#god the fact i know him now....... his thinking face.............

[eicsferrari]

never met - op81 smau

summary: people start making up rumors about oscar and yn. problem is they never actually met

face claim: random girls from pinterest

a/n: this is chaos but it was fun to write hope you like it

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 singer yn and oscar piastri are reported to be dating according to inside sources

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user5 please let this be true

lando rue, when did this happen?

user14 helppp what is lando doing here

user3 my two worlds colliding

user7 she's not good enough for him

user8 ?? he's not good enough for her

yn inside sources who??? i never saw this man in my life😭😭

user10 he's a formula 1 driver

yn oh i only know lewis hamilton aka the goat aka the loml

user10 fair

yn he looks cute tho👀

sabrinacarpenter no yn!

yn 😊😊

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yn posted a story

caption: this is the man yall think i pulled? Damn thank u

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↪sabrinacarpenter you are insane😭

↪lando +61 12345678 text him

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yn jazzy nights are my favorite

♡liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

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user6 best night of my life

sabrinacarpenter i'm in love with you😍

yn me when i see you

user1 oscar liked...

user4 don't start

user1 i just stated a fact

user9 obsessed with your voice, i want you to sing me to sleep every night

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gossipf1 yn and oscar spotted hanging out after her concert

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user8 i fear this couple would be too iconic

user4 just... no

user5 i dont know this man my ass

yn in my defense i really haven't met him then!

lando it's true i can confirm

lando i can also confirm yn was oscar's most listened artist last year

oscarpiastri why are you here?

lando gossip is my bat signal

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yn trip made it out of the groupchat

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lando groupchat and it's only two people

yn get off my comments

lando i got you his number and this is how you repay me?

user9 lando tell us who it is🙏🏼

user3 if lando set them up it has to be oscar

user7 i'm in love with her aesthetic

user5 white shirt=oscar

user14 stop we don't know

sabrinacarpenter did my invite get lost in the mail?🤨

yn babe i'm sorry he means nothing you are the love of my life

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oscarpiastri posted a story

caption good company yn

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↪user4 gossipf1 ended up setting you two up huh

↪sabrinacarpenter i remember when i was the one taking her pictures...💔

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yn sorry osc i go where lewis goes🏎️

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oscarpiastri 😐

user4 osc🥺🥺

scuderiaferrari everyone is a ferrari fan ♡liked by author

francocolapinto hamilton fan first, a girlfriend second. i respect that

user5 did he just confirm that they are girlfriend and boyfriend?

mclaren 💔

yn sorry😔

charles_leclerc i approve son oscarpiastri

yn forza ferrari!

user26 we lost her to a sports guy...

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oscarpiastri posted a story

caption prettiest girl is in fact my girlfriend

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↪yn giggling blushing throwing up kicking my feet🥺🫶🏼

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yn posted a story

caption he's still mad i did not wear orange

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↪lando it's papaya not orange😡

yn same fucking thing

lando it's not !!

yn ok but the word papaya is so ugly

lando YOU TAKE THAT BACK

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yn the rumors are now true, i'm his favorite artist and he's my (second) favorite driver

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user18 she's gorgeous😍 he's just there😐

francocolapinto yes yes you might kiss but did he ever say he wanted to learn your language just to understand your jokes? i don't think so

yn call me when you are his top artist on spotify loser

user12 don't mind me i'm just patiently waiting for the love songs this will inspire

oscarpiastri you are never going to let me live this down, right?

yn you are stuck with me and my bad jokes sorry bro

sabrinacarpenter just remember she was mine first papaya boy

oscarpiastri noted🫡

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oscarpiastri she finally wore papaya

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user2 she's so hot🥵

yn not that word again😭

lando i will block you if you keep hating on the papaya

yn do it i dare you

yn i look so good tho

oscarpiastri you always look amazing

yn i love me a boy who can sweet talk

lando god stop being cheesy on main🤢

yn weren't you going to block me??

lando i should have

yn just do it you coward

user23 yes yn put the car guy in his place!

lando why are you supporting her when your page is dedicated to me??? are you a fan or a hater?

user23 i'm your biggest fan! but i support women's rights and women's wrongs so i'm with yn

yn HA even your fans like me better😛

lando you stole my teammate and now my fans what else do you want from me😭😭

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lando posted a story

caption disgusting

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↪yn disgustingly cute yes

lando whatever helps you sleep at night

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oscarpiastri posted a story

caption dont let their online banter fool you, they are friends

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↪yn babe don't expose us like that😔

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oscarpiastri 🧡

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yn DELETE what if lewis sees this?

user21 she's so real

lewishamilton i feel betrayed

yn nooo💔😔 you will always be n1 in my heart

oscarpiastri 😐

yn deal with it

yn i am so incredibly proud of you and i love supporting you🥺🧡

oscarpiastri thank you for being here<3

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yn posted a story

caption i'm going to tell my kids this is their dad

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yn posted a story

caption just kidding, i love you oscar

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↪ oscarpiastri i love you more❤️

[sugarwarachan]

thinking about izuku missing you on a long mission - mdni

your phone rings as you’re curling your body into bed, izuku’s familiar face lighting up your screen.

“hi sweetheart,” he says the moment you pick up. no matter how long you’ve been with izuku, the fact that years of pro hero work have scraped at his vocal cords always makes your stomach drop. the slight rasp makes his soft voice sound dangerous. "how’s my girl?"

you squish your face into the pillow, cradling the phone close. "okay. be better with you here."

"missing me, baby?" you hear rustling on his end, followed by a low grunt. "as much as I’m missing you?"

arousal hits you like a truck.

an image fills your head of izuku with his pants shucked down to his ankles, shirt between his teeth and hips desperately lifting off the bed. you roll onto your back, snaking a hand down into your pajama shorts. izuku’s unabashed desire for you never fails to make you wet, and sure enough, your fingers slide through your folds easily.

“wanna see, izu?”

he exhales sharply. “fuck. yeah, i’m gonna need to see you, baby. already soaking wet for me?”

you might hate to be apart from izuku for a mission, but you love what it does to his mouth. he hisses through his teeth when the picture you send goes through.

"love how wide you’re spreading those pretty legs, sweetheart." izuku’s voice is gravelly and rough. "missing my cock the way I’m missing your pussy? my fist isn’t the fucking same, princess, you know that? doesn’t grip me tight and snug like you do."

your skin flashes hot. "need me wrapped around you, izu?"

he groans low and filthy. your pussy flutters around nothing as you rub little circles on your clit. you might cum just from this, you think wildly.

"when I get home, I’m making you cum at least five times before I get my dick in you," izuku pants, teeth clenched between gasps. it’s been a week since he’s touched you, and not a single thing has relieved the ache in his cock. "want the lower half of my face fucking soaked in you, sweetheart, wanna ruin our sheets."

you whimper. his hand slides over the head of his cock, thumb rough over the slit, just like the way you touch him.

"fuck, you like the sound of that, don’t you? you’re making the sounds you make when you’re close."

"izu, honey, I wanna hear you cum first, okay?" it’s like you can barely get the sentence out. he bucks his hips hard into the ring of his fist.

"fuck. next time, baby, okay? cum with me now, can you do that?" he hears what sounds like sheets rustling and imagines you nodding your head furiously. god, you’re so fucking cute when you’re like this, pliant and begging. "rub that swollen clit of yours for me, I know you’re almost there. I’m right behind you, sweet girl."

"izuuuu," you wail. he’s memorized what you look like before you fall apart, head tossed back, eyes rolling up in your head, full mouth chanting his name. he conjures the image now, matches it to the sounds falling from your lips.

"there's my fucking girl, let me hear you." he feels his orgasm unfurl in his lower stomach, a keening ache that makes his rhythm falter.

can't wait till i'll home with you. don't forget to clean yourself up, baby. don't groan," he chuckles softly. "i'll be home soon enough to do it for you, and you know you don't like going to bed sticky."

"especially if you're not the cause," you tease sleepily. "night, izu. love you."

"love you, sweetheart. be home soon."

in such desperate need of comfort like this!! ˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are so appreciated <3

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[aureatelys]

adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

-

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.  

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

[cressidagrey]

Schrodinger's... Girlfriend? - Chapter 9: Of Bombshells and Big Disclosures

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Original Character

Summary:

Oscar Piastri’s love life is the talk of the F1 world—mainly because no one’s ever seen his girlfriend. Does she exist? Or is she just a figment of his imagination? Detective Lando Norris to the rescue!

Warnings: 

I don't think there are any?

“How did you even manage this?” Oscar asked her, as he lead her back to the McLaren Garage. “I thought you were going to write another final next week.”

“So did I,” Vanessa said with a snort. “Until the professor figured out that he got the date wrong on the syllabus…I wrote it on Friday already.”

It had been quite annoying, because orginally...Monday had been supposed to be the date...And that had messed up her study planning... but oh well.

 If she was only going to get a 94 instead of a 99, she was going to survive it. 

“So I thought…hey…I can make it to the race…2 hours later I had a flight booked," she told Oscar with a grin. Like there had been anything that would have stopped her from finally getting to see her boyfriend race from somewhere else other than the comfort of her couch.

Oscar squeezed her hand tightly.  “Thank you for coming,” he told her and she squeezed his hand right back.

“So, show me where the magic happens,” she teased him.

The next ten minutes was an absolute whirlwind of introductions around the McLaren garage, between engineers, strategists and mechanics, before Oscar pulled her into his driver’s room.

She had seen a lot of these throughout the last months, though she had always been on the other end of a facetime call.

Oscar closed the door behind them and grinned as Nessie looked around the room, eyes darting around the place, taking in his suit and helmet on the desk, before her gaze landed back on him and there was a sparkle in her eyes. She stepped closer to him and his arm wrapped around her back, tugging her closer against his chest.

“You have no idea how good it feels to have you here in person,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides, pulling her even closer against him.

She hummed softly as her head leaned against his shoulder, her face nuzzling against his neck. “Maybe I have a little bit of an idea,” she murmured against the skin, her lips brushing against his neck. “But it’s definitely much better than watching you through a screen.”

His hands slid beneath her top and onto her bare skin, fingertips drawing lazy circled onto the small of her back. “Much better,” he agreed with a low groan, one hand going up to grab the back of her head and tilt her face upwards for a proper kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck when she stepped as close to him as she could get. She sighed softly against his lips when they parted for a breath before she kissed him again, lips opening eagerly to deepen the kiss.

God, she had missed him.

Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles through the thin fabric of his polo shirt. There was no doubt in his mind that he had missed her just as badly as she had missed him.

She pulled back, slightly breathless. “So how long until the race?” she asked him.

“Another 2 hours or so,” Oscar answered, chasing her lips for another kiss. “Lando is probably busy taking a nap right about now, otherwise he would have already come out screaming about you being real after all.”

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "He still thinks I am some sort of elaborate joke?” Vanessa asked curiously.

Oscar just sighed. “Who knows what is going on in that head of his,” he said with a long suffering sigh. “But I do know that he will absolutely flip out, when he sees you in person.”

“Can’t wait to see his face," she told him, her mouth already curving up into a smile just picturing the scenario that was about to unfold as soon as Lando found out about the fact that she was actually there in person. 

And Nessie got to see that earlier than they both thought.

A few minutes later, she sat cross legged in the corner of the sofa, while Oscar was shifting through stuff on his desk… And in walked Lando Norris, without even bothering to knock...or glance in her direction. His mind was clearly focused on whatever racing question he had for Oscar. “Osc, I’ve been thinking-”

Vanessa couldn’t help it. She leaned back against the sofa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Lando,” she said, her voice cool and calm, “you don’t seriously still believe I’m not real, right?”

