking over your shoulder. jack smirked. “good luck prying him off you when he realizes you’re here.”

you just smiled and headed upstairs.

—

you found quinn exactly how you expected—curled up in bed, buried beneath the blankets, his face relaxed in sleep. his messy hair stuck to his forehead slightly, and you could see the faint furrow in his brows, even in rest.

your heart clenched. he must have been more exhausted than he let on.

carefully, you sat on the edge of the bed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “quinn,” you whispered softly.

he stirred, a quiet groan escaping his lips before his eyes fluttered open. at first, he looked dazed, but then his gaze focused on you, and his entire face softened.

“y/n?” his voice was rough with sleep, but there was something else in it too—relief.

“hey, baby.” you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “i’m here.”

quinn didn’t waste a second. he shifted, wincing slightly, and pulled you into his arms, tucking his face into your neck. “missed you,” he mumbled against your skin.

you melted into him, running your fingers up and down his back carefully. “i missed you too.”

“you’re early.”

“you didn’t actually think i was gonna let you spend valentine’s day eve injured and alone, did you?”

he huffed a small laugh. “i’m not alone.”

you pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “jack said you’ve been in bed all day.”

quinn sighed, not even trying to argue. “i’m just tired.”

“i know, sweet boy,” you murmured, cupping his face gently. “did you take your meds?”

he hesitated.

“quinn.”

he groaned. “i was gonna.”

you rolled your eyes fondly. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” he said immediately, lips twitching. “you wouldn’t be here early if you didn’t.”

you sighed, shaking your head before pressing another kiss to his forehead. “stay here. i’ll be right back.”

quinn whined dramatically but let you go, watching as you disappeared into the bathroom. you returned a minute later with a glass of water and the painkillers he was supposed to take.

“sit up,” you instructed gently.

he did as you said, wincing slightly as he adjusted himself. you handed him the pills, watching as he took them before you climbed back into bed beside him.

the second you were settled, quinn wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close. you fit perfectly against him, your warmth soothing the lingering aches in his body.

“i like you here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “good, because i’m not going anywhere.”

you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the quiet hum of the tv in the background. quinn’s breathing evened out again, his body relaxing against yours as exhaustion took over.

as you held him, running soft circles along his back, you realized something—this was what love looked like. not grand gestures or extravagant dates, but this. showing up when he needed you. taking care of him when he wouldn’t admit he needed it. just being there.

tomorrow was valentine’s day. but right now, this moment? it was already more than enough.

and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

—

the next morning, you woke up before quinn. that wasn’t a surprise—he was still exhausted, and after everything his body had been through, he needed the rest.

you carefully untangled yourself from his grip, which was a task in itself. even in sleep, he was reluctant to let you go, his arm tightening around your waist every time you moved. but after a few gentle whispers and a kiss to his forehead, he finally relaxed enough for you to slip out of bed.

you tiptoed downstairs, smiling when you saw jack and luke in the kitchen.

“morning,” luke greeted, taking a sip of his coffee. “how’s the patient?”

“still asleep,” you said, grabbing a mug for yourself. “but i want to do something small for him when he wakes up.”

jack smirked. “you’re making us all look bad, you know that?”

you grinned. “that’s the goal.”

you spent the next hour putting together a simple breakfast—pancakes, eggs, and bacon, with a side of fresh fruit. jack and luke helped, mostly by keeping you entertained with stories about quinn growing up, but when you brought up valentine’s day, both of them groaned.

“he’s so bad at it,” luke said. “like, he tries, but—”

“he’s an awkward mess,” jack finished.

you laughed. “i don’t need anything big from him. just him.”

jack mock-gagged. “you guys are disgusting.”

you just rolled your eyes and focused on finishing breakfast.

—

by the time you carried the tray upstairs, quinn was awake, though still groggy. his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he blinked up at you with sleepy confusion as you walked in.

“y/n?” his voice was hoarse.

“happy valentine’s day, sweet boy,” you said softly, setting the tray down beside him.

quinn’s brows furrowed, like he was still catching up. then his gaze dropped to the food, and his expression softened. “you did this for me?”

“of course i did.” you sat beside him, reaching out to brush his messy hair back. “did you really think i wouldn’t?”

quinn didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure out how he got so lucky. then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

you melted instantly.

“thank you,” he murmured when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“you’re welcome.” you smiled, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “now eat before it gets cold.”

quinn hummed, pulling the tray onto his lap. he took a bite of the pancakes, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second. “you’re perfect.”

you laughed. “you’re just saying that because i made you food.”

“no,” quinn said, shaking his head. “i mean it.”

you felt your heart squeeze.

you leaned into his side, watching as he ate, feeling the warmth of him against you. maybe it wasn’t some big, grand valentine’s day. there were no fancy dinner reservations, no over-the-top gifts.

but you had this—quiet, simple moments filled with love.

and to you, that was perfect.

© amourquinn

[bookwormjust]

The Harmony of Chaos

(Azriel x mate reader)

The living room was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and chaos. Feyre, Nesta, and you had claimed the space for an impromptu karaoke night, the three of you singing your hearts out to some ridiculous, upbeat song. Feyre was laughing so hard she could barely hold the microphone, while Nesta, her usual cool demeanor gone, was twirling dramatically, trying to match the lyrics but completely losing track halfway through.

You stood in the middle, the self-proclaimed referee of this performance, belting out the song while trying to pull both sisters back into sync.

It was a rare moment—one where Feyre and Nesta’s often strained relationship was set aside. When you were with them, the tension that usually lingered between the Archeron sisters seemed to evaporate.

From their spot on the couch, the batboys watched the scene unfold, each of them leaning back with a quiet sort of contentment that spoke volumes. Cassian had his arms crossed, his grin wide and unrestrained as he watched Nesta. The way his eyes softened every time she laughed or rolled her eyes at your antics made it clear he was utterly smitten. He’d never seen her like this—relaxed, unguarded, and… happy.

Rhys leaned back against the armrest of the couch, his hand resting on his chin as he watched Feyre. His smile was softer, more private, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. To see Feyre so carefree, surrounded by people she loved, brought him a kind of peace he rarely allowed himself to feel.

And then there was Azriel. He sat quietly on the other end of the couch, his shadows subdued as his golden eyes followed your every move. There was no hiding the way he looked at you—his mate, his everything. The small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips was a rare sight, reserved for moments like this when his walls were down, and he could simply… be.

Rhys glanced at his brothers, his smile growing. “Looks like we’ve lucked out, haven’t we?” Cassian snorted, never taking his eyes off Nesta. “That’s one way to put it. I’d say the Mother decided to balance out our chaos with… them.” He gestured toward the three of you. “Balance,” Azriel murmured, his gaze still locked on you as you grabbed both Feyre and Nesta’s hands, forcing them into an uncoordinated dance.

“It’s more than that.” Rhys arched a brow at Azriel’s rare sentiment, but said nothing, choosing instead to let his brother have the moment. As the song ended in a flurry of laughter and mock bows, you turned toward the couch, grinning.

“Are you three just going to sit there, or are you going to join us?” Cassian immediately shot to his feet, his grin mischievous. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Feyre groaned, though she couldn’t hide her amusement as Cassian grabbed Nesta, spinning her in a ridiculous circle that earned him a sharp glare (and a laugh she tried to suppress). Rhys rose more gracefully, offering Feyre his hand with an exaggerated bow. “Shall we, my High Lady?” Azriel, however, remained seated, his eyes meeting yours with that quiet intensity you knew so well. You walked over to him, hands on your hips. “What about you?”

He shook his head, though his lips twitched. “I think I’ll just watch.” “Oh, no you don’t.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet despite his protests.

“This is a no-brooding zone tonight.”

He allowed himself to be dragged into the chaos, his shadows retreating as he found himself swept into the warmth of the moment. And as the night went on—filled with more music, laughter, and impromptu dances—you couldn’t help but feel it too. The warmth, the connection, the unspoken bond between all of you.

For once, everything felt right. Feyre and Nesta exchanged a rare, genuine smile, and you caught it out of the corner of your eye. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but somehow, you’d become the bridge between them—the glue that brought everyone together. And when you looked up at Azriel, his hand still in yours as he watched you with that quiet, unwavering love, you knew you’d found your place too.

[cursedcanon]

Asleep

You fall asleep on them.

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto , toji , Nanami, Yuji and Megumi

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo is smug as hell about it. The moment he feels you slump against him, he immediately whips out his phone to take a picture. "Aww, my baby trusts me this much? Adorable~!" He’d probably trap you in his arms so you can’t escape, whispering nonsense about how he’s the best pillow ever. If anyone walks by, he’s grinning like an idiot. "Shh, my baby is resting on their favorite person ever!" You’d wake up to him dramatically sobbing, "You left me alone in this cruel world!" when you eventually move away.

Choso Kamo:

Choso freezes. His entire system shuts down as he stares at you, sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. His hands hover awkwardly, like, what do I do? Do I hold them? Do I move? Help? In the end, he just sits perfectly still like a statue, afraid that moving even an inch will wake you. If anyone tries to disturb your nap, they will be met with a death glare. He gently adjusts your position to make sure you’re comfortable but doesn’t dare wake you up. Deep down, he melts at how safe you must feel with him.

Ryomen Sukuna:

At first, Sukuna is offended. "You have the nerve to fall asleep on me like I’m some common pillow?" He glares at your sleeping form, arms crossed, contemplating whether he should just push you off. But then he notices how peaceful you look and tchs before letting you stay. "Hah. Pathetic human, relying on me like this…" He acts annoyed but subtly adjusts his posture to make sure you’re comfortable. If anyone dares to comment, he growls, “ Keep moving unless you want to die.”

