#the thought has crossed my mind a few times yes

[cherryhazee]

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.

[michaelmilligan]

The Jonmartin manifesto no one asked for but needed to get out

So, I've not been in the tma fandom for long yet, having only listened to it for the first time a few months ago. But from browsing the Jonmartin (and teaholding and jmart) tag regularly, it seems to me like most jonmartin shippers fall into one of these two categories:

They would find each other in every universe; or

It's a miracle they even got together in this universe

(Obviously, that's an oversimplification, and people who express one view in one post can easily hold a different view at another time - these are fictional characters we're talking about after all, and headcanons don't need to be consistent and can even contradict each other. This is just the general vibe I got so far.)

Anyway, I wanted to add my own two cents on the topic, because while I understand where both of these views are coming from, I think neither of them is ultimately correct.

(Putting the rest under a read more - be warned that this is NOT a spoiler-free post, so if you haven't finished listening to TMA yet and you want a spoiler-free experience, you probably shouldn't read this.)

So, before we get to my own opinion, let's first look at where the two options I mentioned above come from, shall we?

"They would find each other in every universe"

Obviously, this view is highly romantic - star-crossed lovers, finding each other again and again. It is both a good foundational basis for AUs, and a ray of hope in the face of the tragedy that is the tma finale.

Of course, concerning the finale, this is a rather different take than concerning AUs (since it would mean the very same characters finding each other again in a different world, not fundamentally different characters, shaped by said other world, also finding each other). And maybe when people express this view, they mean more the finale fix-its than AUs, though I suspect that plenty of people mean both.

It's a nice, comforting thought. And don't we all need some comfort after the finale? Yes, we certainly do. (Except for the people who read only hurt without comfort and angst, I guess. You do you, and I'm glad you're having fun, but personally I do desperately need some comfort, lmao.)

Is this view supported by canon though?

Cynical minds would say no, and personally I'm more inclined to agree with them, though as I've said, for me the truth lies outside of those two rigid stances (somewhere in between, I suppose).

I don't see much in canon which points to Jon and Martin falling in love under any circumstances/in any universe, especially considering their... let's say difficult relationships at the start of the show. But of course we must also take into account the specific circumstances in canon (more on that below) and interpretations vary, and I do very much enjoy AUs, so I'm certainly not trying to throw shade if you're on this side of the 'divide'.

Mostly, I think there CAN be other circumstances in which those two get together, outside the canon ones. (I'm writing a canon-divergent jonmartin fic myself, lol.) Let's get into that while we look at the other view, shall we.

"It's a miracle they even got together in this one"

Ah, the Martin-approved stance. One could say 'well, they literally said it in canon' and be done with it. However, that would require us to believe that the opinions of the characters are always true and correct, which. Lmao. We only have to listen to season 2 of tma to know that this is very much not the case.

And even if S5 Martin is not S2 Jon at the height of his paranoia, he's still very much a man shaped by his own life and experiences. I'm sure he would call himself a realist, but he honestly seems more like a pessimist to me. Which is understandable, given his life, and his association with the Lonely, which has often been (in my opinion accurately) compared to depression.

The thing is, Jon did treat Martin horribly in S1, and then he admittedly treated everyone horribly in S2. It was only in the course of S3 that their relationship got more, let's say, equal, with Jon no longer thinking Martin would be 'contributing nothing but delays'. (And then of course we have S4, which I LOVE even though it hurts me deeply. Then again, that's the whole show. And, obviously, S5 my beloved.)

So. Jon seemed to hate Martin in S1, while Martin was arguably already in love with the man. (Arguably. We do know that he acted catty to Basira in S2, so it's reasonable to assume that he started liking him at some point in S1, or even before the show started.) Then a lot of traumatic things happened, and they got together.

This means it must be the traumatic things that made them compatible, right? Just like Martin says in S5?

Well, one could see it that way. Jon certainly changed over the seasons, coming off his high horse and such. (In S5, he arguably gets back on it quite a bit, but then he IS the Eye's specialest little princess in a world that's literally ruled by it. And also he is slowly losing his grip on his own humanity. But I digress.)

And I do think that the trauma channeled a lot of those changes - the first time we see Jon being actually emotionally open (something he still struggles with over all seasons, because people don't just change fundamentally that quickly) is during Prentiss' attack on the Institute. They're in a situation where they might reasonably die (they even expect it, because they don't know that Elias is just rubbing his greedy little paws as he waits for things to get worse before he saves them with the gas).

I do think that moment could have been a big turning point for Jon and Martin, if it hadn't been immediately followed with the discovery of Gertrude's body, and Jon's subsequent descent into paranoia. Jon opened up, and also saw that Martin was rather competent during the attack, which could have led to them becoming closer, respectively having at least something like a normal work relationship.

But then Jon got paranoid and interpreted everything he saw negatively, including Martin's competence, which was twisted in his mind to 'What if he's just been pretending to be incompetent and is actually an evil agent out to kill the archivist'.

(Big sigh.)

Anyway, before I lose myself in the red string as well: Yes, Jon seems to 'mellow' over the seasons, especially with regard to Martin, at the same time that he's going through terribly traumatic events.

But does that mean that it's actually the trauma that's changing him and his relationships? Partly, certainly, but I would argue that trauma doesn't make you nicer or kinder. It might make you realise some things, but that doesn't mean that you can't realise those things in other ways.

And does it means that they couldn't have come together if they had met under different circumstances? Also not necessarily! I would even argue that the specific circumstances they met under were detrimental to Jon's first impression of Martin. And yes, this goes beyond the dog story.

So let's try and dissect their relationship from the start.

A theory of... something like nuance, or whatever

The starting situation

(Yes, I did have to use a Supernatural gif, thank you for asking. No, I will not apologise. <3)

Alright. So let's start with what we actually know about Jon and Martin's first meeting. Obviously, there's the dog story, though as far as I know that's not 'canon' because it wasn't actually in the podcast. I still like it, and think it adds another reason to Jon's behaviour, though I don't necessarily think it's necessary, because Jon already had lots of other reasons to tell himself that Martin wasn't worth his time.

1.1. Jon has issues. More at 11.

First of all, we learn throughout the podcast that Jon doesn't actually have any qualifications to lead an archive. He's probably 29 when the show starts (in 2016, going by the fandom wiki stating that he was born in 1987, which is reasonable given everything we learn about his age).

So, he's 29 and suddenly appointed, after four years of working in one department, to become the head of a completely different department. He does not have a degree that would give him credentials for leading an archive, nor are we told that he has ever even worked in an archive. For all we know, and that he knows, he is woefully underqualified. (This is also, I think, highlighted in S2 when Jon threatens to resign, only to then be baffled by Elias saying that he would be difficult to replace. Elias means something completely different than his skill set as an archivist with a lower case 'a', presumably, but then Jon doesn't know that.)

This means that Jon is in a highly stressful position, because he's trying to do a job he doesn't actually know how to do, while also trying not to let on that he doesn't know how to do it!

It doesn't help that Jon is also terribly scared of what all might be lurking in the shadows (or even in the light), as he himself admits during the Prentiss attack. He is extremely high-strung from day one, basically a wet chihuahua shaking in a slight breeze, while trying to seem like a strong bulldog.

We also know that Jon asked for two people to be his assistants: Tim and Sasha. They both worked in research, and Sasha also briefly worked in artefact storage, making them both qualified to help Jon with following up on statements. But I think more than their qualifications, Jon probably requested them because he knew and got along with them.

Imagine: Your boss tells you that he's promoting you into a position you're not qualified for and which you have no real clue how to do. Wouldn't you rather have people around you who you're already friendly with, and who are likely to cut you some slack if you're not perfect on day one? I know I would!

1.2. Elias is a little shit and I want to kill him with hammers (affectionately)

And then Elias transfers Martin.

I'm going off the dog story again, because again, I like it, and I think it does fit neatly into canon. If this story is to be believed, Elias neither asked nor did he tell Jon that he was giving him another assistant. He apparently simply told Martin 'you work at the archives now, congratulations' and then went back to his office to smile smugly to himself.

This is a VERY bad start for a working relationship, because not only does Martin come in unannounced, this also comes off as Elias not respecting Jon, or potentially even sending someone to report back to Elias (because Martin is the only one who doesn't have an established rapport with Jon).

Jon never verbalises this suspicion, so maybe this is too much interpretation on my part, but in any case it's cause for a lot of resentment on Jon's part, and since he can't exactly let it out on Elias (who is rarely there, anyway), he simply lets it out on Martin.

He finds reasons to do so, of course, insulting his work and all that. It's probably easy, especially in the beginning, because not unlike Jon, Martin doesn't have any qualifications to work in an archive! He worked at the library before, and we know that his degree is made up (which we can only assume Elias knows, considering he can know almost anything).

(I actually find the question on why Elias transferred Martin in the first place extremely interesting, and might get into that in another post. But this one is already too long, lmao.)

1.3. Martin is too nice, aka Jon has even more issues

This is mostly my personal headcanon, though I do feel it fits Jon's character - which is that he doesn't know how to deal with nice people.

Not kind people. Not friendly people. But nice people.

People who do things seemingly out of the mere goodness of their heart. Like bringing their mean boss tea when he never asked them to do that. Like being friendly even in the face of insults. Someone who constantly takes himself back in favour of other people and their opinions.

People like Martin is appearing to be. Appearing, because Martin isn't actually like that. He does have his opinions, and he could probably grumble up a storm in S1 about Jon, but Jon is his BOSS, and so he plays.

Martin also IS genuinely a nice person most of the time (when he's not on a revenge rampage, making his boyfriend murder people). He doesn't have to do nice things for Jon like bring him tea in S2. But he does. Because that's Martin's way of trying to reach out, to show other people that he means no harm (and that he can be useful).

(I also think that Jon's snappish behaviour, where Martin never quite knows what will set the man off, might remind him off his mum, but again I digress. :))

But I think Jon doesn't know how to deal with that, because even when he's not in the height of paranoia, he still suspects that people who are THAT nice (especially when they have no reason to be nice because he's being an arsehole to them) have a secret agenda. This is playing into what I said under 2 (the part that might be too much interpretation on my side lol), because if Jon suspects that Martin is reporting back to Elias, or is at least someone who would not be friendly if he found out that Jon doesn't know what he's doing, then he can't allow himself to relax around him, and he certainly can't allow himself to be lulled into false security (as Jon would think) around him.

Tl;dr on this point: I think Jon is wary of Martin's niceness because he thinks he might be fishing for gossip/anything he can use against Jon. And even if he isn't, Jon thinks he would be likely to use anything he learns against Jon, because they weren't friends to begin with, and Jon's behaviour has made them anything but that.

