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mononijikayu · 2 days ago

Text

araw – araw — gojo satoru.

You smiled, tired but radiant, and beckoned him closer. "Satoru." you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Come meet your son." He approached, his heart pounding in a way no battle or curse had ever caused. As he looked down at the small, fragile life wrapped in the softest of blankets, his breath caught in his throat. You gently placed Satoshi in his arms, and the world seemed to still. "He’s perfect." Satoru couldn’t help but murmur, his usually excited voice tender filled with quiet awe and wonder. "You’re amazing, you really are." Tears pricked at the corners of his cerulean eyes as he looked back at you, the love and gratitude in his gaze almost overwhelming. "This… this is the best birthday gift anyone could ever give me."

GENRE: post hidden - post inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

NOTE: i wanted to write today because it's genmei (you)'s birthday. you in this story were born on january 10th, 1986 - a few years older than satoru!!! there's only a month distance between satoru, megumi, satoshi and your birthday - so the household is always fun like that. oh and the card, megumi and tsumiki wrote thank you mom on the card!!! please listen to this song a lot too, opm is really great!!! i hope you enjoy this a lot like i did. i love you so much!!! see you on the next one <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT'S INTERESTING THAT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME HE COULDN’T FIND A GOOD PLAN. But it was true, this is the first conundrum he’s ever had to face in his life. Gojo Satoru doesn't think he's ever been good at not knowing how to do this before.

He's managed to face down curses that could obliterate cities, stood toe-to-toe with some of the most formidable foes in the world, and always come out on top.

But he supposed that he will only ever be undone by you. Perhaps it was always the case ever since he’s met you. That was as inevitable as falling in love with you. Everything was going to be a challenge. And he loved that. Because he loved you.

As he stands in the quiet of the early morning, he finds himself completely at a loss as he takes in the silence of the brightening dawn. He sighed tenderly as he found himself stopping his cerulean gaze right in front of him—you.

You were still comfortably fast asleep, with soft breaths escaping your tender lips, you looked peaceful despite the exhaustion etched on your face. Just the way he likes it. Much more so nowadays, knowing how tired you’ve been.

You were a new mother. And being a new mother, it was a lot of work. Even if you took turns taking care of the little treasure you brought into the world, Satoru knows that you work harder than he ever will.

He knows you stayed up all night keeping Satoshi asleep, cradling your son in your arms whenever he stirred. And just as much, you also keep up to date with Megumi and Tsumiki, no matter what happens.

Of course, he would tell you off so that you would continue on your bed rest or continue about taking as much time to heal as possible. But you couldn’t help it. This has been your entire life for almost half a decade.

You like being involved with everything. But Satoru worries, he always does. He can’t help it. He was just as much a father as he was a husband. You gave him everything that’s good in his life. And he means it.

Yet now this leaves him in a conundrum.

How the hell could he top this gift of a lifetime?

How can he equate this gift on your birthday?

It was only a month ago, on his birthday, when you handed him the most precious gift in the world: your newborn son, Satoshi. The memory of that day is etched vividly in Gojo Satoru’s mind, a moment he revisits often, especially in the quiet hours of the night when the world is asleep, and it’s just the two of you and little Satoshi.

He remembers the soft glow of the hospital room, the way your bright eyes shimmered with a mix of exhaustion and pure joy as you gently cradled the tiny bundle of life, a life that both of you created, a life you had risked heaven and earth for, lay tenderly quiet in your arms.

Satoru had entered the room, his usual confident stride slightly hesitant, his light blue gaze locked onto you. The second his eyes met yours, he felt something shift deep within him—a kind of warmth he had never known before. One that he never thought he’d ever feel.

You smiled, tired but radiant, and beckoned him closer. "Satoru." you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "Come meet your son."

He approached, his heart pounding in a way no battle or curse had ever caused. As he looked down at the small, fragile life wrapped in the softest of blankets, his breath caught in his throat. You gently placed Satoshi in his arms, and the world seemed to still.

"He’s perfect." Satoru couldn’t help but murmur, his usually excited voice tender filled with quiet awe and wonder. "You’re amazing, you really are."

Tears pricked at the corners of his cerulean eyes as he looked back at you, the love and gratitude in his gaze almost overwhelming. "This… this is the best birthday gift anyone could ever give me."

In that moment, Satoru realized what it truly meant to be loved and to love in return. Holding Satoshi close, he silently vowed to protect and cherish his family with every ounce of his being. That day, his life changed forever, not because of his immense power or the battles he fought, but because of the tiny life in his arms and the incredible person who had given it to him.

Now, as he watches you sleep, that memory fuels his determination to make your birthday just as unforgettable. You had given him the world, and now it was his turn to make sure you felt just as cherished, just as loved. But still, what could he do that could equate to that? What could ever be enough to make your birthday just as special?

Satoru could only sigh quietly, scratching the back of his head, as he gazed at you lovingly. How could he possibly top that devoted act of yours? How could he make your birthday as special as you made his?

His clear mind races with ideas, but none of them feel good enough. With a quiet determination, he stands up, stretching carefully to avoid waking you, his joints softly popping in the stillness of the room.

When he finishes, he tiptoes over to the crib where your little son, Satoshi, sleeps peacefully. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a gentle glow over the room, highlighting the delicate features of the little one.

Satoru leans down, a tender smile tugging at his lips as he watches the slow rise and fall of Satoshi’s tiny chest. His little hands are curled into fists, and his lips form a small pout as his little one continues to find himself in dreamland.

"Hey, little treasure of mine." Satoru whispers softly, brushing a finger gently across Satoshi’s cheek. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that? And it’s all thanks to your amazing mom. You should be nicer to mom, okay? ‘specially today. It’s your mom’s birthday, after all."

A soft murmur releases from your son’s lips. Satoru couldn’t help but laugh silently. He could understand him, he supposed. Satoru will take his son’s hum as an answer. He stands there for a few moments longer, lost in the serenity of the moment.

The quiet hum of the house, the soft breaths of his sleeping son, and the comforting presence of you in the next room—all of it fills him with a profound sense of peace and gratitude.

Determined not to waste another moment, Satoru quietly steps out of the room. As he pads down the hallway, he hears the soft murmurs of Megumi and Tsumiki stirring their rooms.

A small smile plays on his lips as he finds himself leaning against the wall by their hall. A little while later, he could see Megumi and Tsumiki padding into their rooms, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

"Satoru–san?" Tsumiki whispers, her voice gentle as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Why are you up so early?"

"Yeah." Megumi adds, stifling a yawn as he steps into the room. "And why are you standing there like that? You look like you’re about to pick a fight with someone. It’s weird."

Satoru raises an eyebrow, feigning offense as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Hey, standing around waiting for my kids to wake up isn’t weird. It's dedication."

Tsumiki giggles softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Dedication to what, exactly?"

"To make sure we have the best start to the day, obviously!" Satoru replies with a playful grin. "Besides, today’s special, remember? It’s my wife’s birthday, and I need my secret weapons—aka you two—to help me make it perfect."

Megumi narrows his bluish–green eyes slightly, still skeptical. "Secret weapons, huh?"

"That’s right, you guys." Satoru says, ruffling Megumi's hair affectionately. "You two are crucial to this mission. So, what do you say? Ready to help make this the best birthday ever?"

Tsumiki and Megumi exchange a glance before nodding in unison, their sleepy expressions replaced by excitement. Though, excitement for Megumi is different than it was for Tsumiki. That’s just how his little ones were. Tsumiki giggles as she walks up to Satoru. Megumi hums, crossing his arms as he looks away. But from a corner, Satoru could see his little smile.

"Okay, secret weapons reporting for duty!" Tsumiki says with a mock salute, making Satoru laugh.

"That’s the spirit!" he replies. "Now, let’s get to work before they wake up and catch us in the act."

Breakfast could be a start, of course. Satoru had all the intentions of making today special just for you. Together, they tiptoe to the wide expanse of the kitchen, careful not to wake you.

The early morning light filters softly through the pastel curtains, casting a warm glow on their little covert operation. Satoru takes the lead on the operations, whispering instructions like a seasoned chef conducting a top-secret mission.

"Alright, Megumi, you're on egg duty!" Satoru says, pointing to the carton of eggs on the counter. "Crack 'em like a pro."

Megumi steps up, carefully cracking an egg against the bowl’s edge. A small shell fragment falls in, and he quickly fishes it out, shooting Satoru with a determined look. "I got this."

"Careful with the eggs, Megumi." Satoru whispers with a grin, leaning in conspiratorially. "We don’t want to serve scrambled shells to your mother."

“Gen–san’s not my mom….” Megumi rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Satoru goes behind him and pats his head. Megumi could feel his ears turn red. "I know, I know. I’m not five anymore…..I’ll do well with Gen–san’s eggs."

Tsumiki giggles as she stands beside them, diligently stirring pancake batter. "You’re not much better, Gojo–san. You almost dropped the syrup a minute ago."

Satoru gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as he looks at Tsumiki with a mock look of hurt. "Hey, hey, this is a delicate operation. We’re dealing with high-stakes birthday breakfast here!"

He then drops the act and winks, making Tsumiki laugh softly and Megumi snicker. “Alright, alright. Let’s do well. You know how sharp their nose is. They’ll smell it from a mile away.”

As the pancakes continue to sizzle on the griddle, the kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of sweet batter and freshly cut blueberries he’s adding onto the pancake.

He smiles as he flips them. Soon enough, he took the eggs from Megumi and thanked him. Satoru starts cooking the eggs on a frying pan on the other side of the burners.

Megumi soon grabs a plate and starts to put it near Satoru, who thanks him. Satoru expertly flips the pancake and continues with the scrambled eggs. Megumi takes a cup from the cabinet and takes it to the refrigerator, taking the milk and pouring it out onto the cup. He takes more and starts doing the same for the rest.

Satoru starts to hum as he turns the stove off. He plates your pancake then for him and the kids, before adding the scrambled eggs too.

Tsumiki happily adds the final touches to the batter with a sprinkle of cinnamon, while Megumi meticulously slices strawberries and bananas with a butter knife and adds them directly onto the plates. Satoru thanks the two of them as he carefully puts away everything they used for him to wash in the sink later.

Once the food is ready, the three of them carefully arrange your own food on a tray. They’ll eat their own food later. The blueberry pancakes are stacked neatly, topped with fresh fruit and a dollop of whipped cream.

A small bouquet of a variety of wildflowers from the garden, that Megumi found outside sits in a tiny vase next to a handmade card that Tsumiki decorated with hearts, glitter, and a sweet message inside by the two an Satoru remained etched inside.

Satoru steps back, beaming at their creation. "Alright, team, we’ve outdone ourselves. Let's wake up to our birthday target."

Tsumiki giggles again, picking up the card with pride. "Gen–san’s going to love it."

With the tray balanced carefully in Satoru’s hands, they make their way back to your room, hearts full of excitement. Tsumiki tries to suppress her excited giggles as she holds her brother’s hand, following Satoru. This was just the beginning. Today, they’re determined to show you just how much you mean to them—one heartfelt, lovingly crafted breakfast first, before the rest.

They quietly enter the master bedroom, Satoru balancing the tray with exaggerated care. You slowly stir at the sound of footsteps, effortlessly blinking, still rather weary as they came to approach you with their own sorts of excitements on their faces. The sight of all three of them standing there, happily, which can only make your heart melt.

“Happy birthday!” They all cheer, their voices soft but filled with all tones of excitement.

Satoru places the tray in front of you, as you slowly sit up, looking at him. Your husband's cerulean eyes were twinkling as he looked at you and placed a small kiss on your cheek. “Good morning. Sorry for the sudden surprise here.”

“Surprise really is a word to use.” You mumbled at him, teasingly as you smiled at him. “It’s a lovely way to wake up.”

“We made you breakfast, and Megumi and Tsumiki made this beautiful card for you,” Satoru whispers softly, his voice filled with affection as he places the tray gently in front of you. He gestures toward the card, a proud smile playing on his lips. “Obvious by Megumi’s handwriting. Which, you know, could use some work—”

“Hey!” Megumi’s face flushes red, his features contorting in mock indignation. His glare shifts between Satoru and you, though the hint of a smile betrays his embarrassment.

You chuckle, reaching over to give Satoru’s hand a playful smack. “It’s lovely, Megumi. Don’t worry.” Your eyes soften as you glance at the card, the glittery hearts and thoughtful message warming your heart.

Satoru pouts dramatically, rubbing the back of his hand as if you’d truly hurt him. “You didn’t have to smack me so hard, you know?” he says, feigning sadness, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated sulk.

“Hm, sorry about that, my love.” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

“Hey, we had to, babe.” Satoru whispers, his voice filled with quiet conviction as he meets your gaze. His smile widens, the warmth in his eyes making your heart flutter. “It’s such a special day, isn’t it? Celebrating the person who makes our little family whole.”

Tsumiki beams at your side, her hands clasped together. “We just wanted to make sure you felt as special as you make us feel every day.”

Megumi nods, a shy small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s not much, but we hope you like it.”

Your heart swells with love, and you urge them together. When they are together close to you, you pull them all into a warm embrace. “I love it. Thank you all so much. This is the best birthday ever.”

Satoru wraps his arms around the three of you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You deserve the best, today and every day.”

You sit up, touched beyond words, and pull them all into a hug. “Thank you so much. This is the best birthday ever.”

Your beloved kisses the top of your head, his heart swelling with love. “No, thank you—for everything. We love you.”

Just as you all settle into the warmth of the moment, a soft, familiar cry echoes from the nearby crib. Satoshi's little voice rises, breaking the serene silence of the morning. Your husband Satoru chuckles, quickly pulling back slightly from the group hug.

"Looks like someone else wants to join our little celebration." he says, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

You smile, beginning to rise, but Satoru gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I’ve got this, babe." he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "You relax and enjoy your breakfast."

Satoru turns to Tsumiki and Megumi. “Both of you too. Go and eat breakfast too. We might go out later, to have fun. So you should go and get some strength too.”

“Okay!” Tsumiki nodded and started to pull Megumi with her, who was telling her that he could walk without being dragged by her. But she didn’t listen to him. She just happily pulled him along. You shook your head and smiled, starting to eat your breakfast.

Satoru carefully strides over to the crib, his heart melting at the sight of Satoshi, his tiny fists waving in the air towards his father, his little face scrunched in a mix of confusion and need. Satoru carefully scoops him up, cradling him in his arms with as much gentleness as he could.

"Hey there, little treasure. Good morning.” Satoru murmurs softly, rocking him gently. "Did you miss out on the fun? Don’t worry, we saved the best part for you."

Satoshi’s cries quietly down as he snuggles into Satoru’s chest, his tiny hands gripping the fabric of Satoru’s night shirt. Satoru slowly makes his way back into your bedroom and takes a moment to look at you, before he walks back to the bed, sitting down beside you, with Satoshi nestled in his arms.

"Look who decided to wake up to join the party, mama." he says, smiling as he hands the baby to you.

You cradle Satoshi, his soft coos filling the room as he gazes up at you with wide, curious blue eyes. He looks so much like your husband, when he’s waking up. It was all too cute.

“Good morning to you sweetheart.” you whisper, brushing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You wanted to join the birthday celebration, huh?”

“What do you want to do later?” Satoru asks, his voice light, though there’s an earnestness in his gaze. He watches you take a sip of milk, his bright blue eyes softening as they linger on you. “We gotta celebrate your birthday somehow—”

You pause, lowering the glass, and look up at him with a furrowed brow, a bit confused. “But we already are, aren’t we?” you reply, your voice warm with sincerity. “This is already an amazing celebration, Satoru.”

He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he gently shakes his head. “Babe, I know you’re happy with this, but I want you to have a great birthday. Something that feels just as special as you are to me. Just as special as when you gave me our Satoshi here.”

Your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice, but a tiny knot forms in your stomach. “Satoru, I just….” you start, placing the glass down carefully.

“This... this is more than enough. I’ve got you, the kids, and this beautiful morning. I couldn’t ask for anything more. This is as special as Satoshi’s birth to me.”

Satoru leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a quiet determination. “I know it’s enough, babe.” he says softly, almost like a promise. “But I want to give you the world. I want you to feel all the love and appreciation I have for you today.”

You can see the vulnerability in his bright blue eyes, that rare side of him that only comes out when it’s just the two of you, when the world around you fades away. Gojo Satoru is always so strong, so confident, but moments like this, when he’s giving you his whole heart— to show you just how deeply he cares.

You reach across the table, gently placing your hand over his. “You already do, every single day, my love.” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “I’m already the luckiest person in the world, just having this. Just being with you and the kids is everything I need for a great happy birthday. Nothing else matters but this.”

Satoru’s face softens, a smile finally reaching his eyes. He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” he murmurs, the words filled with meaning.

Your chest swells with love, and you lean in to kiss him softly, a promise to share in this beautiful moment together. “Just as I’m lucky to have you with me. Every day.”

epilogue

When the excitement of the morning passed you and Satoru spent the whole day with the kids, just playing board games and watching movies. But there was one little detail you couldn’t shake off: Satoru had been extra secretive. And the kids were too. Somehow, you didn’t know what to do about this.

Satoru’s only secretive for three reasons — he wants to protect you, he wants to hide his sweet treat stash or he’s hiding something from you and that’s either him breaking something or your birthday present. The odds were always interestingly hard to know, when it comes to that.

As the day went on, you couldn’t help but notice him acting a bit too casual, as if he was trying to hide something behind that trademark mischievously sly grin of his. You had a feeling. No, you knew.

Your husband had something planned. He has to have had something planned. As much as you do say you don't want to do much, you know your husband can be too eager to do something. Even if it's just presents. And knowing Gojo Satoru, it was probably something expensive, flashy, and completely unnecessary.

"Hey, ‘toru." you say, cornering him in the living room as he casually tosses a playful grin your way. “What’s this I hear about you getting me a gift?”

His eyes widen in mock surprise, though it’s clear he’s trying not to break into a full-on grin. “Gift? What gift? I didn’t get you anything, like you told me to.” he says, feigning innocence with an exaggerated shrug. “Cause you know….I’m a good boy.”

“Don’t lie to me, Satoru.” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing as you give him your best ‘I know you’re up to something’ look. "I’ve seen that gleam in your eye before. You’re up to something ridiculous. Plus, Megumi blurted out something.”

Satoru chuckles, stepping closer to you with that playful swagger of his. “I don’t know what you mean, love of my life. Megumi could just be making it up too.” he says, winking.

"Uh, uh. You think our Megumi's the type to do that."

"I mean, it could happen, you know. Teens can be like that!"

"Satoru, he's not a teen yet."

"Yeah, but it still could happen." He points out to you, with a sly look. “Plus I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll love it. You deserve it, after all.”

“Aha! So you did get me a present!” You look at him and he smiles at you. He did not look guilty at all about outing himself. You shook your head at his reaction and then sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly.

"You didn’t spend a ton of money on it again, did you?”

Satoru’s grin falters just for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Well, maybe just a little… okay, a lot.” He pulls a small, shiny box from behind his back with all the dramatic flair of a magician revealing his final trick.

Your eyes widen. "Satoru, no. You promised no big gifts this time! You and I talked about this!"

He opens the box slowly, and inside is a… luxurious watch. The kind that could probably buy you an entire year's worth of groceries. You stare at it, the gold and sleek design shining under the light.

It was probably a one of a kind one too. Satoru never gave you presents that were something people can get in mass consumption. He always wants to make sure you only got the best from him. And he had too much money on him to care about it. Even when you nag at him about it.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You didn’t… You didn’t have to do this, Satoru. This is—”

“Absolutely perfect?” Satoru interrupts with a grin, obviously pleased with himself. “I thought you’d love it! It’s a little flashy, but hey, it’s your birthday, babe. You deserve to sparkle just as much as I do.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. "Satoru, seriously. This is too much. We’ve talked about this… I don’t want you spending money like this on me."

He tilts his head, giving you that look, the one that says he’s not going to take no for an answer. “Babe, this is nothing compared to the actual present I was going to get you.”

You blink, your mind trying to catch up. “The what now?”

“Yeah.” He nods nonchalantly. “I was going to buy you an entire island, but I figured that might be a little over the top. You know, for your birthday and all.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second before you burst into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. “An island?! Seriously? Are you trying to bankrupt us? I know we have a lot of money, Satoru but this is—”

Satoru shrugs, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, I was gonna throw in a private jet too, but… we can save that for next year, actually.”

You shake your head in disbelief but you found youself chuckling at his thoughts. You can't help but feel a rush of affection for him. “I’m going to make you return it.” you say, though you can’t quite mask the smile spreading across your face.

“You won’t.” he says, smirking. “I already wrote a very convincing love letter to the shop owner. And you. It’s done. You gotta accept it!”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes playfully at your husband. “You’re impossible, Satoru. But I love you anyway.”

“Good to know, babe. I love you too.” he says with a wink. “Because I’m keeping that watch, and you’re wearing it every day from now on. Let me spoil you at least, hm? That's your husband's job!”

As you take the watch from him, still shaking your head in disbelief, you know one thing for sure: You’ll never win this battle. You know you can’t. Not when he loves you most in the world.

But at least you’ve got the most ridiculous, over-the-top husband in the world for everyday of your mortal lives together who loves you the most in the world and somehow, that’s more than enough.

"You should have gotten me a Casio."

Satoru narrows his eyes at you. "Baby, I have the money. We are not getting you a Casio."

