#which one I personally liked and realizing I had mixed feelings

[theunsinkableship1]

Things are not always what they seem...

⚠️Disclaimer: This is Lukolaland only. If you don't believe you should skip. No harm intended and no hard feelings. Only strong feelings here.

Dear Lukola Shippers,

I hope this message finds you well, no matter where in the world you are. Though I’ve been mostly quiet recently, I want you to know I’m still firmly aboard this ship, and the waters have felt calmer of late. We are witnessing great waves of success coming to our Lukola. Watching them thrive individually and achieve such success is a joy, it’s wonderful to see them striving and thriving in their unique journeys.

Today, I’d like to open up about something personal. It’s a topic that requires sensitivity but resonates deeply with what we often discuss as a community. Appearances can be deceiving.

Humans are complex beings, and we can never be entirely certain of what’s happening behind closed doors. Even when all signs seem to point in one direction, the reality could be something entirely different.

When I was younger, I was in relationships that seemed one way from the outside but were very different beneath the surface. Back then, I was seen as someone confident and put-together a "popular girl," if you will. But inside, I felt like a wallflower. People were drawn to the version of me they saw, not the person I truly was.

In one relationship, I fell deeply in love. To the outside world, we looked like the perfect couple. But the reality was far from that. I was shy and cautious, but I fell for one of the hit boys. I was deeply in love, but he wasn’t. I became more of a mix between a prop and a seat filler in his life. While I was publicly acknowledged, I wasn’t truly valued in his heart. Being young and in love, I sometimes acted jealous and irrationally, making poor decisions in my attempt to hold on to the relationship. While I gave my all, I never was someone that he truly cherished. I was young and blinded by my feelings, so I clung tightly to the relationship, convincing myself and others that everything was fine. Looking back, I realize that what people saw from the outside, the smiles, the handholding, was a façade for a connection that didn’t exist in his heart. His attention was always somewhere else.

Later, I entered another relationship. I was tired of being alone. All my friends were in relationships, and I found myself longing for one too. This time, it was with someone I became very close to through mutual friends. Though we had a strong bond, we quickly realized we weren’t a romantic match. Yet, for two years, we stayed in a "relationship" because it worked for both of us at that time, he was coming to terms with his own identity, and I was healing and waiting for the right person. To the outside world, we were a couple. We even lived together and shared milestones. But in reality, we were best friends who blurred the lines of companionship. Only our close friends knew the truth: to the outside world, we appeared to be a couple, but in reality, we were just best friends. Sometimes, things can get messy, and lines blur. While I was in this pretend relationship, someone from my past reentered my life, wanting to marry me. Things moved quickly, and even though my friend knew our arrangement was temporary and understood the situation, there might have been some emotional complexity. Perhaps I was ready to move on before he was, or maybe it was because we were emotionally intertwined in many ways. Societal perceptions could have played a role as well. I’m still not entirely sure. After my wedding, we went our separate ways. Though we remain on friendly terms, we are no longer close, and I haven’t heard from him in years.

Life is full of such complexities. For example, I have a chronic hormonal condition that, at times, makes me appear pregnant when I’m not. Years ago, this led to assumptions and speculation, especially early in my marriage. People congratulated me on pregnancies that didn’t exist, which was deeply painful as I faced uncertainty about whether I could have children. It taught me how much appearances can mislead even well-meaning people.

So, why share all this? Because as fans, it’s easy to speculate about the lives of people we admire. But the truth is, only they know what’s happening behind closed doors. I’ve noticed many people dismiss or deny the bond between them, but I believe we can’t be doubtful of its existence. I’m confident they are also aware of what they share. What we’re speculating about is what’s truly happening behind the scenes and why things are unfolding the way they are.

It all comes down to perception and observation. There’s something peculiar about this situation, too many coincidences for certain things to be purely incidental. Patterns emerge that can be explained rationally, and those who pay close attention recognize the mixed messages that make a straightforward narrative unlikely. Occam’s razor doesn’t apply neatly here.

Moreover, we have public evidence, not just imagined scenarios, that suggests there’s been something deeper between them at some point. The idea that 'there’s nothing more' doesn’t hold water because, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Appearances, whether on red carpets, social media, or interviews can only tell part of the story. And while our love for Luke and Nicola is real and rooted in admiration for their talent and chemistry, we must tread lightly.

I adore Luke’s subtle and nuanced acting and his incredible singing voice, which has a charm that captivates. Nicola’s range as an actress is extraordinary, and her vibrant personality shines through in everything she does. I support them both as individuals and as a couple because they make me believe in their connection.

I remain here because I believe in the love they seem to share, whether it’s in a glance, a gesture, or an unspoken understanding. Until the day there’s unequivocal proof otherwise, I’ll keep believing because they make me feel the love.

With love and hope,

The unsinkable ship 🚢

[the-music-maniac]

This is one that ended up way longer than I would've liked but the brainrot has reached concerning levels.

Brief mentions of sephgen, sephgeal, sephzack, multishipping, spoilers for crisis core, rebirth etc. etc.

I've begun realizing the longer I traverse the various pages of FF7 fanworks that when I say I ship Sefikura, the romantic/sexual aspects of it don't matter as much to me as the emotional catharsis of it. And I say this because I feel like sefikura is often used to explore one specific type of fantasy/smut/kink etc. There's a portion of people who like the ship because they like exploring how fucked up it is for post-nibelheim Seph to try to make Cloud into a puppet - this is usually (not always) accompanied by size difference kink, sub Cloud dom Seph, etc. And while I personally despise that characterization common in that interpretation of the ship, it's still valid, cause y'all should be able to explore your own fanfics however you want. An "Ew. Oh well, none of my business." kind of deal.