(We have to remember that this is the guy who says in S2 that he knows what it's like to 'lack the respect of one's peers', aka the kid who got bullied by at least one older kid, and likely had no or very few friends - plus he believes in the supernatural, which doesn't exactly lend itself well to getting academic respect.)

1.4. They were fucked from the start, your honour

Basically what the meme says, but yeah. The they were put in practically guaranteed that Jon would be wary of Martin, and that Martin would be trying extra hard to make friends with him, which in turn would make Jon even more wary/hostile.

And Elias made it worse, either knowingly or by negligence (not telling Jon about transferring Martin).

If we add the whole dog story to it... they were fucked. I do actually wonder if, assuming we take the dog story as canon, Elias actually somehow managed to set that up. Or whether he was at least cackling (sorry, smiling ever so silently, but smugly) in his office as it happened, or whenever he ended up knowing that it happened.

2. Yes, we've had one starting point, but what about second starting point?

As we have established above, the starting situation for Jon and Martin was... not ideal. So, would they have gotten together easily given a different starting point, like in a cute coffee shop AU?

Eh.

It's true that the specific situation they were in made it a lot harder for them to actually communicate and see each other as they are than it had to be. That doesn't mean that a different situation would have made it easy, though.

Their personalities still make it hard, though, as even without the added stress of a new job, Jon is still a little chihuahua shaking in the corner, who tries to make up for it by barking at everyone, and Martin is still the guy trying to approach him with treats and getting his hand bitten.

There are certainly specific situation that could make it easier, especially if Jon isn't scared as hell, and has maybe already learned that not everyone who does something nice for him wants to just pull on his strings. (Yes, I do think that the thing that makes Martin, according to Annabelle, suited for the Web, is the thing that put Jon on edge at the beginning. I don't know if this was intended at all, but it makes me cackle.)

The beauty of fanfic is that we can do whatever the hell we want. But I think the most fun thing an AU author can do is think 'What would have to happen, in this specific scenario, for these two to get over themselves and get together?'

Excursion: Martin, my beloved depressed blorbo who I am certainly not projecting on, haha

Because it IS both of them who need to get over themselves. Of course Jon's issues are the most obvious, and I've certainly expanded on them enough. But Martin also has a problem, and it's that he's constantly hiding his true feelings and opinions, especially anger and fear.

That makes sense, perhaps, in a workplace, though considering he's dealing with a walking, talking worm hive and a stalker boss... Let's just say it probably would have helped Tim, too, if Martin hadn't been so desperate to make everyone be friends again.

Because Martin is always TRYING to make everything better for everyone, but he's actually not helping anyone. Being nice to Jon and bringing him tea doesn't help battle his paranoia. And trying to tell Tim not to be so angry at Jon, and can't they all be friends, doesn't actually help Tim with his anger.

All Martin is essentially doing is making himself small and saying 'let's get along, pretty please' every now and then. I don't know if it would have helped if he had expressed his own fears and anger, and maybe Jon would have misconstrued that as well, too deep in his paranoia already. But at least Tim might have realised that he was not alone in all this. (His biggest problem, as he says in S2, is that he feels that no one has his back, which I think at least partly results from no one expressing the same anger, aka no one validating his feelings.)

Anyway! (Jon voice) Excursion ends.

3. (To the melody of 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor') What shall we do with these total idiots?

So, how ARE these two going to get together, if they're so woefully unequipped to deal with each other?

Well, first we need to give Martin a good helping of self-confidence. Then we need to kind of give Jon the same, since his problem ALSO is that he's unsure of himself, he just tries to make other people small to cover it up, instead of making himself small. (And isn't that a funny thing to do for someone who we know was bullied. To become a bully himself. Oh, the snake, biting its own tail...)

The easy answer is, of course: You can come up with your own version, get creative. <3

The more complex answer is: A lot of stuff, probably. Jon and Martin will certainly need time to get to know each other, and of course it depends on what situation you put them in to start. But there will be misunderstandings, and there will be hurt feelings, and I am going to soak it up all like a particularly slowburn-greedy sponge.

I feel like there are probably five million ways to get them together, and some might be cute and fluffy (if they go to therapy first, I guess, lol) and many will be full of tears. <3 (Jon voice) And I want to see them all on my desk by Friday! So get to it!

In all seriousness though, yeah, I think there's not one right way for them to get together (though canon did it well imo). But it's also a little more complex than we might give it credit to (very much including me).

4. So what now?

I don't know. I'm not your dad. Write a fic. Draw a picture. Put down your own thoughts on the matter. Or take a shower and clean up your room, young Padawan!

(Though actually, if you've read this post from start to finish in one session, what you should probably do is get up and stretch and get some water.)

And above all! And this is imperative.

Have a good day. <3

[sn0wbat]

Does Einarr have to cut his hair short every time or is it illusion magic?

Because if it’s the former I can imagine him/someone else with similar hair going the barber’s to do that thing where you cut most/all of your hair off so it can be made into wigs for people going through chemo and then coming back the next day to do it again

yeah he just genuinely chops it off because some things are just way harder to simulate with illusions. he already has to deal with hiding/covering up his ears, his red eyes, his skin tone, so when he's able to chop off his hair without much problems (it returns!), of course he will. he has figured out how to do it all on his own without mirrors anyway, so why not.

the time a vampire is able to maintain an illusion highly depends on how much there is to hide - ear size and how nonhuman the skin appears already being huge factors - and well, einarr has quite a lot to cover up due to how much he's changed in appearance since his mortal days.

so at this point he can only keep it up for a few hours - if hair was included here, it would get cut down to mere minutes.

as for being able to donate it.... it's a nice thought, but feels rather overpowered. he's a vampire, not a hair generator, and there's dark magic involved here anyway; what if all the chopped-off stuff just fades away and disappears from the world when his hair inevitably gets long again?

who knows, really.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[alexiroflife]

"babysitting"

fluff, crack

Synopsis: that time you were babysitting your niece when sukuna came home...

to sum it up: sukuna is such a dad but doesn't know it yet

WC: 1,218

Warning(s): none

“What the fuck is that?”

You look up to see Sukuna standing in the doorway, a twisted snarl on his face as he glares harshly at the object within your grasp. You raise your brows, momentarily surprised by his arrival, and give him a soft smile. 

“Hi, Kuna,” you greet happily, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know you were gonna be back so soon.”

“Answer my question, woman,” he growls, looking almost disgusted by the sight before him. “What is that?”

He points one of his burly arms to you, and you look down at the cooing seven-month-old in your embrace, bouncing up on your knee as you sit on the floor just before Sukuna’s large bed. The baby gargles, hand stuffed into her mouth as drool dribbles down her fist, a thoughtless smile rising onto her small lips.

“She’s my niece,” you tell him, smoothing your thumb lovingly over the baby’s shirt, inspiring a small giggle and a senseless babble. You smile. “Isn’t she so cute?”

“It’s vile,” Sukuna grimaces and you frown. “Why is that beast in my temple?”

“Sukuna, be nice,” you roll your eyes. “She’s just a baby, and my sister needed some help looking after her for a few hours.”

“And you felt prompted to bring it here?”  he scrunches his nose. 

“Her, and where else would I be?” 

“As long as you’re carrying that creature, you must be anywhere else but here,” he grumbles, turning dismissively to leave the room. “I want it gone.”

“What?!” you exclaim, moving to stand with the baby resting on your hip. You walk over to your boyfriend, touching your soft hand to his large back to keep him from leaving. Sukuna peers over his shoulder angrily, four eyes squinting down at the two of you. “Come on, Sukuna! At least admit how adorable she is. Look at this precious little face.”

You squish gently at the baby’s cheeks and her fist falls from her mouth, big round eyes scrunching as a giddy beam rises to her rosy cheeks. All Sukuna can see, however, is the slobber shining over her chin and on her hand. “I do not understand what you are requesting of me,” he says coldly, eying the child as though she carries the plague. “Is it incapable of keeping its saliva inside of its mouth?”

“She’s teething,” you say flatly.

“What?”

“Her teeth are coming in soon, it stimulates drooling.”

Sukuna’s face of disgust grows more exaggerated, leaning his head back with curled lips. “Like an animal?”

Your face drops as you stare at him boredly. “Yes, Sukuna. Like an animal. All humans did it at one point.”

“Do you mean to inform me that you engaged in such a disgusting act when you were in this stage of life?”

“...Yes?”

He clicks his tongue, now eying you with an air of suspicion. “Good to know,” he says rather judgmentally.

The thought crosses your mind to point at that your boyfriend was at some point a human too, but you decide against it.

“Sukuna,” you groan. “Aside from the drool, she’s such a precious little thing. You have to agree, right?” you coo. You look down at the baby to grin childishly at her, tucking your finger under her chin and tapping her slightly, hardly tickling at her body but arising a few more giggles nonetheless. You babble meaningless sounds, speaking to her in a playful voice that Sukuna has never heard from you before.

Though still thoroughly confounded as to why you want him to take interest in this little animal, his eyes catch the way you soften for the child, how your eyes light and a sense of maternity takes you as you speak to the baby as though you know just what to say, drawing out toothless grins and thrilled gibberish. His brow twitches involuntarily, something within him almost enjoying the sight before him. You’re so good with this creature. Have you always been like this?

“What language are you speaking with it?” he suddenly asks gruffly, causing you to pause and look up at him as your niece reaches her small hands up to your cheek. 

“With her,” you correct again. “And I’m not speaking any language, I’m just playing around,” you chuckle slightly. Sukuna stares harshly now, examining the movements of the half developed human in your arms as she curiously taps against your face.

Suddenly catching wind of his presence, the baby’s head turns to him and her eyes grow bigger. She cries out excitedly, reaching her arms out to Sukuna with grasping tiny fingers. Sukuna falters, confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks urgently, and you laugh.

“She wants you to hold her,” you say softly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Kuna,” you pout. “Please? Just for two seconds.”

“I said no, you brat.”

“Pleaseeeee? Pretty pretty please, my king?”

You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster, and when he looks between the two of you, your expressions almost match. Sukuna feels something in his resolve crumble, incapable of truly denying you though he tries his best to still appear as though you give him a hard time. 

With an agitated sigh, he reaches his upper set of arms to grab the child as you lift her up and hand her to him. “Two seconds,” he growls and your eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He holds the baby up before him, watching as her little feet dangle and kick around in her onesie as he grasps her from under her arms. His hands practically consume her entire frame, her fingers still reaching out to him curiously, joyfully.

The king of curses continues to glare, brow cocked while he tries to decide what is so special about it. Perhaps he can understand what you find to be “cute.” The baby’s got big chubby cheeks and huge doe eyes that almost remind him of you, and she’s so comically tiny it makes him want to laugh. 

