#is it a small phone or just really big hands

[flwrstqr]

HONEY, HONEY ⠀ ⟡​⠀ WHEN THEY WANT YOUR ATTENTION ───𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝓲⠀⠀ ⦂ enhypen & fem!rea 𝑖𝑛 8OO fluff one shot head canon 警告 cursing, skinship, petnames, jealousy & click . . ( 𝓲ssue )

다니 ⠀⦂ ⠀this is dedicated to juni & annachu (> <) i know i alternated the title a bit & the prompt... but hope you guys enjoy xoxo. also thank you jenn for help on certain members 💌

LEE HEESEUNG

"baby, don’t you think you’ve talked about that guy enough?” heeseung pouts, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. “i mean, sure, he helped you with your project, but did he hold your hand while you stressed over it? did he kiss your forehead and tell you you’re the smartest, prettiest person ever? no? exactly.” he leans back, eyes narrowing playfully. “i bet he doesn’t even make you laugh like i do. does he send you good morning texts? compliment your hair? tell you how much he adores you?" he intertwines your fingers, bringing them to his lips with a pout. "face it, angel, no one loves you like i do," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. "so how about we focus on me now, hmm?"

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t say it—he never does—but you know. you feel it in the way his arm drapes over your shoulders, effortlessly pulling you against his warmth as he scrolls through his phone with his free hand. in the way he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering for just a second too long. in the way he exhales softly, setting his phone down as if nothing else in the world matters except you. "let’s go out," he murmurs, voice low, but there’s no second-thinking. an expensive dinner, a shopping trip where he never lets you check the price tags, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through every store. you don’t have to ask, don’t have to wonder—because when jay wants your attention, he gives you all of his first.

SIM JAKE

“baby, look at me,” jake whines, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “why aren’t you paying attention to me? i’m right here.” his lips graze your skin, warm and teasing, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “you love me, don’t you? then love me properly,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek, hands roaming your back in slow, lazy circles. when you hum in response, still distracted, he groans dramatically, placing his head onto your lap. “you’re so mean to me,” he sulks, his voice muffled. “just wanna be spoiled by my baby. is that too much to ask?” he lifts his head, eyes big and pleading. “one kiss, and i’ll forgive you.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon is shamelessly competitive when it comes to you, and it’s honestly hilarious. the moment another guy dares to make you smile, he’s swooping in. “your hair looks really nice today,” some guy says, and before you can even respond, sunghoon’s already cutting in, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “nice? angel, you look like you just stepped out of a dream. actually, scratch that—you are the dream.” his voice is smooth, like he’s making sure you don’t even think about entertaining someone else’s compliment. when the other guy laughs, trying again with, “you have a really pretty smile,” sunghoon scoffs, tilting your chin up. “of course she does. it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, and, by the way, i’m the reason she's smiling.” he smirks, eyes flickering to you, desperate for confirmation. “right, baby?”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo is so dramatic when he wants your attention, and he makes sure you know it. he starts with a loud, exaggerated sigh, arms crossed as he leans against you. when you don’t react fast enough, another sigh—longer, heavier. finally, you glance at him, and there he is, bottom lip jutted out in the deepest pout, eyes wide and pleading. “baby…” he whines, nudging his head against your shoulder. “you’ve been ignoring me for so long.” (it’s been five minutes.) when you try to hold back a laugh, he only pouts harder, leaning in until his face is this close to yours. “don’t you feel bad? look at me,” he insists, tilting his head. “my lips are a bit lonely today.” and oh, he’s expecting it now, tilting his chin up ever so slightly, waiting for you to finally give in and kiss the pout away.

YANG JUNGWON

you barely register the way jungwon tugs at your wrist until you suddenly find yourself pulled onto his lap, his arms circling around your waist with ease. “baby—what are you doing?” you laugh, but he only hums, resting his chin on your shoulder like this is the most natural thing in the world. “you weren’t paying attention to me,” he mumbles, voice laced with the smallest pout.you huff, pretending to be annoyed, but the way your heart races betrays you. “you could’ve just asked, you know,” you murmur, but he shakes his head, squeezing you a little tighter. “this is better,” he grins, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “now you have no choice but to focus on me.” and when he nuzzles into your neck, you know he’s already won.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“baby, pay attention to me,” riki whines, snatching your phone right out of your hands with that smirk. he holds it high above his head, effortlessly out of reach, and you groan, standing on your tiptoes to grab it. “oh? trying so hard, huh?” he teases, laughing as you struggle. determined, you lunge up, but just like every cliché romcom, your foot slips, and before you know it, you're crashing right into him—chest to chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. “woah, princess, if you wanted to be in my arms, you could’ve just asked,” he chuckles. you glare, cheeks burning, but he only tightens his hold, grinning down at you. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he muses, finally handing your phone back—only to boop your nose and whisper, “but i’m still the only thing you should be looking at.”

[pmpmyread]

A/N: This little fic is dedicated to my friend @cmdrfupa, for her birthday today!! To the lovely Lu: I wish you the happiest of birthdays and a year filled with love, joy, and everything you ask for! Pairing: Nanami x Reader WC: 4.2k Summary: Nanami is acting awfully suspicious. You endeavor to get to the bottom of this.

For as long as you’ve known him, Nanami Kento never compromised on a good night’s rest. He maintains impeccable sleep hygiene practices; he rarely ever snacks past 8 pm, avoids using his phone right before bed and has a routine that sees him get up and go to bed at more or less the same time every day.

A deeply ingrained sense of vigilance makes him a rather light sleeper, something you’ve quickly noticed as you watched him wake up countless times at the lightest rustle on your part, but he does tend to fall back asleep effortlessly, usually snuggling closer to you or readjusting your covers before slipping back into slumber with ease.

So you don't think much of it at first when you wake up one night to find his side of the bed empty. A quick glance at the clock indicates it is only 3:07 AM and you figure he’s probably just in the restroom.

You comfortably snuggle back under your covers, relieved that there is still plenty of time before your alarm goes off. It’s good timing, you think to yourself, that you’ve woken and that you’re catching him out of bed and that you will be able to reclaim your favorite big spoon position.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then twelve, thirteen. The sheets on his side are ice cold, and now you wonder how long he’s been gone. Impatience morphs into slight concern and trumps somnolence, so you decide to get up and check on him, sliding into your slippers before crossing the distance to the ensuite bathroom door and giving it a light tap.

“Hey, you good in there?”

No response. You knock again.

Only now do you notice the notably missing sliver of light that usually peeks through the edge of the door, a telltale sign of Nanami’s absence.

How odd.

“Kento?” you call out, this time to the rest of the house.

In the hushed stillness of the night, the gentle click of a kitchen cupboard door closing served as a barely audible response. The distinctive sound of the fridge opening for a few seconds before shutting again resonated through the hallway as you tiredly stumble your way towards the kitchen, where you find Nanami leaning against the counter, in the dark with only the dim light from his phone screen illuminating his features.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he says, his fatigued eyes straining to discern your form in the dark.

“I was looking for you…” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep, a confused scoff escaping your lips before you flip the question on him. “What are you doing up?”

“I developed a craving.”

“This late at night?”

Nanami sets his phone down, his response coming out as a barely audible low hum as if a testament to his own incredulity. Now better accustomed to the darkness, your eyes find the familiar jar Nanami holds in his hand, and you watch him pick what you now recognize to be a small jalapeño pepper and pop it into his mouth.

“And you were craving encurtido?” It’s an uncanny sight, one that has you questioning whether you are dreaming, but the increasingly clear sound of your voice grounds you in the reality of your wakefulness.

“I figured for the electrolytes...” he replies, deadpan.

“The electrol—Straight from the jar, Ken?” You retort, decidedly baffled.

“In my defense, my intention was to only have a few, so I didn’t bother…” he replies, trailing off.

“Okay… Do you not want to eat something more consistent? Was dinner really that lacking last night?” You say, finally feeling lucid enough to match his playful stride.

“Dinner was fantastic, you know this. No, I’m only having a few of these and then I’ll head back to sleep.”

Nanami’s phone auto locks, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. You pat at the wall beside you and flip the switch on, and head towards the cupboard to pour yourself a cup of water, now that you’re positively awake.

You lean your back against the counter, mirroring his stance as you join the spot across from him and from which you observe him out of the corner of your eye as you slowly sip from your cup. He appears to be absentmindedly picking at the pickled vegetables, visibly distracted.

Ever the observant man, Nanami notices and arches an inquisitive eyebrow at you as he catches your gaze.

“This will not bode well for your stomach, big guy. Please take an antacid after this, you’re not invincibly young anymore.”

“I’ll be fine. I just got a little hungry.”

“I don’t know, Kento, this is so unlike you. I can’t remember the last time you had yourself a midnight snack, let alone spicy food, of all things.”

You can barely contain the laughter now bubbling within you, realizing now that this newly formed memory of the near absurd state in which you’d caught him red-handed will be the source of your endless amusement, of his relentless torment over the next few days.

You add, now laughing in earnest. “Are you sure you don’t want me to quickly fix something for you?”

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but I assure you I’m sated now,” he closes the jar, leans over to your side to plant a kiss on your forehead, and continues, “I’m sorry I worried you. Let’s go back to bed.”

For the few minutes you find yourself in bed waiting for Nanami once more as he brushes his teeth and freshens up for the remainder of the night, you rack your brain to try to figure out what could have possibly prompted this uncharacteristic mid-night adventure. You’d watched him eat dinner, and he’d cleaned off a healthy portion of your homemade chili potato bread. Surely he couldn’t be that hungry, right?

He was visibly on his phone before you walked in and he looked quite a bit distracted, even a bit shifty. Perhaps there was something he wanted to surprise you with? Your birthday has just recently passed, and you are still months away from your anniversary.

You skirt around the least likely justifications until the most plausible one, the one that eventually presents itself like a road appearing through dissipating fog, makes itself evident; of the strong possibility that Nanami Kento is concealing something from you.

Your sentiment is one of overwhelming curiosity more than anything else, one that lingers still in the back of your mind by the time Nanami emerges from the bathroom and finds his spot lying down facing you.

You audibly clear your throat and he looks up at you, freezing mid-movement as he rearranges the covers and you sense him searching your eyes in the dark.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’ve got big spoon now. My turn, remember?”

“I question whether this switch is warranted, but it’s late, so I’ll let you have this one.”

“You’re not letting me have anything, Kento, you know the terms. If anything, we were both out of bed just now, so it absolutely counts, doubly so.”

A chuckle of surrender escapes him as he flips over, his warm body pressing into yours as you slide your arms under him and place your hand over your hands.

The weight of your concerns begins to lift, leaving behind mostly the blissful oblivion of sleep and for the rest of the night, all is well.

A couple of days later, you’re enjoying a rainy Saturday afternoon indoors, the soft glow of your lamplight casting a warm, inviting ambiance against the otherwise gray backdrop outside.

You’ve completed your to-do list early, and the feeling of accomplishment has since settled over you, along with the promise of a relaxing afternoon, one that you and Nanami get to spend together; one hand holds your book while the other gently tangles in his soft hair as he lay quietly on your lap, equipped with a book of his own.

You’re about an hour in when he shuts his book and rests his eyes, staying still for a minute before breaking the silence.

“We should watch that show.” He says with his eyes still closed.

Still engrossed in your novel, it takes you a few seconds to pull your gaze towards him and to register his words. He speaks again before you get the chance to respond.

“Tossed salads and scrambled eggs…” He says impassively, and you blink at him a few times before he opens his eyes, looks directly into yours, and adds “Oh my.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter at Nanami’s deadpan rendition of one of your favorite show’s theme songs.

“You want to watch Frasier?” You ask in between giggles, “Now?”

“It can be later. Or now. Only if you’re up for it.” He says, his voice finding its usual tone again, which only makes you laugh once more.

“Oh, I’m up for it. I’m just surprised, it’s usually that baking competition show you watch on the weekends.

“I figured I’d mix things up a bit.” His eyes peer up at you once more between strands of tousled hair falling across his forehead.

“Alright Mr. Adventurous, let’s get to it, then.”

He sits up and reaches for the remote as you shuffle around, finally settling into a comfortable position on the worn couch in front of the TV screen.

Just after the third episode starts, Nanami stretches slightly and gets up.

“I’m going to make coffee. Would you like one?”

“Actually, would you mind brewing me some of that oolong grape tea?”

“Sure thing,” he says, a hint of surprise in the subtle arch of his brow.

“I’m mixing things up,” you say, playfully mimicking his tone from earlier, a slight smirk playing on your lips.

You reach for the remote to pause the episode.

“No need to pause it. I’ll just set the water to brew and be back.”

You turned your attention back to your episode, while you heard Nanami busy himself in the kitchen.

This series… You can recite most of these scenes word for word and yet each rewatch still captivates you as if it’s your first time watching it. By the time you’re near the end of your episode, the rich, warm aroma of velvety robusta coffee has decidedly wafted over to find you where you sat, filling your senses in a comforting blanket of scent.

The low whirring sound of the electric kettle has long since ceased, and you no longer hear Nanami’s rummaging on the other side of the wall. Just as you have half a mind to call out to him, you stifle a yawn, a feeling of drowsiness beginning to read its unwelcome head. You’d planned to take a nap later on, but now you’re determined to see this watch session through. A concluding thought comes to your mind; a cup of coffee actually sounds perfect right now.

Needing to stretch your legs anyway, you decide to get up and get it yourself.

“Hey Ken—”

You peer around the corner to find the kitchen empty.

On the counter, you find your tea bag still only halfway assembled, loose leaf almost spilling out of the unsealed bag, sitting next to the coffee machine, where his cooling cup sits.

Where the hell did he disappear to? you wonder.

Your question is answered a mere seconds later, as Nanami emerges from the hallway, looking somewhat more disheveled than he’d left, his sleeves are pulled up rather than carefully rolled back, and his hair is downright messy, as if he’d just wrestled with something. He speaks before you get the chance to say anything.

“I went looking for the oolong. I thought I’d brought it to my office the other day.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and without thinking, you open a drawer just beside you, where you distinctly remember seeing the oolong tea box this morning only to find it now notably missing, an empty space that screams its obvious absence.

Your eyes return to Nanami, who is now holding up the familiar packaging.

“Turns out I was right,” he says with a slight smile. “Sorry for the delay in service,” he adds playfully.

You know this man well, so you sense it, in the nervous quickness in his step, in the barely perceptible aversion of his gaze, that this is not the full story.