Geto Suguru:

Geto is so soft about it. He smiles to himself, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. "Tired, huh?" His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, as he lets you rest. He’d probably place a protective arm around you, keeping you close while continuing whatever he was doing. If anyone comes up to him while you’re asleep, they will be met with a calm but firm, "They’re sleeping. Whatever you need can wait." Absolute boyfriend material.

Toji Fushiguro:

Toji snickers the second he realizes you’re asleep. "Damn, I must be real comfortable." He teases you even though you’re unconscious, grinning like a menace. But despite all his bravado, he doesn’t move an inch because deep down, he loves that you trust him enough to fall asleep on him. If someone comments on it, he just smirks and says, "Jealous? Too bad, this spot’s taken." He might even wrap an arm around you possessively just to prove a point.

Nanami Kento:

Nanami lets out the deepest sigh, but his expression softens when he sees you sleeping. He adjusts his posture so you don’t wake up with neck pain and simply lets you rest. If someone tries to wake you, he glares at them like they just insulted his entire existence. "Let them sleep." He continues doing whatever he was doing, secretly enjoying the quiet moment. If you drool on him, however… he will wake you up.

Itadori Yuji:

Yuji malfunctions. His entire face turns bright red, and he stiffens like a board. Oh my god. Oh my god. They’re sleeping on me. What do I do? Do I move? Do I stay? Breathe, Yuji, breathe! After a few moments of panic, he slowly relaxes, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face. He’d probably hold your hand while you sleep, just vibing. If Megumi or Nobara see, he’ll shush them with a frantic whisper, "DON’T WAKE THEM UP!"

Fushiguro Megumi:

Megumi blushes instantly. He tries to act normal, but his ears are completely red. He clears his throat, averting his gaze, but he doesn’t push you away. In fact, if you shift in your sleep, he subtly adjusts his position so you’re more comfortable. If Gojo sees, he will never hear the end of it. "Aww, Megumi~! Look at you being all soft!" Megumi glares at him with murderous intent but doesn’t move, because deep down, he doesn’t want to wake you up.

[straows]

𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯…

Gojo just got back from one of his week along missions. The man, no matter how powerful he was, was exhausted.

You were sadly not home when he got home, so he just groaned and stripped his shirt and pants off before plopping down on the bed. His body stiff as he sunk into it, back decompressing caused a grunt from him.

You came home an hour later, smiling when you noticed his shoes you get all excited. You put the groceries down and ran to your shared bedroom.

Only to see him passed the fuck out on the bed. Your smile softened and you leaned down, gently pulling off his shoes and his socks, before crawling up the bed and hover straddling his back.

Gently, you ran your nails up and down his back. Giggling softly when Gojo would groan softly.

“Hi baby,” you’d whisper, a cute little smile on your face as you moved from scratching his back to massaging the knots out.

Gojo could only relax further into the bed, but moved his head to the side so he could look back at him, “missed you, pretty.”

“How was the mission?” Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his back.

Gojo sighed, “fuck the elders.” He murmured before turning himself around, so his back was against the bed and you were now straddling his stomach. “Fuck all of them.” His large hands gently grasped your hips then up your waist before pulling you down against him. Now laying on top of him, your face buried in his neck.

“That good, huh?” You spoke, voice muffled as you placed little kisses to his neck and jaw. “Well I missed you. So much.”

Gojo smiled softly at you, eyes closed as he slipped his hands under your shirt and held your waist with his bare hands. Thumb moving gently across your soft skin. “I missed you too baby.”

“I got groceries so I can cook your favorite tonight.” You leaned up, propping yourself up on his chest with your forearm so you could look at him.

“I’m actually in love with you.” He wrapped his arm tight around you before flipping your positions so you were under him. “Love you so much,” he pressed a kiss to your lips then to your jaw before actually ripping your shirt off you.

You could gasp before laughing, “this is your shirt!”

“Fuck that shirt.” He murmured before leaving long wet kisses all down your chest. His hands reached behind you to unclip your bra (he knew how pissed you’d get if he broke your bra), and groaned at the sight of his girls free. “Wish you wouldn’t wear those, the ladies need air.” He pressed a kiss to the valley of your breasts before slipping one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Mm- I have to, or else everybody will see them under my shirt.” Your nails gently scratched his scalp as your ran your fingers through his hair. Your back arching whenever he’d light bite.

“You can just stay here with me forever. We can love to some far away island,” he moved away from your tits just move down your body. Big hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart so he could yank the jeans off of you.

“Oh yeah? An island far away?” You couldn’t help but smile. Your heart warm to the knowledge that your boyfriend loved you so much.

“Mhmm, and we can fill it,” he moved your thighs to his shoulders, so they would frame his face before pressing a kiss to the growing wet spot in your panties. “— with all our kids.”

Gasping softly, you immediately propped yourself up on your hands and gently pushed his face away, “baby no, let me take care of you. You just got home from a mission and everything.”

Gojo stared at you for a long moment. So long that you actually began to grow shy and you averted your gaze.

“Now how did I ever luck out with you?” He murmured, more to himself than anything. “I’ve been away from you and this pretty pussy for a week. Let me show you how much I miss you, and then you can do whatever you want to me.” He grinned, noticing how you squirmed slightly at his words, thighs trying to close.

“…fine.” You sighed, cheeks bright with a red hue and your brows furrowed slightly. It’d been a week since you’d been with Gojo, so you were both more than a little pent up.

“Good girl,” he murmured before doing as he pleased.

Gojo hated long missions. Hated being away from you. But oh did he love coming back from them, only to get pampered by you. Your usual witty and sharp comebacks replaced by sweet and gentle words.

He also loved how sensitive you were. You never touched yourself when he was gone. Neither did he. So it made it all the better when he came home.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 025 !

a strange warmth enveloped you as you drifted into consciousness, your body feeling heavier than usual. it took a moment for your senses to fully awaken, but when they did, you immediately realized something was off. the floor was supposed to be cold and hard - but beneath you was soft, warm and undeniably comfortable.

your eyes shot open.

panic swelled in your chest as you took in your surroundings. the crisp white sheets. the faint scent of sae's cologne clinging to the fabric. and, most notably, the strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist, locking you in place.

oh.

oh hell no.

your breath hitched as you looked down, finding your leg tangled with his. his grip was secure, his body head seeping into yours as if you belonged there. worse yet, his face was nestled somewhere near your shoulder, his breaths slow and steady against your skin. he was completely and utterly asleep, but his hold on you was possessive - like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

your mind raced.

how did this happen?

you were on the floor last night. how had you ended up here? had he pulled you up? had you climbed in unconsciously? no, that was impossible.

you swallowed hard, your body stiff with indecision.

should you move? but if you did, you risked waking him up and dealing with the inevitable teasing that would follow. yet if you stayed like this any longer, you were sure your heart would explode from how fast it was beating.

cautiously, you turned your head just slightly, trying to gauge his expression. his features were relaxed, his usual sharpness softened in sleep. he looked... peaceful.

for a fleeting moment, you considered letting him stay like this, just to see how much longer he'd hold onto you. but then you shook the thought away.

no.

you needed to get out of this situation before he woke up and made a comment that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before whispering, "sae."

no response.

you tried again, a bit more insistent this time. "sae, wake up."

he let out a low, sleepy hum but didn't budge. his grip, if anything, tightened slightly, like his subconscious refused to acknowledge your request.

your pulse hammered in your ears. "sae," you tried once more, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath fanning against his skin.

finally, you felt a shift, a slow blink against your shoulder. a soft exhale. and then, in a voice still laced with drowsiness, he muttered, "mmm... five more minutes."

your face burned.

"sae, get off," you hissed, your hands pressing weakly against his chest.

he didn't move. didn't even open his eyes. instead, his hold on you remained firm, his warmth seeping further into your skin, his presence overwhelming.

you were trapped.

your heart pounded against your ribs as you weighed your options. if you moved too suddenly, you might wake him up fully. but if you didn't, you'd be stuck like this - wrapped in his warmth, his steady breathing brushing against your skin, his hands resting securely against your waist.

biting your lip, you decided to try again, this time shifting slightly, hoping to untangle your leg from his without stirring him. bad idea.

as soon as you moved, his grip reflexively tightened, his arm pulling you closer against him as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. a shiver ran dowm your spine at the feeling of his breath fanning against your skin.

"sae," you whined.

he hummed, his voice lower, softer. "you're warm."

you nearly choked on air.

this could not be happening.

"i- sae, let go," you said, your voice coming out a little too breathless than you wanted.

instead of responding, he sighed, his arm loosening just a fraction. you took the opportunity to shift, but before you could escape, his hands absentmindedly brushed against your side, sending an unintentional jolt of warmth through you.

"relax," he muttered, finally cracking one eye open. the sharp teal gaze, still clouded with sleep, met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

then, the corner of his lips quirked up ever so slightly. "you're acting like i bite."

you glared at him, trying to ignore the way your heart betrayed you by hammering at full force. "get off. now."

sae exhaled a quiet laugh but, to your relief, finally released you, his arm slipping away as he rolled onto his back. immediately, you scrambled out of the bed, ignoring the way your skin felt oddly cold without his warmth.

standing at a safe distance, you pointed an accusing finger at him. "did you drag me into bed last night?"

he yawned, stretching lazily before looking at you. "you were shivering on the floor. also, you hugged me first."

your mouth parted, words failing you for a moment. he- you- what?

sae didn't give you time to process it, merely shutting his eyes again like he hadn't just shattered your resolve completely. "next time, don't be stubborn and sleep in the bed from the start."

you clenched your firsts, heat rushing to your feet as you turned on your heel, walking maybe a bit too fast toward the bathroom. "no."

behind you, sae's quiet chuckle followed, his voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement. "good morning to you too."

chapter 024 > here > chapter 026

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: slowburn slowburn sorry guys!! also, i have winter holidays now so i'll try my best to finish this fast hehe

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @pookiei-bookie @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[yois2aki]

wc. 1.3k

caleb gives me tiktok bf energy.

btw reader has freckles in this... sorry i hate giving reader physical aspects but i think he'd be a sucker for freckles 😔😔😔

“this is a trap.”

caleb eyed you warily as you set up your phone, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. he had been through enough of your little social media games to know when something was dangerous territory, and this? this was a minefield.