271 notes · View notes

missarchive · 3 days ago

Note

wait bc im sitting here reading dostoevsky and thinking about how spence would love having a partner that loves reading as much as him.. but im also thinking ab how he’d want to eat them out while forcing them to still focus on reading… i need an ice bath.

i hope this is what you were wanting <3 i had a lot of fun writing this for you

cw; +18 minors dni, munch!spencer, fingering, dom!spencer, fade to black smut, praise

The soft hum of the world outside fades into the background as you lounge on your bed, face up, knees pulled up to your chest. A pillow is nestled between your thighs and chest, propping up the latest romance novel you've become utterly lost in. The pages blur slightly as your eyes dart over the words, the story pulling you in deeper with each sentence. You’re so engrossed, you don’t even hear the faint creak of the door opening or the soft shuffle of footsteps.

The bed dips slightly, jolting you out of your reverie.

“Spence?” you mumble absentmindedly, your gaze still fixed on the page. The weight on the bed barely registers as you flip to the next chapter, too caught up in the plot to pay attention.

“What are you reading?”

The voice, smooth and familiar, startles you. You glance up, meeting Spencer's curious gaze. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, his shoes already kicked off, clad in jeans and a snug t-shirt that clings to his lean frame.

“Just a new romance novel,” you reply with a small smile, lowering the book slightly. There’s always something about the way Spencer’s eyes darken with intrigue whenever you mention one of your romance reads.

Without a word, Spencer moves around the bed and perches on the opposite side. He unbuttons his jeans with practiced ease, slipping them off before settling against the headboard. His hands reach out to gently tug your feet into his lap, his touch warm and grounding.

“Tell me about it,” he says, his tone soft yet insistent.

Smiling, you let yourself sink back into your comfortable position, your feet resting against the firm warmth of his thighs. “It’s a historical romance,” you begin, “set in the 1600s. There’s forbidden love, political intrigue…”

As you delve into the story, Spencer’s hand idly traces the curve of your calf, his fingertips brushing the bare skin beneath your pajama shorts. His touch is subtle, yet it sends tingles up your leg, making it harder to concentrate. You glance at him briefly, but he looks relaxed, his lips curling in a faint smile as he listens to you.

“Are you almost done with that chapter?” he asks, his hand sliding higher.

“Yeah, just a few more pages,” you murmur, not fully processing how high his hand has wandered. Your focus wavers as his fingers linger on the inside of your thigh, the gentle pressure impossible to ignore.

You’re jolted fully into the present when he hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties and slides them down to your knees.

“Spence!” you squeak, clutching your book tightly as your head snaps toward him. His expression is maddeningly calm, though his eyes gleam with mischief.

“What are you doing?”

“I figured you liked that position so much for reading, I’d help you multitask,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. His fingers dip between your thighs, brushing against your already slick center.

A gasp escapes your lips as his thumb begins circling your clit with deliberate precision. Your hips twitch instinctively, opening to him even as your book tumbles to the side.

“Spencer,” you moan, your voice breathy with need.

“Keep reading,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle as his fingers plunge into you, curling perfectly against your walls.

You try to obey, picking up your book and skimming the next few lines, but the words blur as his movements intensify. The pressure of his fingers combined with the steady rhythm of his thumb has your breath hitching, your chest heaving with the effort to concentrate.

“Spence, I can’t—” you start, but he cuts you off by stilling his hand.

“You need to keep reading,” he says, his tone laced with amusement.

“Spencer!” you whine, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Read a page, and I’ll give you more,” he bargains, withdrawing his fingers.

Frustrated but desperate for his touch, you scan the next page as quickly as your trembling hands allow. The moment you finish, you glance up, and he rewards you by slipping two fingers back inside, stretching you deliciously as his thumb resumes its torturous circles.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

This pattern continues, the cycle of teasing and reward driving you closer to the edge with every page. By the time you finish another, Spencer leans down, his tongue replacing his fingers.

You cry out, the book forgotten as his mouth works you over with unrelenting skill. His tongue licks and swirls, his lips closing around your clit to suck gently, and you’re utterly undone. Your hips buck against him, your hands gripping the sheets as he pushes you higher and higher.

Finally, your release crashes over you, your body trembling as he coaxes every last wave of pleasure from you. When you’re spent and boneless, Spencer pulls away, his lips glistening as he crawls up beside you.

“How was that chapter?” he asks with a cheeky grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Best one yet,” you reply, your voice hoarse but content.

“Glad I could help with the multitasking,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your temple as you drift off, thoroughly sated and utterly his.

#missarchive #mj answers #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #bau x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader

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gudfornuthin · 1 day ago

Text

Hate is a strong word

Dae ho x gn!reader

Summary: you’re not easily annoyed, but player 388 has been getting on your nerves. Is it hate, or something more intense?

A/N: I want to preface☝🏻I’m not good at writing anything too smutty. I’ve tried my best and hope you all enjoy but yeah this is as far as smut goes for me lmao. Based on this and this request. Feedback is appreciated :)

You hate his guts. Player 388 (you don’t care enough to learn his name) has made it his mission to piss you off any chance he gets. The very first game. Tripping you over. Bumping into your back causing you to almost get killed. Apparently both times were accidents. Then it seemed to get more personal.

He acts surprised and mad that you pass the second game. Rolling his eyes and slow clapping. Hitting your shoulder with his whenever you walk by to vote or get food. You can’t even think about ‘mingle’ without wanting to punch someone. He made it incredibly clear that the group he was in was not picking you. They needed an extra person? No chance, as he does his best to block you from the other players.

You want to confront him about it all. In general, he seemed like a reasonable guy. To everyone else at least. Very polite, enthusiastic and willing to get to know people better. Except for you. There was a target on your back, and player 388 was aiming right for it. Two can play at that game.

It’s late, and you’re in the bathroom leaning over the sink and splashing some water on your face. Like most people, the games have been getting to you mentally, and the only time you have a chance to think is when everyone else is asleep.

Unfortunately, the door opens, forcing you out of your moment of peace. You turn and see the smiling face of the man who’s been causing you trouble.

“Fantastic,” you huff and mumble under your breath.

He spots you by the sinks, the smile on his face quickly dropping. “Oh. Didn’t realise there was anyone else in here.”

“Just needed some time by myself to think,” you respond, hoping he’ll leave the conversation at that.

He doesn’t, as he moves and enters one of the stalls, his voice now slightly muffled. “Why? You ready to give up?”

You ignore him, knowing he’s trying to get a rise out of you. It’s not worth it. Don’t give him what he wants.

Player 388 exits the stall, walking over to the sinks and washing his hands. “If I were you I’d give up. Someone like you will never make it to the end.”

You finally snap. “Alright,” you back up from the sinks, glaring at the back of his head. “Have I done something to piss you off?”

Player 388 turns around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He shrugs, looking shocked as if he didn’t expect the confrontation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” you respond. “Since the first game it’s like you’ve had a vendetta against me. For what?”

Player 388 doesn’t say anything, almost lost for words. He shifts uncomfortably, looking you up and down several times. You’re still unsure of his reasons, why he may have formed a dislike for you. But if he wants to get under your skin, then you’ll have to go deeper.

You move closer to where he stands. “Oh I get it now,” he looks up. “You’re threatened.”

“Am not,” he says, sounding like an angry child.

You shake your head, staring at him in the most patronising way you can. “You definitely are. Ex marine, acting all tough, wanting the respect he so desperately craves.”

You can tell your words are getting to him, as his nostrils flare and his brow furrows. You carry on talking.

“You see someone like me, doing just as if not better than you. Braver, stronger, more resilient. It kills you.”

You’ve moved closer, now toe to toe. You can practically feel his breath on your face.

“All that training, and deep down you’re still that terrified little bitch that had to join the marines because you weren’t good enough for anything else.”

Thump!

Player 388’s fist slams right into your jaw, knocking you sideways. You’re shocked, grabbing the side of your face and feeling a painful throbbing. You look up at player 388, a similar expression on his face.

“Oh shit-”

He doesn’t have time to say much else before you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and pushed him to the ground. You both yell out as you crawl on top of him, throwing punch after punch, hoping one will hit. It feels messy and awkward, and you can already feel the bruises forming all over your body, but this was the breaking point.

You continue hitting player 388, your hips bucking slightly from him writhing underneath you. He lets out a small moan, loud enough for you to hear. You still, as the pair of you look at each other with shock. You move your hips harder this time, another moan coming from player 388.

“Does this turn you on?” You whisper, leaning down closer to his face. “Me beating the shit out of you, or me sitting on you like this?”

You move once more, player 388 now moving his hands to rest on your legs, halting your back and forth rocking. You can already feel something hard poking at your inner thigh, instead taking your hand and moving it to the space in between you. Pressing down, he whines, as you stroke over the fabric of his pants.

Your mouth is hovering over his, as you smirk slightly. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

Player 388 nods his head rapidly, as you lean down and kiss him, teeth clashing and lips devouring each other. The taste of blood falls on your tongue, not sure if it’s from the make out session or the aftermath of punching him until he bled. You can’t believe this is how things turned out. Not that you’re one to complain.

Your hand moves into his pants, gripping him strongly and continuing the stroking motion. Player 388 tries to grab your hips, but you swat him away with your other hand.

“Put your hands above your head,” you say in between kisses.

He does so, as your free hand follows them up and grabs both his wrists. You hold them in place as you pump his shaft, his none stop whining rumbling from his throat.

“Pl-please,” player 388 whimpers. “I n-need to-”

You pump him faster now, not letting him say anything else. “You wanna cum?”

Tears well up in his eyes, as your kisses trail down from his mouth to his neck. His legs are shaking and he tries desperately to move his hips higher, thrusting his member further into your hand. You’re both breathless, and you can tell player 388 is reaching his limit.

Just as he’s about to release into ecstasy, you quickly pull both your hands away, leaning back and staring down at him. He lets out a shocked gasp, raising his head as best as he can to look at you. He looks lost and you smile.

“This was fun,” you say, standing up and towering over his body. “I’m sure you can finish without me.”

You can’t help but laugh, as you slowly walk out of the bathroom, looking back briefly to see his disheveled and angry expression piercing into your figure. You still hate his guts, but he definitely hates yours more now.

- - -

Taglist:

@h3ll0k1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d

(Sorry if it didn’t tag everyone)

#dae ho x reader #squid game x reader #dae ho #squid game #kang ha neul #x reader

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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 days ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

"We are Just Friends" "Just friends I thought I was your wife" Hazbin Men x Reader

Guess who's baaaaaack, it's ya fav writer Luna, whoot whoot

Lucifer

He was over the moon the first time someone mistook you two for a couple. He really thought it was his time to shine next to you, only for you to deny it right in front of him.

As the two of you grew closer and closer, the more 'friend' things you did, the more it looked like a 'couple' thing, from cuddling on the couch to holding hands at the mall.

When your actual friends started calling you a couple, he knew something was up. Not only do you tell your friends everything, but the giggles and pointing really laid it in for him that you may have some feelings.

By the time you were out in public again and you got called a couple he was quick to interject in the conversation to make sure it was clear that you two were actually a couple.

When you questioned him about it he was all smiles and giggles. It went a lil something like this:

You had pulled Lucifer from the man talking to you just moments ago. "Lucifer, what the heck? We aren't even dating."

He just smiled at you and shrugged, pulling you close to himself. "Well, to me, this looks like a date, a pretty person out and about with a pretty handsome devil."

You slapped his arm and rolled your eyes, trying to get the previous man's attention to let him know you were just friends. Then Lucifer chimed in, "Just friends, Y/N. You wound me. I thought I was your husband."

Needless to say, this whole interaction definitely helped you two confess your underlying feelings and start actually dating. So, there was a lot of good to come from some silly shenanigans.

Adam

Initially, he was against anything tying you two together. I mean, come on, he is the first dick. After all, he can have anyone he wants. Until he started catching real feelings for you.

When it was mistaken that you two were a couple after he started falling for you, he would loudly proclaim he was your husband, and you would just laugh and giggle.

Sometimes, you would correct him, especially in front of the seraphim or executioners, that you were just friends, but Adam was always there to tell everyone he was your husband.

He only saw hope that you would drop the foolish idea that you weren't his when you blushed at him, grabbing your hand and telling a winner about how he married you not too long ago.

The last time that you tried to correct someone on your and Adam's relationship, it went a little like this:

You shook your head, giggling at Adam's antics, and looked at Sera. "We are not married, I have no ring, and I am single."

Adam gasped and summoned a hundred different rings. "That's okay bitch. I can fix that. Take your pick. I am the first man, after all."

You blushed and shook your head, telling Sera you were close friends. Her knowing eyes read you like a book on how much you wanted to be more. Then Adam jumped in. "Babes, we're just friends. Are you serious? I am your husband; just let it happen, please."

Shortly after this incident, Sera had a long talk with Adam about how he should ask to be your boyfriend first, then maybe move on up to husband status.

Vox

He was content having you around, even if it stung every time you called him just your friend. He was happy he had a friend who genuinely cared.

He would, however, pout and give you too much space and distance when you would correct people that you were just friends. He wasn't petty, no, never. He just cared about you not being mistaken and not making you uncomfortable.

It was brought to his attention by the other Vees that you and he were uncharacteristically close for people deeming themselves "just friends." You two were glued to each other, giggling and bringing out your best selves.

When he realized this, he slowly stopped correcting people and would even butt in before you could correct them, just letting all of hell slowly think you and Vox were together.

The last time you ever corrected someone that you and Vox were just friends went a little like this:

You were watching one of Vox's live streams and saw an influx of messages asking where you were and when you two started dating. You sighed. "We are not dating. We are just friends!"

Vox short-circuited and turned to look at you. Quickly, he dragged you to his lap, setting you down and hugging you in front of everyone. "They are shy and don't want you all to know I am their husband."

You gasped and blushed brightly, trying to pry yourself out of Vox's grasp, but he held you tight and laughed with a big, bright smile.

Once the stream was over, a lengthy discussion ensued about the meanness of messing with one's emotions. Only then did you realize no feelings were messed with, and Vox was dead serious.

Alastor

With Alastor, it was all on the flip side. He was adamant that you two were just friends—good, good friends. However, you always longed for more and were hurt when the words left his lips.

He somehow always managed to miss your pouts and groans whenever the situation seemed to care how it affected you when he harshly told the world that all you were was a friend.

You found it hard to believe that you two were just friends when you did so much together, more than he and Rosie. You were always in his studio, sitting right next to him as he required while drinking tea that he especially makes for you and no one else.

You finally caved in and spoke to Rosie about the mixed signals her best friend was giving you, only for her to reconfirm your suspicions that no one else entirely lived in Alastors heart like you did.

The last time you let him ever call you just friends went a little like this:

Rosie sat across from you two as Alastor made your tea, a knowing look on her face. Before she spoke, you knew she would make the comment you always dreamed about your and Alastor's relationship. Sure enough, Alastor was quick to respond, "Rosie, dear, we are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Alastor's crisp voice rang out, and you were distraught. However, you had other ideas. You gently touched Alastors hand and smiled at Rosie. "Oh, he is too shy to admit he has a partner now."

The blush that reached both of your faces was priceless as you two looked at one another, and Alastor froze, spilling tea everywhere.

After your tea party, you sat down in Alastor's recording studio to discuss the intricacies of your relationship. As soon as Alastor finally admitted to his feelings, it just so happened that he 'accidentally' broadcasted your confessions live for all to hear.

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cursedyuri · 14 hours ago

Text

will you shuffle me, spread me apart?

summary: in the slums of zaun, you’ve carved out a life for yourself which not many would envy. you spend your nights in the arms of strangers, trading coin for hasty touches and labored breaths. and since such a line of work isn’t always enough to keep yourself fed and clothed, you have a second service to offer: fortune telling.

or... two times vi comes knocking, and a third time you let her in.

18+ only! smut below. cw for fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of sex work, brief mentions of blood. 7k words.

The heels of your boots click against damp cobblestone, wet thumps echoing through the dingy alleyway leading to Babette’s brothel. It’s a particularly humid night, even despite the chill in the air - the humidity makes it worse, you think. It feels like the cold is seeping into the very marrow of your bones.

You pull your cloth coat tighter over your torso, thankful when you rap on the brothel’s wooden door and are allowed in almost instantly. One step through the threshold, and the biting cold melts like early-spring snow. The air is thick here, too, but warm and smoky. Tobacco stings sweet in your nose, a cocktail of too-strong perfumes mixing with ribbons of incense that linger suspended midair. It’s an intoxicating kind of smell, one that makes weak women and weaker men feel more inclined to spend their hard-earned coin on a night with a stranger.

Part of you is hoping none will choose you tonight. It’s not that you’re opposed to it - gods know you’d be in the wrong line of work if you were. Rather, you’ve got plans to eat the meager dinner you’ve purchased for yourself, sip some red wine, and rifle through your cards for answers about what’s been going on topside lately. You’ve heard murmurs of an attack, rebellion… You’re not exactly sure what to believe, so as you often do, you look to the cards for clarity.

The deck sits idly by a thicket of half-burnt herbs on your desk, stacked precariously where you’d last used them. You shed your coat and hang it on a brass hook by the desk, then slide into the seat in front of it. Still thawing, you sink into the velvet cushion and reach into your knapsack for the paper-wrapped sandwich inside, also procuring an unmarked bottle of wine from beside it. You’re wiping an iron goblet clean with the fabric of your tiered skirt when a familiar voice calls your name from the doorway. It’s one of the other workers here, Nina. She’s been here just about as long as you.

“You might hate me,” she says, a preface that makes your lips turn downward in a frown.

You grunt, uncorking your wine and pouring a hearty serving into your goblet. By the sounds of it, you’ll need the liquid courage. “I just sat down, you know.”

Nina’s delicate brows pull together; maybe she’s feeling apologetic, or maybe she’s just laying it on thick so you’ll take a job before you’ve even had dinner.

“I thought so, but… I think you’ll like her, peach.” She pauses for a beat. “And if you take her, I may have some chocolate I’d consider parting with.”

“Bribery,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips as you roll your eyes at Nina’s offer. “But fine. Send her in.”

“Will do, peach,” Nina practically squeals, disappearing from your doorway just as quickly as she’d come.

Cursing under your breath, you take a swig of wine and turn to the tarnished mirror behind your desk, examining yourself. By some stroke of luck, you’d had the sense to put on a layer of makeup before you’d gone out earlier. Blemishes are covered, your eyes are rimmed with kohl, and a smear of rouge emphasizes the pouty shape of your lips. That’s all you ever need, paired with the eye-catching swell of your breasts against the low-cut linen of your blouse. This will be easy enough.

You’ve drained half the wine in your cup by the time your client knocks at the open door. You turn your head to greet her and, before you can get a word out, the door slams closed with a heavy thud. At first, you gawk at the client because of her notable entrance - but then, you gawk because Nina was right. You like her.

This girl looks like the undercity chewed her up, spit her out, then chewed her up again. She’s all sharp edges and leather and lipstick, black makeup smeared from her eyes to her cheeks. Her hair’s black, too, though you can see patches of red exposed from an uneven dye job and a few heavy-handed washes. She’s certainly achieved the menacing look she’s sought out, and though it’s a mighty contrast to her pale complexion and piercing blue eyes, it somehow works for her - she’s the kind of girl you wouldn’t mind getting dirty for.

“Good evening,” you say, because it’s all you can seem to think of to break the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

The client surveys you up and down with those icy blue eyes, working her jaw. She nods. “What do you have?”

“Wine, whiskey, gin,” you tell her, gesturing to the makeshift bar cart beside a loveseat at the entrance of your suite. Different colored liquors fill antique, mismatched bottles at different levels. The client glances over at them, steps up to the cart and surveys that, too. Then she turns to you, gestures to your goblet.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

You nod. “Wine it is, then. Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.”

She obliges, lowering herself onto the plum fabric of the loveseat. Her legs are spread just so - enough to make it obvious that this woman is used to taking up space, and unafraid of what that kind of confidence might imply. Your eyes linger on her parted knees, but not long enough to get caught. After you fill up a goblet for her and refill your own, you glide across the room to hand her the drink. She accepts it with a nod of thanks, her fingertips brushing against yours in the process. You take a seat beside her.

“What’s your name?” You regard her behind fluttering lashes, sipping from your freshly filled goblet. The wine is sweet on your tongue, bitter around the edges. You can already feel it loosening your muscles, relaxing your inhibitions. Piquing your curiosity, even.

The client takes a swig from her own drink and says, “Vi.”

Vi. Her name is tattooed on her cheekbone, you muse, gaze sweeping over her face once again. There’s a silver hoop pierced through her nose, a scar etched into her upper lip. A healing bruise on her left jaw catches your eye, blooming faint shades of purple, yellow, and green. You’re afflicted with an urge to reach out and touch it - to touch her. But when she catches your gaze with those steely eyes of hers, you’re frozen. Like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar, your cheeks flush hot. Vi seems amused by your appraisal, cracks a smile that looks somehow natural on her war-torn face.

She cuts through the tension like a spearhead, one hand reaching forward to readjust the sleeve of your blouse, which had fallen down your shoulder. Her fingertips are cold and calloused, but the touch fills you with uncharacteristic warmth. “What’s your name?”

You tell her and she repeats it, that sultry voice curling around every syllable of your name as if she were tasting it.

However intoxicating Vi’s voice might be, it dawns on you again what she’s doing here. She’d paid for your time, paid to sip your wine and touch you with those split-knuckled hands of hers. You have the sense to wonder why - a woman like Vi should have no trouble warming her bed for free, yet here she is.

“Well, Vi,” you say, pausing briefly for another sip of wine, “how do you want me?”

If your straightforwardness bothers her, she doesn’t show it. She brushes dark locks of her out of her eye-line, seemingly considering your answer. Then: “I heard you tell fortunes.”

You quirk a brow at her. “I—yes. Is that what you want?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “Among other things.”