You know this man too damn well, so you witness the realization hits him; he freezes in his movements for the briefest of moments, but you catch it. Your eyes settle on Nanami’s hands as they hover over the overflowing, half-assembled tea bag, loose oolong leaves spilling onto the table in a noisy refutation of his unconvincing tale. Your eyes travel to his face and you watch as a minute twitch of his lips, as a small sharp inhale and exhale through the nose, betray some kind of amusement he appears to be trying to suppress.

This scene juxtaposed with the Fraiser ending theme now blaring in the background can only be humorous to you, and can only add to the perplexity of the situation.

“So—” you start.

“Did you prepare them differently?” Nanami cuts in, casual as ever, as he fastens the tea bag and gently places it in your cup, and reaches for the kettle, setting it on once more, his movements now carrying a relaxed fluidity.

“What?” You ask, only now realizing that this is your first word in what you feel like has already been a long exchange.

“The cookies you baked yesterday,” He repeats, speaking a bit louder to be heard over the increased whirring sound of the kettle, as the already boiled water quickly comes to ebullition. “Did you add a secret ingredient or something? They are particularly amazing.” He reaches for one in the box you’d stored them and takes a bite as if to emphasize his point.

“Nutmeg…” You say cautiously, eyes narrowing on him as you watch him casually pour the boiling water into your cup.

“I see. So you added nutmeg?”

“No, the nutmeg was always there. I just dosed it differently this time around and I—Actually, you know what? No. I’m keeping this one to myself. Secret recipe.”

“That’s a shame,” he says his tone laced with mock disappointment as he hands you your cup, with his left hand twisting it around to ensure you can grasp it at its handle, and offers you the second half of his cookie in his right hand, letting it hover over your lips, a mischievous smile on his face, “and here I thought we were all about sharing here.”

You narrow your eyes at him once again and yet also take the entire remainder of the cookie into your mouth, a move that visibly surprises him. You chew as you try to formulate a retort that you don’t bother delivering, as he picks up his coffee cup and guides you back to the living room to resume your watch session.

Both of you pretending that you didn’t detect his obvious play at a deflection.

Both of you ignoring the obvious untruth you’d caught him in.

It only comes to your mind much that evening, long after you rolled credits on the seventh Frasier episode, long after an enjoyable dinner, and long after you’ve tucked into bed, wrapping up the captivating book that had you staying up into the early hours of the morning as Kento slept soundly beside you; a theory that you are now incredibly eager to test in the morning.

“I can’t believe they want you in the office on a day like this,” Nanami mutters as he looks out the window at the large snowflakes beginning their descent through the gray morning sky. “Surely it’s not advisable ahead of a damn snowstorm?”

“Yup, I can’t believe it either. I only have early meetings, though, so I should be able to wrap up before the worst of it comes down early this evening.”

The rest of the weekend flew by; two days have elapsed, and it is now Monday. Even as you sit on the ottoman in the vestibule, focused on fastening your second boot, you can sense Nanami’s concerned gaze shifting to you.

“And you’re sure you can’t work from home?”

“I told you, this is orientation week. They want all of us newbies on site.”

“You should call out.”

“It’s really not that bad yet and I’ll be back before you know it.” You reply, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his apprehension as he approaches you, towering over where you’re still seated.

“Then, at the very least, let me drop you off.”

“I appreciate your concern, Ken, I really do. But I’ll be fine, this isn’t my first rodeo. Besides, don’t you have that important call later? I need you to lock in and stop worrying about me.”

“If there’s anything off, anything at all—” You stand up and reach out to him.

“I will call you. Promise.” You press a kiss to his lips, and you indulge in his lingering hold for a short moment before you pull away and head out to your car. It’s in moments like these that the depth of his care for you is the most palpable; you can discern so much better these days, level-headed as he is, the worry betrayed by his voice, the concern visible in his eyes.

Kento is so good to you. He is so good, period.

Except when he’s not.

Nanami waits a couple of minutes. It’s not until after the distinct sound of your car’s ignition, followed by the garage door’s mechanical whir and thud are made audible that he finally gets to moving.

Finally. How long has it been? A week? Six? Seven days of poking and prodding, of observing and watching? An arduous week peppered with moments of weakness spent wondering if the prize was worth the trouble he was going through, worth the opponent he has to make of you; moments that have no longevity whatsoever, as he’s quickly reminded of the phantom taste he is now convinced he will be unable to shake off.

And you are good. You are too damn good at this extreme variant of mental chess, it’s almost unfair. He’s always known you to be a brilliant woman, it’s part of what he adores so much about you, but this is another level. Where is the line between extreme cleverness and unrelenting cunning?

You are too good.

But not infallible.

Because now that he is reasonably sure that you’re gone, he makes his way back to the room that doubles as your home office and brings the door to a half close, turning to face the shelf that sits behind it.

He crouches down, emulating the position he’d found you in less than twenty-four hours ago, to the bottom row, labeled ‘Taxes’. He pulls out the 2021 filing box, and he knows to pull this one because you’ve led him to it, yesterday, when he finally caught you in a scene he’s since gleefully replayed over and over again in his mind.

Nanami opened the door to your home office, inadvertently lightly bumping you in the process.

“Ouch!”

“Darling? Shit, I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

He peered around the door, just in time to see you replace a filing box and to rise from your kneeling position. Grabbing your arm where the door had bumped you.

“I’m fine. It’s my fault, I should have shown some sign of life when I heard you approaching,” you say sheepishly.

Nanami moved your hand and rubbed your bare arm where you held it. As he cast his gaze down to your arm to examine it, something on the floor immediately caught his attention.

A small torn piece of paper, the familiar red markings on a yellow wrapper, stood out like a sore thumb against the deep brown hardwood floor, one he would now recognize anywhere. He must have let his gaze linger too long because he noticed you following, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you locked onto the damning piece of evidence.

He watched as you suddenly pulled your arm away from him and averted his gaze.

“I was just looking for an old banking document I need to bring it to HR tomorrow.”

Nanami watched, oh he watched as you discreetly kicked the wrapper under the shelf as you moved around him

“And did you find it?” He asked after you, turning only his head towards you.

“Find what?”

“The document you just mentioned?”

“Oh, no I haven’t. But I have the digital version somewhere, I’ll just have to find my old login, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out!” You said before skittering out of the room.

There it was again, the taste of smooth coffee-flavored cream with a milk chocolate coating. It’s been days since his first bit, but Nanami remembered it still, the gentle crunch of a wafer preceded by the slightly bitter coffee essence, followed by a creamy chocolate richness that balances out the coffee notes. So light, so airy, so sweet, but not too sweet. The perfect balance.

The last he’d seen it was when you yanked the bag away from him, as he went for his fourth piece in a row. Or was it the fifth?

“Alright enough, Kento, these are limited, so we clearly need to ration them.”

“You don’t trust my discipline?” He’d said in mock offense.

“Your firm grip on this box tells me everything I need to know. Give it.” Stifling a shocked laugh as you yanked it from him in earnest.

“Oh, I see. So you’d selfishly hide your little stash from me?”

“Sir, this was a gift addressed to me! You know damn well they don’t carry these rare candies anywhere in this country, and I am intent on not speed running these in a day, so you best back off and behave if you want me to share this!” You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. You’d never seen Nanami so obsessed over anything, let alone some sweets.

“Unfortunately for you, your first mistake was to let me taste this one.” He says as he neatly folds the wrapper he’s still holding. “You won’t succeed in hiding them for long, I fear.”

“Watch me.”

And oh, did he watch you. Throughout the week, observing as you snuck two pieces for each one you would bring out to share with him, seemingly out of nowhere. Nanami knew this was silly, that he was being irrationally ridiculous over a few sweets.

He couldn’t place what it was, whether it was your assertiveness and confidence in keeping this away from him, the underlying challenge this posed him, or whether it was that this chocolate simply tasted too damn good. Whatever it was, it was driving him insane, and all he knew was that he had to locate your secret stash.

Not even the passing thought that he was behaving like Gojo on a sugar rush had sufficed to deter Nanami from his singular mission, a passing thought that made him scoff in disbelief.

None of it mattered anymore. He had a lead.

But now, unburdened by your observant eye, untethered by the running risk of you walking in on him as you’d already done over the course of the week, nearly exposing his efforts, he feels the taste of victory.

He reaches under the shelf and laughs to himself as he retrieves the damning manifestation of the one mistake you’ve made.

He opens the filing box.

It’s empty, barring a piece of folded paper.

It’s a note he quickly unfolds, immediately recognizing your handwriting, his eyes dancing over the single line of the message, the one that spells out:

“I have bested you, Nanami Kento.”

Nanami flinches at the sound of your voice, he almost topples over when you step into the room, holding your boots in your hands and tiptoeing in your socks.

He chuckles lightly as he stands up.

“If you’re telling me you set this up…”

“Off some snacks, Ken?” You said, releasing the burst of laughter you’ve been holding for a hot minute now.

“Pretended to leave…”

“All this off some freaking candy?” You’re laughing hysterically now.

“It wasn’t the candy, love, it was that one chocolate… Coffee Crunch something...” He’s chuckling now too, eyes closed as he shakes his head as if he’s trying to place the taste.

“Coffee Crisp. Don’t I know it! Made you lose your damn mind.”

“The deception of this is…”

“Well-warranted, I’m now convinced! ”

Nanami sighs, visibly defeated.

“I don’t know what they put in that bar—Wait, aren’t you going to be late now?”

“Oh, I’m not driving in that mess. I was going to put in a work-from-home request last night, but found that they’d already told us not to come in any way. Besides, who will distribute this if I’m gone?” You add as you pull one of the coveted coffee and chocolate bars out of your coat pocket and wave it into his face.

You watch his eyes widen, his pupils dilate as he makes a grab for it, but you pull back just in time to have him watch it slip through his fingers.

“You have to share.” He says almost too solemnly.

“I really don’t. But maybe… you can earn it? Work for it.” You say teasingly as you hold the bar behind you while making your way towards Nanami, not stopping until he hits the edge of your desk.

“Another challenge?” He asks, his voice now a low timbre. “Careful, love. This one I’m intent on winning.”

[bvlgum]

୨୧ SILENT TREATMENT

͏─── ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏禅 “WARNINGS; “ fluff, ignoring/silent treatments (ofc), there is a kiss in winters, pet names, established relationship

Nothing here ;)

KARINA

Karina watched as you sat beside her, a bowl of cereal in your hands. Your gaze was focused on the television, you didn’t bother to spare her a single glance. She bit her lips contemplating on whether or not to call your name. “Yn…” silence. “Love?” Silence. “Come on Yn I already said I’m sorry” her tone became more whiny and needy. The moment she stood up you thought she was going to give up and walk away but instead she knelt down in front of you, her hands clasped in a pleading form,her expressions as soft as ever. “Baby please forgive me…” she pleaded with a puppy eyes which made your lips twitch in a small smile. “Fine fine I forgive you”

GISELLE

Giselle knew that once you gave her that glare and that look she was done for. She knew you probably wouldn’t talk to her until you’re satisfied with her attempts at apologizing. The first thing that crept into Giselle’s mind was to get you some of your favorite things, she knew it would be hard to resist those. She grumbled as she walked through the door a load of shopping bags in her hands. She plopped them right infront of you with a sigh. “Babe I know I shouldn’t have done that, I’m so sorry for what I did and I bought this for you just to make it up” she said gesturing over to the gift. You thought for a while. Her apology seemed sincere and you could see the genuine apologetic look written on her face. “Ok, I’m sorry for the way I acted too” you also apologize pulling her into a big hug.

WINTER

Winter knew you were dead serious mad when she saw a tear slip out from your eye. That’s the only way to know when something really got to you. She tried to call out to you but stood there frozen as you slammed the door in her face. She didn’t mean it to go like this. She sighed and went back downstairs to contemplate on either giving you space or going to confront you. Night time came and she climbed into the bed watching as your backed face her while you scrolled through your phone. She couldn’t take it anymore, not hearing your voice for almost a whole day id driving her crazy. Her hands found it’s way and snaked around your waist pulling you closer to her chest. “Baby I’m truly sorry, I didn’t mean it. You can hit or slap me I don’t care. Just please stop ignoring me…..” she pouted resting her chin on your shoulders. You didn’t respond. But soon laughter followed after the silence. “Min I don’t think I can ignore you and longer with you acting all sulky and cute” you giggled at her nuzzling into your neck placing a soft kiss on your neck.

NINGNING

Her stubborn self definitely wouldn’t want to apologize first. She kept convincing herself that you’d come back and apologize to her. She tried giving you the cold shoulders, not acknowledging your existence (but she still took secret glances tho). And everything to make you feel ignored so it was a shocker to her when you didn’t even bother to spare her a glance. Her mind began to swirl with bad thoughts. What if you never apologize and it leads to a break up? No she can’t survive you’re basically her whole world. She put her ego down and mustered up the confidence to come up with an apology. “Hey…” she said trying to sound nonchalant but deep down she hoped you didn’t notice how desperate she was for you attention. “Look I’m sorry for what I did….. I promise to be better” she said biting her inner cheek. You hadn’t even looked up from your phone yet, until now. You set your phone aside glancing up at Ningning. Her heart beat started to beat like crazy. What were you going to say next? She hoped it wasn’t something bad. “Promise?” That was all you said. “I promise” she said after clearing her throat trying to get a grasp of your hand.

[captain-huggy-bear]

No because why do I picture that you and Jack are dating in secret, well at least from the public’s eye, and you had talked about going public but you didn’t say when, and Jack accidentally posts a picture of you guys in one of his photo dumps and the secrets out

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It's an accident, a genuine mistake. He doesn't mean to include a picture of the two of you in his latest photo dump to his instagram, he certainly doesn't mean to select a photo in which he has his arms around you from behind, lips pressed to your cheek in a kiss that was clearly not friendly. It's not that he's ashamed of you, rather it's that the two of you had agreed to keep things private for a while, to give yourselves a chance to really settle into your relationship without the peanut gallery getting involved. You'd discussed going public, but not set a date or made a decision and he was certain you weren't going to be happy with it happening suddenly without your knowledge...#

"Shit." He's trying to delete it frantically, but he can already see the comments flooding in. Even if he deletes it he knows someone will have screenshotted it, someone will have seen it and already written a blog post about it...the cat is out of the bag. He doesn't bother, leaves the post where it is, knowing it would draw more attention if it disappeared now.

"Jack? Everything okay?" You could hear him from the bedroom, his frantic swearing travelling to where you'd been reading. It had made you curious enough to put your book down even though the main love interest was about to make a massive declaration of love.

He's staring at his phone, tossed onto the coffee table, like it's just betrayed him, elbows pressing into his knees, head in his hands. Jack's fingers are tugging at his hair like he often does when he's stressed and it's enough to worry you that something seriously bad has happened.