Lando froze in place, mid-sentence, eyes wide as he whipped around, scanning the room in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His gaze landed on Vanessa, and it was as if the world stopped.

The high-pitched noise that came out of his mouth was enough to make Oscar nearly drop the stack of paper in hands in shock. Vanessa couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, because that had been exactly the reaction she had hoped for.

“AHHHHHH!” Lando screamed, stumbling backward in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Surprise," Vanessa said with a grin, her voice filled with amusement, clearly enjoying the absolute shock on Lando's face.

In one swift movement, Lando collided with a chair, falling backward into it with such force that it tipped over. He scrambled to his feet, half-hysterical, his voice rising in panic. “OH MY GOD, SHE’S REAL! SHE’S REAL!”

Watching Lando flail about like that was enough to send Vanessa into hysterical giggles, and she was pretty sure that the sound of her giggling was only adding to Lando’s already panicked state.

Oscar, on the other hand, had slumped against his desk, his entire body shaking with laughter at the sight of Lando, absolutely losing it over Vanessa’s existence.

“Lando, I told you she exists,” Oscar finally said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Lando practically scrambled towards him, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it as if his life depending on it. “She’s right THERE,” he shrieked, pointing at Vanessa frantically. “SHE IS!”

Vanessa couldn’t help another fit of giggles. “I am, indeed,” she said in a calm voice, still leaning back in the sofa, clearly enjoying herself.

Lando gaped at her, his eyes wide with astonishment, before whipping his head around to fix Oscar with a look that was a mix between shock and disbelief. “Why the hell is she here?”

Oscar couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “What do you think? To see me.”

Lando spluttered, still clinging onto Oscar’s arm, his mouth working soundlessly. “But she’s— she’s—” he sputtered out, unable to finish a single sentence as his gaze wandered from Oscar to Vanessa and back, his mind clearly at war with what he was seeing.

“A living, breathing human being,” Vanessa filled in, her voice dripping with amusement. “Not a white whale...not a mannequin...not imaginary either."

Lando let out a strangled cry, his grip on Oscar’s arm tightening, as if he was afraid she was going to vanish into thin air any second now. "You’ve been dating her...this whole time...and she is just…here?” he managed to sputter out.

Oscar snorted, clearly enjoying Lando’s reaction a bit too much. “See? I told you I wasn’t messing with you. You really should’ve believed in the ‘white whale,’ mate.”

Lando, now starting to laugh at himself as the tension eased, shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I screamed when I saw you. I thought I was going to pass out.”

Vanessa chuckled, crossing her arms as she shook her head. “You’re not the first person to be a little shocked by me.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Lando replied, finally getting to his feet, his face flushed from the whole ordeal. “I’m just... still processing it.”

Oscar clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “No worries, mate. Just be glad you didn’t faint or something. That would’ve been a bit more embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando muttered, rolling his eyes but still laughing. “I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”

“You’re going to hear it forever,” Oscar said with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely,” Vanessa joined in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “This is prime material for future jokes and jabs."

Lando groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”

"Oh, come on, Lando," Oscar said, his tone almost mockingly cheerful. "We're just keeping you on your toes. It's all in good fun, mate."

"It's very nice to meet you though," Vanessa said brightly. "I have heard a lot about you, Lando."

Lando's expression turned from one of mock despair to a genuine smile at her words. "Yeah, likewise," he replied, his voice still tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Sorry about, you know, the whole..." he trailed off, waving.

"Making the whole internet think I didn't exist or that I was Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster?" she asked drily. "Don't worry, I found it quite amusing."

Lando winced with an embarrassed grin, his cheeks flushing once more. "Yeah, that," he admitted sheepishly. "It was all a bit ridiculous."

She shrugged, a bemused smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I’ll admit, it was rather funny seeing everyone online debating my existence."

[peace-hunter]

Question for baby prime Orion au: how do the rest of the gang take that Orion is the "lost" prime. Because here's the reaction I think they'll have:

D-16:oh primes my friend is a prime and I punch him in the face yesterday!?

Elita: oh primes, this trouble making bot is a prime!?

B-127: one of my new friends is a prime, this is awesome!!

"How well am I taking that one of my friends is actually a demi-god?" reactions from best to worst:

you're pretty much right with Bee. this has been the wildest day he's had since forever, he's very much just along for the ride and he's kinda just "this may as well happen :)"-ing through everything. he's also lowkey clinging to the one (1) good new he's gotten from this whole affair for dear life. like. he could freak out about the fact his entire life has been a lie and he's been working himself to death for a tyrant that's betrayed their entire race to their sworn enemies. or he could be happy his new best friend is extra cool now. so. y'know. glass half-full half-empty kinda deal.

Dee's reaction is,,,, complicated. obviously.

on one hand holy crap his friend is a prime that's the coolest fucking shit ever he's friends with someone directly related to megatronus prime-

on the other. this is just one more thing he's been wrong about for cycles. everything he thought was true is turning out to be a lie and even if this isn't a betrayal like sentinel's it's still something he has to accept is not what he thought it was. Orion, his best friend, the person he trusted the most, is not what he thought he was.

and even though Orion didn't know (which... is also a point of contention between them with Dee not being quite able to believe one could forget such a thing even as Orion swears over and over again he had no idea) there's still a divide between them that wasn't there before. now Orion is this almost mythological being directly created by their god for greater things while Dee is just... a miner.

now Orion is a Prime. and Dee has just found out what happens when you trust a so-called Prime.

and he also can't help but wonder, as he remembers all those times Orion ignored what he said and involved him in his crazy schemes with no regard for what he thought about it, if it's just in the nature of Primes to do as they wish without considering what it means for everyone else.

but the real victim here is elita who is experiencing a level of cringe that hasn't been seen in cybertron before nor will be seen again until maybe four million years and a war later during peace negotiations. pray for her.

baby prime orion au

[daydreamteardrop]

Girlhood - Sylus x Reader Drabble

Note: Hello! This is a drabble Ive started, maybe I'll continue it. I thought about how Sylus would be so up for helping MC be more confident in a girly style, because her whole life she wasnt allowed to present girly for her safety. (im massively projecting). Grandma Josephine is carrying the brunt of that LMAOOO, idk, is not being a Josephine fan controversial?

Not beta read, we explode like Josephine.

Spoilers for Sylus' Story!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• °.•

Girlhood wasn't really something you got to grow into.

Middle school introduced the full throttle of make-up, accessories and hairstyles onto the girls your age. And you found it fun, in fact, you always wanted to join the bandwagon.

But your dear gran was just so worried. She'd hold your hands tight and tell you that presenting so feminine can be dangerous. You will be stared at, perhaps even talked to by strangers, god - it would hurt your dear Grandma's heart should you walk outside while presenting in a girlish way. She'd be worried sick.

‘The boys would stare…’

‘Think about the way home, it gets dark so quickly during fall and winter.’

'It's unsightly.’

‘You are way too young.’

‘You’d get unwanted attention.’

And you didn't want to worry her.

So with a sad smile you were always the odd one out. You'd wear big T-shirts and pants. The girls in your class looked at you with such a pitiful yet mocking expression. One time they even ‘accidentally’ cut your hair and when Caleb picked you up from school that day, your silent begging to just go home was the only thing that stopped him from acting against the bullies. Grandma saw it as an opportunity to keep your hair short. It stayed the same even in highschool, where you were mistaken as Caleb's little brother once.

In the Hunter Academy, you were able to loosen the insistence of your grandma and managed to grow your hair to just above your shoulder again.

When you first wore the official Hunter's uniform, you couldn't be happy. The only thought that crossed your mind was ‘Grandma would worry if she saw the bare stomach.’.

When Tara would try to convince you to do anything girlish, you'd decline with a sour smile. Too scared, too constricted.

Even when the explosion took her, you just couldn't free yourself of the shackles.

-

Now, the dress Sylus made you wear for the auction was…gorgeous. The black and velvet felt so nice on your skin, it was practical to move in. The accessories glittered and reflected the dim lighting of the hallway. You didn't dare touch your hair, not knowing how, so the matching black claw-clip was in your hand. You didn't have any make-up you could use. And so it felt sinful to walk along this disgustingly expensive carpet in heels you weren't used to.

He held his hand out for you to take and wore that smirk. Black gloves met his calloused hand and he observed you. Looked you up and down and there was no way to tell if his gaze was scrutinizing. Red eyes met your face and then your hair, then to the claw clip in your hand.

“...not to your taste?”

“That's not it…”

Fingers clenched around the material of the hair accessory. He raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

“...I don't know how to put it in. I mean, it's kinda obvious how to, but-”

Before you could bring a finished sentence into the room, he grabbed the clip from your hand and spoke “Turn around.”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “I'll help you.”

With a bit of hesitation you turned around. Something about turning your back to the Onychinus leader was unnerving, an inner part of your brain scratched that it was crazy, but the moment his hands pulled your hair to the back with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the scratch stopped. He left a bit of hair out on purpose, letting it frame your face, and clasped the rest in place neatly by the claw clip.

Your hand traced over it carefully and you turned around and met his eyes. He huffed, satisfied with himself and put his hands in his pant pockets.

You recall the sentence that left him earlier.

‘No one can stay wary, when there's a beauty walking around.’

You're not used to being described with that adjective.

-

After the auction, Sylus waved you off when you wanted to return the dress and its accessories to him.

‘It was tailored for you. It's yours now.’

His way of using his money was…questionable to you. The dress was miles outside of your budget range and you hung it straight and neatly, in order to not even get a hint of a wrinkle in the luxurious fabric.

Closet doors were open and you stared at it, like it was some sort of glorious painting in a museum.

‘Maybe I should frame it.’ you thought as you sighed dreamily. When the tips of your hair slide over the back of your neck, you shudder, because it reminds you of Sylus' fingertips in your hair when putting it up with the clip.

Your poor pillow is the target of your suppressed squeal. A dress was in your possession.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

DaydreamTeardrop2025

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part one)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, very indirect subtle mention of sexual activities (no actual scenes), mention of drug usage (no actual scene)

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him.

word count: 2144

a/n: i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt like it now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any smut in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. and kelce's last name is statter bc apparently it was never mentioned in the show. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be little freaks) <3

*****

Fuck my life.

That was the only thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week art project. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him. You didn’t even know why he'd chosen this class. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA. Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe Cameron made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/N, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice. You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Okay, then let’s meet after the fifth period." Before you could ask where you should meet him, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach.

You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant—he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statton was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that was what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him. But he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems at right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

----

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe Cameron? Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out—only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The cafeteria would've been the most obvious meeting place, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong, freshly showered—boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining why you were standing there if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t. Great.

When Rafe saw you, something flickered in his gaze that you didn’t want to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you—with Kelce and Topper right behind him.

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Hey," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "I didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

Blushing, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Right," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the cafeteria."

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment. G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though. The faster we get this project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/N Y/L/N, right? Your mom owns Y/L/N Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just laughed.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t blush. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a pretty model."

Your cheeks warmed, and either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to comment on it.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You allowed yourself a small smirk.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a tired smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate? It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The cafeteria has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny? Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who… uh…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„No, no, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave. You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, warm, which somehow made it worse because it only made you more nervous.

„No, no, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „I guess I need to work out more if I’m giving off ‘fries guy’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the cafeteria. „Come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming—in the best way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

[noharaaa]

Pillow Talk, Litteraly!

(𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙨 𝙭 !fem! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

When your annoying ex boyfriend sneaks into your bunk during curfew, after a whole day of avoiding him, things are bound to get messy. What could possibly go wrong? (Hint: everything)

Part 1 >>>> Part 2

Author’s Note: 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴’ 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 “bold purple letters”

Enjoy Reading!