“you realize there’s no way for me to win this, right?” he muttered, arms crossed.

you grinned. “oh, come on, it’s just for fun.”

“that’s what you said last time,” he grumbled. “then you pouted for an hour because i ranked going shopping together last.”

“okay, but that was an injustice.”

caleb groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing in defeat. “fine. let’s just get this over with.”

you clapped excitedly, hitting ‘start’ on the ranking filter as the first body part popped up.

1. hands

he barely hesitated. “fifth.”

you gasped. “fifth?!”

he side-eyed you. “do you want me to be honest or not?”

you huffed. “fine. but you better put my legs below that or we’re fighting.”

he smirked. “we’ll see.”

2. legs

he pressed fourth without a second thought.

“caleb.”

“what?” he said, completely unfazed.

you glared at him. “so my hands are below my legs?”

he shrugged. “it’s the truth.”

you groaned dramatically, flopping against the couch. “i don't want to play this with you anymore.”

he chuckled. “too late now.”

3. eyes

his expression softened slightly.

“first,” he said immediately.

your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by how fast he answered. “…really?”

he turned his head slightly, glancing at you, and for a second, his violet eyes held something softer, something quieter.

“yeah,” he murmured. “really.”

your heart did a little flip, but before you could dwell on it, the next body part popped up.

4. lips

caleb exhaled, staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

you smirked. “what, struggling?”

“not struggling,” he muttered, pressing second after a long pause.

you raised an eyebrow. “so my lips are second to my eyes?”

he shot you a look. “you know how i feel about your lips. but i look into your eyes every day. that has to count for something.”

your cheeks warmed slightly, but before you could let it get to your head, the next one appeared.

5. collarbone

without hesitation, he pressed ninth.

you gasped.

“ninth?!”

“what?” he said, completely unbothered.

“my collarbone is at the bottom?!”

“there are ten slots,” he reminded you. “it could be worse.”

“oh, you're so sleeping on the—”

before you could finish, the next one appeared.

6. voice

his eyebrows twitched.

he pressed third.

you blinked. “…my voice?”

he shrugged. “it’s nice. i like hearing you talk.”

your heart did another weird little flip. you quickly masked it with a smirk. “so what you’re saying is, my voice is sexier than my hands?”

he groaned. “i regret this already.”

7. stomach

he looked at the screen for a second before pressing sixth.

you narrowed your eyes. “explain.”

he took a sip from his drink. “it's nice to nap on.”

you flushed slightly. “caleb.”

he smirked but didn’t say anything else.

8. back

he hummed in thought before pressing eighth.

you relaxed slightly. “okay, that’s fair.”

he arched a brow. “oh, so you accept this ranking, but not the collarbone?”

“obviously.”

he shook his head. “ridiculous.”

9. neck

he pressed seventh.

you side-eyed him. “you’re thinking of something, aren’t you?”

“not at all.”

“liar.”

he just smirked.

10. freckles

he pressed first.

your breath hitched.

“…wait.” you furrowed your brows. “but you already put my eyes first.”

he exhaled, shaking his head. “no. i take it back. freckles should be first.”

he tried to tap the screen to change it, but the filter locked in the ranking.

caleb stared at the screen. then at you. then back at the screen.

“…you planned this.”

you burst out laughing. “i didn’t! but i knew you’d try to change it!”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “this is exactly why i said this was a trap.”

you grinned. “so, my freckles win?”

caleb sighed, rubbing his temples.

“…yeah,” he muttered. “they win.”

you leaned in, smirking. “told you this would be fun.”

“for you, maybe,” he grumbled, but the way he was watching you—like the freckles scattered across your cheeks had just ruined him completely—told a different story.

[amphibiahawks321]

Can I have Rahu gripping M! Reader neck with a bit smut and some wholesome at the end, plz? it's really rare to find Rahu with M!reader.

[it Started off as simple teasings from Y/N, but the more time Y/N sees rahu's reaction, the more Y/N wanted to see more how far he'll go, Rahu went from a simple hidden tint of blush to a frustrated simple tint of blush]

M!Reader : Y’know, breaking your composure is simply something that someone like you shouldn’t let happen, yeah?~

[Y/N's tone clearly teasing, knowing EXACTLY what he's, Rahu who was sitting down cleaning her bladed gauntlet with a cloth stands up—And in a blink of an eye she moves her hand to Y/N's neck gripping it, not too hard to make him gag but hard enough to make Y/N knows he sealed his faith]

[Rahu still gripping Y/N's neck pushes him onto the nearby wall, completely replacing his smirk into an expression with the mix of shock and... Intrigued]

Rahu : You just don't know when to quit do you...

[Rahu completely towering over Y/N, Y/N's expression goes back to his usual smirk looking up at her]

M!Reader : Chuckles... Aww, mad? Did I get under your skin, Wolfy?~

[Y/N instinctively holds onto both of her wrists, smirking up at her]

M!Reader : Me pinned against the wall, you towering over me, your hand just absolutely obsessed with my neck–And persee, what would happen to me if I said I like seeing you like this?~

Rahu : ....Oh? You like this?

[She leans in, her voice lowering to a near growl as her breath brushes against Y/N's lips]

Rahu : Then maybe I should make sure you really feel it...

[Y/N's face starts smirking a bit wider, showing some teeths, his eyes squinting, his fingers pressing against her wrists]

M!Reader : Oh, please do~

[Rahu froze a bit from the way Y/N said it, the way he looks so needy to see what she'll do to him, Rahu began staring at him, studying Y/N's expression–Rahu immediately dives in giving Y/N a taste of her...]

[a couple minutes in, she noticed Y/N was about to pull out but she grabs the back of his head and moves it towards her lips again]

[This time using her tongue to explore his mouth, Y/N's eyes immediately widened as his hands that are gripping onto her wrists starts shaking, several minutes later, Y/N pulls out leaving a trail of saliva between their mouths]

M!Reader blushing : Pant... Wow, You–Pant

Rahu : I'm not done...

[Y/N's eyes widened again as he felt her strong fingers entering his hips]

Rahu : Not... Even... Close...

A couple hours later

[Rahu resting beside Y/N on bed, her usual sharp gaze softened just a little, golden eyes tracing the many marks she left on Y/N]

Rahu : Still breathing?

[She asks it like a joke, but there’s something in her tone—something careful, almost possessive]

M!Reader blushing : Pant... C-Could be worse, I mean I'm not–Pant not dead so that's a good thing Chuckles...

[Rahu who's sitting up, her back against the bed walls, Y/N crawls towards her and sits down Infront of her, caressing her cheek]

M!Reader : You are such a gem to me you know? My Wolfy....

[Her reaction surprised... She pressed her hand on the hand Y/N's using to caress her cheek]

Rahu : You always say things like that so easily to me...

M!Reader : Because you know as much as I do I mean every single word... Aaaand basically because I just love seeing you flustered♡

[Rahu's expression softens in an instant]

Rahu : . ....You're insufferable

[Rahu in an instant place her hand behind his back and pulls him close to her, shocking Y/N a bit—she placed her head onto his shoulder]

Rahu : Mine...

[Rahu said quietly, completely relaxed by Y/N's body on hers]

The end–

....

M!Reader : Woah!! I really left a lot of nail marks on your back! Geez that looks painful how did you even endure—

Rahu : Shut...

[florencebirdsong]

Could I request Agatha + Rio + Deaf!Fem reader?? I was thinking of possibly they learned how to say I love you or something meaningful to sign to Reader..or something along the line of them being protective of reader on their date because people are quick to judge reader because she is loud without realizing it..

( I would like to say that I am a irl deaf person myself so I would love this!!)

Yes, I can! I only know super basic Auslan. Like the stuff you’re encouraged to learn in multiple languages (hi, how are you, I’m good, finger spelling, where’s the bathroom, I love you, help, hospital, etc) and I don’t know which sign language you use so I’ve kept the actual sign language descriptions vague. I hope that’s okay :) Please enjoy!

Valentine’s Day Event 2025

Tags: annoying man, small moment insecurity, ficlet

Authors note: sorry the bickering isn’t actually written at the start. I’m trying to keep these as ficlets and those two could go for pages

You watch fondly as Agatha and Rio’s hands fly as they sign. Their bickering-like banter easily picking up your mood. The start of the year has been rough but tonight is just what you need. A romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant that you’re going to leave far too early to go and find something much more unhealthy to eat.

A particularly witty response from Rio has you snort a laugh. Agatha quips back just as fast and you laugh freely. She winks at you before turning a smug look on Rio, who would look annoyed if it weren’t for the smile tilting the edge of her mouth.