He grunts softly as he pulls the baby in closer, complying with her unspoken request displayed by her constant reaching. She touches her little slobber-less hand on his forehead, touching softly at the plate structure on the right side of his face. Sukuna imagined himself to be a bit more perturbed by the contact, but finds himself unbothered, allowing the child to trace his features with innocent exploration.

You watch with your hands to your mouth, hiding your bright smile. The sight before you is just so adorable, you wish you could take a picture but you know that Sukuna would be quick to crush your phone in an instant if he caught you.

Sukuna finally pulls the child away, watching her grin happily. He hands her back to you and crosses his arms. “What is her purpose?” he questions, and you give him a strange look, adjusting the baby back on your hip as she plays with your hair. 

“She has no purpose. She’s a baby.”

“She is too young to work? To serve?”

“Wh- yes?!”

“Very well,” he nods. “She may stay for another hour.”

“...But my sister isn’t free for another two hours.”

“Two hours, and if she isn’t gone by then, tell her in her native tongue that I will be eating her fingers for dinner.”

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The first shot is fired. While you come up with a plan to confuse and bait these four alphas, they come up with their own strategy.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You looked at the four men with wide eyes and they stared back at you with equally wide ones as well. Your finger moved to the trigger of the shotgun and the one with a scraggly mohawk stepped forward. You growled without even meaning to and he hesitated. "Come on Bonnie, drop tae shotgun," he tried to negotiate but you snarled at him.

"Get the fuck out of my woods," you replied, snarling so hard spit flies from your mouth. You pointed the shotgun at the four of them but mostly focused on the Scottish brute in front of you, "Or I'll kill you."

A nasty smile crossed his face, feral and unnatural. "Oh ye wouldnae. You're just a little omega," he cooed and you pulled the trigger. The kick is a little more than you expected and you're pushed flat on your back from the kick. You the blast heard echo through the woods and your ears are ringing. Behind the ringing you hear curses and you looked to see the Scottish alpha on the ground clutching his shoulder with a dark look in his eyes.

His three other alpha packmates gathered around him, fretting over his wound and so you took the chance to get onto your feet and get away. "She's gettin' away!" You heard another shout and then more curses. You assumed that one fell into the hole you had covered up. You hoped he enjoys the wooden spikes.

You huffed and puffed after a while, your breathing fogging the air around you. The winter chill had made your nose hurt and your fingers were stiff. You rubbed them together to try and gather some heat in them. You shakily reloaded the shotgun, putting the spent shotgun shell into your pocket.

You don't need anymore tracks leading them to you.

You can't help but wonder how they figured it out. How they knew someone was still lingering around this long forgotten small town. You racked your brain for the answer as you kept walking, snow crunching under your well worn boots.

You thought back to a few days ago, the last time you had been in for resupply. You had noticed one of your traps had been triggered. The false floor in a building had collapsed underneath the weight of someone. You checked it and found a very big, unnaturally big, beta. He was already dead, he was wearing a T-shirt as a mask of all things. It had taken a lot of effort to get him from the pit, you'd had to grab your old jeep, rarely used except for times like these when you needed to haul something big.

In this case, a tall T-shirt mask wearing beta.

You had cut yourself on a shard of glass picking him up and loading him into the back. You hadn't even thought about it when you wiped your hand on the wooden pole. "Fucking stupid," you whispered to yourself. Carelessness.

After all this time it was carelessness that had gotten you at last.

Then it gave you an idea. If they were able to track your scent using blood...

You grabbed your pocket knife and looked at it, the idea of the perfect trap starting in your mind.

"Fuckin' bitch," Soap hissed from between clenched teeth. The shotgun blast had barely grazed his shoulder but it still hurt like a massive bitch. "She actually shot tae damn thing."

Gaz scoffed as he wrapped his mild puncture wound, the wooden stakes at the bottom not sharpened enough to do any real damage. "That's what you get for provoking," he replied as he stood up.

"I was not provoking!" Soap said and Gaz rolled his eyes.

"Shut it you two," Price finally snapped as he pinched the bridge of his nose using his index and thumb. Gaz had been right, there was an omega running around in this forest still. The issue was now that not only did she know that they were here but that she had known before hand.

"How's Soaps shoulder?" Price asked Ghost, who had a stronger bond with Soap. It was natural. Price was more bonded with Gaz and he could feel his inner alpha snarling and pacing that he was hurt.

"It'll be fine. Luckily the shot mostly missed," Ghost replied gruffly. Price turned to his pack and looked over them.

"What do you think Ghost?"

"I think she has more 'f these traps laid out through the forest," he replied, his shoulders tensed at the idea of having to navigate an entirely booby trapped forest.

"Did you hear what she said?" Gaz asked and Price raised a brow.

"Yes Kyle, what of it?"

"She referred to this place as her woods."

"What of it?" Soap snapped and Gaz glared at his fellow sergeant.

"This is her territory," Gaz finally finished and everyone gave him a skeptical look.

"Omegas don't have territory," Soap responded, "they aren't built like that."

Gaz rolled his eyes. Out of everyone within the pack, Gaz might be the most versed on how omegas operated with Ghost not far behind him. "Even if this is her territory," Price said and even he sounded skeptical, "there's still an easy solution."

Ghost looked at his captain, his stomach churned at what he was about to say. He knew what he would say. They could scruff her.

"We just have to get close." Price said and Soap huffed out a laugh.

"Damn thing is fuckin' feral. We aren't gettin' through these woods without a few more scratches."

"So you're willin' to give up a ripe omega?" Gaz challenged and Soap shook his head.

"I didnae say that."

[gojofile]

geto suguru’s guide on fraternising with the enemy — teaser

summary: geto suguru has been your greatest rival since your first year at hogwarts, always outdoing you in class and always getting under your skin. when he’s picked as the hogwarts champion for the triwizard tournament instead of you, you think you couldn’t possibly hate him more—until he corners you one evening and asks for your help.

⇢ pairing: slytherin!geto suguru x gryffindor!fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, smut, slowburn, academic rivals to lovers au, hogwarts au ⇢ teaser word count: 0.6k | expected word count: 15k-17k ⇢ teaser warnings: nothing! (full warnings tba!)

“Running away so soon?”

You don’t turn immediately. Instead, you close your eyes and inhale slowly once more. When you finally turn, Geto Suguru stands a few feet away, leaning against the wall. His black hair is tied back neatly, save for a loose strand that falls against his cheek. 

“I didn’t realise I needed your permission to leave,” you say coolly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s not as much fun winning,” Suguru says, “if my competition isn’t around to see it.”

“Competition?” You scoff. “That implies we were on equal footing to begin with.”

His smile widens, and he takes a step closer. “You’re not giving up that easily, are you? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.”

You want to snap at him, say something cutting enough to wipe that stupid self-satisfied grin off his face, but the words stick in your throat. He’s insufferable, yes, but you know that’s exactly what he wants—to pull a reaction from you. And Merlin help you, he’s good at it.

“What do you want, Suguru?” you ask, exhaustion finally seeping into your tone. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of your house?”

“Of course, but like I said, it’s no fun if my favourite rival isn’t around to see it.”

You bristle at his words. “Favourite rival? You were desperate to beat me, Suguru.”

“So were you,” he points out, and it takes all your self-restraint not to do something horrifically stupid like punch him in the face. “If I’m desperate, it only means you’re worth the effort.”

“Congratulations, Suguru,” you say hollowly. “You’ve won the Goblet’s favour. What do you want, a parade?”

“I want your help.” Suguru steps forward, his movements unhurried, his expression calculated.

You blink. “What?”

“You should be proud,” he says. “You were a close second.”

The words sting more than you would like to admit. You narrow your eyes at him. “Spare me your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he replies. “It’s acknowledgment. You’re good. Maybe even better than me in some ways.”

You suck in a breath sharply, thrown off balance. This is not what you expected—not from Geto Suguru, at least. You ask warily, “Is this some sort of tactic to get me to like you?”

Your rival chuckles wryly. “No, but it’d be stupid to ignore the fact that you’re good. You wouldn’t have been the biggest threat to my name being called otherwise.”

His admission leaves you momentarily speechless, a rare occurrence when it comes to Geto Suguru. You can’t decide whether to feel insulted or flattered, so you settle for glaring at him instead. The torch light softens the planes of his face, casting a warm glow on his cheekbones and the edges of his smile. He infuriates you so much.

“Help me,” Suguru says again.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m serious,” he says, folding his arms. “You’re as competitive as I am, and you hate losing. If anyone understands what’s at stake in this tournament, it’s you.”

“That’s a very pretty way of saying you want me to do your work for you,” you shoot back.

“I’m asking because I know you’re capable,” he presses on, ignoring your jab. “You think I haven’t noticed how good you are at strategising? Or how quick you are to spot weaknesses, whether it’s in a spell or a person?”

You stare at him, suspicious. It’s not the first time someone has acknowledged your abilities, but it’s the first time he’s done it. As much as you loathe to admit it, Suguru isn’t the type to hand out compliments lightly.

“You’re insane,” you say finally, shaking your head. “You want me to help you win the tournament I should have been chosen for?”

Suguru’s expression hardens. “I want you to push me,” he says. “To challenge me the way only you can. And when I win—because I will win—it’ll be as much your victory as it will be mine.”

⇢ a/n: hello! thank you so much for checking out my teaser 🥰 i’m so excited to get this fic out, because harry potter and jjk are like. two of my most favourite things ever!!! if you’d like to be tagged in the full fic when i release it, please send an ask! have a wonderful day 🤍

[sleepymarimo]

𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟!

read cw! summary: after finding out that you're a virgin, the cook wants you all to himself pairing: sanji x afab!reader cw: mdni, obessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, nonconsensual use of aphrodisiacs, virginity kink (reader is portrayed as more innocent), slight overstimulation, oral (fem! receiving), fingering an: listen... sanji is a dirty dirty perv in this. like. a manipulative perv. also i made this too damn long 😐 no wonder it takes me forever to upload... anyway, eat up!! wc: 2.4k for kinktober '23!

friday nights were his favorite. everyone was full and happy, drunk and carefree. the guys were busy stumbling over themselves and fighting over the last piece of food.

and the ladies?

well damn, sanji wouldn't ever miss bath night!

his eyes peek through the small window, through the haze of steam until he has a clear view of the forbidden oasis that lies inside. soapy skin and damp hair, the scent of vanilla and the sound of laughter that has his already half-hard cock twitching in his pants.

he palms himself over the fabric of his jeans before he quietly unzips his pants and grabs the base of his shaft. slow strokes and deep breaths. the perverted cook wants it to last, and he squeezes himself at the tip until a jolt runs down his spine.

his eyes dart between all the exposed skin, not questioning his morals for a second. every time was the last time, damn him...

the laughs shift into quiet whispers, the interest of the chef piqued. it doesn't stop him from sliding his hand up and down his dick, thumb circling over the tip- an exquisite torture.

nami's snicker echoes in the steam filled bathroom. he can see her shoulders shake slightly, can see robin bring a hand to her mouth to hide a smile. "just admit it!" she eggs on, splashing water in your direction.

unfortunately, your back is to him, but he can tell that your arms are crossed. "fine!" comes your voice, half embarrassed and slightly slurred from the alcohol. "i'm a virgin!"

sanji just about short circuited. hell, he was surprised that he didn't groan.

why didn't he know this sooner?

you? a virgin?

he cums hard in his hand.

the next week passes in a blur. you run rampant through his mind... usually naked and spread out, looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes as he lined up his cock with your untouched-

"sanji?"

he snaps out of his stupor, almost inhaling his cigarette whole. his eyes go wide and he offers you a kind smile, making you feel warm. the way he says your name is breathless, as if he were afraid this were a dream. "what can i do for you, mon amour? a drink? or are you hungry?"