@loveesiren╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

The facility was too damn cold!

You curled onto your side, yanking the thin blanket up to your nose.

It barely helped.

The bunks here weren’t so comfortable. thin mattress, stiff pillow, the tiny scent of bleach.

But after the hell of your first day in this place, you should’ve been exhausted enough to pass out immediately.

But you weren't tired.

Your mind kept running into thoughts you didn’t want to think about.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your bed dipped.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

A low obnoxious whisper tickled your ear.

“Wassup, my baby princess?”

Oh, for God’s sake!

You clenched your jaw, eyes squeezing shut.

Maybe if you ignored him, he might disappear.

But the weight only shifted closer beside you.

The audacity!

You felt his body heat press into your back as he shamelessly slid under your blanket. The faint scent of cologne and something kind of… fruity filled your nose.

His vape?

Your stomach twisted. Half from irritation, half from something way more annoying.

You turned your head just enough to hiss, “Get off my bed, Su-bong.”

He did the exact opposite and made himself comfortable instead.

“Wahh, so cold~” he whined dramatically, pulling at the edge of your blanket. “Let me in!”

He was whispering way too loud!

“I’d rather freeze to death.”

Su-bong grinned. Even in the dim lighting, you could see his ridiculous purple hair and that smug look you wanted to slap off his face. “Then we die together, Romeo and Juliet style.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, except I’d be the one poisoning your drink.”

“Oooh, kinky.”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Go away. I swear, if the guards see you—”

“Pfft. Who cares? They respect me.”

“No one respects you.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause you still want me.”

Oh. This bastard.

“In your dreams, asshole.” You smacked his arm. He cackled, stifling the sound into the pillow.

The worst part? You caught yourself grinning.

You were still not over this man.

A beat of silence.

Then his voice dropped, quieter now. “You okay?”

You blinked.

Su-bong didn’t do serious. Not often. But there was something about the way he said it. Like he actually wanted to know.

You looked at the bunk above you.

“It’s cold,” you muttered.

There was another silent pause.

Until he replied with, “Damn. That’s crazy.”

You elbowed him. Hard.

He almost flinched, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Then he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You went stiff.

“W-what are you–?”

“Shhh.” He nuzzled into your hair, his body warm against yours. “Baby cold. I am heater. Shhh.”

Your face went hot…

But you didn’t move or shove him off.

Not because you wanted him there. Obviously.

It was because of the guards.

They were unpredictable as hell and the last thing you needed was some pink robotic-looking psycho deciding that an argument at curfew was a punishable offense.

That was the only reason you let Su-bong stay.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that there was no space on this tiny ass bed!

And of course, you're annoying, oversized ex boyfriend was hogging most of it.

Your leg was literally slipping off the edge. “Can you move?”

“Ah, baby. I wish… but my body? Too powerful.”

“Uhm…What?”

He patted his chest dramatically. “Too much muscle. No room.”

“Of course there's no room. ‘Cause you’re a big back.”

“I’m a… what?”

“Dude! You’re the one crushing me!”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue, wiggling into the mattress even more. “You should be grateful. You have the great honor of sharing a bed with…. South Korea’s sexiest man alive~”

“Oh my God. Please shut up.”

He didn’t shut up. He just laughed and… oh no. No.

His breath tickled your ear.

You flinched, heat prickling down your spine.

Su-bong noticed.

And because he was the worst person alive, he did it again.

This time, you jerked away slightly “Stop rubbing on me!”

“Baby… that sounds so dirty.”

You kicked him.

“OW! Yah!” He whisper-shouted. “That hurt! You abuser! You need– how you say…” His voice switched back to English, “anger issue~”

Your fists were now balled up. “Su-bong, I swear—”

“Shh, shh.” He patted your head gently. “S’okay. Thanos still luv you.”

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

“Kinky~”

You were this close to elbowing him again, but then…

He nuzzled into the back of her head, his nose grazing your neck.

You froze.

You felt the warmth of his breath again. The way his stupid, soft hair brushed against your skin. The lazy way he—

Nope. Nope.

You turned your body around, face-to-face with him now.

He blinked at you.

You glared at him.

It was quiet again.

Then… his mouth curled into that annoying, stupid smirk.

You immediately regretted turning.

You’re eyes narrowed even more.

He didn’t stop staring.

It was annoying. And weird. And making you way too aware of how close you both were.

“…What?”

The words barely left your lips before his smug grin got bigger.

“Ahhh,” he breathed, dramatic as ever. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You like looking at me.”

You stared. Then snorted. “You look like a failed SoundCloud rapper.”

He gasped with a fake pain written all over his face. “How can you say this after all our beautiful memories?”

You rolled her eyes. “Memories?. Like on the day you cheated on me, right?”

His smirk faded.

You saw it.

The way his eyes darted away for half a second before snapping back to you.

“Still bringing up old news?”

The way he said those words were unsurprisingly apathetic and mocking. It wasn’t hard to notice how he was trying not to grin.

Your jaw tightened. “Oh, my bad. I forgot it doesn’t count when it was ‘just a kiss,’ right?”

His face hardened.

You kept going. Why stop now?

“Tell me, Su-bong. was it still ‘just a kiss’ when you let her sit on your lap?”

Silence.

Then he clicked his tongue.

“So dramatic,” he muttered, flopping onto his back. His arm folded behind his head, like this wasn’t a big deal. “You always overthink things.”

Ah, yes. There it was.

That calculated indifference. The bull crap he used to pull when he knew he was in the wrong but too stubborn to admit it.

Your brows furrowed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, you are.” His voice sharpened. “Always nagging. Always twisting things into some big betrayal. Seriously, bro! do you ever get tired of being like this?”

‘Bro?’ Who does this man think he is?

Your nails dug into your palms. “Being like what?”

“A pain in the ass.”

A rush of heat shot through your chest.

He did NOT just gaslight you!

Your body tensed. The anger in you bubbled so fast you nearly saw red.

Before you could snap, a groggy voice groaned from a few bunks away.

“Can you two shut the hell up?”

Shit.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your muscles to relax.

This wasn’t the time. The last thing you needed was to cause a scene.

“Go back to your bunk.”

Su-bong chuckled under his breath. “Wow, Look at you. Finally learning to control that temper.”

You almost went stiff again. He was obviously trying to start shit on purpose.

“Wouldn’t want the guards dragging you away, would you?”

“Screw you, Su-bong.”

“Haha. You wish, baby.”

Your eye twitched.

He still didn’t leave.

He just kept staring until your patience snapped

.

So you did what any mature, rational person would do. You whispered the meanest insult you could think of.

“Choding.” (Elementary school brat.)

Su-bong snorted. “Ohhh, scary~”

“Dumbass.”

“Stupid.”

“Egomaniac.”

“Goblin.”

“Failed rapper.”

Oops!

His grin faded almost instantly. “Yah. Watch your mouth.”

“Cry about it.”

“You first, loser.”

“Truth hurts.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay… crypto hater.”

“That’s not even an insult.”

“Yes, it is. ‘Cause you didn’t believe in me.”

“I didn’t believe in your dumb crypto.”

He grinned again. “Same thing.”

That grin was too contagious.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

No, you were NOT about to laugh.

You heard a stiff breath leave his nose like he was trying to hold something in.

Then a quiet snicker slipped out.

That was it.

You almost lost it before you buried your face into your pillow, laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

It only lasted a few seconds before you caught herself.

Dammit!

You cleared your throat, forcing your lips back to normal.

You were supposed to be upset!

“Yah,” he whispered between chuckles, “you’re so childish, you know that?.”

“Whatever.”

He nudged your side, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s cute. The way you’re playing hard to get.”

“Am not!”

“Mmm.”

You knew he didn’t believe you.

He inched closer. Too close.

His voice was lower now, the teasing edge still there, but softer.

“You sure about that?”

You didn’t move. “Positive.”

Su-bong let out a quiet, amused breath.

“Liar.”

And with that, he closed the gap.

Just a brush of lips. Soft. Quick.

You blinked.

He did it again. You didn’t pull away.

And he knew he’d win.

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

Part 1 >>>> Part 2 (coming soon)

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' LONGING ,,

|| pairing: hawks x gn!reader / keigo takami x gn!reader

|| warnings: hurt/comfort, this is so self indulgent

|| word count: 0.8k

It had been around 2 weeks since Keigo left for his mission. He had told you that he was coming back in a week and a half. You were worried sick for him, pacing around your shared living room as you constantly checked your phone. Though, you knew Keigo wasn't allowed to use his phone on these missions, it'd be too much of a risk. Undercover missions, y'know?

It didn't make it easier, of course it didn't. When the two of you got married, you knew what you were signing up for. You knew that he'd be gone for weeks on end. That his hero work wouldn't be sympathetic towards your relationship.

He'd come home at late hours of the day, leave when daylight barely breaks. It was heart wrenching. And you didn't know what to do but worry. Ah, well, let's hope he'll be home by tomorrow. It was already 2 AM, if he was home he'd probably kill you if he knew you were up at that time. That damn hypocrite.

You changed into your pajama's, it was the matching set that Keigo INSISTED on getting. It was the stupid, childish pj's that had llama prints on the bottoms while the top had some cheesey llama pun. God, it was so stupid.

You climbed into bed, hiding underneath the fluffy comforter that Keigo had hated, yet you absolutely loved it. He claimed his wings were warm enough, which was true. But now that he was out, you needed the comforter. Yet all you could think of was the fact you wanted that stupid fucking bird man to wrap his arms and wings around you.

You closed your eyes, hugging your fluffy pillow, nuzzling your face into it. Pretending as if it was Keigo. God, what did that man do to you?

.

.

.

You had drifted to sleep, your dreams filled of nothing but a dark void as a small creak came from your balcony. Heavy boots against the smooth tile as Keigo made his way through the living room. He hadn't received terrible injuries, thankfully, only a few cuts and bruises, allowing him to fly home, quick and easy. He threw off his jacket on the couch and kicked his boots. He'll deal with your lecturing tomorrow.

Silently, Keigo made his way through the hall up to your shared bedroom. As much as he hated being in his hero costume, he desperately needed to cuddle with you in bed. He'll change in the morning. He needed his spouse.

He climbed into bed, pushing the comforter away and pushing your back flush against his chest. His wing over the both of you, acting as a blanket. Keigo let out a small sigh as he pushed his face into your hair, memorizing your smell. Oh, how he missed this.

"Kei?" Your voice felt like a whisper in the wind. Something that couldn't be heard even by the sharpest of ears.

"Shit, I'm sorry for waking you, baby" You turned to face him. A small smile on your face as you put your forehead against his own. Your hand reaching up to feel his scratchy stubble.

"Don't apologize for waking me up.."

"I'm sorry, love"

He placed a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips. A small smile spreading on his face when he did. How sweet you were, your lips as sweet as honey and as soft as a cloud that Keigo would fly in. Oh, how he would trade the skies to kiss you a million times over. He'd trade everything just to stay with you everyday.

"How was-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Keigo pushed his face into your hand, placing gentle kisses on your hands. "just wanna be with you.. Don't wanna think about-"

You placed another kiss on his lips, your eyes filled with love and affection as he looked over at you. What was he even talking about?

"It's okay, love," You reached over and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pulling him close, as if you were trying to meld yourself to him. "I'm glad you're home, I've missed you."

With a shakey breath, Keigo wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling into you as his grip on your shirt tightened. The days he would come home were always the best, yet also the worst. He could have prevented the hurt, the longing, if he had stayed home. If he had stayed with you.

"I missed you so much, my love, God.. All I thought about was you.." His voice was barely above a whisper as you hugged him. At these times, he acted as if you were a precious treasure that he desperately did not want to let go of. Well, you were a precious treasure. To him, at least. "I'll stay home tomorrow. I promise, my songbird, I promise, I-"

You pushed his face away from you, his face cupped between your hands as you gave a soft smile. "It's okay, Keigo.. I promise, I'm okay."