“It’s extra for that,” you clarify. “The fortune-telling, I mean.”

“I have enough.”

And that settles it. You uncross your legs, stand up and move to retrieve your deck of cards from the desk. There’s a table in front of the loveseat where Vi still sits, and that’s where you lay out an ornate silk cloth to spread the cards upon. You gather the thicket of herbs from your desk, too, along with a match. Vi watches you set fire to the sprigs, a stream of smoke billowing upwards and filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent.

“What questions do you have?” You ask, settling down upon a floor pillow on the opposite side of the table from Vi. After you set down your goblet of wine, you pick up the deck and begin to shuffle; the fluttering sounds of cards fills the silence before Vi can answer.

“Do I need to ask questions?”

“No, I guess not,” you respond, shoulders shrugging. “I can just see what the cards say about you.”

Vi nods her assent, tossing her head back to finish what’s left of her wine. One by one, cards fly out from the deck as you shuffle, some upright, some inverted. When you’ve circulated through the deck once or twice with no other cards presenting themselves, you stop.

“Five of cups,” you read aloud. The card’s illustration depicts a figure in a black cloak, turned away, three emptied cups at her feet. Behind her are two upright cups, unnoticed. “Loss. Mourning.”

Vi inhales sharply through her nose, and when you look up at her, she’s white-knuckled with her hand around the stem of her now-empty goblet. You lift your brows in a wordless question - should you continue?

She nods.

“Something didn’t work out as you’d planned it, and you’re too stubborn to let go. Instead, you lament the loss and let it hold you hostage.”

There’s a sound like Vi humming, a quiet acknowledgement of your words as you move to the next card.

“Four of wands, reversed - this tells me you’ve been separated from loved ones. This is what didn’t work out as planned, maybe?”

When you look at Vi this time, she’s leaning forward in her seat, forearms braced against her strong thighs.

“Maybe,” she echoes. “What else is there?”

You show her the next card, another inverted one. The illustration depicts a man in ornate clothing, a flower plucked between his fingers as he prances confidently towards the edge of a cliff. “The fool, reversed.”

“That’s me?” Vi asks. “The fool?”

“Hm, not always. But with the other cards… You are the fool, Vi, I’m sorry to say it.” You hope she catches the tinge of playfulness in your tone, serious as the reading feels. Heavy as the tension feels.

“Well,” she starts, “the cards don’t lie, I guess.”

You hum in agreement. “The fool, reversed this way, tells me that you’re reckless. Lacking caution, you’ve opened yourself up to betrayal.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Vi laughs without humor, tries to drink the last crimson drops of the wine in her goblet. “Can I get some more?”

You move to get up and fetch her the bottle, but she waves a hand to dismiss you. She’s up and across the room in a flash, refilling her cup and taking a swig before she’s even made it back to the loveseat.

“But…” You hold up her final card - judgement. The art depicts an angel blaring into a trumpet from the heavens, the humans below rejoicing. Her eyes assessing the card, Vi looks to you for an explanation.

“Judgement tells us that renewal and transformation is possible,” you finish

“Renewal, transformation... Right. What’s the catch?”

Smart woman, you think. There’s always a catch.

“You have to be willing to let go of what’s held you stagnant. Accept what’s behind you and focus on what’s ahead, because wallowing in misfortune does you no good.”

That seems to resonate, because Vi’s expression turns shadowy, thoughtful. She drinks again, her lips nearly purple from the wine. You take a moment to drink from your own cup, ready to ask Vi if she wants you to undress yourself, or if she’s the kind of client who wants to do it for you.

Instead, you’re stunned into silence when she polishes off her drink, slams the cup down onto the table, and stands. Her jaw is locked again, tense.

“Vi?” Your brows lift in question.

“Thank you,” she says. She moves towards the door, then stops when she seems to remember something. One bandaged hand digs into her jacket pocket, emerging with a handful of coin. She places it on the nearest surface, a small table with a lamp glowing atop it, and only glances back towards you before she vanishes out the door.

There’s a draft in the room, suddenly. You curl into bed, pull the covers over your goosebump-afflicted skin, and think.

The days following Vi’s visit dawn bleak and cold as ever. Nina asks about your client the following morning, and you let her bask in the satisfaction that you had liked her, but you politely break the news that she’d been nothing particularly special - a white lie to keep the questions at bay. You’re not one to run your mouth; besides, rumors spread through Babette’s brothel like wildfire.

Some of the latest rumors? There’s a man with magical abilities lurking in the shadows of Zaun, with a touch that heals the sick. There’s a blue-haired revolutionary forming a significant following in the undercity, those of whom claim she’ll free them from Piltover’s brutality. You’re not sure what to believe, but there must be some truth to the rumors, because your cards sense something afoot: the tower, ten of swords, ace of cups.

Still, business continues as usual. Degenerates and saints alike seek your company, and you need the money to survive, so your bed is always warm.

Because you’ve had dozens of clients over the years who visit and never return, you don’t expect to see Vi again. Still, your mind keeps returning to her - you wonder why she’d stormed out so suddenly, why she’d paid you for sex without laying a finger on you. The curiosity lingers in the back of your mind, but you counter it with reality: she’d probably chickened out. Heard something too striking in her reading and couldn’t follow through, but decided to pay for your time anyway. At most, it was a kind gesture.

So why can’t you stop thinking about her?

Weeks pass, and your routine continues. Tonight’s another late night, and you’re relaxing after several clients in a row. You’d bathed in water treated with salts and oils, the scents still clinging to your skin as you rub salve into your aching muscles. The last few clients had been rough - twisting your limbs, working you into positions that tested your flexibility and endurance as they used their tongues, fingers, and other appendages to chase their pleasure through your body. None of them had made you come, though, so in the momentary solitude of the bath, you’d slipped your hand between your legs until your release pulsated through your tired frame. Now, you’re feeling pleasantly warm and at ease, perfumed and ready if there may be a late-night visitor. You’d be grateful for the extra money, if you’re being honest.

When there’s a steady knock at the door, you saunter over to answer it in nothing but your lingerie, lacy black and surprisingly comfortable. Who knows? They might pay extra for such ease of access - and a nice presentation.

The flirty smile on your lips disappears when you realize who’s on the other side of the door.

“Gods—Vi?” You try not to express your shock, schooling your features to the best of your ability. Vi, however, turns a pretty shade of pink when she takes in the sight of you: tits pushed together and decorated in delicate lace, the soft hair over your sex barely obscured with thin fabric. Your thighs are plush and glowy with moisture, hips hugged beautifully by the high-waisted panties that match your elaborate bra.

Vi’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m… Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” you assure her, opening the door all the way to allow her entry. You try to ignore the way her gaze first moves to the empty bed, something like relief washing over her features before she turns back to you. The door shuts with a soft click.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I thought you were a client.”

After wrapping yourself in the first robe you find by your bedside, you move to the bar cart to pour Vi a drink. She scoffs, an almost-laugh that’s low and soft. “Well, I am a client.”

As the wine sloshes into her goblet, you fix her with an admonishing look. “A client looking for sex, Vi.”

That shuts her up. Her cheeks are still pink, you notice, as you take in her appearance: most of the dye has faded out of her hair, leaving it a patchy canvas of black, maroon, and fuschia. She’s still sporting a cut and a bruise here and there, but more wounds are covered with bandages than last time. Notably, she’s not drenched in black paint, though there is a ring of liner around her eyes.

“Thanks,” Vi says when you hand her a cup of wine. She shoots back a mouthful and moves to the loveseat, lowering herself into the same spot as last time.

“So?” You arch a brow at her. “Here for another reading, I take it?”

She nods. “Yeah, sweetheart. If that’s okay.”

“I thought I scared you away last time,” you reply with a smirk. There’s a hint of truth to the statement, though, teasing as you might be - you hadn’t expected to see her back so soon, if at all.

“Oh, you did,” she admits. “But things have changed, and now… I’m curious what you have to say. I could use some advice.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Just as it was last time, Vi’s attention is honed in on you. You shuffle the cards with expert precision, and she watches the way your hands dance over the deck, fingers grazing the careful illustrations of each card with easy familiarity. This time, five cards leap from the deck: seven of cups, the chariot, eight of wands, four of wands, eight of pentacles. It’s a story unfolding beneath your fingertips, all the more interesting when you think back to Vi’s last reading.

“You’ve made progress,” you tell her. “But the hard work isn’t over. You’re prone to wishful thinking, which is a good thing, sometimes, because your determination is a powerful force.”

Glancing up at Vi, you offer her an encouraging smile. “When you fight, I get the sense that you almost always win.”

Vi snorts, wiping a burgundy smear of wine from her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s what the cards say?”

“Not exactly, but, well… I’ve gathered some things for myself.” You hold up the chariot card. “This one tells me you need an ironclad will to move forward. One I don’t doubt you have.”

Is it just your imagination, or does Vi turn pink again?

“And these,” you say, holding up the two cards from the wand suit, “show me fire. Creation, destruction, volatility. You’re dealing with something that can be useful or detrimental, depending on how you proceed.”

Vi’s eyes are alight, not unlike the fire you’ve just discussed. What you wouldn’t give to know how her life aligns with these cards - what fire is she playing with? What challenges is she facing?

“And the last one?” Vi’s voice cuts through your internal musings as she gestures to the final card on the table. You pick it up and show it to her - the eight of pentacles, depicting a man hard at work, hammer in hand.

“It’s very much in line with the others,” you explain. “Diligence, focus, hard work.”

She hums, nodding. “Got it. So, any chance there's a card that’ll tell me what I should do?”

Her tone drips with sarcasm, but you can tell there’s a glimmer of sincerity in the question - and in those pale blue eyes, swirling with emotion.

You press your lips into a firm line, setting the eight of pentacles card down. “I wish I could tell you exactly what you want to hear, Vi,” you say honestly. “But that’s not how the cards work.”

“Yeah,” Vi responds, voice bitter around the edges; somber. “I figured as much. Thank you, uh, for the reading.”

In the silence that follows, you imagine a braver version of yourself: one that isn’t too hesitant to ask questions. One that would feel comfortable offering a listening ear to this riot of a woman, whose scars and bruises tell you just as much as the cards you’ve splayed out for her. You wonder where she goes after she leaves here, if that home holds a family, friends, a lover. But all you can do is wonder. You don’t go sniffing for information - like the brothel dweller you are, information finds you. And if it doesn’t, perhaps it’s better to wonder.

Vi rises from the loveseat, readjusting one of the tattered blankets strewn across its surface. She finishes the remainder of her wine and, gently, sets it on the table.

She says, “I’ve gotta go.”

Her hand dips into her jacket pocket and emerges with far too much coin, which she sets out on the table for you.

“That’s too much,” you counter with a furrowed brow. “We didn’t—you only had your cards read.”

You reach forward to collect the extra cash, ready to push it back into Vi’s palm, but she backs away with her hands in her pockets.

“Nah, sweetheart,” she replies, ambling towards the door and prying it open. “Keep the change.”

The next time you see Vi, her knuckles are bleeding.

It’s been weeks, maybe even months, and you’re surprised to find her at your door again, much less in her current state: battered and bruised, her knuckles raw and red. Her shoulders sag, that proud, confident air about her entirely deflated. She’s a shell of the woman you’d first met months ago; all that brazen confidence she’d once had has burnt down to dying embers.

When she looks at you, her eyes are forlorn, watery. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Vi…” You open the door further, ushering her in with a gentle hand at the small of her back.

Inside, you pour her a drink - water, this time - and instruct her to lie down on the bed, draping a thin blanket over her frame.

“You’re hurt,” you say pointedly, gesturing to her bleeding knuckles. “Can I help?”

Vi’s expression doesn’t change; her eyes are distant, her skin so pale it’s almost grey. But she nods her assent, so you get to work - you swipe a wet cloth over her knuckles to clear away the blood, then cautiously apply a salve to her wounds. Through it all, Vi hardly even winces, a fact that doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even now, with her brazen confidence stripped away to the bone, she’s tougher than most. It’s an attribute that runs through her to the core.

“Don’t you want to ask what happened?” Vi asks, suddenly. Her voice is raw, and to avoid looking her in the eye, you focus on wrapping her knuckles with layers of soft gauze. “Wanna know how I fucked up this time?”

You frown. “I’m not one to pry.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause before Vi speaks again. “That’s what’s different about you,” she says. “Everyone else just… Wants something from me.”

Brows knitting together, you fix Vi with a look that you hope reads less as pitying and more as understanding. You’re certainly familiar with catering to other’s desires over your own; it’s been this way for longer than you can remember.

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely. Finished dressing her wounds, you let go of her hands, still kneeling at the side of the bed. You stand up with the intention of refilling Vi’s water, but as you reach for the cup, she catches your wrist in one bandaged hand.

“All those times I saw you,” she starts, “when I had you read my cards… You never asked about my life.”

You nod, wrist burning from her touch.

“Why? You never wondered?”

“It’s not my job to wonder.” You swallow. “Just to give people what they want.”

Vi’s gaze is intense, holding you in a trance. You’re frozen there, standing at the side of the bed, entirely in her grasp. “But do you ever get what you want?”

Do you?

You’d been working for Babette for years, longer than most - and before that, even as a child, you’d always understood that bending to the will of others is the easiest way to move through life. You can slip through the cracks that way, get enough coin or food or clothing to live another day. You wanted that, you suppose. To live.

But you’re not sure that’s what Vi’s talking about.

“I have enough,” you say. “There’s not much I want.”

Vi nods. “But there’s something.”

You smooth your free hand over hers, and she lets go of your wrist. “I’ll get you some water.”

As you refill her cup, you feel her eyes on you, and your mind races. Why does she care about what you want? You’re a stranger to her, a fortune teller living on scraps in an undercity brothel. First, she’d paid you for sex she’d never had, and now she’s in your bed, asking you questions you barely had the wherewithal to ask yourself. Gods, this woman is something else. You wish you could read her mind - crack open that beautiful skull of hers, sift through her thoughts, learn what had led her to you not once, not twice, but three times. You wish you could know everything about her, read her like your favorite book with its pages dog-eared, its cover well-worn.

Maybe that’s what you want, after all.

Returning to the bedside, you hand Vi her cup and stand by as she takes a long drink, then sets it on the nightstand. Her hair has grown a few inches since the first time you’d met her, you muse, and you like it this way - long locks of pink-crimson fall in jagged layers just past her shoulders, her bangs framing her face nicely. You wonder what it would feel like to reach out and run your fingers through that hair, to brush it free of knots, to hold the back of her head in your palm.

“It’s late,” Vi says, interrupting your train of thought. “I should go - you should get some rest.”

She peels back the blanket you’d settled over her, sitting up. You hesitate, then reach forward to touch her forearm. “You can stay, I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” Vi says, “or… Keep away any business.”

Something in your chest tightens. “You won’t.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“I want you to stay,” you interrupt. “You need rest, too.”

Vi’s mouth hangs open for a moment, stormy blue eyes assessing you. Then, she settles back into bed, pulling the blanket up over her chest again. There’s a long pause, only the muffled sounds of laughter and salacious moans from other rooms filling the silence. You’re debating setting yourself up on the loveseat when Vi murmurs a quiet hey to capture your attention, then pats the space beside her in bed.

There are candles still burning on desks and tables and dressers throughout the room, lamps shining in shades of yellow and orange. You’ll lie down for only a moment, you tell yourself, long enough for Vi to doze off. Then you’d turn off the lights, blow out the candles, maybe sneak off to find a client looking for a fortune teller. You sense that Vi needs someone beside her for now, though, so you climb into bed, wrapping your frame in a velvety purple blanket.

Once you’ve settled in next to her, Vi turns on her side to face you. Her lips, rosebud pink, are chapped, and you watch her moisten them with a swipe of her tongue.

“Thank you,” she says, voice hushed. “For letting me stay here.”

I didn’t know where else to go.

You turn over to face her, too, the corners of your lips pulling upwards. “Of course. I’m glad you’re okay, Vi.”

There’s a softness in Vi’s expression, now - one that you hadn’t seen before. The tough facade has melted away, as has the hurt, the pain. All that’s left is her rounded, wide eyes, her relaxed jaw, the curve of her lips. You catch yourself staring too long, and when you look up again, Vi’s already watching you.

She raises a bandaged hand to your face, where it hovers an inch away. Her expression asks for permission, and when you lean into her touch, Vi’s hand cups your cheek with a gentleness you’d never think her capable of. Not with those scars, not with the cuts and bruises that have become a permanent fixture on her skin. Her thumb skates over your cheekbone, and the touch feels electric.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

Your breath hitches; you hope she doesn’t notice.

“I’m sure you hear that a lot,” Vi adds. And it’s true, you do.

You hesitate. Then: “Not from anyone who matters.”

Vi smiles - it’s a soft kind of smile, one that you wish you could take a photo of, frame it and hang it on the wall to return to when you need a reminder of the warmth in this moment. Her hand leaves your cheek and travels down to your arm, then finding your hand beneath the blankets. Your eyes feel heavy, suddenly - so must hers, because she doesn’t speak again. You fall asleep next to her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, her hand warm and heavy in yours.

When you wake up again, the room is a dark, inky blue.

You sit upright, back straight, memories of the night before slowly filtering into your mind. Half-expecting an empty space where Vi had once been, you glance to the side, finding her sleeping figure curled under the blankets. Chest tightening, you look down at her in the black dark, eyes straining.

Her eyes open, lashes fluttering, and you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” she murmurs back to you. One of her arms snakes around your waist, encouraging you to lie back, and you oblige. You’re closer than you were when you fell asleep, Vi’s steady breaths tickling at your shoulder.

You’re suddenly very aware of her skin on yours; your shirt has ridden up your stomach in your sleep, and Vi’s arm, wrapped around you, burns against you. Your stomach is warm with something delicious, something dangerous.

It doesn’t help when Vi pulls you closer, palm opening against the flesh of your hip. You’re frozen for a moment, wondering if she’s still sleeping, somehow.

“Vi?”

“Hm?” You feel her draw back, as if waiting for you to turn over, so you do. Eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you peer up at her.

“I think I know what I want.”

Vi’s quiet, her gaze steady on you. You’re about to take it back, whisper never mind and turn to sleep again, when she brings her hand back up to your cheek, cupping it in her hand the same way she had the night before.

“Tell me,” she whispers in the dark.

“I…” You hesitate. “I want you to touch me.”

There’s a long pause, Vi’s eyes flickering over your face, analyzing your expression. Your body is tense with anticipation, and when she finally, finally leans in to press her lips to yours, the tension seeps out of every muscle.

Like everything about her, Vi’s kiss is different - her touch is different. She holds your face as her lips move against yours, soft and wet and sweet, thumb stroking the soft skin of your cheek as her tongue traces the part of your lips. You open your mouth for her, let her lick into you to deepen the kiss.

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve been kissed like this. You’ve grown accustomed to hasty, messy kisses, foul breath and rough touches, far too many clients eager to skip past the kissing and get to the fucking. But Vi tastes like heaven as she takes her time with you, tongue soft as it pushes against yours. Every kiss leaves you aching for more, the warmth in your lower belly growing hotter with each smack of your lips against Vi’s. You pull back, catching your breath, and Vi peers at you with bleary eyes.

“You okay?” She asks, thumb still stroking at your cheek. You nod and pull her in for another kiss, drawing a soft moan from the bottom of her throat - one that goes straight to your cunt.

You’re not sure how long you continue like that, trapped in a heated kiss, bodies moving closer with every languid sigh and pleading moan. But eventually, the layers of clothing between you is a burden you can no longer bear. You pull back to work your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor before Vi tugs you close for another searing kiss. Your hands slip beneath the thin fabric of her tank, and she shivers, a full-body chill that makes you flush impossibly hotter. Once her shirt is discarded, too, Vi gently pushes you to lie flat on your back, climbing over you in nothing but a thin pair of shorts. You realize through the haze of lust clouding your mind that she must’ve woken up before you - she’d turned the lights off, taken off the stiff pair of pants she’d arrived in the night before.

Hovering over you in the dark, Vi’s an absolute dream. Tattoos decorate her pale complexion, inked into her arms, her shoulders, her neck - you’d already noticed that she’s heavily inked, but it’s more striking when she’s half-naked like this. You don’t have much time to look, though, because Vi leans over to tuck her face into your neck, warm lips latching to the sensitive skin and littering kisses in an imprecise path. You keen high in your throat, leaning the opposite way to grant her more access, your hands finding purchase on her narrow hips. When you dig your nails into her skin, hissing as she parts her lips over your neck and sucks, her hips buck forward, grinding her thinly-clothed heat over your pelvis. You nearly see stars.

There’s always been a cold draft in your room, in the brothel, and in Zaun as a whole. But here, now, you’re on fire. You lift your hips and push Vi down against your pelvis again, encouraging her to find that friction again, and she emits a muffled moan against your neck when she does. It’s heavenly, that sound - you want to hear it again and again and again, until it’s forever etched into your memory.

“Gods, Vi,” you gasp, her teeth scraping against your neck. She works her way further south, leaving kisses and bites in her wake, until she reaches the peaks of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty, fuck,” she murmurs, dazed. Both hands cup your tits and squeeze, her thumbs playing with the buds of your nipples until they’ve hardened from her touch. She then leans over to take one nipple into her mouth, moaning around the flesh as if she’d been dying for this. Her tongue draws wet circles over the sensitive bud, her cheeks hollowing out when she sucks at it until you’re gasping and writhing. You need her further down, where your cunt throbs and gushes in anticipation, but she takes her time with your other tit before she even considers undressing you further.