"no, none of that." you reply, returning the smile and shaking your head. "i was wondering if i could borrow some rosemary? i've heard it helps with hair growth and i wanted to use it for my shower tonight..."

oh fuck yes, you can borrow some rosemary. take the whole spice cabinet, if you want.

he nods and hands you a good handful of said herb, a pleased blush coating his cheeks. his mind races, thinking of ways to clear his schedule for tonight.

it's a few hours later when he leans outside the bathroom door, wary of any passersby while also attuning his senses to the sound of the shower turning on. he hears you as you hum along to some random tune, your melodic voice enough to make his cock twitch. slow strokes and deep breaths.

his heart hammers in his chest as he watches the water cascade down every curve and dip on your body. even the gentle flow of the water on your tits is enough to get your nipples hard. that sensitive? fuck, what he wouldn't do to wrap his lips around them. his teeth bite into his lower lip when he sees you bring your hands to your chest, lightly rubbing over your hardened peaks. the scent of rosemary lingers in the thick air, overwhelming his senses until he swears his mouth goes dry.

the conversation you'd had with the girls really got you thinking. your thoughts traversed into unknown territory and your cheeks grew hot as you lightly twisted your sensitive nipples. heart hammering in your chest, you slide a tentative hand down your torso before retracting it.

it's almost cute how shy you were, and it makes him want to spoil you even more.

"that's it, mon amour..." he whispers to himself, an adoring smile pulling at his lips. he tightens his grip on his cock, heat pooling low in his stomach.

he thinks it's a blessing from the heavens when your soap bar slides off the holder and onto the floor. the cutest little 'oops' is all you say before bending over, giving sanji the view he needs.

his cum is hot on his hand, thick and pumping with fervor as if it were actually buried in that sweet pussy of yours.

another week of madness. he could only jerk off to you so many times and, while the sight of you never failed to get his dick hard, he'd decided that he needed to have you. to be your first, to treat you right and show you pleasure unlike anything you've ever known.

he knew you wanted it. he could tell by the way your gaze lingered on his large hands or how your thighs would squish together when he showered you with compliments.

but a shy little treat like you? you'd be tripping over your words, feeling embarrassed and not knowing how to ask. the cook couldn't have that.

surely, a little nudge or two in the right direction wouldn't be a bad thing.

that's why one night, when he knew the kitchen would be free from the meat eating captain and sake drinking swordsman, he whips up a little something special for you.

when you enter the kitchen, as he had told you to do a few hours ago, you're absolutely beaming with joy upon seeing your favorite dessert on the table. "you didn't have to do that, sanji!" taking a seat, your brows rise in curiosity as he slides a shallow bowl towards you, a velvet colored sauce swirling within. "uh, sanji? what's that?"

"mon amour, i made this dessert just for you..." he smiles, a puff of smoke floating to the ceiling. "it's a special sauce. i wanted you to be the first one to try it."

none the wiser, you dig into the dish. it's extra sweet to you, whether it was from the sauce or the warmth of sanji's smile, you don't know. he watches you lick the sauce from your lips, heart hammering in his chest.

you grin, thank him for the food and leave. then, he waits.

the chef is smart, able to be incredibly coy when he wanted to- needed to. he can be patient and stick to a plan, even as he practically vibrates with excitement while he waits for the aphrodisiac to kick in.

he chose this night because nami and robin would be on watch, leaving you alone and writhing in the girl's cabin.

after a while, he makes your favorite tea and heads to the girl's quarters under a guide of innocence. "ah, mon amour." he smiles, closing the door behind him. "i made too much tea and wanted to see if you'd like some."

oh, what a sight.

you on your bed, blankets pooled by your legs. when your eyes meet his, he can see how dilated your pupils are. a light sheen of sweat coats your form and you're twisting around in agitation. "s-sanji?" you call, voice laced with a huskiness that sent a rush of blood straight down to his cock. you sit up on the mattress, hair dishevelled.

he sets the tea aside and sits on the edge of your bed, placing a hand on your forehead. "oh mon amour, what's wrong?" his eyes briefly flicker downward, where he can see your hardened nipples poking out from your sleeping shirt.

his touch feels like heaven and you lean into it, unintentionally letting out a moan. it's embarrassing and your cheeks manage to grow even warmer. "i feel hot." you mumble, his scent flooding your senses. your thighs press together, your panties already feeling sticky and damp. "c-can you just keep... touching? me?"

your moan gets his heart racing and he shifts slightly, hiding his growing erection. "of course, mon amour."

so, he does just that. one of his hands grips into the sheets below, the other trailing from your forehead, down to your cheek and then to your shoulder where he traces light circles on the soft flesh. goosebumps rise on your skin and you take a shaky breath, too shy to verbally express how soothing his touch was.

when you look down, you see how close his hand is to your clothed chest and pert nipples. without even realizing it, you begin to lean back, rolling your shoulders and pushing out your torso. his hand doesn't move and he lets you position your body into his touch, a sight that has his heart swelling with anticipation.

you brush your nipple against his fingers and your breath hitches. it's so embarrassing, so exciting and lewd, but it quells that aching feeling deep in your cunt. "m-m'sorry." you sigh, unable to resist rocking back and forth so that you could revel in his touch.

his cheeks are so red, his smile a little shaky. "i-it's okay mon amour." he assures, bringing his free hand up to your other nipple. he starts to brush his thumb across your hardened peaks, gently pushing you back onto the mattress as he did so. "is this making you feel better?"

the contact sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core and you nod.

he pushes further, momentarily taking his hands off of you (and relishing in the sound of your whines) to push your shirt up. it's so divine. you're so divine. he continues his ministrations, rolling a swollen nipple between his fingers while he licked his lips and hovered over the other one. "i'll help you feel better." he reassures, latching his lips around your hardened bud.

the squeak you give only spurs him further. he wanted to be gentle, wanted to make this special for you, but the way you gripped onto his blond hair and held him steady against your tits... it has him licking and sucking like a man starved.

he has to shift his position a bit, nestling himself between your thighs where he can grind his hard cock against you. his words are mumbled against your saliva coated nipple. "are you feeling better, mon amour?"

you are, god knows you are, but... "i need more." you mewl, whatever sense in your head being clouded by a haze of pleasure. your hips undulate beneath his, grinding against his clothed cock. you're writhing, panting when you find the perfect spot which places the right amount of friction on your clit.

but still, it's just not enough.

his chest buzzes with affection and desire, lust and wonder, at how eager you are. he'd be evil if he denied you, so he coos sweet nothings into your ear as he slides his hands down your body. he leaves a trail of heat along your skin and you can only lift your hips when he starts to tug at the waistband of your pants and underwear.

soft palms cup your thighs, spreading them wide even as you bashfully attempt to keep them closed. "you're beautiful, mon amour." he praises, lowering himself to get a good view of what he's been dreaming of for the past few weeks. "i'll make you feel go- better. i'll make you feel better."

you're soaking, practically dripping onto the mattress below. he swears that this can't all be from that damn aphrodisiac. your pretty, untouched body must've been so damn eager- desperate to be filled.

your cunt pulses when he leans forward and licks a stripe up your folds with the flat of his tongue. he repeats the motion another couple of times before latching onto your clit and assaulting it with a series of quick, short laps. it feels like pins and needles are pricking at every nerve on your body, your hips bucking with his movements.

"d-don't stop!" you hiccup, running a hand through his scalp while the other twisted into the bedsheets.

he's trembling, panting and groaning into your clit. his movements halt for a few seconds, his posture tensing before relaxing slightly. before you could beg him to keep going, he doubles his efforts.

poor chef came in his pants... it was a bit too much for him.

one of his fingers traces the entrance of your soaking cunt before he pushes it inside, his hips rutting into nothing when he's greeted by your tight, velvet walls, untouched and ready to be shaped by his cock. you're such a sweet thing, he mumbles into your cunt, setting a slow and steady pace with his finger.

you're mewling and shaking, looking down at him and at your pleasure laden body with equal parts embarrassment and arousal. drool coats your lips, a sharp gasp coming through them as he inserts another finger and curls them up against that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. the heat that was oh so uncomfortable earlier seems to be forgotten, replaced by an unabashed pleasure that you never thought was possible. "s-san! ji!"

if he thought you were tight before, then he had another thing coming. your walls start to tense and clamp around his fingers, his cock already hardening in anticipation.

another few strokes, a curling of his fingers and a swirl of his tongue around your clit have you cumming hard.

he groans against you, lapping up all of your juices and pumping his digits into you until you were squeezing your thighs around his head and begging him to stop.

your body trembles with aftershocks of pleasure, tears dotting your lashes as you look up at him as if he were a god. it's a sight he can get used to, so long as you were his little angel. no, his goddess. he gives you a smile, leaning forward to place a kiss on your temple before telling you how good you were for him.

"sanji..." you half whine, half sigh. the haze in your eyes hadn't gone away. he made sure it wouldn't when he purposefully added a few extra servings of aphrodisiac to your special dessert earlier.

"i know, mon amour." he whispers back, unzipping his pants and releasing his now hard cock from its confines. his boxers are stained with cum, the head of his dick already leaking. "i promised i'd make you feel better."

you're only able to let out a gasp when he runs the tip of his cock along your slit, your essences mixing together in a concoction more delicious than anything he's ever made.

when he slides himself into your virgin pussy, he shudders and groans. your walls squeeze him, welcoming him, beckoning him deeper until he had no choice but to spill his load into you. your gasps and whines, the shaky hold you have on his shoulders are all engrained into his brain.

you were his now. and he was yours.

his favorite little confection.

taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @13x1s

[izvmimi]

“I just think you’d be happy with us,” Luffy insists for the fifth time that week, and exhausted, you reach over your shoulder, where he’s leaned over, practically resting his chin on your shoulder, and you grip his face, squishing his cheeks. 