Both of their faces drop at the same time and it takes you a moment longer to realise a man has stopped by your table and interrupted you all. He looks agitated, his gestures sharp and his features hard. He’s on the other side of the table from you and clearly only addressing your two girlfriends. You can’t tell what he’s upset about and you watch Agatha and Rio for any indication of this becoming a serious altercation. Relaxing when they only look slightly madder than usual, you wonder what the man is talking about. They both seem more pissed off than their usual reaction to being hit on by a man, even when being interrupted during a special dinner. But it is Valentine’s Day. Surely the man has some clue?

They continue to sign when they respond to him but you still can’t glean what exactly this is about. Only that they seem to be about to chew him out.

“No one asked,” Agatha snaps, her hand movements short and sharp.

You tap the table to get Rio’s attention. The dark look means she needs to be distracted. Agatha may be vindictive but Rio is merciless.

“What’s happening?” you sign.

“He thinks we’re being too loud,” she signs back. “Like he hasn’t been bellowing for the last half hour.”

Your eyebrows furrow, suddenly self-conscious. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt badly about being too loud, but for it to be bad enough for someone to try and interrupt a romantic dinner…

Rio taps the table within sight of your dropped gaze. You reluctantly look up.

“He’s been shouting half the night,” she reminds you. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologise,” she adds pointedly.

Your eyes flick to Agatha, whose disgusted scowl is directed at the man’s retreating back. She notices your gaze and her face immediately softens.

“You know the study, dear,” she signs. “Women speak up slightly more and men think they’re dominating the conversation. I’m sure it’s the same for volume.”

You nod, hesitantly. Knowing you aren’t likely to stop thinking about it without a distraction, Rio stands up suddenly.

“I want cheap chocolate in stupid shapes,” Rio declares.

Agatha doesn’t take any more prompting. She picks the napkin from her lap and flings it onto the table. Rio holds her hand out to help you out of the chair. You all have finished eating and you haven’t even glanced at the dessert menu yet so you don’t feel too badly about taking Rio’s hand.

“Such a gentleman,” you sign after she helps slip your coat on.

Agatha steps closer to you both and signs without shame, 

“I doubt you’ll be saying that once she has you in bed.”

“Nope,” Rio agrees with a sharp smile. “But chocolate first.”

You don’t even glance at the man on your way out.

[geneviveleocardius]

some husband material headcanons with simon riley

late-night garage dances are his quiet way of loving you. when the house is quiet and you’re both waiting for your daughter to get home from a party, he’ll pull you into a slow dance. he doesn’t say much, just rests his chin on your head as the two of you sway to soft music in the dim light.

if you’re too tired to shower, he’ll gently coax you into letting him wash your hair. his hands are rough but so careful, massaging your scalp in a way that makes your shoulders relax instantly.

when you’re at the beach, you trace your name on his back with sunscreen, leaving the rest bare. later, when the tan sets in and your name is etched on his skin, he looks at it in the mirror and smirks. he loves the quiet claim you have on him, even if he pretends to roll his eyes when you point it out.

simon takes his time applying sunscreen to you at the beach, even though he could be quick about it. he’s meticulous, rubbing it in gently over your shoulders and back, making sure you don’t miss a spot. “can’t have you burning, love,” he says softly. he always uses it as an excuse to trail his fingers along your skin, a subtle moment of affection.

he’s big on touch, even if he doesn’t always initiate it. his favorite moments are when you lay your head on his chest at night and trace the scars on his arms. he doesn’t always talk about them, but he likes the way you don’t shy away from them either.

he’s the kind of dad who stays up until he hears the door click after a late night out. he’ll mutter about the time under his breath, but he softens immediately when your daughter leans in to give him a quick hug before heading to bed.

if he hears you sigh in frustration while cooking or doing something around the house, he’ll quietly walk over, take whatever you’re holding, and finish the job without a word.

he doesn’t say it often, but he loves being domestic with you. folding laundry, fixing things around the house, or even grocery shopping together is calming for him.

simon keeps a picture of the two of you tucked in his wallet—a candid photo of you laughing. when he’s away, he takes it out to remind himself what’s waiting for him back home.

he’ll let you put ridiculous face masks on him during a lazy evening, even though he grumbles about it. “this better not make me smell like a bloody fruit salad,” he mutters, but he stays still for you.

he’s terrible at hiding his smile when he hears you laugh. even in the most mundane moments, your happiness is his favorite sound.

sometimes, he’ll sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway you gently to a song only he can hear.

if your child ever talks back to you or says something disrespectful, simon doesn’t let it slide for a second. his voice is calm but firm as he says, “that’s your mum you’re speaking to. apologize—now.” he rarely raises his voice, but the weight behind his words is enough to make them realize they’ve crossed a line. later, he’ll sit down with them, explaining why respect is non-negotiable. “she does everything for us. you don’t ever treat her like that, understood?”

when you have surgery, simon steps into full caregiver mode, even though it’s not something he’s entirely used to. he carefully helps you into the bath, always making sure you’re comfortable and secure. his touch is gentle as he washes you, murmuring, “tell me if anything hurts.”

he dries your hair after the bath, combing it slowly so it doesn’t tangle. “you’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

he insists on carrying you to bed, even if you tell him you can walk. “don’t argue with me, love. you’re meant to rest.” he tucks you in, makes sure you have everything you need, and stays close by in case you need him during the night.

simon takes every opportunity to teach your child the importance of kindness, especially toward you. he models this by being gentle with you, always showing them how love and respect are expressed.

he’s a firm dad, but never unfair. when he has to scold your child, he always makes sure they understand why their behavior was wrong, but he’s quick to reassure them that he loves them no matter what.

during your recovery from surgery, simon takes over all the household duties. he’s not a great cook, but he’ll follow recipes to the letter to make sure you’re well-fed. when something doesn’t turn out quite right, he mutters, “bloody hell,” but doesn’t stop trying.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

You certainly love your poor himbo!vampire lover, but he’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Like all vampires, his saliva has healing properties so his victims don’t bleed out during his feedings. Because of this, he’s taken to freaking out when you get injured and immediately licking the wound, planting a soft kiss on it after.

He smells your blood, and he gets nervous. The man adores you, he’d be lost if you died!

So when you woke up to the soft ache in your cunt being combated by the pleasure of your boyfriend sucking on your clit, you were quite confused.

As you rubbed your sleepy eyes, you heard your boyfriend choking on his sobs, tears rolling down his pale cheeks as his hands held onto your thighs.

“Y-you’re gonna be okay, angel. Going to… going to make it better…” he blubbered, your blood dripping down his chin before he moved back to your aching cunt.

“Love…”

He sniffled as you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently swiping your blood from his lip. “I’m not injured, I’m just on my period.”

Your lover blinked, his eyes going wide, and you could tell if he could blush his cheeks would be a bright red with embarrassment.

“O-oh…”

As he pulled away, you grabbed him by the hair and guided his lips back to your pussy. “But you’re still helping, sweet thing.”

His eyes softened and he settled back down between your thighs, his cheek resting against your belly as he softly nuzzled against it. “Then I’ll take care of you… I’ll always take care of you, my angel…”

So you sat back and relaxed as he fed, making sure to gently push you over the edge and ease your pain.

[hoe4hotchner]

Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."

Family first | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.

As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadn’t stepped foot in the office in months — your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in — realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.

“Ready to surprise Daddy?” you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace — the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.

“Y/N!” Garcia’s exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. “Oh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!”

You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.

“Look at those cheeks,” Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. “Hotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.”

“Or girls,” Emily added. “She’s going to be a heartbreaker either way.”

You beamed at their affection, the team’s love for your little family filling your heart. “Where is Aaron?” you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasn’t inside.

JJ nodded toward the conference room. “He’s in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident — maybe a little too confident.

You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him — a little too close — her laughter ringing out at something he said.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morgan’s face. You had no reason to feel insecure.

Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.

And still, as you approached, you couldn’t help but notice the way Morrison’s body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he wasn’t encouraging it.

When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughter’s cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I told you,” you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. “I figured you could use a break.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he kissed the baby’s forehead before turning back to you. “I always have time for my girls.”

Morrison’s voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. “Wait, your girls?”

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Aaron’s wife.”

Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. “Wife?” she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.

Aaron’s arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. “Yes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.”

Morrison’s expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. “Oh. I… I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do,” Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.

The tension in Morrison’s posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. “She’s adorable,” she said, nodding toward the baby. “You’re very lucky.”

Aaron’s grip on you tightened slightly. “I know I am.”

The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaron’s attention lingered on you or the baby.

Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. “You don’t have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,” she said sharply. “It’s unprofessional.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property… It’s distracting and completely inappropriate.”

You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Agent Morrison.”

Aaron’s tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. “A word, please. Now.”

Morrison’s face paled as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“My office. Now.”

You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrison’s pettiness rattle you.

Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. “What happened?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Morrison won’t be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we won’t tolerate that kind of attitude here.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. “Thank you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “No one disrespects my family,” he said firmly. “No one.”

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[somnoir]

Little star's favorite

It all started when Talia came to Gotham with a gift.

The gift in question was a twelve year old boy.

Bruce stared at the boy who was almost the exact replica of Damian if not for the blue eyes and longer hair. He looked utterly perplexed at the sight of Bruce, tilting his head before frowning at his mother with a visibly displeased look.

"Beloved, may I introduce you to Danyal, our Damian's twin brother. He was... Away... On a mission until recently." Talia hummed, a hand on Danyal's back.

"You... You didn't think to tell me about him when you told me about Damian?" Shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked down at the boy who looked a little more like him than Talia and felt himself softening. "Hello Danyal."

"Hello."

Talia smiled, before her expression fell. "A little warning, beloved. The twins do not get along. Damian is quite the competitive child and Danyal... Well, he's the nicer one if I must say." She shrugged, running her fingers through her son's hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go on now, Najmi As-Sagheer (my little star)."