He looks a little pitiful when he looks up at you, big blue eyes worried, brow furrowed, lips set in a pout.

"...If...theoretically...if I fucked up and accidentally posted a picture of us on my public insta would you dump me?" Your shoulders are already relaxing, whatever you thought had happened, it certainly wasn't something as minor as Jack making your relationship public.

"Is this theoretical or reality?" You're smiling at him and it only makes him more confused because you should be angry at him right now...you should be telling him off because you hadn't agreed yet on when you'd make things public and with him public meant very public.

"Reality..." Jack reaches for his phone, unlocking it to show you the post and the many, many, many comments already flooding in, "Fuck, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking and must have just picked that photo when I was selecting a few others..."

"Hey, hey...it's okay." You sit yourself next to him on the couch, leaning against him so he knows you're not angry. It's obvious Jack is panicking about this, worried that you're going to be upset with him, "We we're already talking about going public...it's fine."

"You're...you're not going to break up with me?" You're actually taken aback a little bit, that he thinks you'd be so fickle, so petty as to break up with him over an accident, a simple mistake. It has you cupping his face in your hands gentle, the sort of softness that has his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

"Jack Rowden Hughes, do you really think that something as small as an accidental photo posting would get me break up with you?" You smile at him so sweetly that he starts to feel a bit silly, a bit stupid because he loves you and you love him and why would he ever think you'd be so harsh as to break up with him over something like that?

"I don't know...maybe?" He's sheepish as he says it, shrugging his shoulders and avoiding your eyes.

"You're an idiot." You say lovingly, pressing a kiss to his lips even as he goes to protest about it. A kiss that has him melting, all worries about your reacti9on disappearing in favour of pulling you into his lap and kissing you silly.

[bwobgames]

On the ever-bustling capital

The station awakes

The last time he’d been in the capital it was spring, for a wedding. He remembers sitting by the fan until night came.

And yet, even with such inscrutable proof, he still decided that it was a good idea to come back in summer.

Like some sort of forgetful fool.

Hm- actually, no. Just a fool. He doesn’t like that other word.

He is detective Oliver Beebo and he has solved the mystery of the overheating city.

The answer is global warming and corporate greed. Money now, please.

"Take my hand, alright? Let’s not get lost here"

It’s not that big of a place, but who is he to judge. Guess he’ll have to hold hands with his very hot boyfriend! Hot in multiple ways. He might be used to it, but the heat affects him too.

It must have. he can’t be the only one dying here! With Ángel as the sole survivor! That'd be too cliche now!

Hopefully everyone is fine as well.

Okay. Never mind. Ángel was right. This place is massive.

And absolutely full of people! Are they synthetizing humans here or what? How is it possible to have this many people around every day!

It’s… almost a bit too much. It’s slowly becoming too much. It’s really starting to be too much.

“Ángel. Um.”

“Let’s not enter yet, yeah? We are the first ones here, and the train is not moving anytime soon”

Ah, yes. The train. His salvation from hell city.

He heard there was going to be a free showing of multiple museums, so, like an easily amused fool, he asked Ángel to do a quick visit to the capital.

It was hot.

Usually, his dreams are filled with snow, but the heat won’t leave him even in sleepy land.

Small miracles, he guesses.

And even more miraculously, the Margulis were also sick of the heat, and decided to get a trip to the south as vacation. So why not get the gang back together and hitch a ride back home!

Of course, because they are not normal people who travel by an overnight bus, they simply must try out the new train.

Something about vintage realistic experience from when the country was filled with trains.

Well, he can’t complain much. Trains are awesome.

“Alright, just checked the groupchat. Vivi says she’s gonna be here soon, Marigold says they are leaving the house as we speak, and Nadia told me to die. So, everything seems to be going well!”

“Why is everything here so overpriced. Why was there a shopping mall inside there. When does summer ends.”

“Ahaha, that’s the shark mindset, my beloved. A place with so much people traffic? An opportunity like no other. Reminds me of the good old days, when I was evil and had money”

“You barely did anything economy wise. And you still get money from branding”

“Haha, that’s true!”

“Speaking of overpriced evil things, Let’s go get a snack! The train has bathrooms, so we have nothing to worry about”

“… Inside? In the torment nexus? With the many people and smells and lights?”

“Ah, we don’t have to if you don’t want to! We can wait until the train opens! I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

Ángel’s tummy rumbles

“Ignore that. My demons.”

“You can go. I’ll wait here”

“.......”

“Really! I’ll be fine! Look! I’m no longer a noddle arms boy anymore! Your workout thing worked! So…”

“This place is dangerous.”

“I know my way around the common mugger”

“No, these guys are even more dangerous! They’d kill for nothing more than your phone! A-And the luggage is-!”

“Ángel.”

“I’ll be alright. You trust me, right?”

“I do... But it’s the other people that-!”

“Then you trust all the years of detective work that I’ve managed to survive. Assassins and Houses included”

“.......”

“...Fine. Fine, I get it. Just... If anyone tries to rob you, just give them everything, okay? Your phone, your shoes, whatever! I’ll buy you anything, so don’t try to fight back, yeah?”

“And don’t wander off! Stay in this street, okay? If you get lost just search for the giant awful clock. Without breaking it this time. I can buy you phones, but I’d really rather not pay another clock you ‘accidentally’ broke”

“It had it coming”

“And try to be close to people alright? Don’t wander off where there’s no people!”

“I’ll stay right here!”

“...Oliver.”

“Yeah, okay, I won’t. But I can always call you, yeah?”

“Yeah… Yeah. You can. It’s going to be fine.”

“I want a muffin and juice, please”

“Protect your luggage. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be safe, don’t even dare not be safe”

“byebyebyebyebyebyeeee love you!”

“Love you!”

One of the few positive traits of the capital is the wide acceptance of homosexuality.

Now, where to?

NEXT ->

[007chan]

hello? 😢

sunoo was scrolling through tiktok when his bedroom door opened with a loud thud.

"dude, your mom is so nice."

sunoo looks behind him quizzically, "dude? really riki? dude?"

riki raises an eyebrow at sunoo before shrugging. sunoo rolls his eyes at the youngers lack of an answer, turning his eyes back to his phone. something uncomfortable settling in the pit of his stomach. dude? is he really just a dude to riki?

sunoos in the middle of debating if he should kick riki out when said boy snatches his phone out of his hand.

"i swear to god if you replay this video one more time, i will punch you." riki shakes around sunoos phone dramatically before shutting it off. "i came over to hang out with you and all you can do is scroll on your phone." riki says, pouting.

sunoo just laughs loudly making rikis pout deepen. "come sit then." sunoo shuffles his body to the left of his bed, patting the space next to him.

sunoo feels pride swell in his chest when riki flushes. the younger mutters a small "okay." before plopping down next to sunoo.

riki turns on his side to face sunoo, smiling softly. "so," he starts slowly, flush deepening on his face, "you excited to see me kick some ass tomorrow?"

sunoo flicks riki's forehead, "don't get too cocky big guy. but yeah, i'm excited, i've never been to a hockey game before."

at that riki's eyes widen with disbelief, "how have you never been to a hockey game before? what is wrong with you?"

at sunoos shrug in response causing riki to begin a rant on how 'uncultured' and 'strange' sunoo is. sunoo cant imagine how whipped he looks right now as he stares at riki with a fondness hes only ever reserved for the people he liked -loved, even.

his heart beats loud in his chest as riki continues speaking. riki's eyes are so full of passion that sunoo cant help but internally coo.

he really, really likes riki, he likes him enough to let him berate him over a sport he never cared about. he likes riki so much that his thoughts are entirely consumed by him, he thinks about him so much that he's started to wonder if it's unhealthy.

he likes riki so much it hurts.

SUMMARY: riki has seen many things as sunoo's neighbor. he's seen him late for school rushing out the door, he's seen him help his mother bring in groceries, and he's even seen him get dropped off by friends. what riki hasnt seen is sunoo asking him to be his fake boyfriend.

CHATTT hai >.< i love the little gay boys in my phone

↩︎ back | next ↪︎

boy next door masterlist

tags: @heejamas @miniw0nz @sunghoonzzzz @enhasnoo @rairaiblog @lov3lyaaru @orangemintsq @chandmyseven @sunkismau @cheesepuffcat @paradiseoflosers @wongghhh @cl4ir0l0v3r @nene-starz @ddolleri @reikaxslvr @steddie-steddie

taglist is open!

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part eleven

Back to our regularly scheduled chaos 🫶🏻

Warnings: angst, reader is just really down on herself in this one sorry guys, Hotch being so strangely sweet for once, but then Hotch being down on himself (these two are a fucking wreck i wish they'd just TALK IT OUT)

Hotch doesn’t give you the day off after this case, but when you walk into the bullpen the next morning, you wish he had. For no particular reason other than you weren’t able to sleep, and dread seems to have made a home in your bones overnight.

And, of course, everyone notices.

“Oh,” Penelope’s frown looks out of place among her bright outfit. You hate that you’re making her frown. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, flashing her a smile. “Just exhausted.”

She doesn’t seem too satisfied with your answer, but wraps you in a hug all the same. “If you need anything, come see me. Okay?”

You squeeze her tightly. “Thanks, Pen.”

She pulls back and lightly pats your cheek. “Anytime.”

Morgan comes sauntering over with his coffee, eyeing you both cautiously. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Garcia saves you the grief, turning to rest her hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Just telling her to come bug me when you guys start boring her to death.”

Derek laughs. “Riiight.”

Garcia heads back to her office with a flourish, something about needing to do her own paperwork to justify all the hacking she did for this last case. You dump your things down at your desk with a sigh.

You try to discreetly look up into Hotch’s office to see if he’s here. When you glance back at Morgan, you see he’s caught you red-handed. 

“Looking for someone?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, busying yourself with putting your things away. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“Not yet, we’re the early birds today,” Morgan says, propping himself on your desk like he belongs there. “Why?”

I’m trying to avoid him at all costs, why else? “Just curious.”

Morgan hums. “Alright. Well, no, he said he was taking Jack to school this morning, so he’d be in late. You would know that if you didn’t put yourself in time out on the jet yesterday.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna start up that tally again,” Morgan jokes.

“Be my guest,” you mutter through a small smile.

Morgan goes quiet and that scares you, because you know exactly what’s coming next. Goodbye Joking Friend Morgan, hello Serious Big Brother Derek.

“Hey,” he says, leaning toward you. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You nod. If only everyone who says that knew that you can’t. “Yeah. I know.”

“‘Kay. Good.” Derek nods as he slides off your desk, returning to his own and leaving you alone.

Reid whirls into the BAU next, nose in a book, nearly taking himself out when he stumbles into Morgan’s desk. So, a typical morning for him.

JJ and Emily come in next, coffees in hand, having run into each other again on their morning commute.

Rossi next, stopping by your desk to ask how you’re doing. He doesn’t press when you say you’re fine and heads up to his office, leaving you alone.

Then, there’s Hotch, who comes in with his phone pressed to his ear, a frown on his face. He doesn’t even glance toward the center of the bullpen as he practically floats up the stairs into his office, shutting the door.

You share looks with the rest of the team. Reid grimaces. He must’ve read his lips through the office window. He goes back to his book without saying anything.

You return to your paperwork, scanning the text. It’s necessary, and you know why you have to do it, but that doesn’t make any of it less boring.

Next to you, Emily leans back in her chair. “You should join us for coffee tomorrow before work.”

You lift your head, your eyes slowly trailing over to her to make sure she’s talking to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “JJ and I always end up at the same place, we should get there a little early and have breakfast.”

“Uh, hello?” Morgan pipes up, pointing his pencil between himself and Reid. “What about us?”

Emily inhales sharply through her grin. “Sorry, girls only.”

“Alright, I see how it is,” Morgan laughs. He turns to Reid. “Hey kid, wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“Why?” Reid asks without looking up. “The BAU has free coffee.”

Morgan sighs. “You’re not helping.”

Reid still doesn’t look up, but his lips stretch in that little smirk he always gets when he pushes Morgan’s buttons just for fun.

You turn back to Emily. “I’d love to. Where?”

She lists off the name of the cafe and then pauses, “Oh my god, I need to add you to the group chat.”

“Group chat?” Reid looks up this time. “You guys have a group chat?”

“Girls only,” Emily says again, looking down at her phone.

“Is Garcia in it?” Morgan asks.

“Duh,” Emily replies. “There.”

Your phone buzzes. Emily added you to Women Only. You snort. “Thanks.”

Garcia sends a few hearts and other emojis when she sees you’ve been added to the chat. You laugh quietly before returning to your paperwork, even though you’ve read the same line probably fifty times by now. 

The conversation carries on around you, with Reid even chiming in here and there, but you’re mostly silent. You know it’s unlike you, so you figure it’s a matter of time before one of the profilers calls you out for it.

But they don’t, because they don’t get a chance to.

Hotch calls your name from the second level. You lift your head, eyebrows raising. You find him standing just in the doorway to his office, nodding his head for you to come up.

Just great. Great.

You’re too tired to offer any protests, so you stand immediately, taking your lukewarm coffee with you as you head up the stairs. You don’t need to glance down at the bullpen to know the team’s eyes are on you.

Hotch seems to notice, too, because when you walk into his office, he draws the blinds.

You freeze in the doorway. This can’t be good, if he’s purposefully trying to prevent Reid from lipreading. He normally doesn’t bother.

“Come in,” he says quietly, rounding his desk. “Sit, please.”

You’re being fired. You’re sure of it.

Still, you shut the door, eyeing him warily as you sit across from him. You place your coffee on his desk so you can clasp your hands together.

“So?”

Hotch tilts his head. “So?”

“What’s the reasoning?” you ask. “I’m assuming I’m being transferred or terminated, whatever we’re calling it these days.”

If you aren’t mistaken, his expression seems to soften. Just barely. “I’m not firing you.”

You sit back. “Oh.”

“Why would you think I’m firing you?”

“Why would I not?” you shrug. “We don’t get along, I’ve done nothing but cause problems — that I will admit—”

“Stop,” Hotch almost looks pained as he cuts you off. “Stop. You’re not causing problems by being here.”

You stare at him tiredly. “You know I hate it when you lie to my face.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, just as tired. “And I’m not lying now.”

You’re not convinced of either of those things. “Okay.”

He sighs, leaning onto his elbows on his desk. “I know we don’t…get along, as you said, but you are a valuable asset to this team.”

“Hotch, my first two cases, both unsubs have gotten away.”

“Is that what this is about?”