Still straddling your waist, Vi sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She flashes you a wicked smile, eyes twinkling, and lifts her hips to reach for the waistband of your shorts.

“This okay, pretty girl?”

You nod, biting your lip. Pretty girl.

Vi rolls your shorts down your thighs, pulls them off with ease and sets them to the side. Your panties are next - a simple, cotton pair that wasn’t anything flashy - and she tosses those to the edge of the bed, too distracted by the sight of your naked body to care much about where they landed.

Typically, you weren’t shy about your body. In your line of work, you couldn’t be shy - you had to know your features and work them to your benefit. But with Vi eyeing you like you’re a meal and she’s a woman starved, your stomach flutters with excitement and, somewhere, a glimmer of insecurity. The need to impress her.

And gods, does she seem impressed. She curses under her breath, her rough hands smoothing over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips and your thighs and your ass, licking her lips like she’s parched. You realize, as she settles her hands on your knees and works them apart for you, that she’d taken off her bandages, too. The thought evaporates as quickly as it had come, though, because now Vi’s settling between your spread legs, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” she tells you between kisses. “You gonna let me eat you out, sweetheart?”

The question sends another cascade of butterflies through your stomach. You take in a deep breath, enjoying the sight of Vi between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes. You might die if she doesn’t make you come soon.

A whispered “please” from your lips is all Vi needs - her mouth is on you in a moment, tongue splitting through your folds, warm and firm and wet. She licks at you languidly, takes her time spreading your arousal from your hole up to your clit. You’re drenched, you just know it, and Vi moans as if to confirm your suspicions, lapping up your wetness with every flick of her tongue. Just like she’d taken her time with her mouth on your tits, she takes her time with your cunt, sucking on the swollen bead of your clit until you’re whining her name between sharp breaths. It’s all you can manage to say, your hand tangled in her scarlet locks of hair, tugging at her scalp each time she circles your clit with her tongue. After she’s worked you up enough, you’re suddenly so empty - you need more, and you tell her as much, chest heaving.

“Vi, I need—fuck, I need your fingers,” you cry out.

She answers with a gratified hum, and the vibrations have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Just as you’d asked, though, Vi swipes a finger through your wetness; there’s hardly any resistance when she sinks the digit into your entrance, groaning again at the feeling of your walls around her.

“So wet for me,” she comments, grinning. “This what you needed?”

You nod, face twisting with pleasure. Vi just chuckles under her breath, working her fingers up to a steady pace. Once she has you moaning again, all high-pitched and needy, she latches her mouth back onto your clit, and you’re gone. You come hard, clamping down on Vi’s fingers and tossing your head back, eyes squeezed shut through every wave of pleasure - it’s only once you’ve come to that you finally open your eyes again, gazing down at Vi starry-eyed.

“Can I be honest, sweetheart?” She sits up on her heels, licking her lips. “That was hot.”

“You think so?” You ask, reaching out for her. She moves closer and kisses you, lets you taste yourself on her lips.

You pull back only to murmur, under your breath, “I’m not done with you, Vi.”

You’ve had sex with plenty of women in your lifetime, but few have made a real effort to make you come - and none have done it so fast. You’re determined to return the favor. So, with a pointed glance, you instruct Vi to lie back on the pillows, plucking one from behind her to set under her hips.

Vi had called you beautiful, but she’s utterly divine. All sharp edges and lean muscle, she’s a vision, and you’re almost convinced you’re dreaming as your hands smooth over the tattoos inked into her arms. You imagine yourself tracing each of those tattoos with your mouth, sucking bruises into the dark ink - but you’d do that later. Right now, all you want is to bury your face in the patch of red hair between her legs, lose yourself in the taste of her arousal.

Vi’s vocal, you conclude, because as you prod your tongue inside of her, nose bumping against her clit, she won’t shut up.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so good,” Vi moans, sitting up enough to allow her to watch as you lap at her pink cunt. An endless chorus of praises and curses leave her lips, punctuated with wanton moans. She’s needy, too - before long, she’s gripping a fistful of your hair and directing you with it, tugging you closer, to the side, to the other side, as she grinds her cunt down against your mouth. You revel in the way she’s using you, pleased when her stomach tenses and your name spills from her lips, warning you of her impending orgasm. She rides it out on your face, and when you finally pull back, you’re wet with her from nose to chin.

“You’re way too good at that,” Vi tells you when you crawl up beside her, rubbing the wetness off your nose.

“You’re just as good,” you respond. You move to lie down beside Vi, but when you see her frown, you arch a brow at her.

“Hm?”

“Sweetheart,” she coos, “I’m not done with you.”

She pulls you into her lap, lets you straddle the toned muscle of her pelvis. And after you’ve ground your pussy against her until you’re shaking with another release, she’s still not done.

It’s a long night. At the table in the corner of your bedroom, your deck of tarot cards lies spread face-down. There’s one card upright, though: two of cups.

#vi x reader #vi x reader fic #vi x reader smut #vi x you #vi x y/n #vi fic #vi arcane #vi arcane fic #vi arcane fanfic #vi arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #my writing

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thewertsearch · 16 hours ago

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If you can believe it, I was actually pretty confident that every important character in Homestuck had been revealed. I'd honestly assumed we were done with mysterious figures - but I guess the joke's on me.

So - we have a new conundrum on our hands. Just who is this new, green-blooded troll, and what's their agenda?

Well, despite the fact that I called this an 'Alternian' text console, I'm pretty sure they're not on Alternia. Every troll in that universe should have been killed by the Vast Glub - and, more broadly, the troll universe was violently bookended by Spades Slick during the events of Cascade. I don't expect us to ever hear from Alternia's universe again.

Therefore, I think our 'doctor' troll is dialing in from a completely different universe - or, potentially, a Sgrub session of their own. Their symbol implies some link to Scratch, or at least to the 'Doc' in his name - which, I should remind myself, was never actually explained.

I don't think there's much more I can say about them, just yet. Let's see what develops.

There she is! :D

Before we talk about anything else, let's take a moment to groan at the spoon symbol on reboot-Sburb's poster. The Skaianet of this universe is Betty Crocker, and – wild as it is to say – there's a very good chance that she's an agent of Lord English.

Sburb is almost certainly compromised.

Hiya, Jane! It's nice t-

God help us all.

Let me amend my previous statement.

Sburb is compromised, and so is Jane. It looks like she's in the custody of the Batterwitch - or, at least, the custody of someone who's loyal to the woman. I hope it's the latter, because her pre-Scratch counterpart was treated horrifically by Crocker during her own childhood.

Either way, Jane has been raised by a probable servant of English. Everything is fucked already.

You cannot enter her name!!! It was already engraved in her HONORARY PLACRONYM on her 13th birthday, which was about two and a half years ago [...].

So the Players are older, this time around.

Vriska was convinced that Sburb only chooses heroes on the cusp of puberty, but that assumption went out the window when we learned about Fedorafreak. Sburb chooses whoever it wants.

Attempting to engrave it with another name after completing this sacred rite of passage is practically unheard of [...].

This is clearly another riff on the naming jokes from back in Act 1, but... well, a world where your assigned name is sacred and inviolable is a pretty scary thought to me, personally.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s176 #4114

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deadlychansaw · 2 days ago

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— hope

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x reader

warnings: vomiting, no use of y/n, bit angst, pregnancy, it happens during ep 2 s2

a/n: omg first time writing something like this, i hope someone enjoy this 🫣

00:30 was the number sparkling in neon red in her bedside watch. She couldn't stop looking at it. She couldn't sleep. How could she? The bed too big and cold for her to be alone, she missed her husband. Where was he?

She thought that after the coma he would retire and live peacefully with her, maybe in some cabin in the woods with two kids and a dog. this thought alone made her want to tear up.

She knew being a police officer was dangerous, so every time he wasn't home she feared that something had happened. This made her want to throw up, and she did.

That was unusual for her, maybe... no. It couldn't be. But when was the last time she had her period again? It was nine days late, this was also unusual. How haven't she noticed it?

00:45. She couldn't wait until morning so she picked up her car and went to a 24h open drugstore

"Do you need any help, miss?"

"I want a pregnancy test"

"Are you alright, dear?"

She hadn't noticed that small tears started to run down her face.

"I will be"

As the old lady gave her the test she smiled sympathetically and said:

"I'm sure you will. You don't need to be afraid"

" My husband is a cop" She felt the need to reply

"Oh, I see. But you will be fine, dear. I felt the same when my husband fought in war."

This time, she didn't reply.

She got home after speeding the car a little more than necessary and running a few red lights and went straight to the bathroom to do the goddamn test.

Palms sweaty, hands shaking and feet stomping in circles. It hasn't even passed the three minutes the test needed to be ready, just a few more seconds and...

oh.

Positive. p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

She was pregnant and wasn't even sure her husband would return home. Where are you Jun-ho?

"Babe, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His voice reached her ears like the light in the end of a dark tunnel.

"I was waiting for you"

"My love, you know you don't need to"

"But I wanted to. Where were you?"

"I was in some kind of a car chase, but they shot in my tires"

That made her eyes open wide. "What? Chasing who? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. I wish I could tell you everything but i don't wanna put you at risk"

"I accepted the risk the day i accepted to be your wife. Please tell me. I'd rather know what i'm scared of"

"I guess you're right"

So he tells her everything. The games, his brother, his plan with Gi-hun. Everything.

"That is awful. Unbelievably awful. How can some people be so disgusting and evil? Gosh, that makes me sick"

She ran to the bathroom and started to vomit in the toilet, he ran after her and held her hair.

"Are you okay? I know it's s lot to process"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry for this, now you'll never want to kiss me again."

"There's not a world where i wouldn't want to kiss you" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "But let's brush those teeth, shall we?"

Jun-ho gets up to put toothpaste in her toothbrush and give it to her.

"I don't know what i did to deserve you, Jun-ho"

"I am the lucky one here, babe. You're still here with me after everything i told you."

"i'm not leaving your side. Never."

He picks her up in bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my wife to bed, as i should"

He really was the sweetest thing in her life, she needed to tell him already. All the what-ifs started coming to head again what if he doesn't want a child? what if he doesn't have time to form a family? what if he never come back home anymore?

"Babe, are you crying?"

"Do you really need to search for that island?"

"I do. These games need to stop."

"I don't want anything bad happening to you"

"I promise it won't. I will always come back home to you" He seals the promise by joining their lips in a long, slow and passionate kiss.

"Jun-ho, I need to tell you something but i'm so afraid of how you're gonna react."

"You don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm always here for you no matter what"

"I- I am pregnant" She doesn't wait for him to answer. " I know it's not the right time, and maybe you don't even want to be a dad and-"

She sees that he opened his characteristically big and warm smile, one that lights up her whole world.

"Are you... happy?"

"Are you kidding? Babe i feel like the luckiest guy of all South Korea. I'm so happy. Oh my god, i'm gonna have a daughter "

That made her chuckle.

"We don't know if it's a girl"

"Oh i'm sure of that. We need to celebrate"

"Celebrate? At this time? How?

"Hmm, i can think of a few ways..."

And she had a feeling she haven't felt in a while. relief. Hope.

#hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader #squid game #squid game x reader #jun ho squid game

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spiderfunkz · 2 days ago

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SEND YOU MY LOVE ON A WIRE!

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. fluff, reader is alternative and plays the bass, no games au.

author's note: guys i don't know anything about instruments okay💔💔 i'm not sure if i did justice for this one, my knowledge for the subculture is very limited but i tried my best.

wandering through the streets of seoul late at night wasn't exactly the plan for cho hyun-ju.

after a long day at work, all she wanted to do was to eat at her favorite restaurant. she could already imagine sipping on the warm hearty soup. unfortunately though, the place was closed for the rest of the week.

now she has found herself staring into the window of a local pub. the music playing gave her a sense of nostalgia and starstruck-ness. the tunes brought a small wave of relief to hyun-ju, no matter how loud it was, it felt empowering.

a band was putting on a show there. hyun-ju was mesmerized by the melody, the genuine emotions it stirred, and also the cute bassist.

but to her luck the band stopped playing rather abruptly.

a rush of muttering and soon shouting came along with it. the band left the pub silently, walking towards the old van parked nearby.

the bassist followed behind them.

this could be the time to start a conversation with her, hyun-ju thinks, she could come up with many topics. it has been a long day, some small talk with a girl couldn't hurt, right?

"excuse me?" her hands awkwardly fidgeted, she wonders if you were even in the mood to talk. her worries were soon brushed off as she was met with a friendly smile.

"hi!" the light reflected on you, hyun-ju noticed your makeup. it looks flawless, everything seemed to compliment your features very well.

"could i help you with something?" your voice was just as angelic as the singer— well, you were in a band, that talent must've lingered for all the members.

hyun-ju's mouth began talking faster than her head could comprehend it, "is it okay if i ask why you stopped playing in there?"

you laugh, "oh yeah, i guess the guy, owner, whatever- was expecting we play something.. softer? i don't know. i'm assuming he didn't read the list of songs we were gonna play."

hyun-ju nods, "i thought it was really nice."

"the guy thought otherwise," you shrug.

"you played very well there, i only heard a bit of it. but you looked very skilled." hyun-ju's voice made it sound like it was more of a statement. she was genuinely in awe of your talent.

"i'm just the bassist, credits should be given to the guitarist or singer if anything."

"but the bass ties it together, no? it controls the rhythm and pace, i think it enhances the tune of the song you were playing," hyun-ju smiles, she hopes she doesn't sound too sheepish or weird, "you brought a nice sense of energy and aura."

her words definitely struck a chord with you.

"what's your name, pretty?" your words caught the woman off guard, "oh, hyun-ju, cho hyun-ju."

"well, hyun-ju, do you want to grab a drink with me?"

"what about your band?" she gestures to the van that has been waiting for you this entire time, "i can handle it. they won't mind too much, besides, we're not gonna play anything else tonight."

hyun-ju nods, excited.

"okay then, i know a spot."

you motion to the van to leave without you, the bass still strapped on your back. hyun-ju's eyes focused on you before giving a small wave to the van driving away.

hyun-ju was wrong. wandering the streets of seoul late at night was the perfect plan. to meet someone as talented and gorgeous as you, she was able to ease off for the night. forgetting all the worries that laced her thoughts earlier today.

the night felt more lively than ever. you got to tell her many things, such as; your love for alternative rock, how you eventually learned the bass, how you met your friends slash bandmates, and how you discovered yourself through the art of music. you got to share your views and perspectives, your makeup routine, your favorite places to play at— hyun-ju listened to every single word that came out of you.

you noticed it. "say, hyun-ju, would you like to go out sometime? grab another drink maybe, or go to a place of your choice?"

"i would love to."

"okay then," you grab a piece of paper and pen hidden in your pocket, you had this planned all along, did you?

"here, give me a call, pretty."

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moody-alcoholic · 2 days ago

Text

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 11 - Epilogue

CW: nightmares.

AN: I have had so much fun writing this. It was such a breath of fresh air to take a break from my main series and write a quick 'mini fic'. I have other ideas for more 'mini fic's' in the future. For now I thought I should wrap this up. Thank you for everyone who liked commented and shared this around, even for people who just read it and enjoyed it, thank you so much and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Previous parts - masterlist

As soon as Simon is discharged you all fly back to the UK.

You end up at the house with Simon on bed rest. Not that he listens, he’s worse than Johnny was. You stay in the house with them, sleeping in the bed with Simon so you can help him when he needs to pee in the middle of the night.

John has been busy cleaning up the mess from the base as well as making sure Simon doesn’t get discharged. Him and Kyle usually spend their days out at a base somewhere leaving you Johnny and Simon at the house. You don’t mind, you’ll spend as much time as you can with them.

Johnny cooks and cleans, Simon jokes he’s turning into a housewife. When you offer to help none of them will have it, doting on you almost as much as Simon.

“You don’t have to feel guilty. I can do things for myself.” You remind them.

“Don’t even think about it. What did you want? A sandwich?” Johnny asks and sticks his head out from round the kitchen.

“Cheese and pickle.” You smile. Simon’s hands grip your waist pulling you back up against him.

“And a packet of quavers.” He whispers in your ear.

“And a packet of quavers.” You call. You lay back against him and he kisses your head.

“You’re one tough cookie, you know that.” He says after a few minutes of silence. You turn to look up at him, frowning.

“What Graves put you through. What I-” He chokes on the words. You break away from his embrace.

“Stop. We don’t have to talk about this.” You say bringing your hand up to stroke his cheek. You sigh watching his eyes drop.

“Simon.” You stop, you're not sure what you want to say. You pick up one of his hands. “It’s okay, I spent months in therapy, It’s part of the job. You were just doing your job.”

He hangs his head and sighs. “It’s not fair, we shoulda waited, you deserve better.” You lean over and kiss him. Deep pressing your tongue in his mouth, you wrap one of your hands round the back of his neck. You pull away from the kiss put keep your forehead on his.

“You don’t get to feel guilty Simon Riley. I forgive you. I love you.” You sit back on your knees looking at him, squeezing his hand, you smile.

“I love you too.” He says. You rub his cheek again then turn to lay back in his arms. As soon as his arm has come round your chest, he plants a kiss on your head and Johnny comes in with a plate of food. Simon leans over picking up the packet of quavers.

“Nothing else till later you’ll spoil yer tea, John’s bringing fish n' chips.” Johnny says walking out the room. You smile and reach over for your plate.

…

You must have fallen asleep in Simon’s arms because the slamming of the front door jumps you out of what was starting to feel like an overly realistic dream. The smell of fish and chip fat fills your nose as John and Kyle walk into the living room.

“Have you two been sat their all day?” Kyle asks, kicking his shoes off.

“Mother won’t let us leave.” You say, your voice grumbles with sleep. Simon starts to sit up and you do the same yawning and stretching your arms and legs. John has gone out into the kitchen while Kyle opens the bags of food on the coffee table.

“Got cod, chips, peas and scraps. What do you want?” Kyle asks, John comes back with plates. Kyle serves Simon as John comes over to kiss the top of your head. You look up at him smiling.

“Busy day?” You ask as he strokes your chin with his thumb.

“Always busy when we’re around.” John says going over to the other sofa. As Kyle piles a plate high with chips and fish for him, then passes it to him with a fork.

“Heard back from the medical board yet?” Johnny asks as he comes into the room with a bottle of pop and glasses.

“As a matter of fact-” John starts as he rests the plate on his lap reaching over to his bag next to the sofa. He rummages through muttering to himself until he pulls out a piece of paper. He hands it out to Simon. “Expect to see you back for duty in a month, Lieutenant.” John smiles. Johnny’s giddy snatching the paper out John's hand and reading it like he almost doesn’t believe it.

“Fuck you got a whole 2 months off. I only got a month.” He says reaching over to hand it to Simon. “I even had one of those lung things.” He says, shaking his head, clicking his fingers at you.

“A lung resection.” You say leaning over Simon's shoulder to look at the letter.

“Took half me bloody lung out! I’ll never smoke again.” He says sitting down on the sofa next to John. You look at Kyle chuckling and scooting back on the floor to sit between John's legs.

“You don’t smoke Johnny.” You say looking back over at him. John is fishing through his bag for something else. He reaches out to you. It’s folded up in an envelope.

“Transfer papers. For you to sign. That is if you really do want to come back.” There’s silence in the room, the only noise coming from the low volume of the TV, everyone is looking at you as you reach out to take the papers. You smile nodding then sit back on the sofa opening them up.

You hear Johnny and Kyle start up a conversation as you read over the standard legal jargon of the contract. You do want to join 141 again, you just hope nothing has changed.

…

You dream a lot about your torture, thats normal thats to be expected. When it’s a good day it’s Graves and his faceless shadows. When it’s a bad day its John and Simon, Simon never has his mask on unlike your actual torture.

He didn’t do it, Ghost did. That's what you tell yourself when you wake in a pool of sweat panting, feeling like someone is sitting on your chest. Your legs and arms tingle.

Yesterday was a good day, but you dreamt it was John. You look over in the bed trying to slow your breathing. Simon’s back is turned to you, you can hear him snoring softly. You turn over in bed sitting up. Your transfer papers sit on your bedside table, illuminated by the crack in the curtains.

You get up and sneak out the room trying to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Simon. You step over the hall to John’s room. When you push the door open you see him and Kyle lying in bed. Suddenly you want to go back, leave them be.

You can’t, you want to be with them. You slowly crawl on the bottom of the bed, Kyle has his back pressed up against John, as soon as he feels you start to wiggle between him he snaps awake.

“Hey love, you okay?” Kyle asks making room so you can crawl in.

“Yeah.” You whisper shuffling under the sheets. John turns around in the bed his arm coming over you to reach Kyle. A second later he seems to notice you in the bed, his hand comes up to brush your face.

“Something wrong, you’ve been crying love?” He says his voice deep from sleep. You didn’t even realise that.

“I just missed you,” You say, turning to face him. His thumb brushes your cheeks, your eyes have adjusted to the light and you can see his eyes shining in the dark.

“We’re all here.” Kyle says shifting up behind you pulling your shoulder slightly so you lay against him. You smile.

“I know, I know you are.” You say, closing your eyes. Kyle kisses the top of your head and John moves closer to you pulling the duvet up to your neck. He kisses you, a soft peck on your lips, you feel the tickle of his beard. His arm rests on your waist, rubbing your side as he breaks away from the kiss.

You close your eyes letting them hold you in their arms, the sound of their breathing lulls you back to sleep.

…

You’re up early the next morning slipping out the bed before anyone else is up. You’re sat at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in your hands when John makes his way over to the coffee machine.

“Mornin’” he says, turning it on.

“You going to the base today?” You ask taking a sip as he takes a mug down from the cupboard.