"Ummi... Must I join them? I am perfectly fine with remaining in the league." Danyal muttered, eye twitching but his expression was quickly schooled into neutrality.

"Yes, Danyal." She sighed, "I have no intention of letting father keep you."

Bruce raised a brow at her words.

"That is a conversation for another time, habibi." Talia lazily insisted, gently pushing Danyal towards Bruce.

Bruce, for all he's lived, immediately recognized a feral cat in the form a child. Yep. Another Damian. That was seemingly the nicer one.

But he was scruffy little thing who was being called little star by his mother. Bruce blinked, offering his hand to Danyal (like how a person would do by letting a cat sniff his hand to see if they were safe).

Danyal, more twitchy and annoyed than his brother, looked at the hand like it had personally offended him.

And that is how Batman brought home another child while holding him by the scruff.

(Danny hated everyone except for Alfred—both cat and butler)

Danyal was a much quieter person compared to Damian. Unlike his brother who had practically came into their lives guns blazing and declaring that he was the rightful heir to the bat, Danyal mainly ignored them. He would glare, snarl, and scowl, but not in the way Damian did. The kid was obviously threatened by them, but more for his own safety rather than inheritance.

He avoided them like the plague, only welcoming the company of Alfred and occasionally Cass.

He didn't join in on the vigilante business, opting to stay back with Oracle and just quietly direct them on their missions. It was strange in all honesty.

They didn't know much about Danyal, aside from the fact that his mother called him little star for his natural love of space. That he liked to tinker with gadgets and make his own weapons. That he really liked fudge.

Aside from that, the kid was quiet and was usually hiding out in his room.

Tim wasn't particularly thrilled to have another demon brat in the family. He avoided Danyal as much as possible expecting for the boy to be just like his brother and attack him.

But apparently not.

It's one of those unfortunate times that Tim's sleep deprivation and overload on energy drinks gets him benched by Alfred and not Bruce. No one particularly wanted to argue with their beloved butler/grandpa so Tim was stuck in place. It was a much quieter night than usual, almost peaceful (as much as Gotham can get).

Babs was relieved of her duties to have a night off, rest and relax and such, while Tim manned the bat computer in Oracle's place. He almost didn't notice the mop of black hair that suddenly appeared beside him.

Tim didn't want to admit it, but he flinched at Danyal's presence and how he was quietly standing there with a tray of coffee and cookies. Blue eyes blinked at him, silently pushing the tray forward to offer Tim the lone cup (most likely for him) and the plate of cookies.

Suspicious, Tim narrowed his eyes. "Alfred wouldn't make me coffee after benching me for this kind of thing."

Danyal shrugged, "Made it myself. Thought you'd need it since the others will be gone for a while."

"That's poisoned."

"It's not." Danyal frowned, immediately taking the cup and taking a couple sips himself before once again offering it to Tim.

Now, Tim wasn't stupid enough to ignore the possibility of Danyal having some tolerance to poison. But Tim was also tolerant to a lot of poisons so might as well.

When taking one sip, he was already feeling weird. One, there was no poison. Two, it was actually pretty good.

Danyal just sat there and stared at the screen, munching on cookies and pointing at the screen whenever Robin started to stray from the patrol route. Tim had a lot of fun reportingtattling to Bruce about it.

Eventually, it became a routine.

Danyal always sat beside Tim. Quiet and just offering random stuff, either food, some little gadget he made, or just the most bizarre stuff he found while at school.

Tim learned many things about his weird little brother. How cameras go crazy around him. How he had his reasons for not being touched. How Danyal was more silent than Cass. How Danyal vanished and reappeared at times.

(The glowing green eyes were the most concerning.)

He never really took notice of how Danyal started to gravitate to him. Always with him, barely without.

(Tim refused to admit that he was just the same.)

"Can I go on patrol with you?" Danyal asked, tugging at his Red Robin suit with a curious look. "I wanna meet Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn."

And Tim didn't really see much of a problem with that. Danyal was a highly trained assassin that Ra's apparently trusted to go on a solo mission while Damian had to be whisked away from the league. It wasn't too absurd for Tim to just shrug and let his kid brother tag along.

He was also very sure that his baby brother was an eldritch being with how the shadows seemed to rise around him. Yeah, the baby was a cryptid amongst a family of supposed cryptids. Very fitting.

It's a nice night. With Danny running amok with Tim, clearly having fun. But that one looks of sadness didn't escape Tim when Danny paused and looked to the sky with longing.

Tim remembers how Danny rambled about the stars in their shared moments, where it's just them.

Tim remembers how Danny would describe the sky in Nanda Parbar and how he often snuck out just to see it.

Tim remembers how much his little brother likes space and turns to the cloudy sky of Gotham that hides the stars.

Tim remembers how he was often depraved of the brotherly love he wanted. How he didn't get the full experience of having an older brother.

"You okay, little star?"

Danyal snapped his head towards Tim, eyes blown wide and flashing green (he knows that wasn't normal but he ignores that in favor to the way Danyal visibly softens at the nickname).

"'m okay, akhi." Danyal muttered, following after Tim after adjusting his own hood.

And it's like his heart stops.

Yep.

Tim has had Danyal for barely a year and he was willing to throw hands with Ra's, Talia, and Bruce for him.

"C'mon, qalbi(my heart). Batburger's still open."

He barely noticed the shift after that. But others think it's a glaring change that often made them stop and stare.

Danyal went to Tim whenever he needed anything.

If Danyal wasn't in bed, you'd find him snuggled up to Tim.

Danyal hated it when people touched him... Except for Tim.

Danyal liked Tim the most.

The day Dick thought it was a good idea to call Danyal 'Danny' (a nickname that was only used by Tim and Alfred), he almost got stabbed. Well, that's where all the stabbiness went to.

Safe to say, Tim was Danny's favorite.

And Danny was Tim's.

"Drake! What have you done to my brother?!" Damian pointed a katana at Tim, who lazily glanced his way before turning back to Danny who was comfortably snuggled up to him and watching Blue while Tim scrolled on Tiktok.

"I haven't done anything to Danny, demon brat. Now shoo!" Tim's irritation could be heard from a mile away, shamelessly shooing Damian away with a flick of his wrist. Then the next second, he was combing his fingers through Danny's hair and listening to his younger brother make a purring noise.

(Another point of investigation because that is not fucking normal, Tim. Cute though!)

"I refuse to believe that Danyal would prefer you over me!"

"You're just salty that he stabs you like you stab me." Tim waved him off again, watching as Danny yawned and continued to ignore everyone else.

The click of a camera immediately alerts him and he's tugging Danny down before the much younger boy lunges at Dick.

"Woah! What's up with him?" Dick nervously asked, instinctively raising his phone above his head.

"Delete that!" Tim snarled, pulling Danny closer and guiding his brothers face to his shoulder. "You know he hates it when people take pictures without consent!"

(Tim doesn't tell them that something goes every wrong with the footage if Danny was ever in the picture.)

"Dick." Tim warned, effortlessly picking up Danny, because yes, his seemingly cryptid baby brother could become weightless, and snatched Dick's phone. Yep. Instead of Danny, there was a very strange figure, a glitching silhouette of black and green. He deletes it immediately.

Dick was pouring, "I don't have any pics of Danny—"

"Don't call me that, Richard." Danny scowled, clinging to Tim like a koala. He was strangely more child-like than Damian, muttering about annoying people who interrupted bonding time. (Dick was just forced to pout.)

"Danyal." Damian crossed his arms, scowling at Danny who was still comfortably cuddled up to Tim. "It is not appropriate to cling to Drake in such a way! You will embarrass our mother and father if you are seen acting like a petulant child!"

Tim wanted to argue that no, he wouldn't embarrass Talia and Bruce by being a kid, but Danny just grabbed a cookie from nowhere (note to self, add possible teleportation powers to cryptid baby) and shoved it into his mouth.

Danny just yawned, fixing Damian with a lazy glare.

"Tuhali, can you shut up?"

Damian stood stock still, while Jason and Bruce choked on their own spit. Jason slapping a hand over his mouth and Bruce just staring at his twins like the apocalypse was about to return.

"What did you just call me?"

Danny yawne again, "My spleen."

Tim knew what Tuhali meant. Of course he fucking knew Arabic! But to think that his cryptid baby brother was straight up calling Damian his spleen?

The spleen that Tim doesn't have.

The spleen that's important to the immune system but you can survive without it?

Tim grinned, grabbing his cryptid baby and made a run for it.

Yep.

Danny was definitely his favorite.

Credits to: @strangergraphics for the dividers used.

[wibben]

Photogenic

----------------------------------------------------------

Nanami does not like his picture taken.

It’s a shame, really, because he’s painfully and effortlessly photogenic. Even the begrudging shots – the ones taken mid-grimace or right as that frown of his settles in – turn out looking unfairly good.

You’d seen it firsthand. There was that one birthday dinner at Shoko’s, where she’d caught him mid-toast, glass raised and mouth sloping into a small, tolerant smile as she snapped a quick shot of the table. The photo looked like something out of a magazine ad, his cheeks warmed from the sake, his eyes a little brighter. But when she’d tried to show him, he shook his head with an unimpressed grunt.

Or the time Gojo had insisted on a group photo after a team mission. Gojo teased Kento into standing there, arms crossed and brow knitted in simmering annoyance, looking thoroughly put out. But somehow, he just looked like he was on the cover of GQ: chin tilted just right, sleeves rolled up perfectly, even his hair slightly tousled from the fight before. You might’ve whimpered a little when Kento insisted it be deleted (and maybe almost sobbed again with joy when Gojo refused).