You don’t know. You don’t know what any of this is about. “I guess. Look— I’m just not on top of it today. I’m tired.”

“Do you need to go home?”

You glare at him. “No. I said I’m tired, not that I can’t work.”

“Just clarifying,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair to study you. 

It makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You hate the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t know yet — or that you don’t want to know. Because knowing him, he’ll say it out loud, and then you’ll have to deal with it, and you don’t want to.

You think for a fleeting, terrifying moment that maybe Rossi told him about your father, but Rossi wouldn’t. Right?

“It’s not your fault,” he starts, but he keeps his eyes trained on his desk. “That the unsubs have gotten away. We got Lila back home safely, and that counts for something.”

You hum, uncertain.

“We don’t always catch the unsub,” Hotch continues. “We help where we can, and sometimes that has to be enough.”

“It’s not, though,” you shake your head slowly. “It’s not enough.” You look over at him, that anger still simmering like always. You’re tired, but it doesn’t take much for it to spike again. “I still don’t think we should’ve left them.”

“I did what I thought was right and I stand by—”

“What if it was wrong?”

“I’m not going to sit here and argue what if’s with you,” Hotch snaps, voice firm and tone final. “I don’t have to explain my decisions to you.”

“No,” you reply, pushing yourself to stand up. “But you could at least act like you care about your team’s opinion of you.”

You get to the door before you pause, eyeing the closed blinds. You turn around as you cross your arms over your chest.

“What was it you actually called me in here for?”

Hotch barely shrugs. “I just wanted to check in with you after the conversation we had yesterday.”

You roll your eyes. Highly unlikely that that’s the only thing, but fine. “Sure.”

Hotch sighs tiredly. “Here we go,” he says under his breath.

Might as well tease him. “Just saying,” you give him a wicked look.“You better be careful. Kinda starting to make me think you like me or something.”

He scowls at you. “Go back to work.”

You’re laughing as you leave his office.

+++

Hotch stares at your coffee on the edge of his desk. You forgot to take it with you. He could call you back in here to get it. Or let it get cold and get rid of it later. Or he could take it to you.

He needs a fresh cup anyway.

He grabs his mug in one hand, yours in the other, and heads out of his office. You’re already back at your desk, laughing at something Prentiss said. Hotch feels the corners of his lips trying to tug upward, listening to your laughter. He doesn’t hear it often, especially not like this. Carefree and light. He’s used to the sarcastic, condescending laughter that you usually give him. 

His frown returns with that thought. He’ll never be the cause of this kind of laughter from you. Not as long as you seem to have him at the top of your shit list. It’s been a decade, so he doesn’t expect that to change.

Shaking the thoughts away, he heads down the stairs to drop your mug off on your desk with a silent, “You left this,” like he did with your jacket just over a week ago.

He doesn’t hear you say anything as he strides past you and everyone else to the coffee machine at the edge of the bullpen. 

Hotch loves his team for many things. Their subtlety is not one of them.

He can hear them whispering, all trying to figure out what you and him discussed and why the blinds had to be drawn. None of them believe you when you say it was nothing.

For what Hotch had originally planned, yes, the blinds needed to be drawn. He wanted privacy to ask you about your father.

But how was he supposed to bring up your father when your first thought was that you were being fired? When your first thought is that you’re doing more harm than good by being here?

Regardless of how much pleasure you seem to find in pushing his buttons, he couldn’t let a member of his team go without addressing those kinds of thoughts. You’re a valuable addition to this team. If you weren’t, you never would’ve been hired by Strauss, let alone by him.

It’s bad luck, sure, that these last two cases haven’t ended the way they’d like. But that’s no one’s fault, and certainly not yours alone. It just happens. They can’t save everyone, solve every case quickly and easily. Nothing is neat and tied in a bow in this field. He needs you to understand that. Because if you don’t, you won’t survive. 

And he needs you to survive.

Hotch turns around to head back to his office, pausing to raise an eyebrow when his team scrambles cartoon-style to “act natural” — as if he has no clue they weren’t watching him.

He loves this team, he does. He shakes his head as he walks around them.

He feels your eyes on him, though, as he ascends the stairs. He glances down at you and you avert your eyes masterfully. If he didn’t know you so well, he wouldn’t have known you were watching him.

Hotch is too busy looking at you to notice Rossi has stepped out of his own office, and the older man gives Hotch an equally skeptical look when Hotch nearly crashes into him.

Rossi follows Hotch into his office, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s with all the secrecy today?” Rossi asks, gesturing to the closed blinds, tugging one down with a smirk as he makes eye contact with Prentiss. He lets it snap back into place.

“Nothing,” Hotch replies, settling back down at his desk. “You can open them.”

Rossi doesn’t.

Instead, he stands in front of Aaron’s desk, hands shoved in his pockets. “Did you tell her?”

“She’s still here, so obviously I didn’t,” Hotch mutters, looking up at his friend. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Rossi says, turning to open the blinds.

Unsurprisingly, the entire team, except for you, is caught in their attempted eavesdropping. Rossi laughs as he turns back around to face Aaron.

“Warn me before you do? I’d like some time to prepare to get out of here before you get a chair thrown in your face,” Rossi says.

Hotch stares at him. A chair will be the least of his worries when he eventually confronts you.

His eyes flick to you down in the bullpen, focused and content, swatting Morgan away when he tries to toss balls of paper at your head. Hotch doesn’t want to ruin this, the joy you’ve found here. 

But ever since the first day you met, that’s all Hotch has known how to do. Say the wrong thing and make you hate him. Over and over. 

It’s no wonder you push his buttons so much and fight so hard to get under his skin. It’s not like he can’t understand. It’s a vicious cycle with the two of you, and there’s no way out.

At least not one where no one gets hurt.

[mochelisgf]

Morgan cheli prompt #2

pairing: morgan cheli x oc childhood bestfriend!reader

word count: 3002 !!! 

warnings — opposite attract! first kiss, parties/partying, small mentions of drinking, no smut I fear but there is making out and little kisses!. UConn vs USC mention (but UConn wins for the sake of the story), friends to lovers!!!!! Morgan sometimes called Misha (my oc) ‘M’ for a little nickname

summary — Morgan and Misha have been friends since they were young girls, even after going to seperate colleges that doesn’t stop their friendship from drifting apart, if anything they grow closer. So when Misha surprises Morgan by attending one of her games, well let’s just say she gets more than what she bargained for, but hey she’s not complaining! 

authors note — so I know it’s been some time since I’ve updated my morgan cheli fanfic, honestly it takes so much out of me to repost my word because of layout issues + im having insane writers block with chapter 4 so pls be patient, i'm hoping to get the next chapter out this week, anyways enjoy this little thing :) Also little note, there will be so many pov switches throughout this prompt, honestly i'm trying to grow out of this habit, so if it suddenly goes from first person to third, just ignore it pls. 

—————————

Morgan and Misha had known each other since they were 5 years old, basically their entire lives. Like the typical first meeting between two 5 year old girls — it started on the playground. 

Misha had always been a loud child, often causing havoc for her parents and sometimes at school for her teachers. Morgan on the other hand was quiet, she enjoyed being on her own and she rarely caused problems at home or at school. 

So when the two girls began playing with one another during recess time, everybody was a bit surprised. The girls had completely different personalities, but that small little detail didn’t bother the two.

After the first meeting, Morgan and Misha went everywhere together. Misha wanted to go to the park and pick flowers? Morgan was there, messing up her newly bought jeans. Morgan wanted to play basketball? Misha was there, even though she sucked at basketball. The two girls were two peas in a pod. Where you’d find one, the other one comes not long after. 

But when Morgan got accepted into UConn and Misha into USC, it came to a surprise for everyone. People assumed that the girls would go to the same college, I mean they’d be together almost everyday since that one unforgettable day in kindergarten, and not just for the girls but for everybody. 

When the school season started back up, the girls were upset. But they’d just had the best summer ever, and it’s not like they’d be away from each for long, with school breaks coming up, USC and UConn playing against each other in December plus an endless amount of facetime calls. Sure they live 42 hours from each other now after living 6 minutes away from each other their entire lives but distance really isn’t a problem for them. 

DECEMBER 21, 2025 

6 USC vs 7 UConn

The arena was buzzing. For weeks people have been anticipating this match. And Misha was in town, supporting her best friend — well best friends as in plural. During her time at USC, Misha had begun an unexpected friendship with juju, her roommate but also her childhood best friends basketball rival team.

 And from both sides for the past week all the girls had talked about was the upcoming match, but I mean who wasn’t excited for this match. Misha herself had never really been a big basketball fan (and it’s definitely not because she sucks really badly at it) but even she had been excited for this match. 

She’d entered the arena not long ago and was grabbing some food before the game started, candy and a diet soda. As she finishes paying her phone rings, smiling at the cashier then grabbing her food and moving to the side in order to not block the way,  she sits her food down on a table and grabs her phone — it’s Morgan. 

It’s to be expected though, if anything Misha was waiting for Morgan’s call. Every game Morgan had since she’d started at UConn, she called Misha, her best friend. And Misha would have to spend the entire time calming her Morgan’s nerves because she couldn’t be there to do it like she’d done at Morgan’s games in high school. 

Picking up the call, Morgan’s voice rings through the phone —

“Dude what if I choke?” Her panicked voice is echoing throughout the device 

Misha letting out a gentle laugh replies “Mo calm down, look you’ve been doing good recently, like you’ve seriously been putting in the work this month. Don’t panic, you’ve got this.” 

The line is quiet for a moment, but then Morgan’s voice pops back up and you can hear the confusion in her tone “Where are you? It’s so loud.”

panicking slightly you hastingly reply “Oh i'm at a gathering, yeah a few of us are chilling at my dorm to watch the game since we couldn’t be there”  a hum echoes slightly after your answer.

Morgan didn’t know you were there. This would be the first time in 3 months that you’d see Morgan, and you wanted to surprise her by showing up to one of her games unannounced. A few of the girls from the UConn team had known you would be there, Aubrey was the first you told, Jana learned shortly after. 

you breathe in lightly then say  “I know you’ve been feeling off recently, but I just want you to know that i'm here okay? No matter how the game goes, I’ll be supporting you every step of the way.” 

Morgan’s breath is low, but you can tell that she lets out a deep exhale, her voice sounds shaky but you don’t mention anything, she’s about to have one of the most nerve-racking games she’s ever had.

“You always know what to say M.” Morgan begins, you smile into the phone and respond back with a  “ha ha ha, don’t get too soft on me.” Morgan in reply scoffs jokingly, her laugh echoes through your ears, you can tell she’s let out one of her soft — shoulder shaking laughs and your smile widens slightly 

Morgan responds “Yeah says you, okay I gotta go yeah? I’ll call you after the game, Love you.” You respond back with “love you too” and then she hangs up 

Putting your phone away, you get up, grabbing your food along the way and begin to make your way to your seat.

It’s the third quarter. Uconn was not having a good game, USC was in the lead at least 2 points ahead per every uconn point. Morgan had come off the bench at the beginning of the second quarter, she’d done good in terms of turnovers and rebounds, but you could tell that every shot she missed and every look at the scoreboard had brought her confidence down. 

It wasn’t until there was 4 minutes left in the third quarter that Morgan had even noticed me in the crowd – The game had come to a timeout, and as the team was on there way back to the bench, Morgan looks up and she freezes causing one of the girls to accidentally bump into her, Morgan looked to the side in response – it was Sarah, I wasn't exactly sure what Sarah had said but it was something along the lines of  “Oh sorry!”

Morgan had begun walking again and as she walked closer to the bench, her mouth made a somewhat round look as she mouthed ‘what?’ and her eyebrows lifted slightly and then she furrows them. But then her face breaks into a smile – smiling back in response I do a small wave in her direction in which she waves back before sitting down. 

You can see she’d shook her head. Turning to the girl beside her – Aubrey, you could see her smiling and rambling about how she’d seen you, Aubrey already knowing that you’d be at the game just let out a small laugh, turns around to my direction and waves at me. Morgan’s evidently confused and so she reaches across Aubrey’s lap to tap on Azzi, the girl turns around at the tap and you can see Morgan asking her something, Azzi in reply just shrugs, also turning around in my direction and giving me a small smile. 

The timeout had now ended and the players were walking back on the court, and as Morgan is walking onto the court she turns slightly to look at me – I give her a smile and small nod and she smiles back and continues walking. 

From there it’s like the game just turned around in those last four minutes of the third quarter. Kk with steals (and fouls) back and forth, Morgan getting more confident with the shots she was taking, having more assists, and both Sarah and Paige just playing with more confidence. 

By the last 5 seconds in the fourth quarter the score was 72 to 69. That was until a foul was called and Sarah was given three free throws. She’d made all two out of three, the score then laying at 72 to 21. Until Paige gains possession of the ball, passing it to Sarah who shoots the ball —

and makes the game. winning. three.

The party was buzzing, the music blasting through the walls. The fraternity living room is packed. People crowded on the couches, others dancing and tumbled over. The room is more than alive, laughter and chatter filling the air and the colorful bright lights flickering – almost blinding. The two girls walk arm in arm in an attempt to not lose each other in the wilding crowd, bodies moving fluidly and in motion with another. And behind them, the girls from the basketball team are following them. As the group walks in, people are cheering, some of them walk up to them to give them pats on the back and a thumbs up because why not! 

As the group walks to their area where some of their other friends are waiting, kk starts “They are definitely hooking up tonight right?” The girls all start laughing and agreeing, some even taking out money to make bets on how long it’d take for the two girls to finally get together during the week that Misha would be on campus. The said girls — Misha and Morgan are too busy in their own little world to even notice or hear what the girls are saying.

A few hours later 

They’ve been at the party for two hours now, Misha isn’t the most wasted and neither is Morgan — I mean at least compared to the other girls who are completely hammered. So when when one of them runs over to them and says 

“SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN”  the entire room that they’re in bursts into cheer. Misha’s a bit hesitant because come on? Seven minutes in heaven? The same game she played at every high school party she’d been to? Hell no. But before even getting the chance to voice her opinion, Morgan’s grabs onto her hand pulling her and dragging her to the floor where some of the girls, people from the men’s team, and other random party goers are all gathered, and sitting in the middle of the group is a singular bottle.

One of the party goers spins the bottle first, it lands on a random boy from the men’s team, so the two get up giggling at each other before making their way into the closet that lays directly across from the area the group is sitting at. Then one of the girls from the team goes, it lands on a random party goer, Misha herself even spins once and it lands on one of the girls from the team, they go into the closest and they just talk about random shit going on. It’s fun — actually 10 times more fun than she would’ve imagined until it’s Morgan’s turn, and the bottle lands straight on her. 