“Yeah, still got a bunch of intel to go through on the Makarov leads.” he says, turning to look at you while the coffee machine warms up. You slide the envelope over to him.

“Think I can help?” You ask, smiling. He comes round to you, throwing his arms around you before you have a chance to stop him. He buries his nose into your neck and you hug him back.

“You know for a second I was worried you changed your mind.” He breaks from the hug cupping your cheeks.

“I love you.” You say. He kisses you.

“I love you too.” You smile the biggest smile at him as you hear the coffee machine beep.

“Mornin’ lass sleep well?” Johnny asks, his hand landing on your back. John gets up going back to the coffee machine.

“Yeah. I did.” You smile going to take another sip of your tea.

You sleep well that night too, squished between Johnny and Simon. There are no more bad day or good day dreams. Nightmares come sometimes but it’s always Graves and his faceless shadows, and when you do wake in a panic someone is always there. John or Simon, Kyle or Johnny. They’re always by your side.

You stick by their side too, besides someone has to pull the bullets out of them.

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regalastor · 2 days ago

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Amor in ea Purissima Est

Lucius Verus Aurelius x fem!OC

summary: Lucius makes a new friend who causes him to reflect on his own loneliness.

author's notes: This is my first time posting my writing in years, so I would love any and all feedback! I would love to continue this story if people are interested. Lots of canon divergence is present in this fic!

warnings: discussions that hint at violence, abuse, and loss of a spouse. rating: 18+ (eventually).

It was only just over six months since Lucius’ ascension to the throne before women were being thrown at him by his mother. They had spoken at length about the loss of his wife, and his old life, but as time went on, she became more insistent that he not only needed an heir, but also he needed a companion. He knew she did not only mean the physicality of a relationship, but the trust and comfort provided by a partner. He had met with the women she’d asked him to, and sat at tables with noble families, but he had been painfully uninterested. His mother had accused him of being difficult only for the sake of disagreeing with her, and part of him wondered if that was true, but either way, he remained uninterested in his options.

“What did you not like about her?” His mother asked one day after yet another social gathering had ended. Lucius knew she was referring to his newly appointed general’s daughter; with whom he had spoken to at great length.

“It was not that I did not like her,” He thought about his words for a moment. “I have been in love, I know what it is supposed to feel like, and I will not settle for less.” Lucilla demonstrated her agreement by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

><><

Lucius grabbed the arm of the young boy and yanked him backwards, nearly knocking him off of his feet, just in time for the child to evade being run over by a carriage. The streets near the Senate building were always bustling and he could often make it through without many people noticing him at all, but it was rare to see a child wandering around this part of the city alone.

“Eyes forward around here,” Lucius said, helping the child to stand up straight. The boy blinked up at him a few times, and Lucius could tell his eyes were beginning to water. He couldn't have been older than six years old, and his chest ached a little, he hadn’t intended to scare the boy. “What are you doing here alone?” Lucius asked, looking around for any sign of parents.

“I am not alone,” The boy huffed slightly, making Lucius’ lips turn upward a little at his attitude—the boy clearly had no idea who he was, but that did not bother him in the slightest. “My mother was with me, and she told me to stay close, but then I saw-” The child’s eyes drifted towards the Praetorian Guard that was stationed outside the senate.

“The Praetorian?” Lucius asked, and the little boy nodded, his ears turning red as if he were being scolded for his disobedience. “What is your name?”

“Cato.”

“I am Lucius,” Lucius offered the child his hand; the boy shook his hand strongly, making Lucius smile slightly once again. “Come,” He gestured towards the guards, making Cato’s eyes widen. As Lucius approached the guards, Cato still a step behind him, he shook his head slightly, hoping they would get the hint not to bow, or frighten the boy. Cato looked at the tall soldiers, who were still standing at attention, with adoration in his eyes as he examined their swords and armor. “Have you ever held a sword?” Lucius asked the boy, and he shook his head.

“My father died when I was too little,” He shrugged, looking up at Lucius for a moment. The emperor reached out his hand and was quickly handed his own sword; he knelt down and held it in front of the boy, carefully keeping his hand away from the blade. While Lucius had never had kids himself, he was a part of a community for most of his life and therefore surrounded by children.

“This sword was my grandfather’s and then my father’s and now it is mine,” Lucius explained, watching as the little boy took in every detail of the golden hilt.

“Are you a gladiator?” Cato asked after a moment, and Lucius sucked in a breath at the memories.

“Once, yes, but now my purpose has changed,” He said gently. Cato’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What could be more important?”

“You, your family, your friends, the people of Rome. I have sworn to protect them and to help them all with all of my strength and power, and I intend to do so,” Lucius said, he realized he was talking too broadly and in too grand of a manner for the boy to understand, but Cato nodded along nonetheless, acting as if he was fully in on the meaning of the conversation.

“I want to be a warrior,” Cato said after a moment. “I want to protect my mother,” He said resolutely. Lucius smiled at him.

“I want to protect my mother as well,” He agreed. “We should find your mother before she worries too much about your safety,” Lucius took the sheath from the guard and wrapped it around his waist before sliding his sword into its proper place. Lucius sent the Praetorian a nod in a silent instruction to stay put. “Do you know where she may be?” Lucius asked Cato; the boy thought for a moment before nodding. He reached out and pulled on Lucius’ hand, a gesture that made the emperor’s jaw drop slightly, but one he accepted nonetheless.

“She makes medicine and stuff, and then we bring it here to sell it,” Cato explained, weaving through the crowd. Some people turned to look at Lucius, but in the clothes of a warrior, and with his hand in this little boy’s, it was very unlikely that anyone would recognize him. Lucius just followed and kept an eye on the little boy as he searched the crowds for his mother, after a while of his pulling on women’s skirts and then being disappointed by the face that looked down at him, Lucius decided to pick him up, in hopes of helping his see amongst the crowd. So, they continued wandering around the market, with Cato on Lucius’ hip as he looked around wildly for his mother.

“Mama!” Cato yelped and quickly attempted to squirm out of Lucius’ grip, causing the emperor to quickly put the boy on his feet. Cato gripped Lucius’ hand again and pulled him through the crowd. Soon, Cato was throwing himself at the legs of a woman, she all but fell down as she held him against her. She pressed her cheek to his head, and it was obvious she was crying. She must have been so scared, all the while her son was playing with swords and making new friends. Lucius shifted on his feet; he knew he should leave them, but he also felt uncomfortable leaving the child alone without explaining himself, or at least greeting the woman.

“Never, ever, do that again! How dare you run off like that?” The woman cupped Cato’s face in her hands and she ran her thumbs over his cheeks and flattened his hair like she was assuring herself that he was really in front of her and alright. Lucius could fully see her face now. She was younger than he had expected, with lightly tanned skin, light blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Her lips were plump and her face was defined, yet soft at the same time. She was stunning, and something about her made his heart beat faster.

“I’m sorry, mama, I didn’t mean to,” Cato said earnestly, and the woman sucked in a deep breath like she was trying to remain calm and not lose her patience with him. “I saw the soldiers,” The boy turned slightly and pointed at Lucius. “And got distracted,” The woman looked at him for a second before her eyes widened and she stood up quickly. She spun Cato around and pulled his back into her front, her arm wrapping around his chest protectively.

“I am so sorry, sir, if he disturbed the peace. I can promise you he is not a defiant boy, he just-” Lucius realized she thought he was Praetorian—-someone who could act violently with no justification. She was scared her son was in trouble.

“Please,” Lucius interrupted her, and he held out a hand in front of him, in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. “He has done no harm, nor is he in any trouble,” He assured the women. Her grip on Cato loosened a little. “He nearly wandered into the road, and then I helped him find you.” The woman swallowed once, still clearly assessing him. She seemed so frightened, so tense, and Lucius wondered what Cato was so adamant about protecting his mother from.

“Thank you for your help, truly,” She spoke softly. Lucius inclined his head in her direction.

“Lucius is my friend,” Cato said looking up at his mother. The woman smiled a little at that, but her eyes still seemed panicked.

“I see,” She slowly released her grip on her son fully, allowing him to stand in between the two adults. She stared at Lucius for a moment, and her heart began to beat faster as their blue eyes met. Something about him felt familiar, but that feeling of recognition was overtaken by her attraction to him. He was tan, tall, and muscular, with short, chocolate-colored, wavy brown hair and deep blue eyes. His nose was perfectly Roman, his beard was short and well-kept, and his lips were full and pink. “Well, we should be going,” She said after a moment, realizing she had most certainly been staring at him for too long. She didn’t seem to notice that he was staring back at her in order to admire her beauty as well.

“Can Lucius come to dinner?” Cato asked and the woman’s cheeks flushed.

“No, Cato, he-” The woman looked to Lucius for help.

“You are very kind to invite me,” Lucius assured. “But, I think your mother needs your help, and I have to go back to work,” He squatted down so that he was closer to eye-level with the child. He placed a hand on his little shoulder. “Protect your mother, and be strong, and you will be a warrior,” He said to the boy and Cato nodded resolutely.

“Thank you, again,” The woman said once he stood back up to his full height.

“May I ask your name?” Lucius asked just as she took Cato’s hand to guide him away.

“Anna Evander,” She smiled softly. The family name sounded vaguely familiar, but he did not recognize her.

“I am at your service, domina,” He smiled gently at her. She smiled back once more before guiding her son away.

That night, as Lucius sat on one of the many balconies in the palace, alone, all he could think about was Anna, and that maybe, he did not have to be sitting alone.

#lucius verus #lucius verus aurelius #gladiator ll #paul mescal x reader #gladiator movie #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x oc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #maximus decimus meridius #emperor commodus #emperor geta #fanfic #ancient rome #original story

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m00nkissedlover · 1 day ago

Note

hello hello! just wanted to say how amazing your works are and im such a sucker for your leona fics the most (heuheueh ☺️)

was wondering if i could req a fluff fic for riddle this time around ? (id request for a leona but maybe another time hihi 💓) ur more than free to get creative with this one :))) take ur time as there is no rush <3 have a good day ahead ! 🍰

・｡rules 📚

you've ordered: a honey lemon tart! enjoy!

"can you settle down my soul?"

riddle rosehearts x reader | word count: 820 words

summary: in which you get riddle to relax a little📚

warnings: none!

note: my first ever request!! thank you so much @linlinmoon for requesting this fic, i hope it's to your liking. 🫶🏾 also, i don't center riddle's whole personality around being strict and a rule follower. he obviously has a more complex character than this, but for this little blurb, i just wrote whatever. (i'm genuinely sorry if this sucks T-T)

riddle was stickler for rules. it was the only reason why the heartslabyul dorm hadn't burned down yet. and as much as the dorm's inhabitants hated to admit it, some of these rules actually made sense, taking the members health into account for instance. but some were just plain ridiculous.

you, on the other hand, were a free spirit. you didn't like being tied down by rules, unless there was legitimate reason for them. having to hear ace and deuce (mainly ace) complain about the ridiculous things riddle had them do just because it was "the queen's rules" made you thank the great seven that you were in ramshackle.

because of these reasons, people couldn't believe that you had accepted riddle's feelings and made him your boyfriend. "rules-are-the-crux-of-my-life" and "rules-can-suck-my-wand" were together? like....together together?? they were absolutely floored when they saw you press a kiss to riddle's cheek before class that day, completely baffled at seeing riddle's face get so red for a reason other than pure anger.

like they say: opposites attract.

it was the day after a big exam and you wanted to give riddle a little surprise to help him relax. he'd never admit it, but you knew the redheaded housewarden was more than exhausted from staying up night after night to cram as much information into his brain as he could.

as you saw him walking down the hall, you excitedly creeped up behind him, covering his eyes with your hands.

"guess who?" you whispered, a shiver running down riddle's spine.

"i would guess floyd, but he's much taller and would call me goldfish...so it has to be you, y/n." he said, placing his hands over yours to pull them away from his eyes.

"are you free later today?" you hummed, playfully bumping riddle's hip with yours as you two walked.

he let out a yelp of surprise, playfully scolding you. "mhm. why, if may i ask?"

"well, i just wanna hang out with my boyfriend from time to time." you laughed, riddle grabbing your arm and stopping you from walking. "what's the matter?"

"your tie's crooked..." he murmured, shaking his head. "one must always look presentable."

"you and your rules." you muttered, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "i'll see you at 8:00?"

riddle's cheeks flushed once again, his annoyed expression coming off nothing more than flustered. "i'll think about it."

it was now 8:15 pm. classes had long since ended and you were currently waiting for riddle. where he had gone off to was anyone's guess.

"i'll just wait a few more minutes..." you told yourself, taking out a book from your bag to read.

1 minute passed...2 minutes...5 minutes...until-

"y/n? y/n, wake up." you felt yourself being shaken out of your little nap, your eyes blinking away sleep.

"hm? riddle, is that you?" you murmured, sitting up and stretching.

"i'm so sorry i kept you waiting. the boys didn't take care of the flamingos properly today, so i had to oversee them and make sure they wore pink." another one of those ridiculous rules.

"it's alright. we still have time to take a walk in the garden." you suggested, riddle happily agreeing.

you and riddle were now walking in the school garden, hand in hand. you'd made some lemonade for yourself earlier that day, now sharing some with your boyfriend.

"y/n?"

"hm?" you turned your attention back to riddle, who was suspiciously eyeing the tumbler of lemonade.

"did you put...honey in this, by chance?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"well, yeah. i think it tastes better with honey." you explained, obviously knowing his reasoning for asking.

riddle put the glass down immediately, a look of horror on his face.

"no! that's against the rules! rule number 256: no drinking honey-sweetened lemonade after-mph!"

you silenced his panic with a soft kiss, your hands gently cradling his possibly rose red face. your prediction was proven correct when you pulled away and saw just how red his cheeks were.

"riddle, you'll stress yourself to death with all these rules. sometimes, you just need to relax." you told him, the housewarden's frowning and flustered face making your heart warm.

"i know. it's just-"

"it's just nothing. you know i don't like seeing you all stressed and agitated. will you please just relax? for me?" you hummed, cupping his cheek in your hand.

riddle let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. he really was trying to tone it down, but he couldn't help it. it was in his nature.

"from now on, i'll try to be more lax, unless it's completely necessary." riddle agreed, taking a sip of the lemonade you made.

"note to self: make riddle more honey-sweetened lemonade." you teased, riddle rolling his eyes before quickly (and shyly) pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"you're lucky...that i love you..."

"i love you too, my rose red rule book ."📚

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lordprettyflackotara · 1 day ago

Note

Hey Tara, could you do some Toby fluff? Like, specifically a fempov after a nasty breakup...??? Sorry for the weird request ik you usually do smut but I love your style and need some sort of comfort after my boyfriend left me, even if it is just a fictional character... Love you ❤️

-🫀

crown || ticci toby

‘wait, you can’t please everybody’

sum: after a messy breakup you’re undeniably heartbroken and toby wants to make you feel better

tw: unintentionally a little angsty but mostly fluff

a/n: my dearest anon, i am so sorry i just now saw your request. i hope this is not too late and hopefully helps you navigate through your journey and makes you feel a little better. i went through a messy breakup around christmas as well and feel like this resonates with me as well. i’m not the best at writing fluff but i tried, i hope you enjoy and are doing well <3

“I-I found you!”

You could hear that Toby was excited, even as your back was turned to him. You had been curled up in a ball for the past hour, hiding in the attic of the mansion. Dust covered boxes were scattered around the room, your small form perched beside the oval window. You didn’t say anything, unable to match Toby’s typical perky energy. Your knees were tucked to your chest, your gaze settled on the grass outside.

Toby frowned slightly at your lack of a response, the young proxy walking around one of the boxes. “Hey, y-you good?” He asked unsurely. Toby wasn’t good at handling negative emotions, or so he thought. The moonlight gave him a good look at your face, which made his eyes go wide. Bags hung under your eyes, your lips chapped so much they were becoming cracked. Your eyes were undeniably puffy, which he suspected to be from hours of crying. He approached you quickly, squatting down in front of you. He shoved his orange goggles onto his head, licking his own dry lips.

“T-Talk to m-me, what’s wrong?”

The concern lacing Toby’s words was almost enough to send you over the edge again. You inhaled, trying to refrain from more salty tears from escaping your waterline.

“We didn’t workout.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, your ex boyfriend’s name on the tip of your tongue. It felt odd to think about, nevertheless say out loud. Toby’s brain instantly clicked, his bandaged hand reaching out to touch yours. “That’s a g-good thing though r-right? Wasn’t he an asshole towards t-the end anyways?” He asked unsurely. Your eyes were sharp as you met his puppy dog gaze, your flicker of anger immediately diminishing. Instead you took a deep breath, realizing how irrational your scattered emotions were.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“It’s not that simple. You don’t know, how horrid the actual breakup was. It was like, the shell of the person I used to know. The man I used to know vanished right before my eyes and got replaced with whatever the fuck he is now,” You rambled. You could feel yourself getting worked up, Toby’s eyes softening as he looked up at you. “I spent so much time, so much time with him and now it’s wasted. Gone. Like it meant nothing at all to him, but it meant everything to me,” You continued. Tears flooded your waterline with ease, painful flashes of memories appearing in your mind. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to stop the tears from flowing. “And I don’t know how i’m supposed to do this. How i’m supposed to waltz around like I know what i’m doing. He was my rock and now he’s gone. It’s like he was never here and I feel like i’m going insane,” You whimpered lowly, unable to stop the tears from free falling.

Toby was never good with dealing with heavy human emotions. Most of the time the responsibility of handling them was handled by someone else in the mansion. But you were the apple of his eye, one his favorite people to walk the planet. So instead he tuned into his instincts, hoping that what he was about to do was even semi socially appropriate. He rose to his feet, sitting across from you on the bench built into the large window. Stretching his long arms outwards he wrapped them around you, pulling you against him abruptly. You tensed for a moment, feeling Toby hold you so close. It wasn’t until your brain registered his warmth and earthy scent that you finally allowed yourself to crumble.

You felt like your lungs were going to collapse, your breath shallow as you nuzzled your face into his chest. Your chest felt tight, your sobs muffled as you cried into his signature jacket. Your soft sounds only made him hold you tighter, the brunette careful to not squeeze you too hard. Toby swallowed, bringing his slender fingers to your hair. Unsurely, he began to stroke it, hoping it would bring you some sort of ease. He continued these actions until you had no tears left to cry, your wheezing now simmering down to deep breaths. “I’m s-sorry I don’t h-have the inhaler,” Toby apologized, regretting leaving it with Tim. (It was in fact Tim’s inhaler).

His sudden outburst made you chuckle, even as a few more stray tears slid down your cheeks. You pulled back a few inches, just enough for Toby to see your face. He didn’t like seeing you like this, so hurt. Without thinking he raised his hand, fingertips grazing your cheek as he tucked some stray hairs behind your ear. “F-Fuck him, you’re the important one, y-you’re the one,” Toby said as confidently as he could muster. You knew his words meant well, even if they didn’t come out the way he meant for them to. He used the pad of his thumb to swipe away the few remaining tears, cupping your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed, your face relaxing in the palms of his hands.

Social constructs were a mystery to Toby, truthfully. But he knew in this moment to do what he thought was best. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He ignored any emotion he felt towards the gesture, his attention completely centralized on you. “Y-You know i’m not the b-b-best with words, but I p-promise everything’s gonna be okay,” He mumbled, his chocolate eyes filled with worry as he tried to catch your gaze. Your glassy eyes eventually met his, your bottom lip trembling as you confessed, “He’s the one who left me, Toby.”