No matter the context, Kento managed to look remarkable. And yet, he loathed each and every photo ever taken of him.

You couldn’t quite place where this aversion came from. Maybe a bad childhood haircut immortalized in an old family album, or one too many “just one more!”s from well-meaning friends. Either way, you’d mostly given up trying to capture him on camera. He existed as some sort of cryptid, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster: either you knew him in person, or he didn’t exist at all. But that hadn’t stopped Yuji – occasional agent of chaos – from sneaking in a few shots here and there. And that’s where your favorite picture of him came from.

You remember the day it was taken vividly. 

You’d insisted on a celebratory lunch for Yuji – a reward for a particularly tough job handled with flying colors (or, in short, because he’d actually listened to Kento’s instructions). Yuji joked his way through most of the meal, poking fun at everything from Kento’s meticulous folding of his napkin to his tactical approach to his plate, eating in the order of salad, then sides, then his main course. 

It had been right after you’d done… well, you couldn’t remember exactly what, as unremarkable as it was. Maybe a bad impression of Gojo, maybe a terrible joke. But whatever it was, Kento broke, his shoulders dropping as he graced the table with a genuine, unrestrained laugh that only you seemed capable of pulling out of him. Yuji had been quick to draw, snapping the photo before either of you noticed. 

Later, Yuji sent it to you with a sly grin. “Mrs. Nanami’s gotta have the good stuff,” he’d whispered, nudging you as he tilted his phone towards you. 

You stared, speechless, your heart doing a little stammering skip. There it was – Kento, your Kento, laughing, his shoulders relaxed, the faint lines by his eyes softened by that rare brightness in his gaze as he looked at you. You couldn’t help it; you’d immediately favorited it the moment it hit your inbox, tucked it into a private album, and maybe, possibly, looked at it embarrassingly often.

A few weeks later, though not remotely forgotten to you, it remained blissfully unknown to him.

One evening as you flipped through your camera roll, Kento leaned over the back of the couch, his arm bracing himself as he studied the photos of the fancy dinner the two of you had recently gone to. You’d taken more than one, trying to capture every detail of the delicate plating at his insistence so he could try and recreate it at home.

“Do you have a close-up of that risotto?” he asked, leaning in closer, his arm casually wound around the front of your chest and his breath drifting soft feathers across your cheek. “I want to see how they plated it.”

You nodded with an affirmative hum, flipping back a few photos – only to scroll back just a bit too far and that picture fills your screen, in all of it’s HD, no-longer-secret glory.

Your heart tripped as Kento’s gaze landed on it. You felt the warmth of his presence beside you grow a bit more rigid as he examined the photo, brows raising ever so slightly.

“...That isn’t dinner,” he remarked, clearing his throat beside your ear.

“Oh! That’s, um, just a… candid,” you stumbled, trying desperately for nonchalance. “Yuji took it, and it’s a really nice picture and I don’t have many, so I just…” your efforts to play it cool are skillfully undone by the plucking of your nerves… self-imposed, of course, because Kento remains quiet.

But he was still looking at it, brows drawing together as he studied it with a rare, quiet intensity.

“You favorited it,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you.

His voice was low, gentle, but you stewed with nervousness all the same. “Well, I mean – look at you!” you laughed, feeling shy under his gaze, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “The only pictures I have of you smiling are from our wedding! Let me have this–”

Kento plucked the phone from your hands and you screeched, immediately trying to claw it back. “Wait, don’t delete it!” you laughed, a cauldron of nerves and panic bubbling in your chest as he holds it just out of reach of your swiping hands, his mouth curving in that calm way it always does. You’re sure he’s about to grumble about “nonsense” or “unnecessary photos” or “living in the moment.”

But he didn’t delete it. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and held your phone closer to his face, gazing down at the screen with a gentleness that stopped your protests cold. You caught the flicker of something tender in his eyes as he studied the photo – lingering on you, the way you lean toward him, how happy you look together.

He was silent for a moment, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Then, almost shyly, “Could you… send it to me?”

You felt your eyebrows lift to be lost in your hairline, staring at him as if he’d just asked for the moon. “You… you want me to send it?”

He nodded. “Yes. I think I’d like to keep it.”

Your heart did a little stutter, a flash of warmth rushing to your face as you quickly sent him the photo. You didn’t think your grin could get any wider – but it did as you watched him save it, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, holding on to a picture of himself simply because it had been yours.

The next morning, with toothbrush in hand and foam dripping down your chin, you checked your phone and blinked, frozen in the middle of a brushstroke. That picture – that picture – was staring back at you as his profile picture, right there on the one or two social media accounts he’d reluctantly made but never actually used. You barely resisted the urge to squeal.

And then, later that day, it happened again: catching the briefest flash of his phone screen across the kitchen table, you saw the photo on his lock screen too. He looked up, catching your wide-eyed staring with a soft smile, one that was just for you, and undeniably better than any picture could ever be.

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — ACTORS ON ACTORS !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ drew and you participate in variety’s “actors on actors” series.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing, talking about nude scenes, probably inaccurate acting experiences.

003. NOTE !

✯ sorry to all the actors i stole roles from😭 also zendaya is used as a face claim for the social media but the writing is inclusive and has no descriptors of physical appearance… or at least i hope so.

word count : 5,4k (chat i got carried away)

The cozy studio was bathed in warm light, designed almost as if to feel like a welcoming living room. Two plush chairs faced each other, separated by a low coffee table adorned with a few carefully placed books and a small vase of fresh flowers. Everything about the space was crafted to exude intimacy and warmth, inviting open conversation.

Drew Starkey entered the room first, his usual calm confidence mingled with a tinge of nervous energy. He smoothed his shirt absentmindedly and scanned the setup, trying to ground himself in the moment. He was used to being in front of cameras, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about promoting a project or answering rapid-fire questions on a press junket. This was you.

“Hello,” Drew started, a smile gracing his features as he took in the fact that he was sitting right in front of his number one celebrity crush. His hand hovered awkwardly in a small wave, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Hi,” you said back, a giggle falling past your lips when you noticed his sheepish look. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said, his voice just a little higher than usual. Drew cleared his throat, laughing at himself, which made you laugh too. “Sorry, I’m… a little nervous.”

“Oh, don’t be,” you reassured him with a warm smile. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great, thank you. What about you?”

“Pretty good, can’t complain.” A laugh bubbled out of him, and subsequently, you. The way he rubbed the back of his neck made you think he was still pinching himself that this was happening.

The cameras rolled, capturing the easy charm and immediate chemistry between the two of you. 

Drew’s grin widened as he began. “First of all, let me just say—I’m completely starstruck right now. I mean, the way you completely own every role you take on... it’s incredible.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a bashful laugh escaping as you waved off the compliment. “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush!”

“I’m serious,” he pressed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re like… the blueprint. If I ever get even halfway to where you are, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” you said, your voice teasing but your cheeks undeniably warm. “But thank you, that’s so sweet. And honestly, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re incredible in Queer. You’ve got this natural charm that just lights up the screen.”

“Natural charm, huh?” He smirked, pretending to preen, which made you laugh again. “I’ll take that.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling. “You should, because it’s true.”

Drew’s gaze softened, the teasing giving way to something more earnest. “That means a lot, really. Especially coming from you. You’re like… Hollywood royalty to many.”

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “To many, huh? And are you part of this many?”

Drew’s eyes widened, and he laughed, a little caught off guard. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a lifetime membership to the fan club.”

“Good to know,” you teased, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair with an air of mock superiority. “I’ll have to start charging you membership fees.”

“Totally worth it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Well, thank you,” you said with a soft laugh, “So, we’ve both got some things in common, which I think is pretty cool.”

“Like working with Daniel Craig?” he asked.

“Yes! Honestly, I still reminisce about our time on set… he’s genuinely incredible, isn’t he?”

“He is, yeah. I found myself just admiring him and sort of forgetting I had to act too. He’s just… he’s on another level, for sure.”

“Daniel’s a master of his craft… Most of my scenes as Paloma in No Time To Die were with him, and at first I was so nervous because, like, what if I messed up in front of the Daniel Craig?” Drew let out a laugh at your words, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. “But when he noticed I was nervous he reassured me that it was all good. He’s just the best.”

“You’ve worked with so many high-profile actors.” You nod slightly at his words, as if it were the most common thing in the world. “Are you always nervous when meeting them, or was it just a Daniel thing?”

“It wasn’t just Daniel, no, but I think it depends. For example, when I did Oppenheimer with Cillian Murphy, for some reason I felt more relaxed… even though I had some nude scenes with him.”

“Nude scenes just make you connect, don’t they?” he joked, leaning back with a sly grin.

“They do, actually,” you replied, leaning into the banter. “You’d think they’d be worse, but honestly, with the amount of seriousness and concentration they take, it’s like you don’t have time to be nervous.”

“You clearly pulled it off flawlessly,” Drew said with mock solemnity. 

“You did too in Queer.” You compliment him, “I watched it a few days ago, and the chemistry you had with Daniel was just off the charts.”

Drew’s face lit up, a mix of pride and bashfulness crossing his features. “Daniel’s an amazing scene partner. He really made it easy for me to tap into everything.”

“Well, it shows,” you said. “It was such a raw and beautiful performance. I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me blush,” Drew teased, pointing at you with a playful squint. “But seriously, that means a lot coming from you.”

“Hey, give credit where it’s due,” you shot back with a grin. “You’ve got this way of making everything feel so real. Like when you’re in pain, we’re in pain. When you’re in love, we’re falling right alongside you.”