"I love you."

You let out a small chuckle.

"I love you too, Keigo"

|| chat idk wtf came over me but i was feeling sad and i wanted keigo SIGH!

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 6 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇we FINALLY meet other characters

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Antinous leaned against the cold stone wall of the training grounds, his chains rattling softly with each movement. His sharp eyes tracked Telemachus, who stood across from him, tense and visibly fraying at the edges as the weight of the looming war pressed down on him. “Tell me something, king,” Antinous began, his tone dripping with venom. “Do you really think you’ll make it to y/n in time? Or do you just enjoy playing the tragic hero for show?”

Telemachus’s fists clenched, but he didn’t turn around. “We’re preparing. Every soldier is being trained, every ship outfitted. I’ll get her back, Antinous. I swear it.”

Antinous scoffed, the sound filled with derision. “Swear all you want. Swear to the gods, swear to me. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. And who knows what that bastard is doing to her right now?”

Telemachus spun around, his eyes blazing with fury. “Shut your mouth!” he snapped. “You think I’m not already tormented enough?”

Antinous took a step forward, his chains clinking as he moved, the mocking smile on his face fading into something cruel and unrelenting. “Tormented?” he repeated, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word, Telemachus. Do you realize what could happen while you waste time preparing? She might already be carrying that monster’s child by the time you finally decide to act. Or worse…” He leaned in closer, his words slicing through the air like a blade. “She might not be alive at all.”

Telemachus froze, the weight of those words slamming into him like a blow. He opened his mouth to argue, to scream back, but nothing came. His breathing turned ragged, his mind flashing with horrifying images he didn’t want to believe. “You think she’s just sitting there, waiting for you to come save her?” Antinous continued relentlessly, his voice rising with bitter anger. “She’s suffering, Telemachus. Every second you waste is another second she’s being tormented by that prince you so graciously welcomed into your home. You let this happen. You let him near her. And now, you’re just standing here, hoping war will fix everything.”

Telemachus’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of guilt pressing him down. “I’m doing everything I can…” he murmured, his voice cracking.

Antinous sneered. “Everything you can? Clearly, it’s not enough. You’re her husband, aren’t you? Her protector? Then why is she gone? Why is my sister—your wife—at the mercy of a man who doesn’t know the meaning of mercy?”

Telemachus took a shaky step back, his mind a storm of emotions: anger, shame, fear. Antinous’s words were cruel, yes, but they carried the sting of truth. “I’ll get her back,” Telemachus finally whispered, his voice hollow but determined.

Antinous shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’d better. Because if you don’t, if she’s already lost by the time you finally get to her…” His expression twisted into something cold and menacing. “You’ll wish I was still chained when you return.” The words echoed in the space between them as Telemachus turned away, his heart heavy and his resolve burning brighter than ever.

——

The salt laden wind whipped Telemachus’s cloak as the Ithacan ships sailed eastward, their oars cutting through the restless waves. Determination burned in his chest. He needed more men—strategists, warriors, anyone who could strengthen their force and ensure his wife’s safe return. He scanned the horizon as their fleet neared the ports of various islands, each harbor holding the potential to tip the war in his favor.

Druses

Telemachus stepped onto the polished marble streets of Lyris, a city known for its artists and beauty. Among the crowd gathered in the marketplace stood Druses, a man with an ethereal elegance that rivaled the gods. His long black hair flowed like a river of silk, and his piercing purple eyes seemed to strip away all pretense. When Telemachus approached him, Druses’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “King of Ithaca,” he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What brings you here, so far from your shores?”

“I’ve come to ask for your sword,” Telemachus said plainly, meeting his gaze. “Your reputation precedes you, Druses. I need warriors of your skill.”

Druses tilted his head, inspecting Telemachus like one might study a sculpture. “And why should I care about your war? What honor is there in chasing after a stolen wife?”

Telemachus clenched his jaw but kept his tone steady. “This isn’t just about my wife. It’s about justice. If men like Raphael can take what they please without consequence, then what’s to stop them from doing it again? Stand with me, Druses, and your name will be sung for generations as a champion of righteousness.”

Druses’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Honor, you say?” He paused, letting the word linger in the air before nodding. “Very well. I’ll join you, if only to see if your conviction matches your words. But be warned—I expect no less than glory on this campaign.”

Florus

Their next stop was the tranquil island of Myrinthos, where the forests stretched endlessly and whispers of an unmatched strategist echoed through the villages. Telemachus found Florus perched in a tree, his bow strung lazily across his back. The young man was slight, with an air of calm intelligence that belied his sharp wit.

“Florus,” Telemachus called out, drawing the archer’s attention.

Florus glanced down, one brow raised. “And who might you be, shouting into my forest?”

“King Telemachus of Ithaca,” he replied. “I’ve heard of your skill with the bow and your brilliant mind for strategy. I’ve come to ask for your aid in a war.”

Florus hopped down from the tree, dusting off his hands. “A war, you say? Sounds messy. And loud.” He gave Telemachus a lazy smile. “Not exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Would you rather stay here, bored out of your mind, while the world changes around you?” Telemachus countered. “You’re too sharp to waste your talents in obscurity. Join us, and you’ll have the chance to shape the course of history.”

Florus considered this, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Boredom has been a problem lately…” He grinned. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. But only because I can’t resist a good challenge. Just don’t expect me to get my hands dirty too often.”

Cassander

Their final stop brought them to the bustling city of Almyros, where Cassander was found in a tavern, charming a group of women with his cocky grin and boastful tales. The man was tall and broad shouldered, his confidence radiating like the sun. Telemachus approached, his presence commanding enough to make Cassander glance up from his admirers. “And who are you?” Cassander asked, raising a brow.

“King Telemachus of Ithaca,” he introduced himself. “I’m forming an army to wage war against Skiaphos. I need men like you—strong, fearless, and skilled in battle.”

Cassander laughed, leaning back in his chair. “And what’s in it for me, your majesty? Gold? Glory?” His grin widened. “Or perhaps the promise of beautiful women to claim as prizes after victory?”

Telemachus fought back a grimace. “If it’s women you want, then you’ll find no shortage of them on the battlefield,” he said evenly, though his tone carried a subtle edge. “But if you’re truly as skilled as they say, then you’ll also earn the respect of kings and warriors alike. Your name will be known far beyond Almyros.”

Cassander chuckled, clearly pleased by the prospect. “Alright, King Telemachus. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t forget—when this is all over, I expect my rewards to be worth the trouble.”

With Druses, Florus, and Cassander aboard his fleet, Telemachus felt the weight of his army grow stronger. Each man brought something unique to the table, honor, strategy, brute strength, but as the ships sailed onward, Telemachus’s mind remained focused on one thing: bringing y/n and Adonis home. No matter the cost.

——

The sea stretched endlessly before them, the waves rocking the fleet of warships as they made their way toward Skiaphos. But no amount of salt air or open water could calm the growing tension aboard the Ithacan flagship—thanks entirely to Antinous and Eurymachus. “Can you not chew like a wild boar?” Antinous snapped, glaring at Eurymachus, who was sitting on a crate and loudly munching on a piece of dried bread.

Eurymachus smirked, deliberately chewing even louder. “What’s the matter, dungeon boy? Can’t handle the sound of freedom?”

Antinous’s jaw twitched as he took a threatening step forward. “Say that again, and I’ll throw you overboard.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eurymachus shot back.

Before Antinous could follow through on his threat, acrisios groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For the gods’ sake, can you two not brawl for five minutes? Some of us are trying to work!” Antinous crossed his arms, muttering under his breath, while Eurymachus grinned smugly, enjoying his small victory.

Later, Telemachus assigned Antinous and Eurymachus to work together, hoping the shared responsibility would force them to cooperate. It didn’t. “You’re supposed to tie the knots tighter than that,” Antinous barked as Eurymachus attempted to secure a sail.

Eurymachus raised an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to be useful. Guess we’re both failing today.” The knot slipped loose, and the sail whipped wildly in the wind. Antinous cursed, lunging to fix it while Eurymachus leaned lazily against the mast, clearly enjoying the chaos.

When the sail was finally secured, Antinous turned on him, his face red with fury. “Do you have any idea how close that was to tearing?”

“Relax,” Eurymachus said with a shrug. “You caught it. No harm done.”

Antinous lunged at him, and the two ended up wrestling on the deck, much to the crew’s dismay. It wasn’t just each other they tormented, Antinous and Eurymachus managed to irritate everyone else on the ship as well.

Antinous had a habit of pacing the deck at all hours, his restless energy keeping half the crew awake at night. “Could you not stomp around like an elephant?” one sailor finally snapped.

“I’ll stomp wherever I want,” Antinous retorted, glaring at the man.

By the third day at sea, Telemachus was at his wit’s end. He cornered the two troublemakers on the deck, his voice low but filled with warning. “If either of you causes one more problem, I’ll personally throw you both overboard,” he growled.

Antinous crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “I didn’t ask to be here with him, king.”

“And I didn’t ask to babysit a dungeon rat,” Eurymachus added, grinning. Telemachus rubbed his temples, wondering leaving them chained together in the brig for the remainder of the journey might actually be worth it.

Despite their constant bickering and knack for causing chaos, there was an odd energy between Antinous and Eurymachus that somehow managed to keep morale from sinking entirely. Whether it was the absurdity of their arguments or the sheer entertainment of watching them try to one up each other, the crew found themselves laughing more often than not, even if it was through gritted teeth.

——

The ships rowed steadily through the darkened waves, the creak of the oars and the low murmur of voices filling the air. But even the rhythm of the sea couldn’t drown out the constant bickering and antics of Antinous and Eurymachus. Their usual antics got on the nerves of the crew, especially Druses, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, trying to focus on sharpening his blade.

Finally, with a loud clang, Druses slammed his dagger down onto the wooden crate beside him. His usually composed and serene face twisted with frustration as he stood up abruptly, his long black hair whipping around him like a dark storm. “Enough!” he roared, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. Everyone froze. Even Antinous and Eurymachus stopped mid insult, turning to look at him. “What is the point of this ridiculous expedition?” Druses snapped, his violet eyes blazing as he gestured toward Telemachus. “All this effort, all this chaos, to save a woman who, let’s be honest, has likely already been defiled and used by that Skiaphosian prince you’re so obsessed with! She’s probably broken by now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The words hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, and the crew shifted uncomfortably, some exchanging nervous glances. Telemachus’s hand shot out, slamming against the mast as he pushed himself to his feet. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with a cold fury that made even the bravest men step back. He locked eyes with Druses, his voice dangerously low but steady.

“Say that again,” Telemachus hissed, each word laced with venom. “Insult my wife one more time, and I’ll throw you as a sacrifice to Poseidon myself.”

Druses scoffed, crossing his arms but stepping back a fraction. “You’re blind, Telemachus. You think she’s waiting for you with open arms? You think she hasn’t been ruined—”

Telemachus didn’t let him finish. He strode forward, grabbing Druses by the collar and yanking him close, his teeth bared in a snarl. “She is my wife,” he growled. “The mother of my son. You will not speak of her that way. Ever.”

The tension was suffocating, the other men watching with bated breath. Antinous leaned against the railing, clearly enjoying the show, while Eurymachus raised an eyebrow, muttering, “Didn’t think Druses had it in him.”

Druses, though shaken by Telemachus’s fury, held his ground, meeting the king’s glare with a defiant gaze. “Fine,” he said evenly, though his voice was quieter now. “But don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re leading us into war over one woman. If this fails, it’s not just your loss—it’s ours.”