He pouts, but doesn’t break free, and you turn to look at him, giving him a frown. Your eyes lock for a few moments as you challenge him to keep speaking, and he, never intimidated by you even for a moment, even when you are trying, continues talking.

“Just think about it more?”

You’ve thought about it, many times in fact, and every time he returns to this neck of the woods since you met just several months ago, a similar conversation arises. The naivete in the idea of you leaving behind everything you’ve built for this pirate you knew nothing about a year ago amazes you, but Luffy has always had such a confidence and almost innocent directness to the way he communicates his desires that you find it harder and harder to not question your own resistance each time. 

This time he’s particularly persistent, possibly to the point of being annoying. You apply a little bit more pressure to the grip you have on his face until his lips jut out and he whines.

“Hey, that hurts you know!” 

You let go, even if you know you could never truly hurt him, and sigh. 

“You know, asking more times won’t change my answer,” you remind him as he makes a show of stretching his face back to normal, then watches you stack a pile of books together and store them away into a cabinet. He’s keeping you company in your workroom as you finish up the last of your notes before leaving the clinic for the day. These days he no longer uses your friendship with Nami as a pretense to come and see you, and no one is sick - instead he strides in like he’s important to you in his own right, and you hate that he’s right about that. 

You wonder who even lets him in these days.

“What would it take aside from asking?”

You look at him again, tilting your head slightly. 

“To change my mind?” you clarify. 

Luffy nods. You’ve started walking, and he follows closely behind, your sweet shadow as you lock up the room and place the key in your pocket, hands behind his head as he accompanies you down the street to your favorite restaurant. 

Since the last time Luffy came to your city, a month has passed, and for the first time, you have admitted to yourself that you genuinely missed him - seeing his smile in an almost empty cup of coffee, or hearing his hearty laugh in a group of friends huddled at a bar, thoughts drifting to what it must be like for him on the sea whenever you have an idle moment.

Always joyous and free, sea salt and sunshine sinking deep into his skin.

Being by his side sounds more enticing every time he brings it up, but he doesn’t need to know that. In fact, perhaps he should think the opposite, you decide.

You stop suddenly in your tracks, and he stops too, watching you carefully as you make your first demand of him. 

“Bring me a pearl and I’ll think about it,” you start. Luffy looks confused for a second, eyebrows furrowed, and crosses one arm over his chest, his other hand tapping his chin. 

“I mean we could go to a jewelry shop right now but I don’t see why-”

Your look into his own eyes is fiery, interrupting him firmly. “As big as my head. The kind you’d only find hundreds of kilometers deep in the Calm Belt.”

The words are meant to be delivered neutrally, but their content is laden with irrationality.

You pause, waiting for his protest, but Luffy doesn’t complain. Instead he’s listening intently, dark eyes just as focused on yours, on the drivel coming from your lips and perhaps on deciphering the unspoken code beneath it.

Code that isn’t I don’t want to go with you, but Why would you go through the trouble for someone as bothersome like me?

Perhaps he picks up on the subtext a bit, too smoothly. “Is that all you want?” he asks, finally.

You inhale sharply, and resume your walk.

“Yes. Unless you bring me one of those, I don’t want to talk about ever leaving with you again, Luffy. Don’t even come back to see me.”

Unfazed, Luffy smiles even though you’ve given him a nigh impossible task - in fact, you’re not sure these giant clams exist at all, and it would be a fool’s errand to search for one, but he laughs. 

“Deal.”

Leaving the matter as it is, you resume your walk, and at some point Luffy must have taken your hand, because by the time you’ve made it to where you’ll have dinner together (and invariably he’ll clean out your wages for the entire week just in meat), your fingers are interlocked as though they’ve belonged linked the entire time. 

—

Luffy leaves the next day, leaving a note that is short and sweet on your kitchen table.

Be back soon.

You figure you’ve possibly seen the last of him in a while and your stomach turns gently at the thought.

—

Three days pass and because your friend Nami hasn’t yelled your ear off by transponder snail, you figure Luffy has dropped the entire ordeal and not wasted his crew’s time by going off track to do something absolutely stupid at your request. 

Another three pass and you worry he is stupid enough to try to do it despite being hated by the sea, and you resist the urge to call it off yourself. 

But you have to trust that he could understand how you felt. 

As impossible as it is for him to do this for you, it’s impossible for you to leave your earthbound life.

—

But ‘impossible’ sits on your nightstand that night.

A perfectly round pearl, as big as your head (bigger even if you were to hold it up and compare the object in a mirror)and polished to an impeccable shine, waits for you, with another note.

You ran out of food. Be back in a moment.

When Luffy comes back, large bags of groceries in hand to restock your empty fridge (even though he’d end up cleaning it out himself that night), he finds you in quiet tears.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, allowing his arms to wrap carefully and gently around your body until you’ve leaned into him fully, your sniffles muffled as you let your face hide pressed against his forearms.

You don’t ask how he did it because the act itself is enough, and he doesn’t speak until you open your mouth first -

- to say “Hi, I missed you,” even if you’re overwhelmed. 

Luffy hums in assent, and lets his face nuzzle into your hair further, the simple act asking you again, please come with me without him needing to say it out loud, even if the pearl he’s moved heaven and earth to bring to your doorstep allows him to.

To which your heart, as though you were being proposed to with this very act, finally says yes.

[seeingivy]

sukuna and “ we have to stop meeting like this” plssss

we have to stop meeting like this x ryomen sukuna

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“we have to stop meeting like this.” 

sukuna can tell when he’s in trouble. 

he’s seen the look hundreds of times – when he used to talk too loudly during lectures in college, when he’s late to meetings at work, from his brother when he misses his nephew’s basketball games – to the point where he’s able to pinpoint it down to the expression. 

narrowed eyes. furrowed eyebrows. a pursed expression. 

and sukuna can evaluate that, at the very least, he’s not in trouble with you, because you have none of the three, despite the fact that he’s most definitely earned it at this point. a testament to your overwhelmingly large well of patience. if sukuna’s bruised eye isn’t betraying him, he’s almost convinced that he sees a whisper of a smile on your face. 

sukuna readjusts himself in the bed, shifting awkwardly from how small the stretcher is, as you make your way over to his side and pull the shiny blue latex gloves over your hands. 

“how else am i going to see you, doc?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes. 

you’re not particularly fond of downtown los angeles. 

there’s too many people – bustling in the streets, clogging up the sidewalk – to the point where you feel like you see hundreds of people every single day. and while the initial thought of moving was exciting, of the unknown, you very quickly realize that you detest it. 

you work in an emergency department that houses almost hundreds of patients everyday. strangers going in and out, coworkers cycling through to the point where you can barely remember anyone's name, and it’s a severely stark culture shock from the ten manned hospital you used to work at out in the suburbs. the same few patients you saw every few months. 

nothing is consistent in los angeles. except for the promise of a local bar owner, by the name of ryomen sukuna, who always tumbles in around the holidays with some type of injury. 

halloween. new years eve. thanksgiving. a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, a viral infection. 

“you know, i almost thought you weren’t coming.” you joke. 

“and miss out on valentine’s day with you?” he asks. 

you reach forward, fingers light on the side of the face as you guide him to look straight at you, so you can assess the damage. there’s a deep cut on the side of his forehead, superficial, accompanied by bruising around the soft warmth of his eyes. 

and while his pretty face is intact, his arm evidently isn’t. there’s a deep gash, one that makes him wince loudly as you touch the bruised skin around it. you narrow your eyes at him, before craning your neck over your shoulder and whistling. 

“yuuta.” 

“yes, dr. l/n?” 

you give him a polite smile. 

“can you get me a suture kit please?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite nod, quickly scurrying away towards the supply closet, as you turn back to sukuna. 

“don’t make that kid do my stitches.” 

“why not? that kid has to learn, you know.” 

“well, he can learn on someone else, for fuck’s sake.” he mutters. 

sukuna leans forward, giving you a bright grin, and whispering so quietly it sends a warm shiver down your spine. 

“you’ve got a special touch, doc. i’m only going to give you permission to patch me up.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. 

“will you really say no if i make him do it?” you ask. 

he gives you a nod. 

“plus, that poor kid has been staring at that girl with the green hair the entire time. you should let them play hooky.” 

“i should let my residents play hooky?” you deadpan. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“where’s your sense of romance?” he asks. 

you cross your arms over your chest, as yuuta sets the suture kit down on the counter and reaches for the gloves. you raise your hand in the air, gesturing for him to stop, and note that you’ll slightly regret this gesture in a few hours when you have to do the paperwork.

“no need, yuuta.” 

he gives you a frown. 

“i don’t mind, boss. you should take a break.” he offers. 

you shake your head at him. 

“you should go into my office and go to the desk on the left. there’s a box of chocolates that someone gifted me in my top left drawer this morning that you should share with dr. zenin.” you note. 

yuuta’s eyes go wide. 

“what do you mean?” he asks. 

“everyone can see that you’re hopelessly pining over maki. including my patient, who has very graciously convinced me to let you be a romantic. get out of my face before i change my mind.” you respond, making your best attempts at a stern voice. 

yuuta flickers his eyes in between you and sukuna, an unmistakably delighted look on his face, as he lightly taps on the door on his way out. you turn back to sukuna, who now has his eyes narrowed at you as you open up the suture kit. 

“you’re telling me there’s other people that give you gifts?” he asks. 

you scoff. 

“you give me gifts?” you asks. 

“the pleasure of my company at your workplace. on every calendar holiday, mind you.” 

you roll your eyes as you clean up the area around his skin, pulling out the silk material for his stitches. sukuna’s well versed in your stitching techniques, and with a pain tolerance so high, it only takes a few minutes. 

“what did you do this time?” you ask. 

“occupational hazard. who gave you the chocolates?” 

you scoff. 

“where do you work? the mma boxing ring?” you ask. 

“do you think i’m fit enough for that? more fit than the dumbass who gave you the chocolates?” he asks, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

you shrug. 

“evidently not. you can barely…

you pause to lift the chart left on the table, yuuta’s messy notes scribbled on the top, before you look back to glare at him. 

“...take down a christmas tree at the bar without injuring yourself. looks like you’re irritatingly possessive too.” you state. 

sukuna places his hand on his chest. 

“i told you to take it down earlier when suguru was still in town.” you note. 

“in my defense, i was protecting my beloved nephew, yuuji, from injury. he crawled underneath and almost got trampled.” he exaggerates. 

you give him a smile. 

“heroic.” you deadpan. 

sukuna gives you a smile, before lifting his hand up to cup the side of your cheek, the touch warm as he rubs a circle into your cheek. you lean into the feeling as sukuna reaches back and fixes the flyaways to the back of your ear, before you return to stitching up his arm. 