The entire room (the girls honestly) are letting out teasing tones going ���oooo” and it makes Misha start giggling because it’s just Morgan — what's the worst that could happen! And so the two girls get up from their spots and make their way to the closet. 

The closet is dark and honestly kind of cramped from the stuff in it but it’s on the larger side so there is more than enough space to move around in it. 

“So….” Morgan says, her tone is slightly awkward which makes you snicker “Morgan we don’t have to kiss, I came in here with Azzi early and all we did was talk. ”

Morgan nods in reply, her eyes drifting slightly before she settles back onto your figure. She doesn’t really know what to do with her hands, they’re kind of all over the place but she sticks with letting them sit behind her back — at least that way you can’t see her playing with her hands. 

“So, the game was good today”— she cuts you off. Morgan cuts you off by moving swiftly and then leaning down and kissing you. The action catches you off guard and Morgan’s completely expecting you to push her away or just stand there awkwardly and laugh slightly but instead you lean into it. 

Morgan’s doubt all begins to slip away one by one as your hands begin resting on the back of her neck, tilting your head slightly to lean more into the kiss. Morgan’s hands which were awkwardly sitting on your hips begin to settle into a more comfortable and relaxing grip.

You slightly nibble on her lower lip, in which she opens her mouth in response allowing you to slip by our tongue into her mouth. Morgan’s hands begin moving again, this time one moves to your upper back so that she moves your body closer into hers. You break the kiss and start kissing on —

There’s a knock on the door, the two girls jump apart like they’d just been electrocuted and someone says “7 MINUTES ARE UP”. The two girls rush to fix their outfit (and hair) quickly and then they both walk out. They aren’t very slick because when they walk back to the circle, Misha looks at Jana who's looking at her with a teasing grin on her face.

When Misha wakes up the next morning her head is absolutely throbbing and her mouth is dry. She begins moving around to get more comfortable until a voice says 

“M stop moving around” and Misha freezes — she turns around and Morgan is laying there, arm laid over her eyes. Her hair is messy and she’s wedged between Misha and the wall. 

“Oh shit sorry” she sheepishly says before turning around fully in Morgan’s direction, Morgan puts her arm down, now laying on her side as well and they just stare at each other. Honestly they are still trying to wake up and the light peeking through the blinds isn’t helping. 

But nonetheless, Misha doesn't let that stop her. She’s lying there staring at Morgan who is staring just as intensely as her —

“So, last night…” Morgan starts, swiftly turning on her back to avoid her eye

Misha licks her dry lips “Yeah last night was um–” 

Morgan interrupts her “It wasn’t just a drunk mistake for me” 

The room is quiet for a few seconds, Misha just processing what she’d just heard. And maybe Morgan got a little anxious waiting for a response when she pops up out of bed, a small “shit” muttering underneath her breath. She puts her hair behind her ears as she starts to stand up out of the bed, last second Misha utters out a “ Mo wait” her hand reaching out to grab onto the other girls arm.

Morgan pauses looking down at the girl who simply replies “It wasn't a mistake for me either.” a small grin appeared on her face. Morgan grins back, trying to hold back her smile but she fails. 

Misha bites her lip, a small laugh escaping “I like totally fucked that up right?” 

“Maybe a little but–” Misha pulls onto Morgan's arm, the girl now laying on top of her and grabs the back of her head pulling her into a kiss. It's short but sweet and passionate. 

Smiling into the kiss, Morgan’s hands begin to wrap gently around Misha’s waist but there is a knock on the door, pulling away from the kiss Morgan lets an exaggerated huff with an eye roll making you giggle.

“Hey, you guys up?” It’s jana, she sounds just as tired and hungover. The two of you respond with a “yeah”, the sync word making the two of you look at each other and snicker — “Well me and the girls made breakfast, so if you guys want a plate just let me know” 

Misha responds “Yeah we’re coming, grab us plates yeah?” Jana hums in response and she leaves.

Morgan gets up first and you follow behind her, going to your vanity, you grab a brush throwing one to morgan and then grabbing another one to comb out your own hair. 

After brushing your hair, you both walk out the room, as asked Jana had grabbed the two of your plates and also two glasses. Going to the kitchen you both fix your food and join the rest of the girls in the living room to watch criminal minds while eating. 

But I guess you and Morgan weren’t the most secretive because some of the girls easily caught on. Only 10 minutes into eating a voice — paige’s cuts through the silence —

“Aubrey pay up” the room gasps and they look at the two of us, Morgan chokes on her food, puts it down and looks back at Aubrey “Dude really?” 

“Hey it’s not my fault you're a love struck puppy!” The girl proclaims, the room cackles and then Morgan says “Wait how many of you guys made bets?”

The room goes quiet. And Morgan gasps  “Oh my god?…Caroline you too?” Caroline looks at her sheepishly and shrugs her shoulders before turning back to the screen 

Morgan turns back to me and says “Can you believe them?” You chuckle slightly replying —

 “Funnily enough I can.”

[seasidefallenangel]

gimme, gimme, gimme a man

calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that

༄ isagi: “... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”

✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.

⁀➷  “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”

༄ nagi:

“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”

✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.

⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.

༄ rin:

“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”

✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that. ⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.

༄ sae:

“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”

✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.

⁀➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.

[wrathofrats]

@divine-misfortune wanted Swissdew fluff. So have like 600 words of dew helping Swiss through a bad migraine because they’re both stupid and also the best friends ever <3

“Cirrus is bitching that you’re not downstairs yet, are you coming or not?” Dew pounded on Swiss’ hotel door. Probably loud enough to warrant a noise complaint but it wouldn’t be his first, or last. Swiss didn’t answer anyways. Silence coming from the room besides the sound of the air conditioner when dew put his ear up to the door. He expected the sound of the shower, or maybe him watching videos on his phone while he lost track of time.

“You better at least be dressed” dew slammed his fist against the door one more time, waiting a second before letting himself into Swiss’ hotel room.

The lights were off, cold air filling the room and making dew shiver as he walked in and threw the gas station bag of cheap snacks and pregame drinks onto the carpet. The only sign that Swiss was even there was the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed, locs poking out against the pillows.

“Rise and shine swissy” dew flicked the light switch, white fluorescent light filling the room, “you can sleep when you’re dead, I even got you one of those neon blue cans of whatever you like to drink to getcha started”

“Go without me” the lump mumbled, blankets being pulled higher over his head, “migraine, just turn the lights off when you leave”

Dew quickly flicked the switch again but Swiss didn’t hear the door open or close, just the rustling of a plastic bag and a pin prick of light coming from dews flashlight on his phone. Swiss lifted his head slightly, squinting to watch as dew hastily typed something on his phone and took a bunch of random cans out of the bag before bringing it over to sit on the nightstand.

“Really it’s fine, just go without me, I’ll see you in the morning” Swiss rolled over, giving dew a sad look even with the covers pulled up under his nose.

“Have you eaten since before the show?”

“No I-“

“You’re a dumbass” dew rolled his eyes, fishing out a snack cake and a small bag of combos “you don’t even have any water over here. Have you drank water recently? Actually, I know the answer. Eat”

Swiss slowly shoved bits of the small strawberry cake in his mouth as dew filled one of the small plastic cups with water in the bathroom. It was chemically and beyond too sweet, but the food hitting his stomach took a small edge off. Maybe he did need to eat.

Dew handed the water to him gently, grabbing the empty wrapper and throwing it on the nightstand. Swiss sipped the water with a confused look, handing it back to dew once it was empty.

“Don’t you need to go? Cirrus is going to be upset that you’re late, again” Swiss popped a combo into his mouth.

“Already texted her to go ahead. I’m not just going to leave you like this, you big baby. Scoot over, you’re hogging the blanket”

Swiss inched his way over enough for dew to crawl in beside him, stealing one of the little pretzels from his bag.

“Dew you don’t have to, I’ll be ok I swear”

“It’s already been done, come here, you’re freezing” dew pulled Swiss flush with his chest, one hand carding through his hair to use his fire ghoul magic, the other wrapped around his waist. Dew had done this before, some kind of routine whenever Swiss wasn’t feeling well back home and didn’t have aether to knock him out hard and fast in order to avoid it. Dew didn’t mind though, it was nice to spend the night without any shenanigans.

“Thank you” Swiss mumbled, eyes getting heavy as dews warmth lulled him off to sleep.

“Love you idiot, wish you would’ve asked for help earlier”

[opalcicle]

In the Woods Somewhere

Ch. 2 Rainy Morning

trans male reader x Slimecicle, one bed trope, horror themes

Waking up to the smell of a fire already going, I turn to see that Charlie's already up and out of the tent. I'm feeling cold, and a little stiff. I check my phone and remove it from the portable charger we have set up, 8 am. It's early. With a big stretch and a yawn I find my shoes near the entrance of the tent and slip out to see a cloudy sky.

Charlie's tending the fire, and looks at me with a big genuine smile, "Hey, good morning!"

"Morning," I reply, stretching again. "Fuck it's early, how long have you been up?"

"Maybe like an hour,"

"Damn dude," there's a morning grumpiness in my voice that I try my best to shake off, "you eat yet?"

"Just some snacks," he admits, "thought it might be nice to wait for everyone."

"Snacks sound good," I yawn as I finish the words, walking over to the truck to fish out a bag of chips and a bottled ice coffee before settling in a chair next to Charlie.

Thankfully he allows me to sit in silence and finish waking up. Charlie's crashed at mine enough times to know I'm not a morning person. Time moves, but the clouds don't, painting everything in a light gray. The wind blows a cool breeze, and Charlie adds a couple more logs to the fire before I'm finally ready to be a whole person and interact.

"I was really hoping to spend some time at the beach today," I say, looking at the sky.

"I mean we can, but like, it might rain," Charlie frowns at the clouds. "Maybe we should set a tarp up over the picnic table,"

I groan out a complaint at the concept of getting up to do something.

"C'mon man, it'll take like 10 minutes," he says, standing.

"Fiine," comes out of my mouth in annoyance, and I join Charlie at the truck, collecting the tarp while he collects rope. He does most of the work, I just have to stand and hold things in place while he ties knots around trees and adjusts the tarp to cover the table. In my groggy state I can't help but imagine him tying me up instead. Just as we get seated back at the fire, Charlie adding another log, Ted joins us from his tent.

"Mmm-morning," he greets through a yawn, grabbing himself a coffee before sitting down. Somehow Ted is his usually chatty self right off the bat, and keeps Charlie entertained.

I sink down into the chair and pull my hood up to keep out the cold, tuning out the other two and closing my eyes for a quick rest.

When I open my eyes again after what feels like minutes, Ted's cooking pancakes on a frying pan over the fire, Schlatt's up, bottle in hand, and the three of them are laughing.

"Oh shit," I say, sitting up.

"Eyy! There he is!" Schlatt says, sounding condescending to my waking ears, "Good morning, sleepyhead,"

"Fuck how long was I out," I grumble.

"Like 30 minutes," Charlie responds, "you looked so cozy we didn't want to wake you,"

"Thanks man," I say, stretching out my now very stiff back, "Ah, sorry Ted I was gonna make breakfast,"

"No worries dude," he responds, eyes focused on the pancake he's attempting to flip. Glancing down into the fire, it looks like he's tipped a few in already.

By the time everyone's got their pancakes I feel a heavy drop of rain hit my head. We move quickly to get our chairs and the hammock under tarps, and eat while the rain comes down faster and puts out the fire.

"Good timing," says Ted, through a mouthful of pancake, "at least we got to have breakfast,"

Schlatt makes a noise that sounds like agreement as he chews. Then he asks, "Well, what's the plan today, boys?"

"I dunno man, it wasn't supposed to rain at all this week," there's a disappointment in Charlie's voice.

"We could always drive into town, it seemed nice," Ted suggested, refering to the small down with a grocery store, a bar, and absolutely nothing else. I silently thank myself that I'd recently changed my ID marker. A small town bar does not sound like a fun place to be noticeably trans.

"Yeah, I could go for a drink," Schlatt replies, deadpan, before taking a sip of his open beer.

Ted shoots him a disapproving look.

"I guess, I was hoping to spend sometime outside," Charlie says.

"Be my guest," Ted jests, motioning towards the water falling from the sky.

"I'm down to head into town, it's like 20 minutes out, we can always come back if it clears up quick," I say after finishing my pancakes.

"Yeah, let's check it out," Charlie shrugs. My lips curl in amusement at how easily he agrees with me.

From the backseat of the vehicle I peer our into the other campsites. Expecting to see the campgrounds empty and deserted, I'm shocked when I see two kids in rain boots running through the rain. A disgruntled looking mom with an umbrella is trailing behind them. There's a man in a portable gazebo reading a book. There's a couple walking a weiner dog that tries to get in every puddle. In the seat opposite of me Charlie's people watching too.

"How'd you find this place, anyways, Ted?" Charlie pipes up. From the slight furrow of his brows I assume he's got similar suspicions as me. Maybe we shouldn't have joked about it being haunted, maybe we both scared ourselves.

"I booked it online! It had great reviews and decent prices, the beach looked good. There weren't many spaces for RVs and I think most people camp that way now." Ted brags about his find.

Charlie and I exchange a look, uncertainty in both of our eyes.

"I still can't believe you guys convinced me to come out here," Schlatt grumbles. The high maintenance man had brought a lot of luxuries, and we'd all bought him a lot of booze.

"Yeah, you love it out here," Ted says.

"Yeah, whatever," Schlatt pouts. He does love it though. We all know he loves being away from city noise and people, the fresh air, and the ability to just relax. He'd been pretending to complain about it for weeks.

It's an old town. The bar is almost saloon style and the little grocery store has yellow cracking bricks.

Schlatt, of course wants to head right to the bar. I accompany him there while the other two check out the rest of the town. They give me a sympathetic look, but Charlie knows my snacks and Ted'll make sure we get anything we need and more. I shrug when they drop us off.

It's still early enough in the day that the only other patrons are a group of elderly men sipping coffee in a corner. Schlatt stops at the bar and I find us a seat in a booth by a window. The cold wooden bench and rain on glass makes me feel like I'm in a music video for a sad country song.

"So what's up with you and Charlie?" Schlatt questions, sliding me my bottle.

"Hmm?" I'm broken from my daydream with a start.

"You know what I mean," he takes a swing, "out till after dark, the looks you give eachother, the way he dotes on you,"

I look at his smirking face and roll my eyes, "I don't think it's like that,"

"Yeah, yeah, I saw you fuckers holding hands,"

"No, I mean, I was just scared," I mumble the end of the sentence.