Telemachus released him with a rough shove, his hands trembling slightly from the sheer force of his rage. “Then stay behind if you’re so concerned about your loss,” he snapped. “No one’s forcing you to be here, Druses. But don’t you dare insult her again, or I’ll make sure you regret it.” Druses straightened his tunic, his jaw tightening as he turned away without another word. The crew remained silent, the tension thick as Telemachus stood there, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths.

Finally, Eurymachus broke the silence with a lazy drawl, “Well, that was entertaining. Let’s see who snaps next.”

“Shut up, Eurymachus,” Telemachus barked, and the former suitor raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. The king returned to his spot, his eyes fixed on the horizon. His heart ached, not from Druses’s words, but from the fear that they might be true. But he shook the thought away. She was strong. She was his—and he would bring her home, no matter the situation.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world

@simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl @dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[akindaflora]

How SKZ would react to you calling them your boyfriend on travels!

Full word count: 2,002

details: Basically I'm going on solo trip abroad for my birthday soon and as a safety precaution I've decided to use low key photos of SKZ members and telling weirdos that they're my boyfriend and I kept thinking about what if I accidentally ran into one of the boys not knowing its them and then to show a photo of themselves saying that they were my boyfriend. I doubt the boys would ever make someone uncomfortable intentionally but I'm extremely jumpy with strangers especially men haha so I could definitely see this happening! Anyway hope you enjoy:)

Warning: One curse word was said! Mentions of stalking and harassment but no actual harassment unless you count Lee Know being slightly mischievous. Also if you do workout please be sure to have a spotter when lifting heavy weights ^_−☆

Thanks again for the support on Lip Mask while that was the first story I posted. This scenario was in the works well way before Lip Mask was even written but due to the support of SKZ Tumblr community, I felt wayyy more confident and comfortable with sharing this idea with you all! Hope you enjoy ❤️

Hyung / Maknae / Masterlist

Bangchan (616 words)

It was the first day of your trip after a long flight and only arriving at 3 in the afternoon you realized your fight against jet lag might be stronger than you thought. The subtle feeling of sleep as you took a shower in the hotel not doing much aid. But with a few light slaps to your face you made your trek outdoors to explore the city hoping the walking and maybe some sugar would keep you up till nightfall. With that thought you grabbed your bag and threw on a scarf to keep the chill away.

So far after walking around for a bit, your shoulders started to tense. There were a lot of people and while crowded spaces aren't that scary there was the possibility that anything could happen. What if someone tried to steal your phone? You did your best to grip your phone in your pocket. What if someone tries to kidnap you? With that thought you began looking around your shoulder hoping to only feel at ease as the city rushed past you but instead, you could see a steady black-clothed figure hurriedly following you.

Panic began to strike. You knew in your research of the city that there had been some issues with men harassing women for dates going so far as to follow them for blocks on end. You knew you couldn't go back to the hotel not wanting the newfound stalker to stalk you even more and worse you didn't even know where you were, the buildings all looked the same.

Taking a deep breath you tried your best to high-tail it out of there only to feel your heart in your chest sink to your stomach when you realized the corner you turned on was mostly a quiet street nothing compared to the bustling city a few streets over.

With a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and swiped to the image of your bias Bang Chan hoping the stranger wasn't into K Pop and would accept the fact that you having a boyfriend was enough to back off.

"I have a boyfriend and this is him, I'm on my way to meeting him right now so can you stop following me," You said eyes slightly closed and phone outreach stopped the man at his pace. After a few moments of awkward silence, you began to talk, "Look he boxes for fun, I’d turn around if I were you," when you got no response but the quiet sounds of a chuckle you opened your eyes to see a very similar bright red scarf. So similar it even has your initials sewn in on the bottom just like the one you're wearing. Without thinking you reached for your scarf in your other hand.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as it began to click. This man wasn't stalking you but out of some weird concern trying to hand you your scarf back. You quickly looked up at the guy ready to apologize only to feel the blood on your face rise even more. God if you were to compare a cherry red tomato to your face it probably be hard to tell the difference at this moment.

"When I said I would protect you all this didn't really come to mind" He giggled a bit more. You slowly put your phone away wondering if by chance there was a pothole you could bury yourself in.

He moved to put the scarf around your neck, “Jagi you should really stay warm come on, you hungry? I wanna get to know my girlfriend a bit better yeah,” he said nodding his head in a direction up the street.

Lee Know (499 words)

Your stomach growled at you as you rounded the 10th corner of the day. None of the restaurants nearby were speaking to you. Deciding that you were far too hungry to look for a decent spot you wandered into the nearest convenience store.

Quickly deciding a particular appealing hot meal you wandered to the snack aisle, hoping to find a dessert that might even out your salty meal. After contemplating a few candy bars your stomach growled again. As hungry as you were you knew the dessert would either make or break your meal and luckily the store wasn't too filled so you knew checkout wouldn't take long nor finding a decent seat. Weighing your options you decided to go back to the cold section.

Not feeling ice cream as it was already extremely cold you didn't need your teeth shaking too, you decided to look over the choices of pudding. But as you looked you couldn’t decided between Carmel or the Coffee jelly. Both were appetizing but what would bring you the most joy?

In your thought of pondering you heard a deep sigh from your left. Not thinking much of it you decided to move over slightly in hopes whoever needed the pudding would still be able to grab whatever they wanted. But as you continued to decided the sigh moved to your right. So you moved to the right slightly at one point you and the heavy sigher moved left to right back and forth that it seemed to be a game this stranger was playing with you.

With your own heavy sigh you put the caramel pudding back deciding the sweet treat would taste bitter from this unnecessary transaction. Quickly holding your head high without looking at the stranger you moved to decide on a drink.

But before you could grab the tea of your choice the sigh came back. Quickly you threw the drink in your basket and then grabbed your phone. Hoping that the photo of Lee Know would cause the sigher to get lost.

“Look i don’t know what game your playing at but this is my boyfriend he’s just around the corner,” you warned showing the lockscreen in the stranger direction.

A loud laugh was pulled that peak your interest, he sounded familiar quickly looking up you nearly dropped the basket in your hands to which he grabbed to help support you.

“Oh but jagi I’m already here! You should be careful you could have broken the jelly” He began to chastise you still laughing with no concern. A quick heat of a blush went to your cheeks as you tried to process this all. Forgetting your hungry stomach as it decided now was the perfect time to growl. The blushing deepens with each giggle. He raised his brow with another quick laugh.

“Come on i’ll pay and then we can go on that date we supposedly planned,” he said motioning you to follow after taking your basket from your hand.

Changbin (374 words)

With the start of the New Year you had grown dedicated to going to the gym. Even going as far to go while on vacation. Ever since you began your workout journey you've had the displeasure of many unwelcome interactions from the male population. Going so far as having to use your bias Changbin as your lock screen. It had worked so far most giving up when they realized how built the man in the photo is and leaving you alone.

Normally you try the buddy system but this being a solo trip you had no one else but yourself and Changbin's photo to protect you. Deciding to start with the treadmill to warm up, you felt the familiar eyes of men as they watched you move. With steady breath, you turned up your music and focused on the TV in front of you.

After 30 minutes you decided to move to the bench press. Deciding that while you didn't have a spotter, it should be fine if you used extremely light weights. You noticed a peculiar muscular guy watching you intently.

You tried to shake his eyes off you got into position but before you could even start the same guy came running over lifting the weight off completely. Unable to hear him you turned your music down after he finished talking and only opened your phone to show him the picture of your saver.

"Look dude this is my boyfriend and he's almost here so I'd step back if I were you," You said not even looking at him reaching for your bottled water. Hearing a big huff of air leaving his lips you finally slowly turn to look ready to set a glare on him. Only to see a somewhat concerned Changbin looking at you as he smirked. A blush creeps up to your cheeks eyes going wide.

"Well seems like your boyfriend already here and wouldn't recommend you dead lifting without a spotter. Why don't you let me help Jagi" He said smoothly. You on the other hand clutching your heart at not only making a fool in front of your bias and the fact he called you jagi.

Definitely proud of yourself for keeping up this gym routine now.

Hyunjin (513 words)

Today had been a tad bit rough on your vacation. Your phone dying so you had no idea how to get back to your hotel that and your favorite shoes had a hole in them the only good thing being that you bought a new pair. And well that you did fine a decent book burning away in your bag asking you to read its text. Quickly trying to figure out your safe haven and hopefully an outlet.

With it being extremely late you stumble upon a bar filled with books and laughter as different types of people filled it. It was a book bar, one of the many to do things on your list, maybe your luck was changing. The bar wasn't too crowded but it definitely wasn't easy finding a spot next to an outlet. Tucked away in a corner you pull out your charger and the book in your bag sipping away on the bubbling beer.

After walking for hours and shivering in the cold the warm bar and the soft chitter chatter of others around you warmed you as the author's words pulled you in. The only problem is that the person next to you kept bumping into your left shoulder. You tried shaking them off which didn't work and after a glance at your still-dead phone, you sighed taking another sip. If only it were on you'd show the stranger your lock screen of your bias Hyunjin maybe his piercing eyes and oozing confidence would scare them away. With your luck, the guy left and you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding in, finally able to get back to your book.

But just as if the universe was testing your patience the same guy, you assumed, came back and began to softly poke you. Luckily as he did your phone turned on.

Without even looking you unplugged your phone showing the strange man your screen, "See this guy he's my boyfriend, and he's supposed to meet me here so if I were you I'd stop touching me, he can be the jealous type and you wouldn't like to see him that way," You said setting your phone down and turning the page of your book.

But the poker was relentless and poked you again with a little laugh. You quickly closed your book marking your finger in the pages as a steady glare brought you to the source of your annoyance.

Though everything went silent or rather your heart stopped as you realized it was the same man on your home screen that went out of his way to poke you. Fuck you thought.

"Well I was gonna ask if you let me plug my phone up too. Didn't know I came off as the jealous type," he said looking down as if lost in thought. Talk about strange luck.

“Hmmm Jagi put the book away seems we need to talk about the boundaries of our relationship,” he said plugging his phone into your charger. Yeah, maybe you should get lost more often.

After writing author notes: I wanted these to end on a goodish note and leave with the boys being somewhat interested but i hope i didn’t feed your delusions too much as this did with mine. Also sorry for the various word counts but some scenarios were easier to write more for than others but I enjoy all the boys equally so I didn't want to write more for the sake of more but just the context needed for each scene! Might be a bit till i can figure out the maknaes i really want the scenarios to be somewhat unrealistic but realistic to the boys interest and things they'd probably be doing on vacations days. If you want to speed up the process I'm open to ideas for the rest until then I believe some more fluff for the other boys are in the works.

Take care eat well and don't forget to touch grass every once and a while ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

[anakinstwinklebunny]

new hayden fan nonnie again, i am ready to officially join the fam (if you’ll have me)! may i be 🐮 anon?

also i have a fic request! would you be open to writing one where nerdy!anakin meeting his favorite book author who happens to be reader? or anakin could be the book author and the reader is the fan? either sounds cute to me, have fun with it!

thank you, bunny!!

- 🐮

PAIRING: writer!nerd!anakin x f!reader/ nerd!anakin x f!writer!reader

Author's note: OFC YOU CAN POOKIE!! and that's such a cute emoji 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (couldn't help myself and made two scenarios you mentioned)

𝓕𝓛𝓤𝓕𝓕 ❦

You weren’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Just because you were about to meet the ANAKIN SKYWALKER, the actual author of your favorite book series—the one whose words had ruined you, rebuilt you, and left you obsessing over every single character, every emotion described on the paper—did not mean you had to freak out.

Except, you were totally freaking out.