“i’m starting to think you’re injuring yourself on purpose just to spend time with me, ryo.” you murmur. 

“would that be wrong, baby?” he asks.

you roll your eyes. 

“wait for me to come home, dumbass. i’m literally off in five hours.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes right back at you, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. he retreats as you set your forceps down, reaching for the roller bandage as you wrap it around his arm. you secure it with a piece of tape at the end, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder to signal you’re done. 

sukuna interlocks his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to press your fingers to his lips. 

“thanks, doc.” he murmurs, tone uncharacteristically soft. 

you can’t help but sigh – the aching feeling of seeing couples doting over each other all day hitting you in full force, that you’re spending your first valentine’s day away from him – as you reach forward and run your hands through his hair. 

“be careful. i’m wrapping you in bubble wrap next time.” you warm, reaching forward to lean your head against his shoulder. 

sukuna welcomes the touch, with three warm kisses spread between your forehead and your hairline, as he shows you the three pictures of the little valentine’s day card that yuuji made for you that’s waiting at home. 

you grant him twenty minutes – twenty minutes before you tear yourself from his side to go process his discharge paperwork – and send him on his way. you can’t help but sink into the chair the second you see his pink hair dart out the doors, as you type the last of his notes into the chart. 

“did the boyfriend enjoy the chocolates?”  

satoru’s hovering over your shoulder, a bright smile on his face, as he expectantly waits for an answer. you lean back in your chair, heaving a great sigh as you eye the clock.  

“he was here, got injured taking down the christmas tree at the bar. and the boyfriend insisted i give them up for okkotsu and zenin. they’re probably kissing in my office for all i know.” 

satoru gives you a polite tap on the head, lightly ruffling your hair, before pulling up the chair at your side. 

“well, you should be flattered. sukuna’s so dedicated to spending time with you. so romantic of himself to injure himself just to come down here.”

you scoff in response. 

“dedicated to being a dumbass is what he is.” 

satoru shakes his head.

“i think he’s just a big fan of getting doted on. being cared for, patched up by you, and all that.”

[httpknjoon]

have you ever tried this one? | myg

plot | that time popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi had a very *intense* staring contest throughout the whole concert.

w.c | 1581

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff (?), enemies to lovers

note | it's juno so.... 🥵

main masterlist

DAY 53 of Love Is... On Tour

Another day, another reason to fight over something.

Cute. For someone who looks tiny in their oversized sweatshirt, you sure do hold a lot of power over a lot of people, Yoongi thought. Just a lift of your finger while you were singing could mean something. Maybe you want to change the tempo or you want to improve something. He can see gears working in your head while you sing the lyrics of your songs. It's crazy how your mind and body coordinate well while focusing on different things. Your fingers rhythmically tap on your thigh, following the beats. Yoongi strummed on his guitar while watching you sing in front of the band, waiting for any signal.

"And I heard you're- Wait, wait, wait. Let's pause."

Just three songs left during the rehearsals, you raised your right hand, making the band stop from playing. Instantly when the music stopped, your eyes directly met Yoongi's.

"Can you please quit staring at me," you said, annoyed.

Yoongi looked around to make sure that you were talking to him. But he was met with his bandmates looking back at him, confirming that yes, you were talking to him.

His eyebrows raised, "Me?"

"Yes, you are literally throwing daggers on my way ever since I stood here." you confronted him.

"I am not." he denied. Was he looking at you? Yes. But is he throwing daggers? Definitely not.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. You swore you could feel his intense eyes on you in every movement you make. Every time your eyes land in his direction, you immediately find him looking back at your fingers, your thighs, or just you. Sometimes you would notice a small quirk in his lips while staring at you. But most times, he has this blank space on his face, making you want to shrink in your comfy sweatshirt.

"You do it every rehearsal! It's weird." you insisted.

The people around you— Art, Cal, the other band members, and a few of your dancers— simply looked at each other. It's been weeks of you two working together and bickering over things. Everyone knows you hate each other's guts. At this point, you are just kids with these "fights".

You see Yoongi chuckled, putting a hand on his hip, "I'm just paying attention, waiting for your hand cues. It's something musicians usually do when rehearsing with the band."

Okay, that's reasonable— But still! You felt blood rushing to your cheeks but your jaw clenched. Because of course, the sarcasm in Yoongi's defense didn't go over your head. You were about to refute when Art clapped his hands together, signaling a time-out.

"Okay, please stop with this. We only have a few songs left and everyone deserves to rest before the show." he reminded you and your bassist. "Yoongi, please avoid looking at YN. YN just be clear with your signals. Raise your hand or something. Are we cool with that? YN? Yoongi?"

Yoongi sighed but nodded his head. Before nodding your head, you still caught that smirk that formed on his lips. The rehearsals continued as planned. Yoongi barely looked at you anymore and looked down at his red guitar instead, giving all of his attention to it. You don't know if he's being sarcastic. But you kept on biting your cheeks when you found him in the same position every time you looked at him again. Fuck, he's really not looking, huh?

You continued singing for a few more minutes, sipping water in between. You never raised your hand again for any cues.

"Okay, please enjoy your break. Thank you, everyone." Art said before letting everyone go.

You were walking behind Cal, on the way to your dressing room, when you felt someone following behind you.

"I didn't know you were a diva like that," Yoongi whispered.

His warm breath fanned your ear in that quick sentence, making you ignore the shiver you felt by his warmth and surprise appearance. He didn't even wait for you to look back and reply. Instead, he walked passed you and caught up with his band members outside the arena.

Now, someone's throwing daggers.

Minutes before the show, in the crowded backstage, Yoongi can feel your eyes drilling holes at him while Paul fixes his shirt for him. You were already dressed up and someone is just fixing your in-ear for you. You stood six feet away from each other but managed to have a quiet, petty argument. He stared back at you, raising an eyebrow. You squinted your eyes before rolling it.

I hate you, you mouthed.

He mouthed back, Diva.

Although you find one of the people on stage annoying, you don't let it affect your performance for the night. But you're petty and so is your bassist. At every chance you two get, you look at Yoongi and you always find him staring back at you even while strumming his guitar.

Some fans noticed it and began posting about it online, noting the chemistry between your eyes. Even the crew members felt awkward with how you and Yoongi always caught each other's strong gaze.

"What the fuck is happening between you two?!" a voice in your in-ear asked while you were hurriedly changing your clothes for your next song.

You didn't have time to reply with that one and just continued the show with a new plan in your head.

"Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing. Oh yeah, you just get it..."

After arresting one of your cute audience members and tossing them their fuzzy pink handcuffs, you began singing one of your hit songs. You are now in your sparkling, red bodysuit that goes with a mini skirt at its ends. It used to have a longer skirt but it got shorter after the bit earlier. You also have your matching boots with you that make you taller than ever.

"Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics..."

Your staring contest with your bassist is still going on. And if you stop to do one of your choreographed dances, your eyes occasionally focus on Yoongi.

"Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs? Oh, I hear you knockin', baby..."

The fans cheered when the screen showed him, who was trying to stop himself from smiling while looking at you.

"I know you want my touch for life. If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno..."

At the end of the chorus, you still manage to continue your starting battle with Yoongi since you are walking around the stage. The only time you looked away was when another voice spoke,

"YN, if you want to continue your staring competition with Yoongi, can you just stand next to him? It's hard for the camera to catch you when you keep turning your head in his direction." the voice said, obviously giving up on telling you to stop whatever you and Yoongi are doing.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah, ah, ah..."

You followed what you were told and stood next to him as you two looked at each other's eyes. You were pointing your finger at him as if you were singing those words to him.

"Wanna try out some freaky positions?"

A line before the infamous part of the performance, you stood in front of your bassist. Your back is to the audience, who is already losing their mind on what they are witnessing. You kept eye contact with him as you felt excitement fluttering in your chest.

"Have you ever tried this one?"

A smirk forms on your lips before squatting down and bouncing up and down, like you were riding an imaginary dick. The fans are livid, the rest of the band is laughing, and Yoongi is lost for a second, unconsciously biting his lower lip while still exchanging intense eye contact with you. You winked coyly before getting up and turning around to resume.

"I know you want my touch for life. If you love me right, then who knows?..."

Although dumbfounded for what felt like a minute, Yoongi still played his bass guitar perfectly. As soon as the chorus was done, you reached for Yoongi's chin and made him look at you.

"Adore me, hold me, and explore me. Mark your territory. Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one..."

With your angelic voice and pretty face in front of you, Yoongi just lost the game. He studied your eyes, then your nose, down to your lips that's saying those words to him. He is like under control by your angelic appearance. Suddenly, you don't mind him staring intensely and closely at you. Closer than the rehearsals earlier.

"Adore me, hold me, and explore me, I'm so fucking horny. Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one..."

If you hadn't gently pinched his chin during that line, Yoongi would have just lost it and forgotten that you two are in front of 35,000 thousand people.

Just before the last chorus, you let go of him and ran back to the center stage and danced while he played the riff. He watched behind you, and stared for a few more seconds, before shaking his head, enjoying the music the same way you do.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love!"

note | haha petty people

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[rene-darling]

WOULD- he send n00ds? And how?

...would these modern college AU genshin men send n00ds to you?...

...Xiao...wanderer...lyney...

Xiao

No.

Absolutely- not.

The very idea is preposterous and disgusting. And after all, he's heard wayyy too many stories of a person's nudes getting leaked, and he does not want his stuff all out there.

He trusts you, yes. But especially at the beginning of your relationship, there's not enough trust for him to do that.

Xiao doesn't usually go to frat parties, but his friend is the one throwing this one so he felt obliged to go. What could go wrong?

Xiao doesn't drink, nor does he party, but after chugging drink after drink and being sat in a circle playing truth or dare, his tipsy mind is feeling rather- ballsy.

So it goes as follows, he picks dare and gets dared into sending nudes to the last person he's messaged, Xiao's great at keeping secrets so no one knows that you're dating, truth be told- even in his drunken state if the last number he texted had been anyone else, he wouldn't have done it.

But it's you. So his drunken mind agrees. He takes a rather risky photo, some alcohol is dripping from his mouth, sweat runs down his forehead, his back is arched and he gives such a sultry look. Then, he presses sent. The rest of his night is spent partying and drinking more, so his memory of doing this fades into bliss- that is, until the next morning.

Accompanying his painful headache is a certain memory, that makes him physically gag in remembrance, he rushes to check his phone, hoping- praying that you didn't see it- he thinks he's gonna faint from embarrassment when he sees the little *seen* at the bottom of the text.