"What'd you say?"

"I said I was scared," I turn my face away from him, back to the window.

"Oh no, I'm so scared, I need big strong Charlie to hold my hand," he mocks.

"Dude, serious shut up, it was freaky out there," I weakly defend myself.

Just then, a bird lands in the window beside us, directly in front of my face. It's small and yellow with deep black eyes that stare straight through me.

"Awe look at the little guy," Schlatt touches his fingertips to the window pane. The bird hops over to the spot Schlatt's finger is touching, tapping from its side of the glass. "He likes me!"

Tap tap. Tap tap. We both watch the bird. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap taptaptaptap. The feathery ball of sunshine ruffles itself up and stretching its wings before hopping farther down the sill. Another one lands where the first one did. It's the same bright yellow with black eyes. Thunk. It raps on the window hard, shaking it's head. Taptaptaptap thunk.

"Oh shit, maybe the windows not good for them," Schlatt stands to pull the curtain across the window just after a third joins the others.

"Weird little guys," I murmur, missing the grey light of the cloudy sky immediately.

"You should make a move," he returns to our prior conversation. "I bet Ted ten bucks you would first,"

"Oh my god. Drop it," I try to seem stern but the red in my cheeks is making it hard. "It's not happening,"

"Sure, sure," he says, pretending to back off. I know it's gonna come up again.

"He's only dated girls, were just friends," I mutter.

"Dude, seriously," Schlatt takes a sip, "I don't think he's straight,"

A flicker of hope wells up and dies quick. We're just friends. I repeat it in my head.

From behind me the sound of tapping grows in crescendo and I flick my head around to see the birds at the window next to us. There's maybe six now, all crowded up as close to me as they can get, pushing eachother to get closer. A chill passes over me as their eyes and beaks all point in my direction. Taptaptaptap, another lands, knocking one of its kin away from the sill. TAPTAPTAPTAP, then another, and another, and - SLAM! The sound of the bartender hitting a broom against the glass rings through my ears. I jump, making it most of the way out of my skin when she turns to me.

She's older, maybe mid-40s, with a look about her like she's been tending this place for years. She's comfortable, or maybe just oblivious; enough so to slam a broom against a glass behind someone's head. With a sour tone she says aloud, "Little fuckers!" When she catches the obvious fear on my face she sweetens herself, "Sorry love, gotta scare 'em off before they bring a whole flock 'round." With a sympathetic smile she returns to the bar.

As I turn back to Schlatt I catch the eyes of one of the men here for coffee. The whole group of them is looking my way. When they see I've noticed they all turn back to their table. Schlatt, on the other hand, is staring at me with a shit-eating grin.

"Scared of some birds?" he quips.

"Of a woman wielding a big stick near my head!" I defend myself.

"Thought you'd like a big stick near your head." he takes a sip, "or is it just Charlie's?"

"Oh my god!" groan in exasperation, kicking at his ankle under the table.

"Watch it!" He doesn't drop the smile.

"I know where you're sleeping," I threaten, pressing fingers into my temples.

By the time the other two meet us we're both three beers in and I'm about ready to strangle Schlatt.

"Hey!" Ted calls excitedly when he sees us. "You should have seen the store- it's got all these old timey display cases-" he slides in beside Schlatt to show him pictures.

Schlatt takes a glance at the screen, but not before giving me a side-eye as Charlie takes the spot next to me. "Yeah man, that's cool,"

While Ted goes through the pictures with Schlatt, Charlie raises an eyebrow at the empty bottles next to us. I silently convey my exasperation through a look that lets him know I'm maybe 10 minutes out from strangling our friend.

"They got anything to eat by here?" Ted's head turns towards the bar. The bartender is leaned on the back counter, going through her phone. "Should we stay for lunch?"

Shifting beside me, Charlie speaks up, "It look's like the sun was breaking, I don't wanna miss beach time." He tries to hide the slight whine in his voice but it's peaks through on the wanna.

An involuntary giggle leaves my lips and I cut it off with a hand slapped over my mouth. The look Ted and Schlatt exchange in response makes me physically cringe.

"Yeah, fine, let's go back," Schlatt agrees in his huffy half-annoyed tone.

While Schlatt pays for his drinks and I wait for my turn with what seems like an old and unreliable machine, I overhear the old men.

"Don't forget to lock your cows up this year, Bill," one of them says with a laugh.

"I fuckin' locked 'em up, the damn things knocked right through the old wall," another, presumably Bill, grumbles.

"Stupid things scared the shit out of us!" a third one joins the laughter.

"Trampled themselves too," Bill rubs a tremble, "no fuckin' cows getting out this year,"

Their conversation drifted on to new topics, but my mind hovered over the words this year. Trepidation makes space for itself in my gut as I mull over what I heard.

I'm brought back to the present by Schlatt's hand patting my shoulder, "Your turn, man,"

"Oh uh, yeah," I step up to the debit machine and absentmindedly make the payment.

We join the guys at Ted's truck and take off back to the campgrounds. The drive back is filled with music and singing and the weirdness at the bar fades out behind us.

After a lazy few hours the sun eventually catches up with the day, and it's not long before it's warm enough to warrant a trip down to the beach. I've managed to put back a few more drinks with Schlatt and a game of cards when Charlie comes bursting out of our tent with board shorts on.

"Beach?" He announces the question.

When my eyes find him I can't seem to peel them away. Fuck, is all I can think to myself until I get kicked under the picnic table.

"Ouch, what the fuck?" I swing my legs out to rub the shin Schlatt just booted.

"Yeah man, gimme like ten minutes," Ted answers from the hammock.

"I need a nap," Schlatt stretches, getting up to take Ted's spot.

"I'll get ready," I shoot daggers at Schlatt. His eyes are closed as he settles but his big goofy grin lets me know he heard the spite in my voice.

In the tent I dig through my bag for swimwear. I hold the shirt I usually wear at the pool in my hands, kneeled on the mattress, deciding. No one knows me here, could I just go without? Scars showing. I absently trace a finger over one of the surgery scars on my chest, then touch the little bit of stubble on my face.

Just outside the tent, Charlie grabs the zipper, "Hope your dick's away, I'm coming in!"

"Yeah, man," I respond, hearing the anxiety in my own voice.

He clocks it immediately, climbing in beside me and zipping us in, "Hey, what's up?"

"I-" don't know how to respond. I clutch the shirt in my hands and just hold it up.

I see his eyes look at the piece of clothing, the one he'd seen me in when we swim laps. It takes him a moment to understand but I see it click in his eyes when he does.

"Oh, uh, okay," he settles himself down next to me. He places a hand on my back in a way that I know is supposed the be comforting, but his touch on my bare skin makes it prickle.

I fight the moan trying to escape my throat and it thankfully comes out as a cough. Fuck, am I hard? Charlie rubs my shoulder and for a second I think I'm going to fall over.

"You don't have to wear it," he says softly.

"I know," is the only reply I can give.

"Here, let me see," Charlie moves to sit across from me and gently tugs the shirt away. My hands drop and my face goes red as his eyes fall over my chest. We're so close, and when he looks back up at my face and sees the blush he turns away fast. "You, uh, you look good man. I mean like, like a dude, no one's gonna say anything."

"Thanks!" I blurt out, sitting there stunned.

Charlie digs turns away to dig through his own bag. Awkward tension hangs between us. "Sorry dude I didn't mean to, like I wasn't trying to-"

"It's fine," I cut him off, turning to pretend to be busy with my own bag.

When he finds whatever he came in her for he leans forward to unzip the tent before leaning back, "Are you alright though?" the softness in his voice has returned.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good." I nod, tucking my shirt away, "I'm gonna go without,"

"Good!" He responds excitedly before correcting himself, "I mean like, good for you!"

I laugh, and push my luck to poke fun, "Sure dude,"

"I mean if anyone's a dick, we're already at a beach, they could totally accidentally drown," he attempts to dodge the gentle teasing.

I push it a little farther, leaning in, "Oh so you're gonna protect me?"

"Ah- that's not- uh fuck," he fumbles for something to say.

Laughter escapes me and I let him off the hook, turning back to my bag, "thanks man,"

"Yeah, no problem,"

Charlie makes his escape from the tent and I sit there for another minute. The buzz of booze his my head makes itself known in the silence. I slide a hand down my shorts and sure enough, my dick is at attention and there's wetness building between my legs. Fuck, Charlie. With my eyes closed I can only see his face as he looked over my chest. I finally let a quiet whine leave my lips. Maybe he does want me. Maybe it's the beers I've been putting back all day. With every inch of self control I have left I remove my hand from my shorts and leave the tent to join the others.

Ted drives us down to the beach, and we enjoy the sunshine, water, and sand for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. On the way back, we've got the windows down, singing some old country song along with the radio. In any other circumstance I'd groan at the twang, but something about being out in the woods makes it feel like it fits.

The rest of the evening and into the night we eat snacks, roast more hot dogs, play more cards, and drink around the cozy fire. Before it gets too dark each of us take turns heading down to the public showers. With the privacy and space of the stall I try my best to rub one out. The water is cold and I have to wear my flipflops on the slimey floors. I don't even get close before giving up.

When it's well into the night and everyone's heading to bed, I'm wide awake, drunk and hornier than I need to be. When I'm getting ready for bed I fumble out of my clothes and right on top of the blankets. Charlie's inside moments after me with his flashlight on, catching an eyeful of me in my boxers.

"Fuck man, I kinda tipped over changing," I laugh.

"Dude!" Charlie complains, "Put some pants on at least,"

I try my best to sit up, but fall right back on my face, giggling.

"Here, let me fucking help," Charlie sighs, looking through my bag for pjs, "Roll over."

"You're gonna put my pants on?" I say, unable to control the flirty teasing in my own tipsy voice, "Nice,"

"Fuck you're really drunk," he chirps right back. I can hear his smile through the exasperation.

I do roll over and manage to sit up, "You caught up to me not bad though,"

"Not even close the what you had," he tosses the pants at me.

I stand to try to put them on a flop back onto the air mattress before I even make it all the way up.

"Hopeless," he mutters, taking my pjs and trying to get my foot in through a leg.

"Charliiieee," I whine, resisting the help.

"Dude, seriously," he gets one legs through and starts on the other foot.

In the process of trying to dress me, Charlie ends up hovered over me between my legs. The whole thing has my dick throbbing and I just watch his mild frustration with awe. When he directs me to lift myself and pulls my pants the rest of the way up his hands slide up over my hips, stopping to rest on them. The squeak that leaves me sounds pathetic and I slap my hand over my mouth. One of my feet rests flat on the mattress, my knee up in the air. His body slides against my thigh when he does eventually sit up. Thankfully my hand over my mouth hides me biting into my bottom lip hard, suppressing more sounds.

"Dude, chill out," he laughs as he attempts to stand. The wobbly surface of the mattress takes him out and he falls forward, catching himself with hands on either side of my head.

I'm wide eyed as the sudden pressure on the inflatable bed bounces me up towards him. Our faces on inches from eachother. So of course, my dumb ass cracks a joke, "Damn, man, you didn't have to get me drunk to get me under you,"

"Fuck you," he grumbles, but I can hear the smile in his face in the dark.

"I mean, if you want to," I joke right back.

There's a pause from him before he pulls away again, this time rolling to the side to avoid falling. "Man, you are really wasted,"

"Guilty," I wait till he's off the mattress before climbing to my pillow and finding my way under the cozy blankets.

I hear him changing with my face turned away and my thoughts flutter over our day. Schlatt's words, Charlie in his swim shorts, his eyes on my chest, and that pause just now when I told him he could fuck me. God, there's something really wrong with me. I chastise myself. Then, after another thought, no there's not, he fucking wants me.

When Charlie settled into his spot, I consider briefly trying to hold his hand again before drifting off to sleep.

In the early hours I'm ripped from my dreams by a shaking. My hazy consciousness notices it's a hand on my shoulder jostling me awake.

"Dude, what the-?" I start, but Charlie's hand quickly covers my mouth. He's sweating.

"Shh! Listen," he whispers, letting go of my face.

I rub my temples with a hand, still a little drunk and in the early stages of a developing hangover. Then, there it is, in the distance. A barking. It's just a dog? In the dark, I shoot him daggers with my eyes for waking me. Suddenly there's another dog yapping much closer. Likely the weiner dog from a few campsites down. Then another from a different direction. Coyotes join in, yipping in chorus. The sound grows as canines from all over the woods join in.

"It's dogs, Charlie," I grumble under my breath. It's quite erie, but nothing unexpected for the middle of the forest.

"Wait," he whispers. The terror in his breath alerts me, and I also start to feel on edge.

Before long, the surrounding barking is cut off by a long howl. A wolf, but definately nowhere close to us. The dogs pause, the wolf bellows again, and the rest of the yapping group joins it. The howling comes from every direction in synch. I feel the hairs on my arms raise.

"Wait," Charlie says again. His hand never left my shoulder and it starts to squeeze, warning me that this isn't the worst of it.

When the howl dies I hold my breath in anticipation. The lone wolf starts, and when the dogs join in the don't howl, they don't bark. The sound they make is choppy, sporadic.

"Oh my god, they're laughing," I whisper. It's not a sound that should come from a dog's throat. The noise is unnatural, unnerving, but unmistakable.

Beside me Charlie is shaking. "They just keep doing this," there are tears in his voice.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay," I say in an attempt to sooth him.

The shaking gets worse, and I take his hand off my shoulder. Working hard to move my body, I turn to him, sliding one arm under his head and wrapping the other around him. It's not hard to get him closer, he practically rushes into my arms. He settles his head on my chest and I stroke his hair as I hold him tight. Tears run down my bare skin, and I can hear Charlie sniffling.

"Shh, shhhh, I've got you, we're safe," I whisper as he curls up as close as he can get.

"I'm sorry," he whispers back.

"No worries, I've got you," I whisper back.

We lay like that for awhile, and eventually he falls asleep. My eyes are open, staring up into the pitch black of the tent. As I think about the days events I think instead of the birds on the window, the men talking about cows breaking down a wall, and the strange laughter of the dogs in the woods somewhere. I fall asleep too, but not easily, and my dreams are filled with little yellow birds with black beady eyes.

[sturniololuvz]

the triplets catch their little sister looking at herself in the mirror with a sad expression

okkk

“Reflection of Love”

Sturniolos x sister

The sun was setting outside, casting a warm glow through the Sturniolo household. The triplets were lounging in the living room after a long day of filming, laughing and joking with one another. Meanwhile, their 4-year-old sister, Y/N, had wandered off to explore.