You might as well have shot him dead then and there. Toby couldn’t feel pain, due to a list of neurological disorders he couldn’t bother to remember. But he knew for a fact he felt a pang of despair mixed with anger thud in his chest. “P-Piece of shit,” He grumbled, his hands still cupping your cheeks. The animalistic side of Toby wanted to find him, to make him hurt for causing you so much pain. But the soft look in your eyes, the way you were borderline clinging to him, made those thoughts evaporate. You came first. You needed him. You needed Toby more than you needed anyone. Swallowing thickly Toby tilted your head upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re b-better off without him, alright? I never liked him anyways,” Toby started. Maybe this wasn’t the correct way to comfort someone, maybe he should try a different route instead of spewing insults. He dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small joint. “It’s n-not much but, we can s-smoke and talk about it,” He offered. This made a sad smile creep up your lips, your hands moving to open the window. “I think i’d like that Toby,” You agreed. You both readjusted in your seats, turning to face the window. Toby admired the moon as you took the joint between your lips, sparking the lighter. Again, social constructs were foreign to him. But as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, he got the sense he made the right decision.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #ticcy toby x you #ticci toby x you #jeff the killer x ticci toby #eyeless jack x ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby smut #ticci toby #ticci toby fluff

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bteezxyewriter12 · 3 days ago

Text

Watch the Movie

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 3.6k

Includes- Fingering, cock warming, clit rubbing, cock riding, squirting, semi public sex, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000 @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Yoongi Masterlist

J POV

I try to settling in Yoongi's lap but I'm too aware of his body and mine

I keep moving, can't get comfortable and I hear him sighing behind me

"Are you guys ready?", Jungkook asks, turning around

"Yeah", Yoongi says

Jungkook nods and turns on the movie

"Stop moving and watch the movie", Yoongi says and I know he's rolling his eyes

I wouldn't be in this predicament if I just stayed in my chosen seat on the corner of the couch, next to Tae

But no, I had be dying of thirst and I had to get up and grab a water bottle

I came back and Jimin was in my seat, talking to Tae

Annoyed, I went to sit on the floor, the only available seat, when my best friend told me to come sit with him on the recliner

I thought he'd move over and we'd squeeze in together

Color me surprised when he pulled me on his lap, putting the blanket he had before over both of us

If this was two years ago, I wouldn't care

But over the last two years my feelings for my best friend changed

Of course I always knew he's completely hot and gorgeous

I knew since we were teenagers

But he was still my dorky best friend

Until last year when I noticed him more

When I noticed his smile made my heart beat faster, his laugh sounded like music and I hoped he would look at me so I can see his beautiful brown eyes

When all I want is to be around him, wonder what it'd be like to be in his arms

What his kiss would be like

I stupidly fell in love with him and I had no idea it was happening

Until it was too late

Because I know his stance on girlfriends

Doesn't want one, doesn't need one

He's had a few heartbreaks before and now all he does is have one night stands when he's feeling horny

He has his music to keep him busy, he's dropping D3 in the next few months

And he has his military service to complete

I know he's doing civil service so he'll be able to be home every night but he'll still be busy

So sitting on him is a problem for me but he was doing it to be nice, so I'm staying where I am

I just wish I could relax

I already don't know what the movie is about and it just started, that's how in my head I am about this

His arm moves around me, stopping my movements

"Will you relax?", he says in my ear, "Stop the wiggling"

"I'll try", I answer lowly

"Just chill out", he says, pulling me back against him, both his arms now wrapped around my waist

I try to stay as still as possible for the next ten minutes and its hard

I can feel Yoongi's breath near my shoulder, I can feel his solid chest rising against my back as he breathes, his heart beating

I shiver, moving around again

It doesn't help that he looks incredibly hot in a white T-shirt, soft black pj pants and his long black hair in a ponytail

God, when he started wearing his hair like this I swear he was doing it to get to me

"Relax", he repeats softly, "Watch the movie"

His hand slowly moves, going under my PJ dress, making me hold my breath

His fingers soothingly move up and down the right side of my body, his touch setting my skin ablaze

The comforting touch melts me against him and I feel my tense body loosen up

I lean my head back against his shoulder, my forehead against his jaw

His other hand moves under my dress too and he just places it on my stomach, holding me

And I fucking love it so much

I still don't know what the movie is about but it's for a different reason now

Now I'm too focused on how good his touch is to pay attention

As the movie goes on, his fingers move from my side to my lower stomach, tracing back and forth

I wiggle a little on his lap and to my complete astonishment, I feel something hard under me

Moving slightly, I realize it's his dick

He's hard

And he feels huge

Goddamn

'Relax', I think, 'Don't cause a scene. Just pretend you don't notice anything'

I can't call attention to it

I don't want to embarrass myself or him

My pussy however, gets wet from feeling his hard length under me

His fingers move lower, stopping at the waistband of my panties, playing with it

I'm so turned on and I don't think as I put my hand over his and move his fingers under the waistband

His fingers immediately slide down, running up my pussy, a soft groaning sound coming from him

"So wet", he murmurs, his fingers pressing into my clit and rubbing slow circles

Pleasure assaults my body, my hand grabbing onto his free one, squeezing tightly

"Fuck", I moan lighty

"Shh baby", he whispers in my ear, his fingers moving faster

I can't, it feels so good

His fingers go lower, two sliding into my hole, my cunt immediately clenching on them, feeling fucking incredible

"Shit, shit", he mumbles, "So tight, fuck"

He slides his fingers out to the tips then slowly goes back in, spreading his fingers as he does to stretch me out

It feels so good

His fingers move again, a bit faster, plunging deeply into my cunt

"Spread your pretty legs for me", he tells me, his free hand pulling one of my legs over his and I do the same with my other leg, "Good girl"

Shivers run up my spine hearing him call me his good girl

I want to be his good girl so badly it's embarrassing

As his fingers move, his palm grinds into my clit, upping the pleasure significantly

"God, you're so wet. Dripping all over the place", he whispers in my ear, "My fingers feel that good?"

"So good", I agree, closing my eyes against the bliss

His fingers move around as he pumps them into me, pressing hard in different spots

The third time he does it, my body stiffens and shivers as he presses my spot

"There it is", he says, sounding smug, his fingers buried in that spot, pressing down hard again and again, "Feels good there?"

"Yes, fuck yes", I whimper

He resumes fucking his fingers into me, making sure he presses against my spot each time, his palm running against my clit

I feel my pussy creaming around his fingers, making a mess in my panties

His other hand, slides up my body under my dress, wrapping around my boob

He squeezes through my bra, his breathing increasing rapidly

I want to moan loudly but I'm forcing my mouth closed

Each pass of his palm, each thrust of his fingers brings me closer and closer, my thighs shaking uncontrollably

I'm sweating, completely hot in this stupid dress and I wish I could just take it off

"Gonna cum for me?", he asks and I'm done

His fingers go in again and I put my hand over my mouth as I cum all over them, pleasure wracking my body

Oh god, fuck

His fingers fuck me through it, my legs shaking around his, my fingers of my free hand digging into the blanket

"Fuck, good girl", he murmurs as I clench down involuntarily on his fingers, "Good girl"

When I finish, he pulls his finger out, letting me relax against him

I'm just about to as him if I could give him a hand job when he murmurs in my ear, "Wanna sit on my dick?"

I'm flabbergasted he's asking me this but I absolutely want to be on his cock

Only problem is we're kinda in public

"The guys are here..."

"They're not paying attention", he says, "The TV is blasting. And we have the blanket to cover everything"

He's right

And they really are playing the movie so damn loud, they won't hear a stray moan

"Do you wanna?", he asks again, "Wanna sit and cream my cock like you creamed my fingers?"

"Yes", I groan

"Good baby"

Both of his hands disappear under my dress and I let him pull down my panties, him stuffing them into the armchair's cushions

Then he lifts his hips up, his pants and boxers slide down enough for his cock to spring out, the warm skin of his length against my wet pussy feeling incredible

His hand guides me to lift up a bit, his other moving his cock right under my hole, whispering, "Sit right here jagi"

"AAA...are you sure?"

I want to make sure he wants this

I don't want pity sex

"Fuck yes. Want my best friend's pussy around my cock. Wanna feel how tight you are", he mumbles

Again, I'm shocked at his words and I'm wondering if he knows what he's saying

And if he's only saying it because he's horny?

"Please jagi", he begs

I push down on his cock, taking his head in and already I can tell he's fucking thick

"Yes fuck jagi", he moans softly in my shoulder, "More"

His hands move to my hips, pushing me down helping me take him in an inch at a time

His cock stretches me so deliciously, filling every inch of my pussy, with no room to spare

My cunt desperately clenches around him, sucking him inside

I feel so full of him and there's still more of him to take

I'm determined to get him all in

It seems like I'm sliding down his cock forever, he's that long

He gives me one last push, murmuring a fuck, his hips lifting, making sure he's completely buried inside me

I'm so full, feeling like I'm about to burst

But fuck, I haven't felt this satisfied with a dick inside me before

Of course Yoongi fits inside me perfectly

Of course he feels so fucking good, his cock throbbing rapidly

Of course because it's Yoongi

"Yoongi", I whimper, grinding down on him, my hips moving in circles on their own

"Yeah baby", he murmurs, "You feel so fucking good. So tight around me. Pulsing so fucking good. Goddamn, best pussy I've ever been inside of"

"Mm hmm", I answer, "Your cock is the best I've ever been on"

"Fuck jagi", he answers, his fingers slide back to my clit, pressing hard as he rubs me

My pussy immediately throbs tightly around him, pleasure spilling into my entire body

My hips move faster, grinding my spot on his head, bolts of intense bliss hitting me each move

Leaning back on him, I turn my face into his neck, my arm moving back and around the other side of his neck, my fingers sliding in his hair and holding on tightly

"Yoongi", I whimper, his fingers flying across my clit, the pleasure mounting, my pussy watering around his cock

"Yes jagi, get wetter for me. Cream my cock"

"Yeah Yoongi"

I can't stop my hips from rocking back and forth on his cock, rubbing his head against my spot, my cunt gripping his dick the tightest I ever have

I crave him inside me, crave to feel him, never wanting him to leave

His free hand clutches my thigh, his hair wet with sweat and I can feel his body shake

"Fuck yes", he murmurs, "Choke my cock with this cunt. Tighter baby"

I clench around him purposely, loving the moan he does in my ear

"How do you feel so perfect?", he murmurs, his hand moving from my thigh, sliding up my body, his fingers leaving fire in their wake

"The....the same way you feel perfect Yoongi"

He groans softly, his hand getting to my boob, pulling my bra down, popping my boob out

His hand immediately wraps around it, squeezing softly, his fingers playing with my nipple

I whimper, squirting around his cock a little as the pleasure increases

"Mmm you're a squirter jagi?"

I nod rapidly, "Ssss...sometimes"

"Fuck, I like that"

I like it too, the orgasms from that are fucking amazing

I'm in so much pleasure between his fingers on my clit, his other fingers on my nipple, the way his head is against my spot and the way his fat cock is throbbing inside me

"Mm baby, close huh?", he murmurs, "Throbbing so tightly"

I nod, my eyes closing, leaning my head back against his shoulder

His fingers rub just the right way and sets off an intense orgasm

I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming as bliss washes over me, my entire body shaking

Oh god, it feels incredible

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit", he mumbles, squeezing the life from my boob

His fingers rub me through the orgasm, slowing down as I finish

"That felt so fucking good", he whispers, "Holy shit"

"You liked the way it felt?", I ask him, surprised

"Definitely", he breathes, "Wanna feel it again"

I feel my whole face get red but I'm glad it feels good for him

And I definitely could cum again

Moving my legs up, I plant my feet on the edge of the seat and fully lean back on him

Moving my arms behind me, I grip his shirt as I slide halfway up his cock

"Oh fuck", he groans

Then I slide back down, taking him all the way in

"Yes baby", he murmurs in my ear, his hands on my waist, fingers digging into my skin

I move on him, small bounces so that we don't draw attention to ourselves

Based on his moans behind me, the bounces are doing their job

I move faster, getting lost in the drag of his cock going in and out of my pussy, sending bliss up my spine

"Mmm you like being on your best friend's cock?", he asks, his breathing getting heavier

"Yes, fuck, yes", I whimper, continuing to bounce on him

"Like riding me?", he murmurs

"So much", I whisper, "Perfect cock for riding"

His dick is so easy to bounce on, so hard, standing straight up for me, so fat filling me perfectly

I know riding him fully, where I can get all the way up his cock is going to be heaven

"Is that so?", he asks, a smile in his voice

I nod, "Wanted to ride your cock for so long"

Holy shit, did I just really say that?

"You can ride my cock anything jagi", he murmurs, his hands helping me move up and down, "Anytime you want, you can sit on my cock and play"

Oh my fucking god, yes please

"Promise?", I ask, my head in the clouds

"Yes jagi, I promise"

I nod, taking him back in, ecstacy hitting me as I cum around him

"Yoongi", I whimper in his ear, stars blinding me, "Yoongi, oh god yes, Yoongi"

My pussy squeezes his cock in a vice grip, drenching him in cream

"I have to get out", he gasps quietly, his fingers digging in the skin of my waist

No fucking way

I shake my head, whispering in his ear, "Cum inside me"

"Wwww....what?", he stammers, pleasure all over his face

I smirk, deciding to use his words, "Cum in your best friend's pussy"

"Oh fuck Joanne", he groans softly, pulling me down on his cock, holding me there as his dick explodes inside me

His warm cum feels so good, filling me right up

God, it's so satisfying

My pussy works hard on his cock, milking him for all his cum, some of it leaking around us

"Yes Yoongi", I whine quietly, "Fill my pussy Yoongi. Wanna be full of you"

"Take it baby. Oh fuck"

We ride it out together, slumping against each other as we finish

I breath in hard, not believing I just had sex with Yoongi

While the guys are here

And not one of those num nuts noticed anything

Yoongi's arms move around me, hugging me tightly

I look over at him to find his eyes already on me

He maneuvers me so my head is laying in the crook of his arm and I'm sitting bridal style on him

He looks down at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, his hand sliding up my arm, moving around my neck, his fingers sinking into the back of my hair

The next thing I know, his mouth is against mine and my mind blanks

The only thing I feel is his amazing kiss

I kiss him back eagerly, his tongue against mine, one of my hands gripping his T-shirt hard, my other arm wrapping around his back

I fall into his kiss, basking in every second his lips, his tongue are against mine

Basking in the way my head spins, the way fire explodes in my body

I don't know if this will ever happen again

I want to make the most of it

"What the fuck is happening back there?", I hear Tae exclaim

"What- holy shit", Jimin gasps

I expect Yoongi to pull away now that they finally caught us

To my surprise, he doesn't stop, his kiss getting more passionate

There's no way I'm stopping either

I swear I could kiss him forever

"Oh he finally made his move", Hobi says, nonchalantly

Wait what?

Which is exactly what Tae asks

"You haven't heard him talk about her constantly? You haven't seen the way he's become nervous around her? He's clearly into her", Hobi answers

"I haven't noticed shit", Jungkook says

Which same

But I guess I was worried about me being obvious to him that I didn't notice the way he is around me

"Well you're blind then. Or just self involved because he's shit about hiding it", Hobi replies, "It's actually funny to watch him try to hide his feelings when he's around her. He's such a dork"

I smile into his kiss, my hand moving from his shirt, sliding into the back of his hair, my fingers tangling in his soft black strands as I pull him closer, deepening the kiss

He moans softly in my mouth, the sound sending chills up my spine

"God, are they coming up for air anytime soon?", Jin says sarcastically

"Yeah, doubtful", Jungkook answers

"Why are we watching them?", Namjoon says loudly, "I don't want to see this. The movie is over. I'm out"

"Yeah me too", Hobi says

I hear footsteps moving around us, then a few seconds later, nothing

Another minute later, the kiss breaks, both of us leaning our foreheads against each other, breathing rapidly

His gaze flits to mine, "Mine"

I nod

Of course I'm his

I'll always be, he doesn't have to worry about that

"Yeah naekkeo", I whisper, then say, "Mine"

"Always jagi", he answers right away, his lips against mine

I take in his kiss, holding onto him, never wanting to let him go

When the kiss ends, he lifts his head, looking down at me, his eyes gazing into mine

"I love you"

My heart bursts in pure joy, finally hearing the words I've wanted to hear from him

"I love you", I finally tell him, feeling like a weight has lifted off me, "I love you so much Yoongi"

"So much Jo", he whispers, "Fuck, you have no idea how long I waited for you jagi"

How long?

Is he saying.... he's wanted me for a long time?

"All I ever wanted was you", he tells me, "Hoping you'd notice me, hoping you'd feel the same as I do"

"How... how long?", I ask

"Since BTS started"

"What?", I squeak

He's waited that long?

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He shakes his head, "I couldn't. I had to come here to train and I knew I was going to be really busy the first few years of BTS. It's why idols don't date or why their relationships don't last. I didn't want to put you through that. I didn't want to risk having you love me then falling out of love because I was never there"

"I wouldn't do that naekkeo. You know me Yoongi"

"I know jagi but I also knew we were really young. You didn't need to deal with that at nineteen"

I mean, I didn't and back then I didn't have feelings for him like that

But if he had asked me out, I definitely would of given it a try

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?", I whisper, playing with the strands of hair at the back of his head

"Because Jo, I couldn't....I couldn't risk losing you. And you had a boyfriend for three years. I was dealing with the two girlfriends I had hurting me. I wasn't ready to risk you walking away from me"

"I never will naekkeo", I promise him, "I love you so much Yoongi. I'm going crazy wanting you"

"Me too jagi", he murmurs, "I love you, I'm not letting you go"

"Don't baby. Don't and I swear I won't let you go"

"Yeah", he nods

"Good", I smile

"Do you ...uh... wanna stay over?", he asks shyly

"Absolutely", I tell him, running my fingers through his hair

"Ok", he grins before kissing me

As we kiss, he pulls his boxers and pants up

He breaks the kiss, smirking as he holds up my panties

"You're not gonna need these tonight"

I giggle at how sexy my boyfriend is

"You're right", I answer, "I'm definitely not"

His smirk widens as he stands up, picking me up as well

"Good cuz I'm nowhere near done with you tonight. I gotta have you naked and we gotta get you squirting all over me", he teases, "Oh and I gotta taste this pussy"

"Yes sir", I smile widely, getting turned on

He chuckles as he carries me to his room, getting us on his bed, him on top of me, "I love you"

"I love you Yoongi"

He smiles, then his lips are on mine, kissing me silly

#bts yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #bts suga smut #suga smut #yoongi fanfic #bts yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #bts suga fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut

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cherryhazee · 2 days ago

Text

Knock, Knock...It's Complicated | Nico H.

Summary: Savannah and Nico were supposed to keep it simple: neighbors, friends, and a little fun behind closed doors. But love doesn’t knock before it moves in.

Warnings: Mature language and explicit sexual content. +18

wc: 11.5k

Savannah adjusted her grip on the oversized box, her arms already trembling from the weight. Moving into her new apartment had sounded like a fresh start, a chance to embrace independence and make things her own. But as she wrestled the box up the narrow staircase, silently cursing the out-of-service elevator, she began to suffer her long-awaited independent life.

She finally reached her door on the third floor, juggling the box and her keys as she tried to unlock it. The door creaked open, revealing a space that was still mostly empty, an unassembled bookshelf leaning against one wall, a stack of unopened packages near the window, and a single folding chair sitting awkwardly in the middle of the room.

With a heavy sigh, Savannah dropped the box onto the floor and grabbed her phone, scrolling through the delivery notifications. Her brows furrowed as she spotted one marked as delivered, a large package, supposedly a housewarming gift from her best friend Claire, but it was nowhere to be found.

She groaned, sinking into the folding chair. “Great. Day one, and I already lost something.”

Just as she was debating whether to call the delivery company, there was a knock at the door. Savannah jumped, startled, and opened it to find a tall guy standing there, holding a massive box. His dark hair was a little tousled, and his fitted T-shirt suggested he spent more time at the gym than most.

“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice carrying a faint accent that caught her attention before anything else. Her gaze shifted to the box he held, tilted just enough for her to notice the torn tape along the top.

Savannah’s eyes widened as she spotted the package. “Oh my God, yes! I’ve been waiting for that. Where did you…wait.” Her cheeks reddened. “Did you open it?” she said while glancing at the contents of the box.

The guy scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Uh… yeah. It got delivered to my door, and I thought it was my order. I’ve been waiting for some gym stuff, but… I’m guessing this isn’t mine.” he said while sneaking a glance at the plethora of intimate toys her oh-so-comical best friend had sent her.

Savannah felt heat rush to her face, her entire body flushing, but she quickly recovered, muttering, “Well, that’s one way to make a first impression.” She chuckled nervously, hoping to shake off the embarrassment.

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to bring the box in. As he slid it inside, her gaze shifted to the partially assembled bookshelf in the corner. She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. “Hey, uh… You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting furniture together, would you? Because this thing has been testing my patience all afternoon.”

He glanced at the bookshelf and grinned. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

Savannah crossed her arms, playing along. “Cold pizza. And my eternal gratitude.”

“Deal,” he said “I’m Nico, by the way.”

“Savannah,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

And just like that, her chaotic first day in her new building took an unexpected turn.

–

A few days had passed and she’d caught her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. She told herself it didn’t matter. They’d had one random afternoon together, filled with small talk and friendly banter as he assembled her bookshelf. It wasn’t like they’d exchanged numbers or made any plans to hang out again.

But still, there was something about Nico that lingered in her mind.

Every time she passed his door, she couldn’t help but glance at it, wondering if he was home. But it seemed he was rarely there.

The peculiar pattern of his exits and entries to his apartment caught her attention the most. On the rare occasions she caught sight of him, he was either leaving early in the morning, a sleek suitcase in hand and dressed sharply in a suit, or returning late at night, his tie loosened and a wearied look etched on his face. The Nico she’d met, with his easy grin and sweatpants, felt worlds away from this polished, professional version of him. And that mystery, that contradiction, only made her more curious.

What kind of job keeps someone out for such long periods? She wondered. Her mind raced through possibilities. Corporate lawyer, investment banker, or maybe something more mysterious.

But the thought persisted, gnawing at her in quieter moments. It was very clear he worked out but how could someone with his schedule make time for it? Was he a…? Her lips quirked up at the absurdity of it. Nah, her dirty mind wandered too far, she scolded herself. Still, the mystery of Nico lingered, teasing her with its unanswered questions.

“Okay, Savannah, calm down. He’s probably just an accountant or something,” she muttered to herself.

Still, as the hours ticked by and she heard the unmistakable sound of his door closing late at night, she couldn’t stop wondering.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Savannah encountered Nico again. She had just finished her morning run, earbuds still blasting a playlist her best friend Claire had shared with her. Her legs ached as she trudged into the apartment building’s lobby, sweat clinging to her skin like golden droplets dampening her tank top.

She had envisioned her shower, a paradise of hot water washing away her morning sweat, but her plans were put on hold the moment she saw him.

Nico.

He stood casually, his tall frame leaning slightly as he scrolled through his phone. His dark hair was covered in a white beanie, slightly messy and sitting in a way that looked both unintentional and perfectly styled.

Savannah’s steps faltered, her pulse inexplicably quickening, though she assured herself it was just the aftermath of her run.

He glanced up and met her eyes, a slow grin spreading across his face. For a brief moment, his gaze dipped, lingering on her chest as it heaved up and down from her quick breaths. When his gaze returned to her face, a faint flush crept into his cheeks, his grin turning a little sheepish. “Hey, neighbor.”