Fuck. You saw it. You didn't even respond- he shoves his head into the pillow screaming externally and internally- you fucking saw it! And-...you didn't even respond..does that mean you don't like it..? Wait. That's the least of his worries!!!

He's happy about the fact that he doesn't have to see you in his first few classes. But then, it's time for a class that you both have together.

He has half the mind just to skip, but eventually, he has to face you, better be it now than later right?

Whatever, it'll be fine, he'll just explain to you- that he didn't mean it, he was drunk n at a party he wasn't thinkin-

Suddenly Xiao hisses as he's pulled into the janitors closet on his way to class, he swiftly turns his head to glare at the person who did this- it's you.

"So, Xiao, about the pictures you sent. I called you at least 10 times after those, but..you didn't answer." He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, his whole plan goes out the window as he just meekly stares up at you. This wasn't what he expected, but it wasn't something he disliked-..perhaps...he should send some to you even when he has clarity of mind?

Wanderer

Far too skeptical to entertain such a thought.

If you mention it first he'll just scoff at you and give you a dirty glare "Do I look like one of your whores?" "But baby- you're my only whore not one of them-" expect to get a glare from him the whole lecture, in and out of the class. His stare is practically sending you a death threat

Later, if he catches himself thinking about what you asked of him he cringes at himself and the thought.

He's not one to trust people easily, he's been stabbed in the back, and betrayed far too much to be vulnerable enough and to trust you enough to send nudes.

His head runs wild, what if you didn't like what you saw? What if you decided he was so ugly you needed to share those photos with those around you? What if, what if what if.

It's only later on, deep into your relationship that the thought of sending pics crosses his mind once more.

He's tapping his foot harshly against the ground. He's sitting at his seat as students pour into the lecture hall, his eyes scan the room as he sees you walk in and wave at him, just like always. You sit next to him, but he just can't maintain eye contact.

He has his phone in his right hand, staring at the screen intently as the sound of the classroom processes as background noise for him. Should he? What if you don't like it? What if you just meant it as a joke and you'll actually get disgusted once you gaze upon the photos..?

He sighs resting his head on his desk in contemplation. 'I mean...I took some measures just in case, I'm sending it on snap so she can't save or look at it again..fuck-..it should be fine..right..?' his thoughts are jumbled but ultimately he- "fuck it." And he presses sent.

Now it's just a matter of waiting for you to check your phone, it's like the clock is ticking extra slowly and you're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You heard the ding so check the goddamn phone already- and then you picked up your phone, once you noticed it was your boyfriend who texted you, you glanced at him, a confused expression, he's sitting right next to you- so why would he- oh.

Almost immediately you duck your phone down under your desk, you don't want to share this sight with any eyes that aren't yours.

"..why now? Fuck- you look pretty..?" Your mumbling- he has you mumbling. That's a good thing right?

And- and you complimented him- that means you liked it right?

He's such a brat, sending you a photo of his back arched, his tongue sticking out as he was wearing a short skirt with thigh highs, you could catch a glimpse under it from the picture- in which you could tell he wasn't wearing anything.

Your boyfriend who loved baggy clothes and dark styles was wearing a pink flirry skirt!

Heats pooling in your pants as you glare at him,

He had a smug look on his face- looking oh so proud. Anyways- he thought you would wait and fuck him after class. But once he felt your hand creeping up his thigh his eyes widened in shock as he realized you had no plans to wait until after the lecture.

lyney

Agrees.

Well- he's definitely startled at your request, out of all things...this is what you desire most?

"mon amour- out of all things I- gulp didn't expect you to ask for n-...indecent photos." He's startled to say the least,

But he's not completely against the idea of it.

Your darling lyney is a magician, quick on his feet, he quite quickly puts that flustered face away to replace it for a rather cheeky one.

"Mon amour, I knew you missed me whenever I was busy practicing for my shows but to this extent! my-"

"forget it." His smug attitude is a turn off. At times.

Letting go of the idea you didn't really think he would go through with it anytime soon.

You don't expect anything unusual to happen today, like always you kiss lyney good luck for his show before heading to the audience to watch him perform from there.

Lyney's cheeky grin is noticed by you, but you just assume he's giddy for his show, heading into the audience to wait for your boyfriend,

you hear a ding. And as you open the message you drop your phone to the ground. It's a simple picture, it's of lyney, he sends you pictures of himself on the daily so what was so shocking about this one?

Well- for starters he's naked. Tied up with intricate red ropes, they look tight, especially around his thighs- wait. You recognize those ropes, they're the same ones he's gonna use for his performance today!-

And he does. Flaunting around those ropes in his performance, the same ones from the damn photos.

Lyney walks into his dressing room as usual- that is before he's pinned to the wall by none other than you.

"oh? Are you that excited to congratulate me on today's performance?" As your hand tightens around his wrist he starts to feel even more giddy

"what the fuck was that? " "Hm? Did you mind? It was a present." He's so smug.

"no- the ropes. You used the same ones from the performance didn't you- you cheeky fuck-"

"the ropes are over there, if you plan on doing something you should hurry, I have a fan meet n greet soon~" "oh I'll hurry alright."

You didn't hurry, for some reason unknown to his fans, the magician was unable to attend the meet n greet.

[vanesycho]

Summary:You complain about your gamer boyfriend but Haechan proves to you that his fast fingers aren't just for gaming.

Warning:Smut, fingering, pussy eating

wc:0,9k

──────────────────────

You walked into Haechan's room and called out to him, rolling your eyes as you realized he couldn't hear you and walked over to him. Noticing a figure next to him, Haechan glanced at you for a moment before quickly turning back to his computer. “Yes, baby?” you crossed your arms, "I've been calling you for dinner for about five minutes, when you still haven't come I got worried, it turns out you were playing games." A few seconds passed, he was so focused on the screen that he ran your sentences through his head for a while and then he replied, "Oh sorry love but I have to finish this, five more minutes."

You let out a deep breath and sat on the bed behind him and waited for him.Your eyes caught the screen, after watching the game he was playing for a while, your eyes caught his hands.His fingers were tapping quickly on the keyboard, he had rings on some of his fingers and you thought that made him even more attractive. You swallowed as thoughts came to your mind as you continued to look at your fingers. After a few minutes, Haechan turned to you, his hand resting on the keyboard, he opened his mouth to say something but he realized your eyes were on his fingers and he just stood there with his mouth open. He looked where your eyes landed and grinned, running his tongue in his mouth. “Come here.”

You took your eyes off his fingers and looked at him, he patted his desk a few times with his hand. You stood up and walked towards him, Haechan walked towards you as well, making you sit at his desk. “Your game...is still not finished.” He grinned, spreading your legs, grateful that you were wearing only his shirt, and easily moved his hand between your legs to your pussy. "I was going to continue the game but I realized how naughty my girlfriend. Looking at my hands huh? Just say you want to feel them, baby." He easily inserted two fingers inside you, you let out a moan, his smile widened, with his other hand he took off his glasses and started kissing your lips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his fingers curling inside you, entered fastly, you moaned into his mouth, then he pulled back. "Good? Or..."

You held your breath for a moment as he pushed another finger inside you. “Fuck-” he liked your reaction, reached for your neck, you felt his wet kisses. "Hm...You're so out of breath even just for my fingers. Are you that needy? How cute." You threw your head back and moaned. Haechan took this opportunity to continue his kisses, leaving deep moans and breaths in your ear, driving you even wilder.

He grabbed your leg with his free hand and made you wrap it around his waist, "Hyuck..I'm close.. Please-" He slowed down his movements, with that, you whined. He chuckled and looked at your face. “Are you going to complain again?” you rolled your eyes. “You call that a complaint? You’re the one who’s been sneaking out of your room and playing games for hours.” He looked into your eyes seriously, leaned closer to your lips and whispered, "I was thinking you might have changed your mind. Haven't I fucked you with my fingers enough yet?"

He pulled his fingers out of you, and when your pleasure was cut short, you pressed your legs together. "You're bastard." he laughed hysterically "Oh yeah? That bastard was just fucking you with his fingers. Get on the bed, Y/n. Don't make me mad." When he saw that you weren't getting up, he locked eyes with you. Grabbed your wrist and made you lie down on the bed, rolling up your shirt.

He put two fingers in your pussy, you let out a moan of pleasure, he leaned in and started licking your clit. His fingers started moving quickly inside her, he didn't slow down, he was sucking and licking with his tongue.The pleasure from both sides has reached a level that will make you scream.The wetness of your pussy drove Haechan crazy and he let out a moan, "Such a naughty but have beautiful pussy." The pleasure inside you increased, you moaned tearfully, your pussy tightened, even with two fingers it was this good. "Fuck- I'm close..so close, please.."

Haechan didn’t stop, he continued to fuck you with his fingers and tongue, your breathing increased, how you were moaning echoed in his ears. He could feel you getting closer as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. But it didn't last long, he stopped his movements and sucked your clit one last time.You muttered a curse and looked at him. He lifted his head, smirking, “Oh you look so wasted, I’d love to make you cum and see how much I could ruin you but..” He pulled his fingers out of you, licked the areas covered in your juices, and got up from the bed. “Fuck Hyuck, are you gonna leave me like this?” He laughed and turned to you. “You’re the one who complained about me not coming to dinner a moment ago, and now you’re telling me not to go to dinner?" you watched him leave the room, letting out a loud whimper as the door closed behind him, Haechan heard you from behind the door and grinned to himself and headed towards the kitchen. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy and he was going to show you after dinner.

[wlwxreader]

Not a Crush

not my gif

Jackie Taylor x fem!reader

Summary: despite what the entire team thinks, Jackie doesn’t have a crush on you. So why does it make her skin crawl when she sees a guy trying to flirt with you?

Warning(s): jealous!Jackie, possessive!Jackie, oblivious!reader, pre-crash!Jackie, Nat being a little shit, simp!Jackie

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist: tba

No matter how much the team teased her about it, Jackie Taylor did not have a crush on you.

Did she like your soft smile? Yes. Could she spend days on end listening to a recording of your cheerful and sweet laugh? Why, of course. Did her heart stop whenever you looked at her a second too long? Maybe, but it was only because she thought you were beautiful —in a platonic way.

She did not like you. She didn’t think of you every night before she went to bed. Nope. Not at all. And Nat could shove her own words up her ass, because she sure as hell wasn’t a simp for you.

Yeah, as if.

“Hey,” you waved your hand in the air as you walked towards the field. You had just changed into your football uniform, and looked around. “Is everyone ready for practice?”

“Yeah,” Nat said, stretching her arms. “We were waiting for you for like, I don’t know, ten minutes.”

“You’re the last one. You know what that means,” Van smirked at you, and if it wasn’t for Tai’s presence next to them, you would have walked over to smack them in the face.