After a few minutes, Chris noticed the silence and glanced around. “Where did Y/N go?” he asked, suddenly feeling concerned.

“I thought she was with you guys,” Matt replied, looking up from his phone.

Nick stood up, starting to walk around the house. “Let’s check the bathroom. She might be playing with her toys.”

The three brothers made their way down the hall, and as they approached the bathroom, they heard a soft sniffle. Chris exchanged worried glances with Matt and Nick before quietly peeking inside.

To their surprise, they found Y/N standing in front of the mirror, her small hands resting on the counter. She was staring at her reflection with a sad expression, her big brown eyes looking a bit teary.

“Y/N?” Chris said softly, stepping into the bathroom. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Y/N jumped slightly, turning to face her brothers. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I just don’t like how I look.”

Matt knelt down beside her, concern etched on his face. “What do you mean? You’re beautiful, Y/N. Look at those cute curls!”

“But… I wish my hair was straight like the princesses,” she said, her voice trembling. “They’re so pretty.”

Nick’s heart ached for his little sister. “Y/N, princesses are beautiful because they are themselves. Just like you are beautiful because you’re you. Your curls are special!”

Chris stepped closer, crouching down to Y/N’s level. “You know what? Your curls make you unique. They’re like little springs of happiness! Just like you,” he added, giving her a warm smile.

Y/N sniffed again, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “But what if my friends don’t like them?”

“They’ll love you no matter what,” Matt reassured her. “And if they don’t, they’re not the right friends for you. We love you, and your hair is part of what makes you, you!”

Y/N took a deep breath, considering her brothers’ words. “You really think I’m pretty?”

“Absolutely,” Nick said, nodding emphatically. “You’re our little princess, and your curls are part of your magic. Plus, we’d be lost without your big smile!”

Y/N’s face broke into a small smile, her sadness beginning to fade. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I guess I like my curls a little bit.”

“See? That’s the spirit!” Chris exclaimed, pulling her into a gentle hug. “And if you ever need to talk, we’re always here for you, okay?”

Y/N nodded, feeling comforted by her brothers’ love and support. “Thanks, guys. I love you!”

“We love you too!” they chorused, their hearts full as they embraced their little sister.

As they left the bathroom, Y/N’s confidence began to shine through once again. With her brothers by her side, she knew she could face anything, curls and all.

[movingmusically]

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 1

Series Synopsis: Callum Turner thinks he’s a genius matchmaker. Angie, his best friend, thinks he’s meddling. Austin? He’s just curious. But as sparks fly, one question lingers—is this just a fleeting moment, or something worth holding on to?

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

I’ve known Callum Turner since before I could walk—literally. Our mums were inseparable from the antenatal classes all the way through to playgroups. We were born three days apart, grew up living opposite each other on a quiet street in West London, and spent so much time together that people used to joke we were like twins.

In a way, they weren’t wrong. He’s the brother I never had, my partner-in-crime for as long as I can remember. The kind of friend you can scream at one minute and laugh with the next, no grudges, no pretence. We’ve been through everything together—bruised knees, first crushes, exam stress, and all the rest of it.

Now he’s off being an actor, doing incredible things, while I’ve stayed behind in the “real world.” Teaching primary school isn’t glamorous, but it’s solid. It’s meaningful. And while I’d never say it out loud, part of me envies the freedom Callum’s life offers—the chance to take big risks and chase something extraordinary.

So when he called me a few months back, buzzing with the news about Masters of the Air, I couldn’t help but feel proud of him. He was practically bouncing through the phone, telling me about the part, the cast, the bootcamp they’d be doing. “It’s a proper World War Two epic,” he’d said. “You’d love it, Ange. You’re the expert, after all.”

The “expert” part was pushing it, but he wasn’t wrong about my love for the era. It started with my Nan’s stories—tales of bomb shelters, rationing, and dancing with American soldiers. She made that time sound equal parts terrifying and magical. When she passed a few years ago, I started writing about it, trying to weave her stories into something meaningful. Not that anyone’s read it.

“You’ll have to let me visit the set,” I’d teased Callum.

“Absolutely,” he’d promised. “Though you might have to cook me a roast first.”

Now, standing in my tiny kitchen on a grey Sunday afternoon, I was realising he hadn’t been joking. Callum had insisted on coming home for the day, and of course, I couldn’t say no. It had been ages since we’d caught up properly. But the mention of a “plus one” came only yesterday.

“Don’t stress,” Callum had said over the phone. “He’s just a mate. You’ll get on great.”

The buzzer rang, and I wiped my hands on my apron before pressing the intercom. “Come on up,” I said, unlocking the door. A moment later, footsteps echoed in the stairwell, followed by a familiar knock.

I pulled the door open to find Callum grinning like the cat that got the cream. Beside him stood a man I didn’t recognise. A beautiful man. Striking, really, with sandy blonde hair and sharp features that belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, I forgot how to speak.

Callum beamed. “Angie, meet Austin. Austin, Angie.”

Austin shifted slightly, offering a small smile. “Hey. Thanks for having me.”

His voice was warm, low but unassuming, and for some reason, that grounded me more than anything else. I blinked, recovering from my momentary lapse into silence, and stepped aside. “Oh—yeah, of course. Come in.”

Callum breezed past me first, kicking off his shoes without a care in the world, while Austin followed more carefully, glancing around my flat with quiet interest. I suddenly became hyper-aware of everything—the books stacked on my coffee table, the slightly wonky gallery wall I’d been meaning to fix, the faint smell of roast chicken lingering in the air.

“It smells amazing in here,” Austin said, his smile soft but genuine.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a bloody domestic goddess,” Callum called over his shoulder as he collapsed onto my sofa, sprawling out like he owned the place. “You’ll never eat a better roast in your life, mate.”

I rolled my eyes, untying my apron as I followed them in. “Don’t oversell it, Cal. It’s just a roast.”

“No, it’s the roast,” Callum corrected, before turning to Austin. “I’ve had Michelin-star meals that don’t come close to this.”

Austin let out a quiet laugh, looking at me. “That true?”

I shook my head, smirking. “He’s full of it. But I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

Austin nodded like he was taking mental notes, then hesitated for half a second. “Do you need any help with anything?”

The offer surprised me. I was used to Callum doing absolutely nothing when it came to meals, except for showing up and eating. I waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s all under control. You can make yourself comfortable.”

Austin seemed to consider that for a moment before choosing a seat at the table, resting his forearms on the wood. He was relaxed, but not in an arrogant way—more like someone who was perfectly fine just observing for now. Callum, meanwhile, was already flicking through the books on my coffee table.

“Oh, come on,” I sighed. “At least pretend you’re a guest.”

“I am a guest,” he shot back. “A regular guest. I’m like—like an honorary flatmate.”

“You're not even in the city most of the time,” I pointed out.

“Details,” Callum said, dismissing me with a wave. “The point is, Austin, my dear friend, you’re in for a treat.”

Austin chuckled, glancing between us. “You guys really are like siblings.”

I huffed, heading back toward the kitchen to check on the gravy. “Unfortunately.”

Callum grinned. “You love it.”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

By the time we sat down to eat, the atmosphere had settled into something easier, more familiar. Callum had always had a way of making a room feel alive, and Austin—while quieter—seemed to absorb it rather than deflect it. He wasn’t trying to keep up or match Callum’s energy, but he wasn’t shrinking back either.

“So, how do you two know each other?” I asked as I passed Austin the potatoes.

“Work,” Callum said through a mouthful of food. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” I echoed dryly. “I mean, how? Did they stick you in a room together and tell you to bond?”

“Pretty much,” Austin said, amusement flickering in his expression. “Bootcamp started a few weeks before we began filming, so we were thrown together pretty quickly.”

“You mean torture camp,” Callum corrected. “It was brutal, Ange. You’d have cried.”

I shot him a look. “Wow, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” He waved his fork at me. “You don’t do military nonsense.”

“No, I don’t do your nonsense,” I muttered. Then I glanced at Austin, curious. “Was that the training thing Cal mentioned? Was it really that bad?”

Austin hesitated, as if weighing his answer. “It was intense. But I get why they did it. They wanted us to feel like a unit.”

“And did you?” I asked.

His gaze flicked toward Callum, then back to me. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I think we did.”

Callum grinned. “See? That’s soldier talk right there.”

Austin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

The conversation meandered between filming, travel, and Callum’s usual over-the-top stories. Austin listened more than he spoke, but when he did chime in, his words carried weight. He wasn’t just nodding along—he was engaged, asking me questions about my job, my life, like he actually cared to know the answers.

“So, Callum tells me you’re a teacher?” he asked at one point.

“Yeah, Year Four,” I said. “Mostly wrangling kids, trying to get them to listen.”

Austin smiled. “That’s impressive. I bet it takes a lot of patience.”

“Some days more than others,” I admitted. “But they’re great. Keeps life interesting.”

“I believe it,” he said. “My mom ran daycare out of our house when I was a kid. Always a full house. I don’t know how she did it.”

That caught my attention. “So you grew up surrounded by kids?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I got good at sharing.”

That made me laugh. “Wish I could say the same about my lot. They’d fight over air if I let them.”

Austin chuckled. “I feel like that’s just kids in general.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, shaking my head. “Still. They’re brilliant. Exhausting, but brilliant.”

Austin didn’t look away, and I found myself holding his gaze for just a beat longer than necessary before I cleared my throat and reached for my drink.

After dinner, Callum predictably migrated back to the sofa, stretching out like he had no plans to move for the next several hours. Austin, however, surprised me.

“Let me help,” he said, standing and gathering his plate.

“You don’t have to,” I said automatically.

“I want to,” he replied simply.

I hesitated, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Alright. If you insist.”

He followed me in, rolling up his sleeves before reaching for the drying rack. “That was seriously good,” he said as I ran the tap. “Callum wasn’t lying.”

“He usually is,” I joked, elbowing him lightly. “But I appreciate that.”

Austin chuckled, taking a plate from me to dry. “Does he always invite himself over like this?”

“Like clockwork,” I said. “It started when we were kids. He realised my mum made better Sunday dinners than his and never left.”

Austin smirked. “Smart man.”

“Debatable.”

We worked in comfortable silence for a minute before he spoke again. “So, Callum mentioned you’re into World War Two history?”

I paused. “Did he?”

Austin nodded. “Said your Nan had stories.”

I swallowed, focusing on rinsing a glass. “Yeah. She grew up during the war. She used to tell me about it all the time.”

“That’s amazing,” Austin said, genuine interest in his voice. “You must’ve learned a lot from her.”

“I did,” I said softly. “She made it feel real.”

Austin studied me for a moment, as if he wanted to ask something else, but instead, he just nodded. “That’s really cool.”

I exhaled, forcing myself to relax. I hadn’t expected that conversation to affect me, but something about the way he listened—really listened—made me feel oddly seen.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

With the dishes done, we moved into the living room, where Callum had sprawled himself out on the sofa like he owned the place. I settled into the armchair across from him, while Austin took the spot beside Callum, resting his forearm on the back of the sofa, looking perfectly at ease but not overconfident.

The conversation drifted between light topics—London weather (predictably unpredictable), the state of Callum’s flat (“a disaster zone,” according to him), and the absurdity of filming in wool uniforms during a heatwave. Then, during a lull, I turned to Austin.

“So,” I said, tucking my legs under myself, “what else have you worked on? I’ll be honest—I haven’t seen much of Callum’s castmates’ work. He tends to just tell me they’re ‘brilliant’ and leave it at that.”

Austin let out a quiet laugh but hesitated before answering. He rubbed his hands together absently, as if weighing his words. “Uh, a few things here and there,” he said finally, his voice even. “Mostly smaller roles until recently.”

“He’s being modest,” Callum cut in, nudging him with his elbow. “You should’ve seen him in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Absolutely terrifying.”

I blinked. “Wait—you were in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? I’ve seen that!”

Austin gave a small, almost sheepish smile, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I played Tex.”

The name clicked instantly, and my eyes widened. “The guy in the ranch scene? That was you?”

He nodded, ducking his head slightly like he wasn’t used to this kind of attention. “Yeah, that was me.”

“That’s insane,” I said, leaning back. “I remember watching that scene and thinking, ‘This guy is way too good at being creepy.’ No offence.”

“None taken,” he replied with a quiet laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “That was the goal, after all.”

“Tarantino helped, I bet,” Callum added, taking a sip of his drink. “But seriously, tell her about Elvis.”

Austin shot him a quick look, somewhere between exasperated and amused, but Callum wasn’t about to let it go.

“He just wrapped filming on Elvis,” Callum announced, grinning like he was proud of himself for being the first to say it. “Spent two years working on it. Two years!”

“Almost,” Austin corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was… a lot. A lot of prep, a lot of music, a lot of late nights.”

“Two years?” I echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “That’s… intense. I can’t imagine staying in someone else’s head for that long.”

Austin nodded, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands. “It was one of those roles where you don’t really have a choice. You either give it everything, or you don’t do it at all.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to imagine what that kind of commitment must have felt like. Callum had told me before about getting lost in characters, but there was something different about the way Austin spoke—like the experience still lingered with him, its weight undeniable but not unwelcome.

“That must’ve been overwhelming,” I said carefully, unsure how much to press.

“It was,” he admitted, his voice steady as his eyes met mine again. “But it was worth it. I learned a lot—about the music, about him, about myself.”

Callum, mercifully, took the reins, raising his glass in a mock toast. “He killed it. I’ve seen clips. Absolutely smashed it.”

Austin shook his head, smiling faintly. “It’s not out yet, so we’ll see what people think. You never know how something like that will land.”

“If you’re even half as good as you were in bootcamp, it’ll be amazing,” Callum said confidently.

“High praise,” I quipped, grateful for the chance to lighten the mood. “Callum doesn’t usually compliment anyone who might outshine him.”

“Oi!” Callum protested, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Austin laughed, the sound rich and low, his earlier heaviness lifting just enough to make the moment feel lighter again.

And just like that, the evening settled into something easy—Callum cracking jokes, Austin chiming in with dry humour, and me, caught between the two of them, realising that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad way to spend a Sunday.

Monday morning came too quickly.

One minute, I was sitting in my flat, laughing with Callum and Austin, half a glass of wine in my hand and no real obligations beyond tidying up. The next, I was back in the real world, standing in my classroom at 8 a.m., trying to summon the energy to wrangle a group of nine-year-olds into being remotely functional human beings for the day.

The contrast was almost comical.

I stacked the last of the exercise books on my desk, exhaling as I glanced around the room. The weekend already felt like a strange, detached memory—like something I’d watched happen to someone else rather than lived myself. That, or I’d dreamt the whole thing.