Savannah tugged out her earbuds, striving for nonchalance. She noticed the quick slip of his gaze but decided not to say anything, opting instead to greet him back. “Hey yourself. Long time no see.” The realization made her body feel warmer, a heat that had nothing to do with her recent run.

Nico chuckled, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. “Yeah, I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”

She arched an eyebrow playfully. “Actually, I don’t. You’re like a ghost. Makes me wonder if you even live here,” she chuckled.

“I do,” he said with a teasing smirk. “But you’re right. I’m not around much. Work keeps me on the move.”

There it was again—the mystery of his job.

“What kind of work keeps you out all hours?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Let me guess…part of the mafia?” She said playfully, although she truly wanted to know what he did.

Nico laughed, a low, genuine sound that made her smile despite herself. “I’m flattered you think I’m that interesting.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Savannah pointed out in a sing-song voice, stepping closer.

He shrugged, his grin playful but evasive. "I do a little bit of everything. Let’s just say it keeps me on my feet and takes me to a lot of different places.”

“Vague. Very mysterious.” Savannah tilted her head, studying him. “You could just say you’re a hitman and get it over with.”

Nico barked a laugh. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She bit her lip, then decided to press further. “You disappear for days, you leave at the crack of dawn, and you’re always dressed like you just closed a million-dollar deal. It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I’m just a workaholic.”

“Maybe.” She let the word hang between them, a playful challenge.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Nico leaned against the wall again, his gaze never separating from hers. “You’ve been keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?”

Savannah felt a blush creeping up her neck. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Sounds like you’ve noticed my schedule pretty well.” His smirk deepened, teasing. He had dimples! Could this man get any more attractive?

“Well, you’re hard to miss. It’s not like I’m spying through the peephole.”

“Good to know.” He straightened, closing the distance between them. His voice softened, losing some of its playful edge. “I’m not trying to be mysterious, Sav. I just…my job’s just…complicated.”

She caught the shift in his tone with a hint of vulnerability. It piqued her curiosity even more, but she decided not to push. Instead, she smiled lightly. “Well, if you ever need a cover story, hitman is a good one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stood there for a moment longer, Savannah found herself wondering what it would be like to know the mystery of Nico, to know more than just the surface-level details, or maybe even more.

Finally, Nico gestured toward her. “You’ve been running?”

“Yeah. Trying to keep up with New Year’s resolutions.”

“How’s that going?”

“I’m sweaty and exhausted. So… great?” She grinned.

Nico chuckled. “Need any help with those resolutions?”

Savannah tilted her head. “What kind of help are we talking about?”

“I’m pretty good at motivating people. I could be your accountability partner.”

She laughed. “You’re barely home. How would that work?”

“We could start with running together when I’m in town.” His voice held a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing.

Savannah’s heart gave a little flutter. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he echoed, his tone playful.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, already picturing their next encounter.

–

Turns out that maybe was an absolutely.

The next time Nico had been in the city, Savannah had found herself standing in the lobby of her building nervously checking her watch. She was a few minutes early, but the butterflies in her stomach made it feel like she’d been waiting for hours. Her sneakers felt unusually tight as she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, trying to calm the nerves dancing in her stomach.

She’d told herself it was just a run, nothing more. But with Nico, things always felt a little more… charged.

"You made it," he said, his voice warm, but with a subtle edge. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he came closer, the space between them shrinking with every step.

Savannah couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her cheeks. She was suddenly acutely aware of the way his presence seemed to fill the room. She straightened up, trying to push away the uneasy flutter in her stomach. "Just barely," she replied, forcing her voice to sound casual. "I almost thought you wouldn’t show."

"Wouldn’t dream of it." He stopped a few inches in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of his body radiating toward her. There was a flash of something in his eyes, something that made her heart race a little faster but she couldn’t figure it out just yet.

Before she could respond, Nico stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her arm as he adjusted her jacket. It was a simple gesture, nothing that should have meant anything but the way he did it, so effortlessly, made her pulse quicken.

Savannah took a breath, trying to push down the sudden rush of awareness. She looked at him, her voice teasing but more strained than she wanted it to be. "Hope you’re ready to keep up with me.”

His gaze flickered to her lips for just a second before he met her eyes again, the smile on his face a little tighter now. "You might have to back up those words," he said, his tone low, as if daring her to make the first move.

She swallowed hard, feeling the tension simmering between them. She tried to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on their run. "Let’s get to it, then," she said, stepping toward the door.

–

The run had been intense. Savannah could feel the sweat sticking to her skin, the rhythm of her heartbeat still echoing in her ears as she and Nico finished the last stretch. Her legs ached, but there was something about the proximity between them that made it all feel worth it.

They slowed as they reached their building, neither of them quite willing to break the silence, though the air between them was thick with tension. They entered the lobby together, Nico falling into step beside her as they made their way toward the elevator.

Savannah pushed the button, the soft ding of the arriving elevator filling the air, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Nico was standing just a little too close, his presence so palpable it made her skin feel hypersensitive. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from him, his steady gaze tracking her every movement. She wanted to look away, but her eyes stayed locked on his.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Nico moved beside her, just enough for their shoulders to brush as he reached for the button. The contact sent a pulse of heat through her, and she fought to keep her breathing steady.

The elevator ride felt like it took forever, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. Nico was quiet, but there was something in the way he stood, close enough that his body heat lingered in the air around her, making the space feel far smaller than it was. His gaze remained on her, his eyes flicking to her lips for a moment before returning to her face, as if he couldn’t decide whether to say something or just… wait.

Savannah tried to focus on the numbers above the door as they passed each floor, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel the tension hanging thick between them, an unspoken understanding that neither was willing to address. She knew that Nico wasn’t just here for the run. There was something more.

When the elevator finally reached her floor, the doors slid open with a soft chime. Nico stepped out first, but he didn’t move immediately. He turned to face her, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them, almost unbearable.

"Thanks for the run," he said, his voice quiet, almost like an afterthought. But there was an edge to it, something laced with meaning.

Savannah swallowed, her heart still pounding in her chest. "Anytime," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They walked down the hall to their respective apartments, and when they reached the doors, Nico stopped just behind her. The way he lingered, his presence too close for comfort, made Savannah’s breath catch in her throat. She fumbled with the keys, her fingers suddenly clumsy, as the air around them crackled with unspoken words.

Before she could unlock the door, Nico's hand reached out, brushing against her wrist. The touch was soft but deliberate as if he was testing her reaction. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but it felt like an electric jolt.

Savannah’s pulse skipped. She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. "You sure you’re just here for the run?" she asked, her voice coming out a little rougher than she intended.

His lips curled into a smile, but there was something darker behind it. "For now," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Then, as if the moment couldn’t stretch any further, he stepped back slightly. "But I’ll see you again," he added, his tone now filled with that quiet challenge.

Savannah’s heart was still racing as she finally opened the door, her mind swirling with a mix of anticipation and confusion. But then, before she could close it behind her, an idea struck her.

"Wait," she said, turning to face him. "How about you come in for a little?"

Nico blinked in surprise. His brows lifted in curiosity, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure you want me sticking around after a run like that?" He glanced down at her, the teasing in his voice replaced by something more curious.

Savannah shrugged, trying to act casual, though the flutter in her chest betrayed her. “I could use some company to be honest”

He glanced past her, into the half unpacked apartment. There were still boxes stacked along the walls, a few mismatched throw pillows scattered on the couch, and a candle on the coffee table. It was a mess, but it felt warm. Inviting.

Nico studied her for a moment, as if weighing his options, then finally nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."

Savannah stepped aside to let him in, her pulse thrumming in her ears as he brushed past her, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Her apartment suddenly felt smaller with him standing in the middle of it, looking far too relaxed.

She then cleared her throat, “You want something to drink?” she offered, moving toward the kitchen to break the tension she felt between them.

“Sure,” he said, following her.

She grabbed a jar of water from the fridge and two glasses, but as she turned to hand him one, her fingers brushed against his. The contact was brief, but it sent a spark straight through her. She pulled her hand back a little too quickly, her heart racing in a way she hadn’t expected.

Their eyes met again, and this time, neither of them looked away. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Savannah then broke it by raising her glass in a toast. "To new neighbors?"

Nico’s smirk softened into something warmer as he raised his glass to hers. "To new neighbors."

Their glasses clinked softly.

"So…" Savannah took a sip of water, then arched a brow at him. "What do you do when you’re not accidentally opening very personal packages, Nico?"

His laugh broke the tension, filling the room with something lighter. "Oh, you’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Nico shook his head, chuckling as he set his glass down on the counter. “Alright, fair. But for the record, I’m not the one who labeled that box ‘Essential Items.’”

Savannah laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Blame my best friend. She has a twisted sense of humor.”

“I’ll have to thank her sometime,” Nico said, his voice dipping lower, teasing yet steady.

Savannah paused, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. The air between them felt charged, the playful banter giving way to something quieter and more intimate. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

Nico leaned back slightly against the counter, his hands resting on the edge. “You’re blushing,” he noted softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, trying to downplay the heat rising to her face. “I am not.”

“You are,” he insisted, taking a step closer.

Their laughter faded, replaced by the quiet hum of their breathing, the soft flicker of the candlelight casting warm shadows across the room. Savannah felt her pulse quicken as Nico closed the distance between them, his presence somehow both calming and electrifying.

“What’s on your mind?” Nico asked softly, tilting his head as if to read her better.

Savannah swallowed, her words coming quieter this time. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

About you. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. Instead, she shrugged, trying to keep things light hiding behind a small smile. “About how I really should’ve paid extra for pre-assembled furniture.”

Nico laughed, a low, warm sound that made her chest tighten. “I can help with more if you want to.”

Savannah set her glass down on the counter, her nerves buzzing. “You keep offering to help me out. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Nico said, stepping closer. His voice dropped, quieter but steady. “You are a fun person to be around.”

Her breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them strained with anticipation.

His hand lifted, hesitating for the briefest moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingertips were warm, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Savannah,” he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue like a question.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a small smile, she closed the gap between them, her fingers grazing the hem of his shirt before curling it gently in her grasp. The tension in the air had worn her down, and she finally exhaled a breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Nico didn’t hesitate. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as his lips met hers. Slow at first, testing, before deepening into something hungrier, more certain. Her lips were soft, familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, like they’d always been meant to find his.

Savannah melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest as her heart raced. This wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something they’d discussed. But right now, none of that seemed to matter.

His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Her lips parted, and he took the invitation, sliding his tongue making the kiss deeper. The tension between them coming out in soft gasps and quiet murmurs.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads touching.

“Still thinking about that furniture?” Nico teased, his voice low and rough.

Savannah laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

Nico's hand traced a slow, deliberate path down Savannah's arm, his fingertips brushing her skin like a question. Her breath caught, the weight of the moment between them feeling like it could snap at any second.

They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them rushing to break the spell.

“Stay,” she whispered.

Nico’s gaze searched hers as if he were looking for any sign of uncertainty. He couldn’t see any.

His thumb grazed her cheek, a soft touch that sent a shiver through her.

An unspoken agreement passed between them, a decision.

“Okay,” he murmured, before leaning in to kiss her again.

This time, there was no hesitation. His lips moved against hers with a slow, unhurried confidence, drawing her in. Savannah’s hands slid up his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close, anchoring herself in the moment. The world outside her apartment faded to a distant hum, leaving only the warmth of Nico, the taste of him, and the way his touch made her pulse quicken.

His hands settled on her waist, steadying her as though she might slip away. She wouldn’t. Not today at least.

Her heart beat faster as Nico guided her toward the couch. They sank down together, bodies fitting naturally, as though they’d done this a hundred times before. His fingers tangled in her hair, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her, slow and sure.

Nico’s lips brushed her temple before trailing down to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Savannah closed her eyes, her head tilting back to give him more access. Her hands slid under his shirt, palms pressed to his bare back, mapping the expanse of muscle beneath her fingertips.

When his lips found hers again, the kiss deepened, more certain now, as if they both knew there was no going back. Savannah felt the tension in her body ease, replaced by something warmer. But then, just as quickly, the weight of the moment pressed down on her, and she hesitated. She lingered in his embrace for just a beat longer, her hands resting lightly against his chest as if afraid to break the connection.

Finally, she pulled away, slowly sliding off his lap. His gaze followed her, confused, searching for her eyes as if trying to understand what he had done wrong. Savannah’s movements were unsteady, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind raced, looking for something, anything, to say that would make sense of the sudden shift. She searched around her mind but couldn't find anything logical to say other than…

“I… Uhm should shower,” she stuttered out, pointing toward the other side of her apartment, desperate for a moment of clarity.

Nico nodded, still left in the trance from moments earlier.

“Feel free to stay though.”

He hesitated, then seemed to snap himself out of the daze she hadn’t even realized they were both in. “No, no. I will, uh, go to my apartment.” He rose from the couch, his posture a little stiff, but something softer in the way he looked at her. “I’ll see you later.”

She watched him go, the door closing softly behind him, and the quiet settled into a strange, heavy silence.

Days passed, each one dragging its feet as she replayed that moment, wishing things hadn’t ended like that. She wasn’t sure what she had wanted, but it certainly wasn’t the way they left things, awkward and unfinished.

She was still deep in thought when she heard the faint knocking sound at her door. Frowning in confusion, she rose from the couch and made her way to the door. She peered through the peephole, her heart giving a strange leap when she saw who was on the other side.

Nico stood there, holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers, his posture straight, but his expression unreadable.

With a deep breath, she steadied herself and opened the door.

He stood there for a beat, his gaze flicking between her and the bouquet in his hands.

Before she could ask what he was doing there, Nico spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “I didn’t lie when I said I enjoyed being around you. I just…” He trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words. “I guess I wanted to do something to make up for how I left things. I didn’t mean for it to feel so… unfinished.”

“I get it.” Her voice softened sounding more sincere. “I wasn’t expecting anything either. I don’t even know what I expected, to be honest.”

Nico’s shoulders relaxed a little, his chuckle quieter this time. “Yeah. Same. Maybe we both overthought things.”

She glanced at the bouquet, her lips curving into a playful smile despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “You really know how to make a girl panic.”

His expression softened as he shifted the flowers to one hand, a quiet chuckle escaping. “That wasn’t the plan. Honestly.” He handed her the bouquet, a sheepish look crossing his face. “They are meant to be… a peace offering.”

She took them, brushing her fingers over the petals. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, but there was a relief in knowing things weren’t as complicated as she’d feared. “Well, at least they’re pretty.” She smiled, the tension between them easing.

They stood in silence for a beat, her gaze meeting his and holding. The air between them felt different now, lighter and more natural.

“So,” she said, her voice light but curious, “where does that leave us?”

Nico exhaled slowly, his expression thoughtful as his gaze stayed steady on hers. After a moment, his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, more honest. “Maybe we don’t need to know right now. We can just… see where it goes.”

She considered his words for a moment, her lips curving into a small smile. “I think I can handle that,” she said, her voice playful but honest. “No expectations… just good company and some fun?”

Nico raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “You know, I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I think this arrangement might just work.”

What could go wrong? she thought to herself.

Nico nodded, the same smirk still on his lips. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He took a step closer, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment. “No complications. Just… whatever feels right.”

“Whatever feels right,” she echoed, her heart racing a little at the thought. They didn’t need a label, and they certainly didn’t need to figure everything out just yet.

“Alright, then,” Nico said with a grin. “It’s a deal.”

Savannah let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the door as she eyed him thoughtfully. “Though, I gotta say… the flowers are a bit too much for something casual, don’t you think?”

Nico blinked, caught off guard for a second, before realizing she was teasing him. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Yeah. I might have overdone it a little.”

–

Savannah didn’t think much about the deal at first. It was casual and easy. No pressure, no expectations. But over the next few weeks, “whatever feels right” became something more, shared takeout on lazy evenings, quick text exchanges that made her smile in the middle of a busy workday, and Nico slipping into her thoughts more often than she cared to admit.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Savannah said, breaking the silence. “What do you actually do?”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she watched Nico from across the couch. He was leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him, his expression softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

The glow from a small lamp casted a warm, golden light over the room, and for once, there was no background noise. No music, no TV, just the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.

Nico raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“Come on. Not this again,” she tossed her head back groaning playfully. ”You can’t just keep me guessing forever.”

Nico shifted, sitting up straighter and rubbing the back of his neck. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a rare vulnerability. “It’s not that I was trying to keep it from you. It’s just…” He took a breath, meeting her gaze directly. “I play hockey,” a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression.

Savannah blinked, trying to process his words. “Like, for fun?”

Nico laughed, the sound low and genuine. “No. Professionally.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Like, you’re on a team?”

“Yeah. I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

There was a beat of silence before Savannah burst out laughing. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it, but the whole thing was just too unbelievable to handle.

“I’m sorry,” she said between giggles. “It’s just… I know nothing about hockey. Like, absolutely zero, but sounds fun though.”

Nico’s shoulders relaxed, and he laughed along with her. “That’s probably for the best. Less pressure that way.”

“Okay, hold on,” Savannah said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “So you’re telling me you’re some big-deal athlete, and I’ve been sitting here thinking you were a boring office guy with a gym obsession?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

She shook her head, still smiling. “This explains so much. The weird schedule, the random trips… and here I was thinking you were running some kind of underground poker ring.”

Nico’s laugh was louder this time, more relaxed. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

Savannah leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. “I guess I liked being around someone who didn’t already know. Most people have this idea of who I am before I even say a word. But with you… it felt different. Normal. And I like being around you, it’s easy.”

Her playful smile softened. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m still going to treat you like a normal person. Famous or not.”

“Fair enough.”

Savannah tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Although, I am going to need you to explain hockey to me. I don’t even know how many players are on a team.”

“That’s a good place to start.”

“Great,” she said with a grin. “But if you expect me to learn the whole thing you’re going to have to make it interesting.”

Nico leaned in, his voice low and playful. “Oh, I can do that.”

Savannah felt her heart skip, her pulse quickening at the way his gaze held hers. But before the moment could shift too far, she cleared her throat, leaning back with a teasing smirk. “Good,” she said.

Nico grinned. “But maybe I can make it a little easier for you.”

“How’s that?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her curiosity piqued by the shift in his tone.

Nico shifted closer, just enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. “I’ll take you to a game. Show you what it’s all about. Not as some random fan, but as someone who’s… important.”

Savannah’s breath hitched, her teasing facade slipping for a moment. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his words, nor the subtle invitation behind them.

“Important, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep things light, though her pulse quickened at the way he was looking at her.

“Yeah,” Nico said softly. “You are.”

Savannah leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to match his. “You’re making it hard to focus on hockey, you know.”

Nico’s lips quirked into a crooked grin. “That’s okay. I’m not thinking about hockey right now.”

The space between them shrank, the playful tension from before transforming into something deeper, more electric. Savannah’s heart thudded in her chest as Nico’s fingers brushed her cheek, the touch light but deliberate, testing the waters.

“Sav…” he murmured, his voice a little rough, like he wasn’t sure if he should say more or just close the distance.

She didn’t give him the chance to second-guess. Closing the space between them, Savannah pressed her lips to his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, all the playful banter giving way to something real.

Nico’s hand slipped to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more insistent. Savannah’s fingers found their way into his hair, tugging gently, and she smiled against his lips when he let out a quiet hum of approval.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Nico rested his forehead against hers, his smile lazy and content.

“So,” he said softly, “does this count as your hockey education?”

Savannah laughed, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe. But I think I’m going to need a lot of lessons.”

Nico’s grin widened. “Good thing I’m a patient teacher.”

“Good thing I’m a quick learner. Now how about you take me to your room,” she breathed out.

Nico wasted no time in lifting her with ease. Savannah let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her toward his room.

When they reached his room, Nico pushed the door open with his foot, stepping inside and setting her gently on the edge of the bed. He lingered for a moment, standing before her, his hands sliding down her arms until he was holding her hands in his.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her knuckles.

Savannah nodded, her gaze steady. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

That earned her a smile, one that sent a pleasant flutter through her chest. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, taking his time as he wanted to savor every second. His lips started making their way up her neck, the feeling of his light stubble making her body break out in goosebumps.

Savannah tilted her head, catching his lips with hers again, this time slower and more deliberate. His hands settled at her waist, pulling her closer as they sank into the kiss. There was something unhurried about the way Nico touched her, memorizing the feeling of her, mapping out every curve, and every soft exhale.

Her breaths started to come out heavier as his rough hands made their way under her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her ribs before making their way up to her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before lifting her shirt.

How can someone be this beautiful, he thought to himself as he stared at her. The delicate lines of her collarbone shone with the moonlight, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her waist beneath his hands. Every inch of her told a story, and he wanted to learn every single one of them.

The way she fit against him felt so natural, so right, that it made everything else fade into the background. She was all that mattered in this moment.

Savannah met his eyes, her expression soft but searching, like she was trying to figure him out. Whatever she saw made her lips curve into a small smile, one that made his chest tighten.

“Nico…” she whispered, her voice quiet, but he felt the way it lingered between them.

He leaned in, kissing her slowly, savoring the way she responded, her hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He let his tongue ran through the seam of her lips asking for permission, groaning into the kiss as she gave him access.

Her hair spilled across the pillow when he guided her down, the soft glow from outside filtering into the room, casting shadows over her skin. The sight of her relaxed, trusting, and here with him stole his breath.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her cheek.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, a quiet laugh escaping her. “Then don’t.”

His lips trailed down her body, starting at her neck with a few soft open-mouthed kisses before moving to the curve of her chest, where they lingered in the gentle valley between her breasts. He continued to her stomach, her muscles tensing under his touch as he placed a few soft kisses. She might not have noticed them if not for the way her stomach tightened in response, a thrill shooting through her, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When he reached the space between her thighs he took his sweet time savoring every moment. His mouth gave bites and kisses along her inner thighs while he ran a finger along the waistband of her underwear.