Fingers clutched his book against your chest as if it may shield you from crushing your nerves adrenaline, while you stood in line, shifting on your feet, trying not to think about the fact that in a few minutes, you’d be face-to-face with him.

And then suddenly— way too soon—it was your turn.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. Hands sweating

He looked up.

Oh.

You were not prepared for how pretty he was in real life.

The grainy black-and-white author photo in the book didn’t do him justice—those messy curls framed his face in a way that made your stomach flip, glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and his sweater sleeves were pushed up, exposing lean forearms dusted with veins running up his body

God really took his time creating him.

He blinked at you, pushing his glasses up with two fingers. “Hi.”

His voice was soft, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t really used to this—like he didn’t know the power, the impact he had.

You swallowed, barely keeping your composure. “H-Hi,” you managed, setting his, well..yours, book down in front of him. “I—um—I love your books. A lot. Like, I might have reread them too many times.”

A soft flush crept up his neck. He ducked his head, scribbling something in the book. “That’s—uh—thank you. That means a lot. Really.”

Your heart clenched. He was adorable.

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to know—how did you come up with him?” You tapped the book cover, referring to the broody, tortured love interest that had single-handedly ruined your life. “Because I swear, he haunts my dreams.”

Anakin let out a breathy laugh, looking up at you with this disgustingly-twisting-gut eyes “Uh—he just… appeared, I guess.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’re actually, um, not the first person to say that.”

You grinned. “Well, he’s perfect. And kind of my biggest crush.”

His pen froze mid-signature.

Oh my gosh..what have you done?

He cleared his throat, fumbling slightly as he handed the book back to you. “That’s—uh—good to know.”

You peeked at what he’d written, expecting just a simple signature. But beneath his name, a small note made your breath hitch and your lips to crack in a small, nervous smile:

«To the girl with excellent taste—if you ever want to discuss my characters over coffee, let me know.»

Your head snapped up. He was already looking at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had planned this day for weeks. Checked the bookstore’s event schedule at least a dozen times. He had to make sure he was on the right time, the right day, wore the right clothes for this occasion. For weeks he had practiced what he’d say in the mirror, only to stammer like an idiot each time. But now that he was here, standing in line, gripping a hardcover copy of your book so tightly his knuckles were white—he felt like he might pass out.

The line moved too quickly. One second, he was behind a group of fans, and the next—

“Next, please!”

His breath caught in his throat.

Sitting behind the table, a warm, inviting smile on your lips painted your face as you reached for his book. “Hi,” you greeted, voice soft, smooth, the same voice he’d listened to in countless interviews. “What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

God.

You were even prettier in real life.

“I—uh, it’s Anakin,” he managed, adjusting his glasses like it would somehow fix the fact that he was a mess. “I—wow, okay, sorry, I just—uh, I love your books. Like, a lot.”

A soft laugh left you, and his heart nearly stopped, did a flip, hit his insides and went back to its place.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you, Anakin.” You took the book from his shaking hands and flipped to the title page. Gosh, you said his name in the most sweetest way possible. Was it how heaven felt like? “Do you want me to write anything specific?”

“Uh, um—” He cursed himself for being so awkward, so nervous. He was a grown man for Force’s sake. “I—your characters. The way you write them. It’s like they’re real.” He pushed his glasses up again, desperate to say something intelligent but it made no sense in the sudden conversation. “I feel like I know them. Like they’ve… changed me.”

Your pen stilled. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

For a second, he panicked—had he said too much? Sounded too intense? Was it too weird? But then, your expression softened

“That’s probably the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Anakin swore his heart exploded.

You smiled, scribbling something inside his book before sliding it back to him. “I’m really glad my stories meant something to you, Anakin.”

He stared at the book, at your signature, but what was the most important was the small note beneath it:

«To Anakin—thank you for feeling my words the way they were meant to be felt.»

His throat went dry.

Before he could even think, the words slipped out. “Would you—” He swallowed hard. “Would you ever want to talk about writing? Over coffee? Or tea—if you like tea, that’s totally fine, I—”

Your lips twitched. “Are you asking me out?”

His face burned. “I—uh—”

But then you grinned.

Oh.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

Maybe at the end of the day this was a story worth writing, too.

[anthophi-lia]

We’re not even dating…

(Part 2)

A kindly requested sequel to this smau… We’re not even dating

Bakugou Katsuki x reader

1201 words

Enjoy!

The panic comes the moment your eyes flutter open. Here you are laying in your bed, with a still slumbering Katsuki Bakugou with his head pressed against your chest and his hand grasping at the side of your t-shirt.

You weren’t panicking at the fact that he was there. Waking up beside or snuggled against him was far from unusual for the two of you. No, the panic stemmed from the events of the previous night when Katsuki let the alcohol do all the talking before vomiting in your toilet and letting you lull him to sleep in your bed.

“Fuck…This is disgusting. Can you please just get out?” He had slurred between gags as he hunched over the toilet bowl. This brought a small laugh out of you as you shook your head at the mess he currently was.

“Get out of my bathroom? That I’m letting you destroy right now?” You brushed his hair out of his face with one hand as you continued to rub his back soothingly with the other. “If it’s me being scared off by your nasty puking that you’re worried about, then no need Kats. I still think you’re pretty cute,” you teased as he let out a frustrated growl.

“The puking isn’t the main issue…” He mumbled as he wiped at his bottom lip and sat up to lean himself against the bathroom wall. You knew he was referring to the series of drunken text messages he had sent you that had prompted you to come fetch him in the first place. You pursed your lips, unsure of what to say to him or how to ease his nerves.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so we can get some rest yeah?” Is all you could manage, offering him your hand to help stand himself up. He gave you a small nod, his gaze on the floor, as he took your hand and wobbled his way to the sink.

Now, nine hours later, he remained passed out on top of you, blissfully unaware of the awkward conversation you were soon to have. You know that chances were slim that he had meant any of the things he had said to you the night before. So now your goal was to agree to just forget about it so you could hopefully you could continue your relationship in the same manner as before. Late night texts to come over, occasional casual hang outs, and absolutely no exclusivity.

Deciding it’s best to just get it over with, you gently put your hands in his hair and softly say his name, “Kats…Wake up Kats..” He lets out a low grumble, nuzzling himself deeper into you, clearly only partially conscious. You roll your eyes and give his cheek a pinch, just sharp enough to wake him up.

“Christ, what the fuck,” he hisses out, smacking your hand away. He goes to rub the sleep from his eyes like a child would and for just a moment you’re reminded by how genuinely pure he can be sometimes. Until he’s cursing you out again. “You’re a bitch you know that right? I’m exhausted. Let me fucking sleep.”

Now that he’s awake, you push him off you slightly so you can sit yourself up. He looks at you with fire in his eyes, but you simply give him back a soft smile, doing your best to keep things comfortable until it becomes the opposite.

“You had quite the night last night…” You try to start the conversation, but he flops onto his back with a groan, and throws his arm over his face. “Kats…Babe..” You bring your knees towards your chest and reach to give him a little shake.

“Oh god just stop please. Don’t ‘babe’ me. Let’s just fucking forget it, yeah?” He peeks past his arm at you and you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t sink a little bit.

“Oh. Yeah alright. I just thought you’d want to talk about it.” You avert your gaze, praying he can’t see the way your heart is in your throat, and you’re about to throw it up.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Clearly you don’t feel the same way so just forget about the whole damn thing.”

Oh?

Your jaw falls open for a moment and you shoot your eyes back towards him. You grab his shoulder to pull him upright, pure disbelief on your face. He chews on the inside of his mouth, frustration ever present on his face.

“Are you saying you meant what you said?”

Grumbling.

You can’t stop the stupid grin on your face as you reach to grab his hand, holding it tightly. With your other hand you grab his jaw, tilting his face towards you.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re in love with me?” Pure and utter humiliation falls on his face and though you feel just a tad cruel for reacting like this, you can’t help but internally squeal at the situation.

“What the fuck did I say? Forget- ” Before the sentence fully falls out of his mouth, you press your lips to his. You feel him gasp, but lean into the kiss, reaching to the back of your neck and pulling you deeper into him.

You swing your leg over his hips, so you’re now straddling him. You adoringly run your hands up and down his entire body, pressing kiss after kiss onto him. Finally pulling away, you put your hands on either side of his awestruck face and smile like an idiot.

“What was that?” He gasps out, catching his breath. He lets his hand fall to your hips and lets his eyes trail all the way down your body and back up again.

“Katsuki Bakugou. You’re a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and squish his face between your hands, which brings a deep frown out of him.

“Hey now it’s not my faul-”

“Stop. Let me finish,” you whine as you put your finger up to his lips. “You’re a goddamn idiot. And I want you to be mine.”

“The fuck? You mean tha-”

This time you put your hand flat against his mouth. “Shut up! For one second! I’m in love with you Kats. I want to go on actual dates. I want to have you as the lock screen on my phone so when people ask I can tell them about my wonderful boyfriend. I want to wake up and know you’re still there from the night before so we can go on walls to go get coffee together. I want you.” Finally dropping your hand so he can reply, Katsuki is speechless. His jaw has fallen open a little and his eyes have softened immensely. For the first time since you’ve know him, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes. Fuck…yes. I’ll be yours- Jesus fuck just- You be mine? Okay? You’re mine?” You’ve never see him stumble over his words like this and it unleashed butterflies deep inside you. You just nod at him, to which he gives you the kind of smile you’ve never seen from him before. It’s a smile of actual joy, admiration, and love.

You lean forward to press your lips against each corner of his mouth. After that you put yourself close to his ear and softly whisper to him, “I’m yours Kats. I’m all yours.”

• • •

@babycheech

[unsolicited-opinions]

Nobody is immune to propaganda and flattery. Today's example is Nicholas Kristof.

Kristof has won two Pulitzer prizes for journalism and is a columnist for the New York Times. One could be forgiven for hoping that Kristof might be harder to sucker than the average illiberal left campus Hamasnik, but it turns out that speaking to his orientalist, white savior ego and confirming biases is so effective that he'll skip doing *any* basic journalism.

Here's Kristof on 1/31/25, using a Twitter post from Omar Hamad as an example to argue that it is wrong to suggest that Palestinians overwhelmingly support Hamas and the attacks of 10/7/23.

In his post, Hamad shows a copy of a book Kristof co-authored and gives it a glowing review.

Kristof clearly enjoyed the glowing praise and responded by arguing that Omar Hamad shows us how Palestinians are clearly sensitive and tolerant.

To be clear, I'm sure many Palestinians are sensitive and tolerant, but Omar Hamad isn't one of them and this is an ironic way to make the argument.

Here are other tweets from Omar Hamad:

"O God, take the Jews and wash the earth with them and make our land their graves"

"By God, mother, God's victory can only be achieved through blood."

The truth is that neither my family nor I were ever part of Hamas. We lived in Gaza like any other family that did not belong to Hamas. However, I deeply regret that. I regret not being part of October 7, and I regret not firing a rocket at our occupied lands. I regret not killing an Israeli soldier. This regret has been planted within every person in Gaza, even in those who were opposed to Hamas's ideology. You are nothing but bloodthirsty butchers. You could have gained the sympathy of the entire world, but you revealed your true nature, your vile, Nazi- like, bloodstained face. Do not think that just because you hold power now, you are right or eternal, immune to defeat. Let me remind you, in one era, no force was greater than the Mongols, but their time came, and they were defeated. In another period, no one was more powerful than the Nazis, yet they too were defeated. Now, it is you, and I tell you, you will be defeated. If not now, then in the years to come.

Kristof didn't even bother to look up who was heaping this praise on him. He saw the praise, he let his confirmation bias and ego fill in the blanks instead of trying...you know...investingating, reading, looking for supportable facts, questioning sources, examining biases...you know...journalism.