Except I hadn’t.

I’d met Austin Butler. He’d been in my flat, eating my food, washing my dishes. He’d laughed at my jokes. And, perhaps most disorientingly, he’d listened to me—really listened.

Not that it mattered now. I had a full day of lessons ahead, and the only people listening to me today would be my students, who, judging by the volume level in the corridor, were already far too awake for a Monday morning.

Midday—The Staff Room

“…And then he says, ‘Angie, meet Austin,’ like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Meanwhile, I’m standing there like an idiot, trying to remember how to speak.”

Zara, a Year Three teacher and my closest work friend, let out an exaggerated gasp, nearly spilling her tea. “Wait, wait, Austin Butler? Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding,” I said, stabbing at my pasta salad with my fork. “I had no clue who he was. Just thought, ‘Wow, this guy is stupidly attractive.’”

“That’s because he is stupidly attractive.” She leaned forward. “Angie. Angie. This man played Elvis.”

“Technically, not yet,” I corrected. “The film isn’t out.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that thing where you act like this is normal. You had Austin Butler in your flat, eating your roast dinner, probably having a borderline religious experience because Yorkshire puddings aren’t a thing in America—”

“I don’t think it was religious—”

“—and you didn’t realise who he was?”

“I don’t live under a rock,” I said, exasperated. “I knew Callum’s new co-star was called Austin. I just hadn’t seen his films, and Callum’s descriptions of people are always useless.”

Zara groaned, flopping back in her chair. “I cannot believe you just casually had dinner with him.”

“It wasn’t a date,” I pointed out.

“Yet,” she shot back.

I rolled my eyes, but before I could argue, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.

Zara sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I love my class, otherwise I’d stay here and interrogate you for another half hour.”

“Your class is adorable,” I agreed, standing up.

“So are you and Austin, apparently.” She winked before slipping out the door, leaving me shaking my head as I headed back to my classroom.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. Monday always took it out of me, but today felt worse than usual. Maybe it was the mental whiplash—going from sipping wine with an A-lister (who I hadn’t even known was an A-lister at the time) to breaking up an argument between two nine-year-olds over whose turn it was to be goalie at lunchtime.

I dropped onto my sofa with a sigh, already thinking about ordering takeaway, when my phone buzzed.

Callum: Did you survive Monday?

I huffed a laugh and typed back: Barely. Back to reality and all that.

A second later, another message popped up.

Callum: Austin says thanks for dinner. Also, he thinks you’re cool.

I frowned at my phone. What does that mean?

Me: I’m cool? That’s a vague review.

Callum: Mate, just take the compliment.

I rolled my eyes but smiled despite myself.

I hovered for a second, debating whether to ask something before my curiosity got the better of me.

Me: So… what’s his deal?

Callum: What do you mean?

Me: Like… he seems quieter than the guys you usually hang out with. More serious. Is he always like that?

A pause. Then—

Callum: Yeah, he’s a good one. He thinks a lot before he speaks. And he’s proper dedicated to his work. Probably the most disciplined person I’ve met, if I’m honest.

That didn’t surprise me. I’d sensed something like that when Austin talked about Elvis—the way his voice had changed, the weight in his words.

I chewed on my lip before typing:

Me: What’s he like outside of work?

Callum: Why, you interested?

I groaned. I walked straight into that one.

Me: Forget I asked.

Callum: Nah, nah, I love this. Let’s unpack it.

Me: I hate you.

Callum: You love me.

I was about to throw my phone across the room when another message came through.

Callum: Just come to brunch on Sunday. You’ll see for yourself.

[mommynott]

Thin Ice

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Hockey AU, flirting, tons of tension, explicit language, hockey!theo, dom!theo

A/N: Starting this series for my babe @amiableness I hope you enjoy it because this is just the start! Also BIG shoutout to my girl @westcanaan82 for the hockey!theo render. Definitely go Check out her page because she makes me DROOOOL

The arena was packed, and the noise was overwhelming as you sat in your seat, begrudgingly dragged there by your friends. You were scrolling through your phone, totally uninterested in the game unfolding before you.

But then… it seemed out of nowhere. A tall and muscular figure on the ice caught your attention. Fuck he’s hot. It was player number 13, Theo, whose piercing eyes were fixed on you through his helmet.

You felt a smirk growing on your lips before he nodded his head up at you and skated along the ice. Shuffling a puck with his hockey stick with ease. The game going on. Fuck maybe this game isn’t too boring. You held your phone in your hand but your gaze settled on him on the ice. Suddenly gaining an interest in this sport.

After he shot a puck into the goal he pumped his fist in the air but you swore he looked over at you. Throwing you a flirty wink. And trust me, he fucking did. At this point, Theodore was trying to show off for you. Hoping he would get your attention. Craving your attention.

The game ended, and his team had won the match. But after all the eyefucking you two did you wanted to stay back in hopes to see that same player. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Your friends gave you a knowing look while they walked out. You slowly moved around the now quiet arena.

A few minutes later, you started to feel defeated, thinking he must’ve left but that’s when you heard a low and deep Italian accent. “I noticed you in the crowd…Seemed to be pretty glued to that phone of yours.”

Bright cherry red painted across your cheeks as you turned around. Quickly tucking your phone away in your purse, you gave the hockey player a small sheepish smile. “Uh…Yeah, sorry…It’s just not really my thing I guess.”

But when your gaze settled upon the player, he wasn’t in the same gear from on the ice. Oh no. he was now in a tight under-armor top, showing off his muscular and toned torso along with a pair of black sweatpants. Freshly out of the shower, his brown locks clung to his forehead. The smell of his body wash was rich and intoxicating as it wafted all around you. Fuck me.

“Not your thing, huh? What is your thing then?”

Theo asked, his taunting tone hinting with flirtatiousness. Feeling the way your heart skipped from his words. His deep voice. Fucking hell. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers anxiously playing with the rings you wore. “I don’t know…Reading…Movies.”

Replying to the Italian, he ran a hand through his wavy hair, slicking it back and giving you a charming smile. “A reader. Interesting….” Theodore said in the same teasing tone before sticking out his hand and you matched him, giving your own and shaking it. The second your hands met, a spark pulsated through your body.

“Nott. Theodore Nott. But you can call me Theo, Cara.”

The charming accent rolled off his tongue smoothly as you both exchanged names. You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. Bringing your confidence out. Something you always had. “Anyways…What’s interesting about me reading?” You asked, giving him a bratty little grin.

Theo cocked an eyebrow, scoffing under his breath as he took a step before you. Eyeing you up and down fully. “Ah, I’m not sure. Just interesting…What do you like to read?” He questioned as he casually leaned closer toward you.

You tried to focus but his voice, his words were so smooth it sent little shivers down your spine. "Umm… mostly romance— Stuff like that." You mentally chastised yourself for sounding so fucking cliche. He seemed very interested in you…Maybe even so much so that you could get some hockey player action.

Theo gave you a lazy smile and your heart fluttered, feeling the tension building between you both. "Romance, huh? That’s fitting." You raised an eyebrow, confused. What the fuck was he on about? “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, leaning even closer towards you. “You look like the romantic type….Soft…sweet— Y’know?.” Your cheeks burned again. Was he flirting with you? This couldn’t possibly be real. This was something out of the novels you’d read.

“Oh— Thanks I guess?” A sea of giggles freed from your lush lips. The same ones Theo’s eyes were burning into now. He stalked toward you as you walked back until you were pinned against the white brick wall of the ice rink.

He carefully took a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger while his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Can I get the pretty girl's number, hm?” He asked, remaining not only charming but… cocky. Drawing you to him even more.

It seemed that your confidence exuded his own to creep out. But fuck did you like it. A confident man like this? Damn. “Huh…I’m not sure. Can you?” Teasing him right back you subtly bit your lower lip to fight back the giggles that wanted to escape from within.

“Fuckin’ tease. Isn’t that right?”

Theodore now pinned both of his hands above your head, practically towering over your tiny frame. “Perhaps just a little bit…” Breathing out your words, your gaze danced along with his ocean eyes. Feeling your heart thump hard against your chest.

“I like a tease…A challenge…” His tone now held something of mischief, giving him a different vibe. And fuck, your whole body was fucking feeling it. “Yeah?” You asked, bringing out more of your sultry tone, keeping your lips slightly parted as you glanced down to his own.

That was it. Theo was going to come in hot. Make his move. Smash his lips to yours. But just as he was millimeters away from ravishing you a loud shout was heard. “—Nott! Back in the locker room!” His fucking coach. What a cock block. Theo rolled his eyes and cursed in Italian under his breath.

“We aren’t finished here…” He replied to you lowly, throwing up his pointer finger to his coach. He reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pen and taking your arm. Feeling the tickle of his scribbling, He wrote something on it as you sat there dumbfounded.

Once he was done, you scanned over your forearm. In sloppy handwriting was written his number followed by “Text me, Tesoro ;)” giggling at his little winky face as you nodded your head.

With that, he walked off with his coach to the locker room. That night you got home thinking of everything and anything that could have happened if his damn trainer didn’t interrupt you two. That’s when you decided to send him a flirty yet risky text…

Ahhhh the start of hockey!theo 🏒🥅⛸️

Really hope y’all enjoyed im too excited to continue on with this au! ATP I have so many and STILL have some In the back of my mind help lol

As always asks and requests are open my sweet peas 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

[nochepsicodelica]

You wake up from a nap that went on a little too long, only to see that Toji still isn't next to you in bed. It's dark already, and when you check the time on your phone, the screen reads 10:14. You see light underneath the bedroom door and get up, dragging the blanket along with you. When you open the door, there Toji is, sitting on the couch, watching TV with his hand in a bag of chips. You peek at him from the hallway entryway and watch as he puts another chip in his mouth.

"Hi," Toji says, not the slightest bit oblivious to your eyes on him. His gaze shifts to you and the big, puffy blanket you have draped around you. "How'd you sleep?"

You don't answer, but instead start making your way towards him, the blanket tailing behind you as it drags on the floor. Five more steps and you're right in front of him. Without a second thought, you're climbing onto his lap and making yourself comfortable. Your big blanket covers him, as well as his bag of chips, now, too.

"Still tired, mama?" Toji asks, when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You grunt, affirmatively, in response, tightening your arms around him. "That's how you answer, now?" He asks, chuckling when you grunt, again. "I'm rubbing off on you. You sound like a bear."

"Why didn't you come sleep with me?" You ask, your voice quiet from being underused.

"I went into the room to check on you and you were knocked out. Even got some cute pictures of you drooling, and you still didn't wake up."

You whine, annoyed at this revelation. "Not cute at all. It's like you don't even love me," you mumble, turning your face away from him, your cheek now positioned on his shoulder.

"Love you enough to keep an album full of these pictures."

"What? Toji." You briefly turn your attention back to him.

"There's eighty in there. Well, eighty-three, with the ones I got today."

You sigh, dramatically, and rest your cheek on his shoulder, again. "I have nothing more to say to you. Goodnight."

You can hear the smirk on Toji's face when he says, "'Night."

In the short amount of time that you slept on Toji, he was witness to yet another one of your dreams. He's been around for plenty of them. Some were nightmares, others just random dreams that made you jolt awake with a jump scare. He's even been around for the good ones that cause breathy renditions of his name to spill from your lips. This one was just weird.

Toji felt you stirring and watched as you nuzzled into his shoulder. He listened in on your nonsensical thoughts and grinned, amusedly, at the randomness. You sounded worried as you mumbled things about your eyes and how you wanted to keep them, and then something else about changing your mind and not being ready. He had no time to wonder what you weren't ready for, because you woke up and you looked scared.

You sit up on Toji's lap and blink a few times as you look around. "Toji, do my... my eyes?" You question, not finding offense in the way Toji looks like he's trying not to laugh. You're still very much concerned about your eyes.

"What about your eyes, ma?" He asks, his gaze darting after yours as you keep looking around.

"Do my eyes still work?" You ask, still panicking on the inside.

"I don't know. Do they?" he says, only further adding on to your fear. There's a small crease between your eyebrows, making you look conflicted. Your expression goes sad when you look away from Toji.

"Ma, wake up," Toji says, pinching your cheek a few times, while wearing a teasing grin on his face. "Look, if you're actually scared, we can check." You really need that confirmation, so you give Toji your full attention. "What's this?" He asks, tapping the scar that strikes his lips.

"Your handsome, sexy, all you can eat, full course meal of a scar," you mumble.

Toji deadpans and tilts his head, furthering his unamused expression. "Your eyes are fine."

"Test me, again. Pleaaaase?" You beg, giving him a soft smile and puppy eyes.

He sighs and gives in, no fight put up against you, whatsoever. "What color are my eyes?"

You hum as you lean in to examine the subject more closely before coming to your conclusion. "The most handsome bobansome, beautiful, crispy green apple, shade of green."

Toji scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "See? Your eyes are fine. On that note, you're banned from sleeping on me."

You gasp, dramatically, as if he offended you. "Aren't you the one always manhandling me so that i'm sleeping on top of you? And during our afternoon naps, you put my leg over your hip. And when I try to get up, you--"

"Okay, you're not banned. Jeez." You outsmarted him and it shows through the way he subtly clenches his jaw. "If you like sleeping on me that much, just say so."

You narrow your eyes at him, before pushing off of his chest in an attempt to get off of him.

"Whatcha doing?" He asks, holding your hips down so that you can't move.

"Going back to the room," you say, trying to peel his hands off of you, to no avail. "I would like to sleep on our bed, now, Toji."

"Then, tell me that and I'll take you. What are you doing pawing at my hands, trying to get them off of you?" He takes one look at the involuntary lift of your lips and already knows what's going on. "Oh..." he chuckles. "You a grumpy little bear, now?"

"Don't talk to me," you grumble, huffing childishly and turning your attention away from him.

"Aren't you the one always calling, saying you just wanted to hear my voice while i'm working? And you get goosebumps all over when I talk directly into your ear. And when I don't--"

"Stooop," you whine, leaning forward and burying your face in the crook of his neck, again. Your arms wrap around his neck and your thighs squeeze his waist. "You're not fair," you mumble, into his warm skin.

"Yeah, i'm so cruel to you, huh, baby?" He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, a soft smile lingering on his lips when you hum out a little "mhm" in response. He moves his bag of chips aside and turns off the TV, before wrapping the blanket around you and tucking the excess away, so that he doesn't trip over it as he walks. With ease, he stands up from the couch and starts towards the bedroom, with his lump of a blanket clinging to him.

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”