“Gotta run for ten minutes around the field,” Lottie said in a singsong voice. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“I’m gonna get you, Matthews,” you threatened with mock anger.

“What’s going on?” Jackie, who had been talking to coach Ben about something, asked. Her smile grew a little bigger when she noticed you within the other team players, and you swear you heard Nat and Shauna giggle to each other.

“Y/N was last,” Nat said. “She has to run for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackie said. Her voice, always soft and bright, was commanding. She wasn’t the Jackie who played around anymore, she was captain Jackie, and everyone in the team knew it.

“What?” Van asked, offended. They looked between the both of you, mouth ajar. “That’s not fair! It’s a tradition you started, Jackie. Last one has in the field during practice has to run while the others train. Y/N was the last one today.”

“Enough, Palmer,” Jackie gave them a stern look. “Y/N was late because of me.”

You gave her a surprised look, taken aback by her lie. You should not have been bewildered, though— Jackie always had your back no matter what, using her easy charm to cover up for your slip-ups

“Making out before practice?” Nat asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jackie’s cheeks turned a bright red color, but she didn’t dare to look at you. Instead, she clapped her hands together a few times, and everyone around sobered up.

“Divide yourself into two teams,” Jackie raised her voice. “Whoever team wins, gets to rest while the others run a lap.”

Everyone groaned, looking around to start to form the groups, trying to be as equitative as possible.

“Shauna, you’re captain of team green. Team blue is my team,” Jackie called, and the brown eyed woman nodded, wasting no time to craft the perfect team in her mind as she looked at everyone in the field.

“Okay, cool—”

“Y/N,” Jackie interrupted her best friend. “You’re on my team.”

“And in her heart,” whispered Nat.

Thankfully, neither Jackie nor you hear it.

If Jackie did not like you, she obviously also didn’t feel any ownership over you. She wasn’t jealous, she wasn’t possessive; there was no point in being those things, as you were both just two good friends.

But sometimes, someone would walk up to you and Jackie forgot her inner mantra, throwing it out the window of her mind. The person would smirk and lean in close, feigning they could not hear what you were saying, and Jackie would feel something dark and uncomfortable burning inside of her.

Sure, you weren’t hers, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to talk to you, so obviously trying to flirt it was painful to observe.

They didn’t have the right because— because— well, because she said so.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackie said, walking up to your locker. 

Her voice was high-pitched, and you turned to look at her. Anyone else would have thought nothing of her tone, but you knew her; it was the same voice she used when she wanted to be rude but knew she couldn’t.

“Hi, Jackie,” you said, completely forgetting about the man who was talking to you about the chemistry test you both had next week.

Jackie walked with purpose, and she stood in front of you. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her body. You sighed in relief; it was starting to get cold, and her warmth was welcomed.

The woman smiled when you rested your head on her shoulder, and big green eyes twinkling as she started the man down.

“What were you talking about?” she asked, even though she wasn’t interested in the least. She knew how men were— she suffered their unwanted advances on the daily. It was all an act to get you on their bed.

“Oh,” the man said, clearing his throat. “We were discussing the next chemistry exam—”

“Well, I hope you study hard. Bye.”

You barely had time to close your locker before Jackie was pulling you away from that man.

“Hey— Jackie,” you complained, pulling your books closer to your chest. “What was that for?”

“That boy is a womanizer,” Jackie said through gritted teeth. “He just wanted to get in your panties.”

“You think?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the boy, who was leaning against your locker and staring at you. When he saw you looking back, he smirked and waved. “I think he just wants help studying.”

“You’re too naïve,” the blonde said. “He has tried that same trick with half the school.”

“Really?” you whispered conspicuously. “I thought he was just being friendly.”

Jackie shook her head, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. Her arm was still around you, and it made you walk awkwardly. You still didn’t complain.

“Boys are never friendly just because, Y/N,” she said. “They only got one thing on their mind.”

“Kissing?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

Jackie’s laugh could be heard all around the halls, a melodic sound that carried you out of the building.

“Every year it gets colder earlier,” you complained, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” Jackie asked, finally pulling away. You almost moaned in complain at the lack of warmth on your side, but before you could voice your discomfort, a weight was placed on your shoulders.

You looked to your side to see Jackie’s team letterman jacket resting over you. You smiled, putting your books in one hand to put the sleeve on.

“Thank you,” you said, with genuine gratitude. Jackie shook her head, simply reaching over to grab your books so you fully put on the jacket.

“Wanna hang out in the field?” she asked. Once you had the jacket on, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again, because she wanted to but most importantly, because she could.

“The one time we don’t have to train, and you still wanna go over there,” you rolled your eyes, but followed her steps when she changed course.

She laughed again, turning to look at you. With bright big eyes, and lips pulled into a tight smile, you thought no one would ever be as pretty as she was.

As you walked, Jackie peaked behind you and saw the same man, looking over with frowned eyes. As she heard you talking about your day, she raised her arm enough for everyone to see the back of your jacket, where Taylor stood proudly over her team number.

She’s wearing my jacket, not yours. Dipshit.

To say she was ecstatic at his scolf was an understatement.

Yeah, she thought, let everyone know she only wears my number. Let everyone know she’s mine.

That time, she didn’t try to correct herself.

“I think Jackie has a crush on me.”

Van, who was tying up their cleats, stopped suddenly.

“Uh?” they asked, blinking a few times.

“I—” you cleared your throat, your cheeks suddenly turning red. “I think she might like like me.”

“Oh, shit,” Van said, rubbing their face.

“Did— did I say something wrong?”

“Yes!” Van let go of the laces, irritated. “You weren’t supposed to find out until November. You just lost me ten bucks!” they groaned. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What?” you gave them a puzzling look. “Wait— you have bet on me?”

“No,” Van waved their hands around. “Not on you. On your inability to see what’s happening right in front of your face, to be exact.”

“Okay, rude,” you said. “I’m not that oblivious.”

“Oh, no. Of course not,” Van said. Their tone was laced with sarcasm. “You joined the team two years ago, and only now you have realized.”

“Wait, she has liked me for two years?” you asked in a whisper.

“Duh,” Van gave you a long look. “Jesus, you’re a lost cause.”

“Screw you.”

“What made you realize?” Van asked, with genuine curiosity. They put their feet back down on the ground, leaning over the bench to look at you.

“She, um—” you looked around, making sure no one else was in the changing room. Feeling guilty over spilling such deep secrets, you moved over and sat down next to Van, so no one else would hear. “She kind of lied, the other day. So I wouldn’t have to run around the field.”

“She always lies,” Van scoffed.

“Jackie never lies,” you said, firmly. You gave the redhead a look, one that would have been threatening if it wasn’t coming from you. “She’s an honest person.”

Van chuckled. “She will lie to save your ass,” they said. “Because she’s the fattest crush on you.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

After practice a week later, instead of going back to the changing room with the rest of the team, you grabbed Jackie and pulled at her hand, forcing her to move toward the bleachers. She went willingly, allowing you to take her wherever it was that you wanted her to be.

She would walk through fire if it meant holding your hand.

In a platonic way, of course.

“Jackie,” you said in a serious tone. You took a deep breath, and stared into big green eyes who looked back with passion. “We need to talk.”

She frowned her eyebrows, quickly picking up on your mood swing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer.

Jackie’s hand rested on your waist when she saw you starting to pull away. She hated it; hated whenever there was distance between the two of you. She wanted you close to her always, holding your hand and laughing with you.

“I think— I think you might be interested in someone.”

Jackie gave you a puzzling look. Her, being into someone? Not a chance.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” She asked, as confused as she has ever been.

“Don’t make me say it, please,” you moaned, like a petulant toddler. “This is embarrassing.”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, can I?”

You looked away from her, incapable of looking into her eyes as you spoke.

“I think I might like someone, too.”

Jackie froze at your words. Her jaw dropped, eyes open so wide it looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“You…” she gave a bewildered look. “You like someone?”

You nodded, and her hand tightened on your waist, as if she needed some support to keep her from falling over.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, closing her eyes. You gave her a concerned look.

“Jackie—”

“Is it that boy from the locker? The one who kept trying to flirt with you?”

“No. It’s—” you cleared your throat. “It’s not a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie blinked away the white spots that were starting to form on her vision. “Nat? Tai? Or—” she gasped, looking at you accusingly. “Don’t tell me it’s Shauna.”

“Why would it be— No! It’s not Shauna.”

“It’s not?” she gave you a look. “Thank god.”

“It’s you,” you whispered.

“Me?” Jackie asked, trying to make sure she had heard you properly. “You like me. Me.”

“Yeah. I like you, Jackie.”

She leaned in close to you, looking at your lips. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for her kiss. Instead, you felt her weight over you, literally on you.

“Jackie? Oh my god!”

Safe to say, it took the Yellowjackets over a month to get over the little spectacle you and coach Ben had pulled off when Jackie fainted.

You had wanted to keep it a secret, of course— Class Queen and captain of the football team, fainting because a girl had confessed their feelings to her? The rumor would be too juicy. But you also couldn’t control yourself when Jackie fell on top of you, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took you approximately ten seconds to take all the information in before you were screaming for help.

The help came in the form of Ben, who had come over running. He frantically looked at the team captain, laying on the grass as you fanned her with your hand, and he ran back inside to get Bill’s help.

It didn’t take long for the girls to come out of the changing room, and soon enough they pulled the pieces together; your conversation with Van they had told the entire team (which had led to Tai waving around fifteen ten dollar bills around the showers), your nervous attitude over practice, the tension they had felt before they left the two of you alone…

“Holy shit,” Nat said, smirking as you tried to wake Jackie up. “She fainted. She actually fainted.”

The story soon spread, faster and more explosive than gunpowder around fire. Soon enough, Jackie Taylor’s untaintable reputation got washed away by the new knowledge that she was a hopeless romantic.

Two months later, people would still whisper about Jackie whenever she walked down the corridors of Wiskayok High School.

“You think you will still be Class Queen after… what happened?” you asked, taking notice of how many students were staring at the two of you.

“Of course,” she smiled that charming smile you loved so much. “I’m Jackie Taylor, baby. This highschool would be nothing without me.”

“You’re too full of it,” you rolled your eyes.

She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you in close to her. She kissed your cheek, smiling.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you asked once you reached your locker. “Y’know, everyone still talking about it?”

“Let them talk. They aren’t mean, anyways,” Jackie said, raising her shoulders. You gave her a look; she would never notice just how many people thought ill of her. She thought too kindly of the world, but that made it two of you. “As long as it makes them talk about how you’re my girlfriend, I don’t care.”

You put the books you no longer needed back into your locker, and once you closed it, she pressed you against it.

When her lips pressed against yours, you stopped worrying about the whispers and the teasing from the team; Jackie was right.

Let them talk.