The only thing which makes this example of falling for flattering confirmation bias bait extraordinary is that it's a Pulitzer Prize winner doing it - this is exactly what's happening every minute among the west's far left and we can see their disdain for facts and reason all over social media. Their disregard for intellectual rigor and intellectual honesty is comparable to that of the MAGA dittoheads on the far right.

This the intellectual laziness, these are the unexamined set of biases which animate the anti-Israel campus protestors who wave the flags of Islamist movements like Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. Movements who would happily murder their useful idiots at Columbia University and Harvard.

They are markedly more susceptible to propaganda which speaks to their white savior views of themselves...than this two-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Jake Kiszka One Shot: Best Friend’s Brother

When your boyfriend breaks up with you, your head falls on the nearest shoulder; Jake’s.

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Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Mentions of heartbreak, self-doubt, a hint of angst, fear of loneliness, sweet Jake <3, fluff, and that’s all, folks!

(Let me know if I missed any!)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors and grammar mistakes.

a/n— Here’s to my fluff lovers! Apologies to the individual who requested this one shot nearly three weeks ago, I hope I did your request justice! Shoutout to the beta readers who provided feedback and reassurance so I could finish quicker. Enjoy!! <3

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You had nowhere else to turn.

The tears sting your eyes as they keep falling, blurring your vision while you lift your closed fist, gently pounding on the door of your best friend’s apartment. A moment of doubt passes, realizing how late it is and that you haven’t even bothered to call before showing up unannounced. 

Your body shivers in the cool breeze of the late-summer air, your arms crossing over your chest as you wait patiently, with your back slightly hunched to preserve all remaining body heat. Rushing over here, you hadn’t thought to wear a heavier jacket, and honestly, you didn’t know it would be this cold. Without thinking, you knock again, letting your arms rest at your sides as your fists grip anxiously at nothing. This was a mistake, you thought to yourself.

The surrounding stillness is deafening; a gentle swish of wind blows past, carrying the dewy scent of the quickly approaching fall. In the distance, tires tread across the gravelly roads, the muffled crunch becoming white noise. The melancholy symphony of crickets is a reminder of the sleeping world around you; a reminder that Josh is, in fact, asleep. Reluctantly, you cut your losses, ultimately giving up and taking a mental note to return tomorrow. 

Just as you take a step back from the door, you perk up and stop your movements when you hear the faint footsteps behind the heavy wood. Thank God. 

However, your optimism fades when the door swings open, revealing the last person you would want to see at a time like this. Quickly wiping the streaming tears from your blotched cheeks, you fix your posture, sniffling and peering over his shoulder. You don’t bother to greet him, having all manners fly out the window. 

“Is Josh available?” You rush out.

“No, he’s asleep right now–” Jake’s voice is irritated, understandably so, but his mouth shuts when he dissects your appearance; flushed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and a nose that would beat Rudolph in a competition. He’s equally disheveled, most likely having just woken up from your knocking. His hair is tousled, and he’s sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a thoroughly worn t-shirt with a stretched neckline. His eyes are squinting, likely adjusting to the overhead light of the outside hallway. “Is everything okay?” His eyes soften, along with his tone. 

“Oh, um,” You divert your gaze from his watchful eyes, “I’m fine.” You should’ve known Josh would be asleep by now, it’s nearly 3 am and he has work in the morning, but you still feel disappointed by the information relayed. While Josh would 100% want to be woken up, and would willingly stay up until the sun rises, you’re unwilling to put that responsibility on him. If there’s one thing about you, you refuse to be a burden. Sure, Josh has never made you feel like one, but regardless, you’re willing to wait to avoid messing with his sleep schedule.

Jake pulls you from your thoughts, “Are you sure–”

“Just tell him to call me when he wakes up, please.” Cutting him off, you turn away, ready to make a run for the flight of stairs to your right. 

“Hey…” Before you can step away, his fingers wrap around your wrist, halting your movements. “What happened?” His voice is as interrogating as it is concerned, and his face is stern, pushing for more information than you’re willing to give. 

“Just…” Your eyes focus on his unwavering hand, keeping you in place. Hesitating, you consider telling him. “I’d rather speak with Josh– I’m sorry for bothering you this late. You should go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” He repeats, “You’re no bother, I promise.”

“I’m sure, Jake.” You dismiss him, unfamiliar with his sudden concern. While you’ve been friends with Josh for years, you and Jake never got around to getting to know each other. So, his insistent apprehensiveness is new to you. It makes you skeptical– unwilling to confide in him, even though you probably should. “It’s nothing, really.” 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” His tone is bordering on vexing and his persistence maddens you. Why does he want to know so badly? 

“Jake.” Your voice wavers, attempting to be a warning, but nearly cracking like the front you’ve put on. The warmth of his palm pierces through your already heated skin, and while your thoughts contradict the words that leave your mouth, you haven’t pulled away just yet. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you.” 

“I just want to help–”

“I’m fine, Jake!” Your raised voice startles both of you, his eyes wide and mouth parted, unable to respond. With your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse blares in your ears from the rising heat that settles in the crooks of your neck. Silence falls and a tinge of guilt settles in your lower stomach. “I’m sorry, that was… rude of me.”

“No. Don’t apologize.” He shakes his head, dropping your wrist and stepping back a half-step. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.”

“Jake–” You step closer, and for a reason you can’t quite place, you don’t want him to leave you just yet. 

“I’ll let Josh know you stopped by.” He’s closing the door now, his eyes locked on yours for a moment before drifting to the floor. 

“Jake, wait.” You plaster your hand against the door, preventing him from closing it. He stops, looks at you, and waits for you to continue. His features are unreadable; relaxed, but simultaneously tense. Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes find the ceiling of the apartment hallway, unable to look him in the eyes. “My boyfriend and I broke up.” 

“Oh,” His face softens, and he opens the door fully again, making your hand drop to your side, “I’m so sorry.” The look on his face disturbs you. It’s a look you never thought you’d receive from him; pity. He actually feels sorry for you. Sure, Jake isn’t a complete asshole, but you’re not close. This is odd. And yet, you feel the comfort radiating off his stature.

“Yeah, well, he broke up with me.” Your name rolls off his tongue in an empathetic whisper from your further elaboration and clear upset in your tone. Without a second thought, Jake steps through the threshold and wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a consoling hug. The force of his affection causes a small oof to huff out of you, and it takes a moment of initial shock to pass before you reciprocate. Despite the unfamiliarity, you welcome his warmth and feel the tension in your muscles melt as you allow yourself to slump against him. His arms adjust, gently pulling you against him in a firm hold, providing support to your trembling frame. 

Your hands interlock behind him and you take a deep breath, your eyes involuntarily closing as tears threaten to resurface. But, when you inhale deeply, his attractive scent fills your senses and overcomes you. It only adds to his solace; manly, musky, smoky, and vaguely of cinnamon and various spices. You fight the urge to hum when it infiltrates your lungs.

“Come inside.” His voice vibrates against you, pulling you from your racing thoughts. “We can talk about it.” 

“Oh, that’s okay, really.” You chuckle nervously as you lean back to look at him, still holding onto him. He doesn’t let go either. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Please?” He reasons with you, tilting his head, his eyes begging, “At least sleep over and wait until Josh wakes up. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

The offer is appealing. And he is right— you shouldn’t be alone and certainly don’t want to be. You genuinely enjoy this side of Jake; caring, worrisome, and considerate. It’s not that he’s never been those things before, but he’s simply your best friend’s brother. You question why you never considered being his friend as well.

“Fine. I’ll stay.” It truly didn’t take much convincing. You’d either decline and return to an empty apartment for the rest of the night, or accept and potentially spend time with Jake. It’s better than being alone, so you clearly opted for the latter. 

He smiles softly at your submission, unwrapping his arms from around you, and guiding you into the apartment. Stepping aside to let you walk in, he shuts the door behind you. You’ve been in this apartment thousands of times, some even without Josh present, but you can’t shake the awkward feeling overcoming you. Usually, you and Jake coexist, not acknowledging each other. That’s not an option now, as he steps around you and walks over to the couch, taking a seat. 

“Come here.” He pats the spot next to him.

Without any protest, your body gravitates toward him, sitting next to him with just mere inches of space between the two of you. His eyes are watchful; aware of every micro-expression, muscle twitch, and breathing pattern. You feel… seen.

“Jake, I appreciate you letting me in, but really, you don’t have to do this.” You assure him, letting him know there’s still a way out of this conversation. “I’m okay with waiting for Josh.”

“I know I don’t have to… I want to.” His expression is serious, his eyebrows furrowed with determination, to let you know that he’s genuine, “You’re Josh’s best friend and, by extension, I care about you. Josh would do the same.”

He’s not wrong. Josh wouldn’t have let you leave even if you tried to run, though, Jake wouldn’t be that extreme. 

Your shoulders slouch and your bottom lip begins to quiver, remembering the traumatic events that occurred just hours before. It doesn’t take much persuasion for you to pour your heart out to Jake; laying out every single minute detail of your boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend— breaking your heart.

Jake looks horrified with his eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared in pure indignation. He doesn’t interrupt you, though. Instead, he silently listens, letting you essentially word vomit. It isn’t until you finish talking that you realize tears have gathered just below your chin from the constant stream leaving your watering eyes. 

“I’m sorry, that was a lot.” You let out a small chuckle, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away the trail of tears. 

“Don’t apologize.” He reaches out to rest a hand on your knee. His form of comfort seems to be physical touch—he and Josh are similar in that way. “So, you’ve told me everything, but how are you?”

“I’m—” You have to think for a moment. Angry? Yes. Sad? Absolutely. “Disappointed in myself.”��

“Oh, come here,” His voice is gentle as his hands land on your shoulders and pull you into him. He scooches closer so your head can fall onto his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you close, while his hands cradle the back of your head. “Why?” His tone is curious.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” You sigh, closing your eyes and hiccuping into his chest. Great, here come the tears again. The fabric of his shirt soaks every fallen drop, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “What if there was something I could’ve done better?” You whisper.

Jake mutters your name, his arms constricting to hold you in a firmer grip, “Listen to me, him breaking up with you… that is not a you problem. Do you understand?” His low voice rumbles in his chest, emanating a comforting vibrating sensation against your cheek. 

“But—”

“There is no ‘but,’” His stern words cut you off, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him from your immediate defense, “I know you. You’ve been nothing but kind to him. And I know him.” You forget that Jake has met your ex-boyfriend a few times. Mainly through passing, but it never takes anyone long to realize how shitty he was. “He never deserved you.”

“It’s just…” You think of your next words, feeling embarrassed by the vulnerability you’re presenting to Jake. He stays silent, letting you collect your thoughts, and you sigh, “What if he’s right…?” Your trembling voice is barely audible.

“What?” Jake shifts, leaning back so you’ll look at him. His face is blurry, courtesy of the tears that gather on your waterline, but his features are riddled with concern. 

“What if…” You sigh again, and your shoulders slump in a silent sob, “What if no one wants me?” 

It’s a real fear you’ve dealt with for, well, however long you were with your ex. The beginning of your relationship was pure bliss, as all honeymoon phases are. However, by the one-year mark, arguments became a daily routine. Then, your second anniversary came around, and well, you had hoped it would get better. It never did. 

Josh did try convincing you to break up with him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice how unhappy you were with him. However, the longer the relationship lasted, and the more your self-esteem dwindled while being with him, you figured… no one else would ever love you. Not like him. If you can even call it love.

You’ve been out of the dating pool for years now, and the idea of having to restart frightens you. You started dating your ex when you were young, but now that you're fully into adulthood, the dating scene is different. 