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I don’t know what to do with all these compliments. This is the best therapy session I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, crossing your legs and leaning forward slightly. “Well, I’m glad I could help. But now I’m curious—how did you prepare for a role like that? I mean, it’s so emotionally intense, no?.”

“It was a lot of journaling, a lot of talking with Luca about backstory and motivations,” Drew explained, his tone more thoughtful. “And honestly, I kind of drew from real-life experiences. Not the exact ones, obviously, but just feelings of vulnerability and… wanting to be understood.”

“That’s beautiful,” you said softly, your smile turning tender. “It’s amazing how much of ourselves we pour into these characters.”

“Exactly,” Drew agreed. “And sometimes it’s terrifying, but when it resonates with people, it feels worth it.”

“It definitely resonated with me,” you assured him. “And I’m sure with countless others too.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” he said with a soft smile.

“How was it for you to work with Luca? Because I remember it being one of the highlights of my career.”

Drew’s eyes lit up at the mention of Luca Guadagnino, and he leaned forward slightly, as if the memory itself was a magnet pulling him closer. “Oh, working with Luca was… incredible,” he said, his voice laced with awe. “He’s got this way of creating such a safe, open space on set. It’s almost like he’s not just directing—he’s inviting you into this world he’s building in his head.”

You nodded eagerly, your own memories of working with Luca bringing a nostalgic smile to your face. “I know exactly what you mean. He makes it feel like you’re collaborating on this deeply personal piece of art, rather than just executing someone else’s vision.”

“Exactly!” Drew said, gesturing animatedly. “And he has this way of pulling things out of you that you didn’t even know you had. Like, he’ll ask you one simple question, and suddenly you’re diving into this emotional rabbit hole.”

You laughed, tilting your head in agreement. “He asked me once, ‘What would this character, Maren in my case, dream about?’ and it completely changed how I approached the next scene.”

Drew’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “He asked me the exact same question!”

“No way!” you exclaimed, your laughter spilling out in disbelief. “I love that! It’s honestly such a deceptively simple question, but it opens up so many layers.”

“It really does,” Drew said, chuckling. “And then you’re sitting there like, ‘Okay, now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew about this character.’”

“It’s kind of genius, though,” you added. “He makes you work harder, but not in a way that feels forced. It’s like… he trusts you to figure it out, but he gives you these breadcrumbs to follow.”

“Exactly,” Drew said again, his tone growing softer. “I think that’s why his films feel so intimate, he gets the human part so right.”

You smiled, letting his words settle in the air for a moment. “I think that’s what makes working with him feel like such a privilege. It’s not just about telling a story—it’s about feeling it.”

Drew nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “And those are the moments that stick with you, you know? The ones where you felt something real, even if it was just for a moment.”

“Completely,” you agreed, your voice soft with sincerity. “Those moments are why we do this.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling in the cozy studio. Then, Drew broke the quiet with a grin. “Okay, but did Luca make you do those impromptu rehearsals at, like, the crack of dawn?”

“Oh my God, yes!” you burst out, your eyes widening. “I’d just roll out of bed with zero coffee and somehow be expected to pour my soul into a scene.”

Drew laughed, his face lighting up. “Right? It’s like, ‘Good morning, here’s your emotional breakdown for the day.’”

You laughed along with him, the shared experience adding another thread to the easy camaraderie forming between you. “But honestly, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

“Same,” Drew said, his expression softening again. “For Luca? Anytime.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed, your eyes locking with his for a moment before the warmth of the studio light reminded you both that the cameras were still rolling.

Drew shifted in his seat slightly, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it’s kind of wild—hearing you talk about all these incredible experiences. You’ve been doing this for so long, and yet it’s like you’re just getting started.”

You tilted your head with a small smile. “That’s sweet of you to say. But yeah, I guess I have been in this industry for most of my life. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

Drew’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s crazy to think about. I didn’t even consider acting until after college. You must’ve been, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected with a chuckle. “My first role was in this little indie film. I was basically just the kid who ran around in the background eating ice cream, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever.”

He laughed, clearly amused. “That’s adorable. And now you’re the Hollywood It Girl. No big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your laughter light. “Oh, stop it. But yeah, it’s been a journey. Growing up on sets definitely shaped me, for better or worse. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to have a more ‘normal’ childhood.”

Drew’s smile softened. “That must’ve been such a whirlwind. I can’t even imagine starting that young. I didn’t even think about acting seriously until high school.”

“Oh, I’ve read about that!” You said, your voice lighting up. “You were all about sports growing up, right?”

“Yeah,” Drew admitted with a chuckle. “I was your typical small-town kid—baseball, basketball, you name it. I was convinced I was going to go pro in something, but clearly, that didn’t pan out.”

“Well, I think acting suits you pretty well.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yeah, the real shift happened in high school when I joined a drama class. It was all Samuel Beckett and absurdist plays, which at the time I thought was the coolest thing ever.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “So that’s what pulled you in? Drama class?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a nod. “And then I went to Western Carolina for college. I double-majored in English and theater, thinking, ‘If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll at least have a backup plan.’”

“That’s so realistic of you,” you said with a laugh. “Meanwhile, I was ten, telling anyone who’d listen that I was going to win an Oscar one day.”

“And look at you now,” Drew said, gesturing to you with an almost reverent smile. “You made it happen.”

You chuckled, a bit flustered by his admiration. “Well, not quite, just an Oscar nominee for now. But thank you. You know, I think your journey’s pretty incredible too. A double major? That’s no joke. And starting later in the game like you did… it must have felt like a slow burn, but it’s clearly paid off.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Drew said thoughtfully. “It was definitely a slower burn for me. I didn’t land my first real gig until I’d been auditioning for what felt like forever.”

“I think that makes your journey even more special,” you said, your tone sincere. “You came into it with all this life experience and maturity. It shows in your work, you know? There’s this depth to your performances that’s just… rare.”

Drew’s ears turned a little pink, and he laughed softly, glancing down at his hands. “Wow, you’re gonna make me blush over here.”

“Good,” you said with a teasing smile. “It’s only fair after all the compliments you’ve been throwing my way.”

He looked up, his grin sheepish but warm. “Touché. But seriously, hearing that from someone like you—someone who’s been at this for so long and is so insanely talented—it means a lot.”

“Well,” you replied with a playful tilt of your head, “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially mutual fans.”

Drew laughed at that, the sound easy and genuine. “I can live with that.”

The conversation shifted into more comfortable territory as the two of you shared experiences, trading stories about acting and the film industry. Drew, now feeling at ease, leaned forward with renewed interest.

“You know,” he began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “I've been thinking about how different TV shows and movies are, especially when it comes to the pacing and character development. Like, in a show, we have to maintain this ongoing energy for the characters over multiple seasons. But with movies, it’s a totally different vibe, right?”

You nodded, understanding immediately where he was going. “It’s definitely a huge shift. With TV, you’re given time to build on a character slowly. Every episode is another chapter, so you can explore new facets of them and keep the audience hooked for longer periods of time. But movies, they’re this intense sprint. You have to get everything across in just two hours or so, but in a way that feels just as layered and satisfying.”

Drew's eyes lit up with excitement, clearly passionate about the topic. "Exactly! You have to balance the action and suspense while still giving the characters these moments of vulnerability. Over multiple seasons, you can really let them grow and change. It's like a slow burn. But when you're doing a movie, you don’t have the luxury of that buildup. It has to be this concentrated emotional punch right from the start.”

“That’s one of the biggest challenges of film, for sure," you agreed. "In a film, every second counts. You can’t afford to waste a moment. But I think what’s also interesting is how both mediums can explore a character’s journey from different angles. TV shows can dive into their backstory in more detail, but movies... they really need to hit those emotional beats and leave an impact without dragging it out."

Drew smiled, clearly engaged in the discussion. “In TV shows you need that perfect balance of suspense, character development, and personal growth. And then, at the end of the season, you drop a huge bombshell that leaves people wanting more.”

You laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Sounds like you’ve been doing some serious thinking about it. What’s the secret to keeping the audience hooked without losing the depth of your character?”

He leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s about letting the characters evolve with the story. You need to make sure the audience sees the human side of your character, even when they're in these crazy situations. It’s what keeps people invested in the long run.”

“You’ve really got the process figured out,” you said with a smile. “But you’re right—it’s a different rhythm for TV. With a movie, you get to go deep quickly, but with a show, you have to keep it dynamic and varied. And let’s not forget, you need that cliffhanger at the end to make people binge-watch the next season.”

Drew’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re giving away all the secrets! Next thing you know, people will be expecting a cliffhanger every time they watch a movie."

“Well, movies and TV are both art, but they demand different approaches,” you said, “and you’re doing an amazing job balancing both. I’m honestly so excited to see where your career goes next. Both worlds are lucky to have you.”

He chuckled softly, clearly humbled. “Thanks. I think I’m just lucky to be a part of both. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in a show that gets people talking for days?”

“Right? You’ve got Outer Banks, which has such a dedicated fanbase, and then movies like Queer that touch people in such a different way. It’s amazing to watch your versatility.”

He leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m just trying to keep up with you. Honestly, your transition from action to more emotional roles is inspiring. I hope I can pull off something even close to what you’ve done with your career.”

Your smile softened, your voice sincere. “Well, you’re already doing it, Drew. You’re already there. It’s not just about the roles—it’s about the heart you put into them. And you’ve definitely got that.”

Drew’s smile faltered for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. His gaze softened, as if he were truly reflecting on what you’d said. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but keeping his eyes on you, his expression thoughtful.