“Could you stop teasing and hurry up,” she managed to utter.

“With pleasure,” he smiled leaning in, parting her with his tongue. Hearing the soft whimpers of his name coming from her mouth made his body feel a hundred times hotter. He could stay here forever if possible. She tasted like heaven.

“Nico,” she whimpered, “… please.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He slid a finger, feeling her core twitch with satisfaction. When she was ready he slid in another, arching them to create more pleasure while sucking her bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“Th-there,” her words came out breathless, arching her back to meet his mouth while gripping at his hair, getting a grunt in response.

“Nico, I’m gonna-” his name came out of her mouth with a cry, feeling her orgasm run through her body clenching her core around his fingers.

He pulled out his fingers and then moved his mouth to her inner thigh, cleaning her release from his chin with it before licking it clean. Fuck, that was the hottest thing she’d seen a man ever do.

“C’mere,” his voice brought her back from the trance she was in.

Their lips connected one more time, a hum coming out of her mouth when she tasted herself on his tongue. “Guess you’re good at other things besides building furniture.”

“Also. I already feel the beard burn begin to form,” she winced playfully.

He laughed against her lips, letting himself get lost in her warmth, her laughter, and the way she whispered his name like it was something only meant for him.

–

Making this deal was a terrible idea. He should’ve just told her about his feelings, but he wasn’t sure about them at the time. Now? Now he was utterly screwed.

He couldn’t even focus properly on a game. Every time he laced up his skates or stepped onto the ice, she was in his mind. The way she laughed when he couldn’t figure out how to assemble her bookshelf. The way her lips curled into a teasing smile when she caught him sneaking glances at her during a conversation. Even the scent of her shampoo lingered in his memory far longer than it should have.

It wasn’t just during games either. At night, when he returned to his empty apartment after practice or a game, he’d glance at his couch and remember how they’d sat there, talking late into the evening. He’d replay their conversations in his head and the moment that had followed.

Then there were the moments in between. Random thoughts of her would strike him when he least expected it. Walking through the grocery store, he found himself lingering in the baking aisle, remembering how she mentioned she loved to bake when she was stressed. During team meetings, he’d zone out, recalling the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her favorite books. Even at the gym, he wondered if Savannah would appreciate the effort he put into his workouts. It was not that he needed any more motivation to stay in shape, but now it had a whole other purpose besides hockey.

Nico sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the bar counter, the music vibrating through the club. The team had dragged him out tonight, insisting he needed to blow off some steam. Clearly, they didn't know how much he had been releasing lately thanks to a certain someone.

“Looks like you could use some company,” a high-pitched voice cut through the noise, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced to his left and found a woman standing there, leaning casually against the bar. Her dress shimmered under the lights, and her smile was practiced. When he didn’t immediately respond, she tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and angled her body toward him, closing the space between them.

“I’ve seen you around,” she added, her voice low and playful. “Figured I’d finally say hi.”

Nico forced a polite smile, nodding once. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, let alone flirt with another woman, but he knew the guys were watching from across the room. If he brushed her off too quickly, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Hey,” he said simply, taking another sip of his drink.

She leaned in closer, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet. “You don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay. I like a bit of mystery.” Yeah, sure.

Without meaning to, his gaze drifted past the woman, scanning the room like maybe just maybe, Savannah would be there. Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t. He knew exactly where would she be tonight. Probably at home getting lost in a book. Maybe that’s where he wanted to be too.

The woman in front of him tilted her head, her smile faltering when she noticed his distraction. “Am I boring you?”

Nico blinked, snapping back to the moment. “No. Sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.”

Her lips curved again, but there was something more calculated behind the expression now. “Well, maybe I can help take your mind off it.”

God. No.

He shook his head slightly, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate it, but I’m good.”

The woman’s expression faltered for a split second before she shrugged it off, her demeanor effortlessly cool. “Suit yourself.” She picked up her drink and walked off, her heels clicking against the floor.

Nico exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

A voice called his name from behind him, Jack grinned as he came closer. “Dude, what was that? She was all over you.”

Nico shot him a look. “Not my type.”

“Not your type?” His teammate snorted. “You’ve got a type now?”

“Excuse me,” A woman’s voice close to them interrupted their conversation.

“A tequila soda, please,” the owner of the melodic voice said to the bartender.

Nico’s head snapped to the side before he could stop himself. His eyes landed on the woman now standing beside him, her silk smooth dark hair falling in waves over her shoulder, her back turned to him as she leaned on the bar.

That voice.

Wait. Was that…?

No way.

The bartender slid the tequila soda toward her, she thanked him sliding the cash with a small smile before turning slightly, just enough for Nico to catch a glimpse of her profile.

Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing between Nico and the woman. “Something wrong?”

Nico didn’t answer.

“Seriously, man,” Jack smirked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I feel like I have.

Before Nico could muster the courage to say anything, Savannah finally turned, freezing the second her eyes locked on his.

“Nico?” Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

“Sav. Hey,” His voice came out rough, his heart pounding in his chest.

Her lips parted, surprise flashing across her face before she broke into a smile he knew too well, the kind that made his pulse race in ways he wished it wouldn’t.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, stepping closer, her drink still in hand.

“I, uh… the guys dragged me out tonight.”

Jack leaned in, grinning from ear to ear. “So… are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he said while looking at Nico.

Nico sighed while pinching his brows, “This is Savannah. Sav, this is-”

Jack, never one to miss an opportunity, stuck out his hand with a broad grin. “Jack. I’m his cooler, more charming teammate.”

Savannah chuckled, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Likewise.” Jack glanced at Nico, his grin widening. “You didn’t mention Savannah was your type.”

Nico groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack-”

Savannah’s smile softened, her gaze lingering on Nico. “I don’t know about that,” she teased, taking a sip of her drink. “But I’m flattered.”

Jack gave Nico a final nudge before stepping away. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He threw a wink at Savannah before disappearing into the crowd.

“He doesn’t know does he?” she laughed.

“Nope,” he said, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a light pop.

Savannah raised an eyebrow, swirling her drink idly. “So… what did he mean by that? The whole ‘type’ thing?”

Nico cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s… nothing.”

“Oh, come on.” She gave him a teasing nudge. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re avoiding something.”

He huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some woman was hitting on me earlier.”

Savannah’s lips twitched, “And?”

“And Jack wouldn’t shut up about it.” Nico rolled his eyes, picking up his glass and taking a sip. “He asked if I had a type. I said no, and then-”

“Wait.” Savannah held up a hand, biting back a laugh. “You said no?”

Nico frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Savannah leaned against the bar, smirking. “It means I’ve seen the way you look at certain women. You definitely have a type.”

“Do not.”

“You so do.” She pointed her drink at him. “Tall, polished, too much perfume… the type of girl who looks like she belongs in a fancy hotel bar sipping martinis.”

“I’m not interested in them,” he said avoiding looking at her eyes.

“Then who are you interested in?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too hopeful.

He was too scared to admit it to her right now so he decided to evade it, “It’s not that important” he replied faking indifference.

Savannah’s chest tightened at his words.

Not that important

The way he said it, low and distant, sent a flicker of disappointment through her. She hated that it stung, hated that it mattered to her at all. This was supposed to be casual. No expectations, no complicated emotions. That was the whole point of their arrangement.

And yet, there she was, standing at a crowded bar in the middle of New York City, feeling far too invested in Nico’s answer to a question she never should’ve asked.

“Right,” she said lightly, forcing a smile as she lifted her glass. “Classic Nico. Always playing it close to the chest.”

He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was tension there, something he wasn’t saying. She could see it, feel it in the way his shoulders tensed and his gaze kept drifting to her before darting away.

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed it, that subtle shift in him lately. He was off. More quiet, more distracted. More… present in ways he hadn’t been before.

And it was messing with her head.

Savannah took another sip of her drink, trying to shake it off. This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Nico was just her neighbor-turned-friend-turned-something-a-little-more. That was all.

Except it didn’t feel that simple anymore.

“So…” She cleared her throat, tilting her head toward him. “What did she say? The woman who was flirting with you?”

Nico frowned, clearly surprised by the shift in conversation. “Why do you want to know?”

Savannah shrugged, keeping her tone playful. “I’m curious. Was she any good?”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“No?” Savannah smiled, hiding the way her pulse quickened at his answer. “Too much? Too little? Not enough charm?”

Nico turned his glass in his hands, his gaze fixed on the ice swirling inside. “She was… trying too hard. I don’t like that.”

Savannah’s smile faltered slightly. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “So, what do you like?”

The question came out softer than she intended, and for a moment, Nico’s eyes flicked to hers, holding her gaze in a way that made her stomach flutter.

“Something real,” he said quietly.

Savannah’s breath caught in her throat.

Real.

There was something in the way he said it, like he was admitting more than he meant to. Like he was tired of pretending things didn’t matter.

For a second, she thought about pushing him. Asking him to tell her what he really meant. But she couldn’t do it. If he wasn’t ready to admit it, she wasn’t about to be the first to cross that line.

So instead, she kept it light.

“Well,” she said with a teasing grin, tapping her glass against his, “good thing I’m not trying too hard, huh?”

Nico chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No. You’re not.”

Savannah’s heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his voice.

And that scared her.

Because if she wasn’t careful she was going to fall for him, if she hadn’t already.

–

“You told her it didn’t matter!?” Jack’s voice boomed through Nico’s hotel room.

“Look… I-” Nico sighed, running a hand down his face. The exhaustion from travel, practice, and now this conversation was starting to weigh on him. “It’s complicated.”

Jack gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Complicated? Dude, you told Savannah who you’re interested in isn’t that important. And now you’re pissed because she’s acting like she believes you? You can’t have it both ways.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration. “What did you expect her to do, wait around for you to magically change your mind?”

Nico groaned and sank onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to get this messy.”

“Yeah, well, it is messy. And it’s your fault.” Jack’s tone softened slightly, but his frustration remained evident. “You can’t keep stringing her along like this. It’s not fair to her. Or to you.”

“I know,” Nico muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I’m trying to figure out how to handle it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Handle it? You’ve had months, man. How much more time do you need to figure out that you’re in love with her?”

Nico’s head shot up, eyes wide. “I’m not-”

“Oh, please.” Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Everyone sees it. The guys in the locker room have bets on when you’re finally going to pull your head out of your ass and tell her. Even Luke thinks you’re being an idiot.”

“Luke?” Nico blinked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. He said, ‘Nico’s acting like a middle school kid with a crush.’”

Nico let out a shaky breath, the weight of Jack’s words settling heavily in his chest. “I don’t know how to tell her.”

Jack pushed off the doorframe and walked over to sit beside Nico. “Here’s an idea. Start with, ‘Savannah, I have feelings for you. I want more than just this casual thing.’ And then, I don’t know, maybe actually listen to what she has to say.”

Nico shook his head. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jack stared at him for a long moment before speaking, his voice steady. “And what if she does? What if she’s just been waiting for you to say something? You won’t know unless you take the risk.”

Silence stretched between them, the hum of the hotel’s air conditioning the only sound in the room. Finally, Nico exhaled slowly and stood up. “You really think I’m being an idiot?”

Jack smirked. “One hundred percent. But you’re my friend, and I want to see you happy. And you won’t be happy until you’re honest with her.”

Nico paced to the window, staring out at the city lights below. His mind flashed back to moments with Savannah, her laugh, the way she rolled her eyes when he made a bad joke, the way her presence had become his comfort in a chaotic world.

Jack’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Stop being scared of what might go wrong. Think about what could go right.”

Nico turned back to face him, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “Okay. I’ll talk to her when we come back.”

Jack grinned, standing up and clapping Nico on the back. “About damn time.”

Meanwhile, back in Jersey, Savannah sat curled up on her couch, one leg tucked underneath her, staring at the steaming cup of tea in her hands. Outside her apartment window, the city buzzed with life, horns honking, people rushing down sidewalks, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement.

But she barely noticed any of it.

Her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Or, more accurately, with someone else.

She sighed, taking a sip of her tea, hoping the warmth would settle the strange fluttering feeling in her chest. It didn’t.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, smiling when she saw Claire’s name pop up.

FaceTime? I’m bored and need a distraction.

Savannah chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. Typical Claire, never one to sit still for long. She tapped the video call button, and within seconds, Claire’s familiar face popped up on the screen. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was wrapped in a cozy sweater.

“Hey, you!” Claire grinned. “Finally, some human interaction. I’ve been stuck inside all day, and I’m losing my mind.”

Savannah leaned back into the cushions. “Sounds rough. A whole day without charming strangers with your sparkling personality? How are you even surviving?”

Claire gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Barely. I had to resort to charming my plants.”

Savannah laughed. “I hope they gave you the attention you deserve.”

Claire waved her hand dismissively. “Not enough. But anyway, enough about me. You look distracted.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Savannah’s face. “What’s going on? Spill.”

Savannah hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s… complicated.”

Claire’s expression lit up with excitement. “Oh, I love complicated. Go on.”

Savannah let out a sigh, setting her tea down. “I’ve just… I’ve been thinking about Nico.”

Claire’s grin widened instantly. “Ah, Nico. I was wondering when you’d finally bring him up.”

“It’s not like that,” Savannah said quickly, though even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Claire raised an eyebrow, looking smug. “Oh, it’s totally like that.” She leaned closer to the camera. “You’re into him.”

Savannah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “We’ve been… you know, hooking up. Casually. That’s all.”

Claire snorted. “Yeah, right. Casual. Sure.” She leaned back, her expression knowing. “Let me guess, you’re catching feelings, aren’t you?”

Savannah stayed quiet while biting the corner of her lip nervously, her silence speaking louder than words.

Claire gasped, clapping her hands together. “Oh my God, you are! I knew it. I freaking knew it.”

Savannah groaned again. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am. But it’s a mess, Claire. I don’t even know how he feels, and I’m pretty sure he likes someone else. I just don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sav, please. That boy is so into you. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed.”

Savannah frowned. “You really think so?”

“Uh, yeah,” Claire said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And don’t think I forgot about the little mix-up with the box of goodies I sent you.”

Savannah’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh my God, don’t bring that up.”

Claire grinned wickedly. “Why not? That was a brilliant gift, if I do say so myself. Thanks to that you guys met” She tilted her head, pretending to think. “You have used them, right?”

Savannah’s blush deepened. “I’m not answering that.”

Claire’s eyes lit up. “You haven’t! Oh my God, you need to get on that.” She leaned in closer, her expression turning playful. “Seriously, Sav, if you’re not going to make a move on Nico, at least have some fun on your own.”

Savannah laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Claire said. “Better yet, use them with him. I bet he’d love it.”

Savannah groaned, covering her face again. “Stop.”

Claire just laughed. “What? You’re the one who said things are complicated. Maybe you need to shake things up a bit.”

Savannah lowered her hands, still smiling, but her mind was already drifting back to Nico.

“Honestly, though,” Claire said, her voice softening slightly. “If you like him, you need to tell him. You can’t keep dancing around it forever.”

Savannah sighed. “I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

Claire gave her a pointed look. “Sav. He does. Trust me.”

Savannah stayed quiet, turning Claire’s words over in her mind.

“And,” Claire added with a playful smirk, “if he doesn’t, well… at least you’ll have those toys to keep you company.”

Savannah burst out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s why you love me.” Claire winked. “Now, promise me you’ll at least think about it.”

Savannah smiled softly. “I will.”

But even after they ended the call, her mind stayed on one thought.

What if Claire was right? What if it was time to stop holding back?

Savannah set her phone down on the coffee table, Claire’s voice still echoing in her head.

You need to tell him.

–

Nico stood outside of Savannah’s apartment. It had been weeks since that conversation with Jack. Weeks of overthinking, rehearsing what he would say, and second-guessing every word. But now, standing in front of Savannah’s door, he realized none of that preparation mattered. He was still nervous as hell.

He took a deep breath, staring at the familiar number on the door. He’d been here so many times before, but tonight felt different. There was a weight in the air, a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. What if she wasn’t home? Or worse, what if she didn’t want to see him? They hadn’t seen each other since the club after all.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment before he finally knocked.

A few seconds later, footsteps approached, followed by the soft click of the lock. The door swung open, and Savannah appeared, taking in the sight before her. Nico in sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. His dark hair was still damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and the faint scent of his cologne hung in the air.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him. “Nico?”

“Hey.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can we talk?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. There was a guarded look in her eyes, but she nodded. “Yeah. Come in.”

Nico stepped inside, taking in the familiar scent of her apartment. It felt like stepping into another world, a world he had missed more than he realized.

Savannah closed the door behind him, her gaze never leaving his face.

Nico frowned as he took in the sight of a plate in the counter. She had been baking, which only meant she was stressed. He had made her feel stressed.

Her eyes followed his gaze to the small batch of cookies she’d baked earlier, sitting untouched on the counter. She’d made them to keep herself busy, to distract her from the growing knot of feelings twisting in her chest.

But no amount of baking, tea, or pacing around her apartment had helped.

The truth was painfully clear now.

She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine, that their arrangement didn’t mean more to her than it should. She liked Nico. More than liked him. And if he didn’t say something soon, the uncertainty would eat her alive.

“So… what’s up?” She asked him.

Nico turned to face her, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve been an idiot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Go on.”

“I told you who I was interested in wasn’t that important. But that was a lie.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

Savannah tilted her head, her heart racing as she tried to read his expression. “A lie?” she echoed, her voice softer now.

Nico nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. It matters a lot more than I wanted to admit.” He glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with the string of his sweatpants before looking back up at her. “I’ve been telling myself that I’m too busy, that I can’t get involved with someone right now. But that’s not the real reason I’ve been holding back.”

“Fear,” he admitted quietly. “I’m afraid that if I let you in, I won’t want to let you go. And that terrifies me. Because you deserve more than someone who’s constantly in and out, juggling a million things.” Wait, was she the one he was interested in?

Her chest tightened at his words. “Nico, you’ve been there for me since day one. You helped me move in, you’ve listened to me ramble about work, you’ve made me laugh when I needed it the most. That’s more than enough for me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be just enough for you. I want to be everything. But I’ve been holding myself back because I was scared of what that would mean.”

Savannah’s eyes softened, and she reached out to gently touch his cheek. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nico. I’m not looking for perfect. I’m just looking for you.”

For a moment, he stared at her, processing her words. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, he closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” he murmured before his lips met hers in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened, months of unspoken emotions pouring out in that single moment. Savannah’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, while Nico’s hands slid down to her waist, anchoring her to him.

They stumbled toward her bedroom, lips never parting. Savannah tugged at his shirt, and he shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands explored the planes of his chest, her touch igniting a fire in him that he couldn’t contain.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless.

“So,” Savannah whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Does this mean you like me?”

Nico laughed softly, pressing his forehead against hers. “More than like. A lot more.”

She grinned. “Good. Because I’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

Nico’s expression turned serious again as he traced his thumb along her cheek. “I want this to work, Savannah. I know my life can be unpredictable, but I want to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to take a chance on me.”

Savannah leaned in, brushing her lips against his once more. “I think we’ve both been waiting long enough. I’m all in.”

Nico’s smile was slow, but it lit up his entire face. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “All in,” he echoed.

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands slid to her waist, fingertips brushing the hem of her shirt. Savannah leaned into his touch, her breath hitching when his fingers grazed the bare skin of her lower back.

Her hands explored the curve of his shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles. Nico shivered under her touch, his skin warm and inviting. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before returning to the kiss, his lips finding hers with renewed hunger.

Savannah’s heart pounded as her hands roamed across his chest, memorizing the feel of him. She pressed soft kisses along his jawline, her lips trailing down to his neck. Nico tilted his head to give her better access, a quiet groan escaping him when she nipped gently at his skin.

“Savannah,” he murmured, her name a reverent whisper. “Are you sure?” He cupped her face, his gaze locking onto hers, dark eyes filled with desire but also something new.

Savannah nodded, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Words, baby.” He whispered between kisses.

“Yes, please.” Savannah smirked. Her quiet confidence unraveled something in him. Nico kissed her again, rougher, his hands sliding to her thighs. He lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding onto him as if afraid to let go.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before leaning over her, their bodies pressed together. Savannah’s fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed her neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth down her collarbone.

Her pants were the next to go, followed by the rest of their clothes, each layer removed with care, as though Nico was unwrapping something precious. He kissed every inch of her skin, savoring the moment, leaving her breathless beneath him.

Savannah traced her fingers along the curve of his back, admiring the strength in his frame, the tension in his muscles as he held himself above her. She pulled him closer, her lips finding his again in a kiss that was both passionate and tender.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was filled with a sense of urgency, but also with care. Nico’s touch was soft, as if he was memorizing every detail of her, committing her to memory.

They moved together in perfect rhythm, bodies intertwining like they were made for each other. The world outside faded away until all that remained was the two of them, lost in each other.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, Nico’s arm draped over Savannah’s waist, their breathing slowing to match each other’s. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering there as if he couldn’t quite pull away.

Savannah turned to face him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Still all in?”

Nico caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “All in,” he whispered, his voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn’t known she was missing. “Good,” she murmured, resting her head on his chest. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, the slight stubble rough beneath her touch. “I’m glad it was you who opened that box.”

Nico chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated against her chest. She loved it. “Me too.”

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Savannah couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where she was always meant to be.

When the morning light streamed through the windows, they lay tangled together, hearts beating in sync, knowing that this time, there would be no going back.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier smut #new jersey devils #nhl fic #nh13

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