“Someone will want you.” Jake’s voice is unyielding. His expression is serious. “And someone is going to love you. The way you should be loved. Okay?”

“Okay…” Surprisingly, his words do provide a sense of relief. He seems so sure when he tells you these things; as if he knows personally that they will happen— like he’ll make them happen.

“Good.” His hands move to the sides of your face, and your pulse quickens when he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead and placing a soft kiss against the creased skin. The intimate gesture startles you, but a gentle wave of disappointment settles in your gut. What were you expecting? You chalk it up to your overwhelming emotions and incessant need to forget this night ever happened— a night where your heart has been shattered by a man who never deserved the chance to begin with. “Do you want to lay down until Josh wakes up? He’s working an early shift, so he should be awake fairly soon.” Three hours to be exact.

You gently nod, your face still cradled in his hands; they’re soft and warm, despite the callouses that formed as a result of his passion, and they’re just barely applying pressure to your tear-stained cheeks. Lowering his hands, he stands up and waits for you to do so as well. 

“What?” 

“Just follow me, please?” When you hesitantly stand up, he places his hands on your shoulders, shifting you in the direction of the bedrooms and bathrooms down the hall. He guides you toward them— the main bathroom is at the end of the hall. You assume he’s taking you there, so you can freshen up and rid your face of the drying tears. And you’re correct.

Stepping into the bathroom, he turns the light on and you’re met with your reflection. Jeez. Somehow, your hair is a mess and your eyes are beginning to swell from the sheer force of crying. Your overall appearance is… puffy. 

“I look terrible.” You say in disbelief, letting out a pathetic chuckle. 

“Oh, stop it.” He looks at you through the mirror’s reflection, “Sit.” He gestures to the bathroom counter.

Doing as he says, you turn around and hop onto the counter, sitting beside the sink and facing Jake. He steps forward, crouching down into the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbing a washcloth, and soaking it with cold water. You expect him to hand it to you, but he steps before you, standing between your open legs. The position is intimate, and entirely compromising if Josh were to walk in. With pure focus on his face, he brings the washcloth up to one of your cheeks and gently wipes the tear-stained skin. The coldness of the cloth soothes your flushed cheek and your eyes flutter close from how nice it feels. His breathing is shallow and he’s close enough that you can hear the air exhaling from his nose. He continues to the other cheek, making sure to swipe the cloth along your jawline, nose, and chin. You’ll never understand what has warranted such care from Jake, but it’s best not to question it now.

When his actions stop, you open your eyes and nearly jolt when you realize how close he is. His expression is conflicting, and his eyes scan your features, but he steps back when he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“All done.” He clears his throat, giving you enough space to slide off the counter. Turning to look at yourself, your face is much less red, and even a little less puffy. It makes you wonder how many crying girls Jake has had to comfort, and unfortunately, it’s a thought that surprisingly discomforts you. Coming up behind you, his hands gravitate to your hair and his fingers softly run through the strands, being careful not to tug. He flattens any imperfections and pulls it all behind your shoulders, “See? Not terrible at all.”

His eyes catch yours again, and your eyes hold his for a moment before you smile, “Thank you, Jake.” 

“Anytime.” He returns a smile, “How about some sleep?”

“I am pretty tired.” You admit, turning around to face him. Jake nods knowingly, snaking his hand behind you and resting it on your lower back. You’re entirely capable of heading to the couch yourself, but who are you to deny a helping hand? 

Jake guides you out of the bathroom, turns the light off, and walks with you down the hall. You’re sure to be quiet when you walk past Josh’s room, feeling unsettled by the fact that he has no idea you’re even here. While you’re coming closer to the living room at the end of the hall, Jake turns you to his bedroom. Before you can utter a word of protest, you’re walking through the threshold and Jake is flicking the switch to turn on the lamp in the far corner of his bedroom. 

The bedroom is dimly lit– the covers in slight disarray from him leaving his bed to answer the door. Like Jake, his room is dark, comforting, and, for lack of a better word, mysterious. The decorations on the walls and surfaces don’t give away much about him, other than the fact that he’s fascinated by pirates, oddly enough. In the opposite corner of the lamp, there are guitars presented on stands, and an amp just beside them. You’re stunned, feeling as though you’re intruding on a private part of his life. 

To you, your bedroom is your sanctuary. Only a select few are permitted to tread such confidential territory. It’s not like Jake has a “Stay out!” sign attached to his bedroom door, but still, this feels like a rite of passage. A look into his life outside of what you’ve always known.

“Jake—”

“Relax,” he chuckles from behind you, figuring how you might interpret this gesture. “You can stay in here while I sleep on the couch.”

Well, that’s awfully generous. “Jake, that’s kind of you, but you’ve already done so much for me. I can sleep on the couch— I promise it’s fine.”

He waves you off while stepping around to approach the bed, as a way to say “Don’t be ridiculous.” Fixing the covers, he pulls them back and motions to the open spot. “You deserve comfort. Not the couch.”

Your feet shuffle in his direction, gravitating toward the plush mattress. “Okay…” You’re uncertain, but Jake’s expression softens you, “Is it really that comfortable? I’d argue that the couch is pretty damn close.”

“Only one way to find out.” He smirks, happy to see sparks of your snide self coming to the surface. Playfully rolling your eyes, you kick off your shoes and sit on the bed, turning to push your legs under the covers and lay back against the soft mountain of pillows. 

“Oh my…” The words shutter from your lips, genuinely surprised. The sheets are still warm from his previous laying in them, and it only adds to the overwhelming comforting sensation. 

He chuckles, his lips flashing his satisfied smile from your involuntary reaction. 

The air from the pillows and mattress deflates, creating a molding sensation, and hugging your every curve. It’s… heavenly. Perhaps all that crying made your body incredibly sore and tired, but that’s quickly a distant memory when you're practically melting into Jake’s bed. 

Jake pulls the covers over you, engulfing you in a heavy plush comforter that’s saturated with his scent. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you nuzzle deeper into his pillows and grip the edge of the comforter, pulling it up just below your chin.

“What’d I tell you?” He laughs, his eyelids relaxing to admire how comfortable you look in his bed. 

“You were right.”

“Music to my ears.” He teases, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Okay…” While you can sleep, and you are tired, you hate watching Jake turn to leave, reaching for the light switch and sparing you one more glance. “Jake–” He freezes, his fingers resting on the switch, looking at you over his shoulder. “I’m not tired.” You lie.

“Oh.” His hand falls, and he turns around, stepping toward you, “But you said– Is there something wrong?”

“No, I–” You what? “Can you stay with me?”

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. You feel stupid for asking such a question. This entire situation felt unreal; when you came here, you had hoped to confide in Josh, but here you are. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” It was a ridiculous request, he’d never agree. “You don’t have to–”

“I’ll stay. Scoot over.” His words frantically cut you off and his legs move in stride, making you move over quickly. He pulls back the covers and slides in effortlessly. Although, when he settles underneath the comforter, he only leans against the headboard. His legs lay before him, and he peers down at you, “Come here.”

Without thinking, you shift closer, watching him cautiously as he uncovers his lap and pats his thigh. It’s a position you’re familiar with, especially with Josh. The two of you would take turns resting your heads on each other’s lap to rant about various topics. It’s your form of therapy. Though, this feels entirely different with Jake. It is as if you’re entering unknown territory, one you can’t return from.

Still, you rest your head against his thigh, which happens to be pleasantly muscular. It takes a moment before you both relax, silence deafening the room and amplifying your steadying breaths. You hadn’t thought this far before foolishly asking him to stay, but you were unwilling to return to acquaintances with Jake.

“Thank you,” you cut through the silence, your voice quiet, “for being so kind.”

“Of course.” He stares down at you, his eyes settling on the side of your face while your cheek rests against him. You can hear his hand shuffling, although you’re unsure where until you feel his soft touch glide along your hair, pushing the strands back from your face. The act is soothing, your eyes closing to revel in the feeling. His fingers drag along your scalp, applying gentle pressure and a quiet hum settles deep within your chest.

Confliction pulls at your thoughts; just hours ago you were being broken up with and now you’re lying in another man’s bed. Truthfully, a man you hadn’t paid much attention to in the past years. To be fair, it was never on purpose. Your ex-boyfriend was never fond of male friendships; Josh was hardly an exception. You silently curse yourself for missing out on Jake. He’s just as sweet and kind as his twin; selfless, generous, and attentive. All traits he’s presented in just one hour. You imagine the years you could’ve spent experiencing it first-hand. If only you hadn’t spent them pushing him away for the sake of your ex. 

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You mumble. 

“Why? For what?” His movements halt, and your eyes open, your head turning to look up at him. His eyebrows are synched, riddled with concern.

“Not being your friend sooner.” You confess, now reflecting on all the times he obviously tried, but you were dismissive. “Listen, if I was ever mean to you–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, shaking his head and resting his hand against the cheek that once rested on his lap. “Don’t do that. You’ll only upset yourself further.” 

“But–”

“There is no ‘but.’” He repeats his earlier phrase. “We’re friends now. We have time.” 

Although he and Josh are certainly twins, they feel so… different. The connection that’s forming with Jake frightens you; it’s unknown and uncharted. With Josh, your friendship was immediate and effortless. With Jake, however, this newfound friendship doesn’t feel very friendly. Something tells you that the way you both say the word “friends,” it’s foreign and not entirely what you want.

Think realistically, you tell yourself. Perhaps sleep deprivation is manipulating your thoughts. For God’s sake, you’re emotionally vulnerable and the wounds are still bleeding. 

“I know, but,” Despite his disapproval of the word, you use it anyway, “we could’ve had more time.” And had Jake been fully integrated into your life sooner… Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe if you had met Jake before him…

“Hey.” his voice softly protests, and he lifts your head from his lap, moving to your level and laying right beside you. He lays face-to-face with you, examining the hills and curves of your face, accentuated by the dim lighting from his warm-toned lamp. He sighs, absently bringing his hand to your face and brushing the loose hair behind your ear, “I promise, it’s okay.” 

You nod, taking his word for it, even though you still feel unease and uncertainty. Sliding his hand just behind your head, he guides you to rest on his chest as he turns onto his back, staring intently at the ceiling. Your cheek molds against him, his body heat reddening the soft flesh, no doubt. Chasing comfort, you sling your arm over his waist and you’re surprised by how natural the position feels. Your leg intertwines with his, settling between them, as his arm wraps around your shoulder. His heart pounds in his chest, and regardless of his calm demeanor, his pulse is racing. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“I wish I knew you were this great sooner.” You laugh weakly against his chest, feeling him pull you in closer. 

“Me too.” He admits with a sigh, subtle disappointment lacing his tone. 

A comfortable silence falls, the only sound being the faint pounding of his heart and gentle exhales through his nose. Your eyelids grow heavy, your mind only focusing on the pattern of his breathing and the beat of his heart. A large yawn overcomes you, and you sigh deeply as it exits your lungs, your eyes settling on the open door. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“The door’s open.” You point out.

“That’s okay.” He turns to follow your gaze.

“What if Josh sees us like this?” With some explanation, he wouldn’t care, but a heads-up wouldn’t hurt either. You can only imagine how disconcerting it’ll make Josh feel if he were to walk in on his best friend cuddled up with his twin brother. If you had given it more thought, and hadn’t let your emotions dictate your every decision tonight, you would’ve been more cautious. However, Jake shuts down that thought. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I’m not moving.” He decides, and when you look up at him, his eyes are closed. You decide to do the same, paying attention to the way his heart rate slows as he relaxes and, in turn, relaxes you. Jake’s arm holds you firmly, and your hand slides from his waist to his chest, resting against the solid flesh. Sleep follows shortly and engulfs you both in a comforting embrace.

Thump-thump.

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