“It's crazy, isn't it?” He began, his voice a little quieter now, “The idea of giving so much of yourself to something that feels so... intimate. But when it works, when the audience feels it too, there's nothing like it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your voice a little quieter now. “That's the real magic, when the audience feels like they know the characters, like they're right there with them. It’s not about the plot twists or the fancy sets—it’s about the emotions that we build and share with them.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to you. “Speaking of emotions, I just saw your new movie, We Live In Time,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “It’s one of those films that stays with you, you know? It’s raw in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s also beautiful. How did you tap into that for Almut?”

Your expression softened as you thought back on the experience. We Live In Time had been a journey—a raw, almost therapeutic one. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, honestly,” you said, leaning back slightly, letting the memory settle in. “I think the hardest part was showing that moment where her whole world shifts. It was such a raw, profound type of emotion I had to channel in order to do justice to the character and her experiences.”

Drew sat back, letting the weight of the conversation settle. “I think that's what makes your career so incredible. You never just play a character. You become them. And you take us with you. Every heartbreak, every triumph, every moment of doubt... we feel it all with you. That's what makes your work so powerful.”

You met his gaze, feeling the depth of the conversation linger between you both. “It’s all about connection, right? Connecting with the character, with the audience, and with the emotions that we all share as humans. Because at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to make sense of time, love, and the moments we get.”

Drew smiled, his expression genuine and soft. “Well, you’ve definitely made sense of it for me. We Live In Time—it’s not just a movie. It’s a reminder to cherish what we have. And that, in itself, is something special.”

You smiled back, your heart full as you let the words sink in. “Thank you, Drew. That’s really sweet of you.”

You both shared a comfortable silence for a moment, before Drew broke it with a playful grin. “You know, it’s clear you’ve mastered the art of vulnerability on screen, but I can’t help but wonder—did you ever have moments on set where it was just... impossible to take things seriously?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, as a kid, it was all impossible to be serious,” you admitted, shaking your head at the memory. “I remember this one time during a scene on set when I was probably around 9 or 10. We were supposed to be doing this emotional scene, and I had to cry on cue. But instead of crying, I couldn’t stop giggling. It was a dramatic moment, and my co-star was all serious and trying to get through the scene, but I just... lost it.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Giggling during a dramatic scene? What happened?”

“Well, my director, bless her heart, kept trying to give me these 'serious actor' looks. She was this no-nonsense kind of woman, and she had this way of narrowing her eyes when things weren’t going well. I tried my best to hold it together, but then my co-star—who was way too good at being serious—looked at me and just gave this super intense stare, and that was it. I burst out laughing right in the middle of the take.”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “I can just picture that. You were probably trying to hold it together, but it must have been so hard with all that tension in the air.”

“I swear, the more I tried not to laugh, the harder it became,” you continued, grinning at the memory. “It was one of those moments where you’re like, 'Why am I even here? I can’t do this.' But somehow, I got through it. The director had to take a deep breath, and we did a few more takes. Eventually, we got it done, but I think we all were on the verge of cracking up the whole time.”

Drew let out a laugh, clearly imagining the scene. “I can’t blame you. I feel like as a kid, you have no filter. Everything feels like a joke, and it’s so hard to be serious when everyone else is trying so hard.”

“You have no idea,” you said, your voice still light. “There were so many times I’d be doing a serious scene, and I’d start thinking about something random, like a certain meme or a funny sound someone made on set—and then, bam, it was game over. I’d be holding in a laugh like my life depended on it.”

Drew smirked, leaning in a little. “I totally feel that. I mean, as an adult, I still have moments where I struggle to keep a straight face. I once had a scene where I was supposed to be super intense, but the prop guy was standing just out of frame, and he made this ridiculous face at me—completely threw me off. I couldn’t stop laughing, and it ended up taking hours to finish the scene because we kept cracking up. Honestly, I think the crew started to get annoyed with us after a while.”

“See?” you said with a grin. “It never really changes. Truthfully, the older you get, the harder it becomes to hold it in. But then you look at the footage and realize how much fun you actually had, and that makes it all worth it.”

Drew nodded thoughtfully, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. Sometimes it’s the moments you didn’t plan for that end up being the most memorable. Like when you have a laugh on set, and suddenly you feel closer to everyone, even though you’re supposed to be in character.”

“Exactly,” you said, your smile widening. “There’s something so beautiful about those unscripted moments. It reminds you that acting is, at its core, about connecting—whether that’s through laughter or the heavy stuff. And even though I had my fair share of giggling fits as a kid, I think those moments taught me just as much as the serious ones. Maybe more.”

Drew leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “It's funny how those little moments—like a laugh in the middle of a serious scene—can end up being the ones you remember the most. I think those are the ones that make the work feel real, you know?”

You smiled, your gaze distant as you reflected on the years of working on sets. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah, like those unscripted moments,” Drew added, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the sentiment lingered in the air. “They give the performance an authenticity that you can’t get from just following the script to a tee.”

You nodded, the words hanging between you like a shared understanding. “Exactly. And as a kid, I was so focused on getting it ‘right’—on being perfect—that I missed the beauty of just being in the moment. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how important it is to let go of the idea of perfection. It's in those mistakes, the wrong takes, the bloopers—that's where you find the truth.”

Drew's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “I think it’s key not to be afraid to show the mess, the imperfect parts of a character, because that’s what makes them human.”

A small chuckle escaped you, the warmth of the moment filling the studio. “Right? We’re all just a little bit of a mess, trying to figure it out, but that’s what makes the journey worth it. We’re constantly learning, constantly evolving, and we bring that to our work. The growth, the mistakes—it all shapes us.”

Drew nodded, his gaze shifting as if reflecting on those same ideas. “Yeah, and the growth never stops, does it? Just when you think you’ve figured it out, something new happens, and it challenges you again.”

“That's the beauty of it,” you said, your voice quieter now, the bond between you both deepening. “The challenge is what keeps it exciting, keeps you moving forward.”

Drew grinned, a playful spark lighting his eyes once more. “Well, I guess we’re both lifelong students of this thing called acting, huh?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a laugh, the lightness returning. “And just like any good student, we’ll always be learning. Who knows, maybe we'll even get better at not laughing in the middle of dramatic scenes.”

Drew let out a hearty laugh, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s going to take years of practice, honestly.”

You both shared a moment of genuine laughter, the warmth of your conversation filling the space around you. You leaned back into the chairs, the laughter still lingering in the air, a sense of camaraderie that made the space between you feel comfortable and open. You continued sharing stories, moving seamlessly from one experience to the next.

The conversation began to slow, the easy flow of stories fading into a comfortable silence, as you both shared an unspoken understanding. The light laughter that had filled the room now felt like a warm, lingering hum between you.

Drew shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze turning toward you with a subtle, thoughtful expression. “You know,” he began, his voice softer now, “I really hope we get to work together sometime. I think it’d be incredible. It’s the kind of thing where I can already imagine what it’d be like. Just... easy, real. Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your composure, offering a smile that spoke volumes. “I’d love that. If you receive a call from your manager these days… maybe I had something to do with it, so be prepared.”

The air between you both was charged, the quiet intensity of the moment not lost on either of you. There was something unspoken, something deeper that neither of you addressed outright but that seemed to hang there all the same. The connection was undeniable, yet it lingered in the silence, unspoken, but clear.

Drew finally broke the spell with a playful grin, his eyes flicking back to yours. “Oh, I’ll be ready. Can’t wait to see what magic we create together.”

You returned his smile, your heart racing ever so slightly, though you kept it hidden behind the ease of your words. “I’m sure it’ll be something incredible.”

As the interview wrapped up, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you both, an attraction that neither of you had to mention but was so clearly felt. The kind of connection that could only be hinted at, but would never truly fade. It was the kind of moment that would stay with both of you long after the cameras stopped rolling.

“Thank you,” you said softly as the final moments of the interview started to loom, your voice carrying a depth that reflected everything unsaid between you. “This has been amazing. Honestly, it feels like we’ve been talking for hours, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

He nodded, his expression soft but genuine. “I feel the same way. This has been one of the most honest and open conversations I’ve had in a long time.”

The crew began to pack up, signaling that the interview was at its end, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to break the moment. The usual chatter and movement around you felt distant, as if the two of you were in your own world for just a little longer.

“You know,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, a hint of sincerity threading through, “I think we make a pretty good team even just sitting here talking. Imagine what we could do with a whole script.”

Your smile softened, and you nodded, the words feeling right, but the undertone of something more—something unsaid—hung in the air. “Yeah, I think we’d be unstoppable.”

The moment stretched between you both, filled with the kind of comfortable tension that comes when you realize you’ve shared something real. Something that felt like it could turn into something more.

You both stood up, a final, lingering moment before the usual goodbye. Drew extended a hand, his gaze holding yours a beat longer than necessary.

“Take care, okay?” he said, his voice warm, like the words carried more than just a polite farewell.

You shook his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering just a moment longer than expected. “You too, Drew,” you replied, your voice soft yet carrying an undercurrent of meaning that mirrored his own.

As you turned to gather your things, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with that same thoughtful expression, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. The faintest smile curved his lips, as if he were replaying the conversation in his mind.

“See you around,” he called out, the words simple but loaded with promise.

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his gaze one last time. “See you around.”

Walking away, you felt a peculiar lightness, as though something intangible had shifted, leaving you both exhilarated and curious. It wasn’t every day you met someone who made you feel seen in such a profound way, and as you left the studio, you found yourself smiling, a quiet hope blooming in your chest.

And for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to wonder what could come next.