I would like to make it known though, that as a Sephiroth fan I kind of hate domroth. Block me if you must, we can just agree to disagree lol.

My interest in Sefikura stems mostly from Sephiroth. I'm gonna shamelessly admit here that while I love Cloud as a character, he doesn't intrigue me as much as Sephiroth does. And I know I'm biased cause he's my favourite, but I get easily stuck on characters who were abuse victims that became villains because they gave into their demons, characters who managed to stay kind, up until they were so beaten down they snapped, characters who I think have redemption potential, even if it wouldn't be easy to do. Which can be the case with Seph both pre- and post- Nibelheim.

Post-nibelheim is a LOT harder to write convincingly, seeing as how he actually did fuck up like. Everything. And his victims don't have to forgive him. Not Cloud either, even though I am writing a post about sefikura. The redemption is more about personal improvement, rather than forgiveness. But it's really interesting because a Sephiroth that even has a chance at redemption post insanity, is one who is a mix of before and after. He still has all that rage inside him from how he was treated by humanity, still has visions of annihilation and delusions of grandeur in his head, but he also remembers that he used to love, that he used to have companionship, scarce as it was, and cared for the well being of the soldiers he lead, etc. How does he get to that point in the first place, and how does he deal with it after? With the warring that is likely occurring from those two sides, the festering resentment of knowing he was given so much less than he should've been, knowing that he had a human mother, but since he IS closer in capability to a god than a human, does he think he's a monster because of his heritage still or because he gave in? Does it even matter at this point, what he is? And what will he do, now that he has a portion of his humanity back (however that occurred) and isn't just purely Jenova? How does he deal with knowing that even in the depths of insanity, he still just didn't want to be alone? And of course the turmoil on Cloud and Co's side, usually some flavour of, okay so repeatedly killing him isn't working, I'm tired of fighting him every couple of years, I still have the responsibility of making sure he doesn't fuck everything up again, and of course the hatred they understandably feel for the shit Sephiroth has done. And as Sephiroth kind of fights to recover some semblance of identity and understanding of himself (without destroying anything), watching that occur and knowing objectively that your enemy didn't deserve what he got when he was a child, that a part of what occurred was after he was pushed to that degree - even if you subjectively can't make yourself feel it at the beginning. And then as the story progresses and characters undergo development, Cloud likely wrestling with the fact that he actually is starting to understand Sephiroth's predicament, realizing Seph can be so very human at times. And dealing with the worst sin/betrayal of all, enjoying his company for his company's sake. A Sephiroth that gets through that and finds some semblance of contentment is meaningful because it would take a mind-boggling amount of hardship and work to get there. And tbh here's where the bias comes in - it's what I would say is a happy ending for everyone. I know people would disagree, a lot would say Cloud and Co getting rid of Seph is good riddance, why should he get a chance, why should they have to deal with him, etc. hence why I acknowledge this is biased - but a happy ending to me is one where everyone else gets to stop fighting Seph and move on with their lives and Sephiroth actually gets to live the life he wanted when he was a child. I won't ever be entirely satisfied with FF7 canon for this reason (true of any tragedy). Nothing that happened to him pre-insanity was fair. So. Catharsis.

As for "redemption" of pre-nibelheim Seph, I read time travel fix-its when it comes to sefikura cause I find it more interesting. For anything pre-insanity that involves canon divergence without time travel, sephgeal, sephgen, sephzack, shipping, platonic or poly makes more sense to me, cause those three are positioned better to help Sephiroth in a meaningful way. Also I personally do think Cloud is a little too young for that then (even if I'm also convinced he 100% had a celeb crush on Seph. Which is also not what Sephiroth needs at that point).

So, for sefikura, pre-nibelheim redemption usually involves Cloud getting yeeted back in time, either by the planet or by choice, to stop things before any of it happens. Cloud usually believes he has to kill Sephiroth, so he'd likely be in close proximity. So how would he deal with seeing, first hand, all the ways that Sephiroth was isolated and dehumanized in Shinra? Cloud still hates him at this point, for good reason. So he's here, witnessing not only Sephiroth being a kind/decent (awkward) human being, but also the lab visits, Hojo being Hojo, being paraded around for propaganda, the effect the "betrayal" of the other firsts likely had, Sephiroth being straight up depressed and malnourished and overworked, hearing whatever lies were fed to control him when he knows the truth. How does he deal with the moral repercussions of killing a technically innocent man? Especially when he realizes that a little support and compassion could've changed the outcome entirely? And Sephiroth on the other hand, now stuck with this persistent stranger that doesn't treat him like either an emotionless weapon or a legend, but some secret third thing (is he trying to kill him???? Can't tell, mixed signals are happening). Cloud would also likely help take Sephiroth's mind off things by virtue of existing - not because Sephiroth particularly cares about Cloud at the beginning (why would he, they're strangers) but because Cloud is fucking weird. Not a soldier, still mako enhanced, angry/aggressive at him in particular and seemingly frustrated about it, history that doesn't match up to current behaviours, etc. Hell, Shinra would likely even order Seph to keep an eye on Cloud. Meanwhile Cloud is desperately fucking with the timeline to ensure everything ends up differently, and accidentally becomes some sort of support for Sephiroth in the process. Because while everyone else was so fooled by the propaganda surrounding their hero, leaving him alone to his own devices (despair and depression), Cloud knows that his attention should be on Seph right now. And I don't think he's the type to just leave things alone out of spite if Seph where to, for example, stumble out of the lab, half delirious from Mako, because of one of Hojo's whims. There's also the question of whether Cloud would know to help with Angeal or Genesis' degradation, which could help either clear up some misunderstandings between Seph and his friends, or just ensure that Seph doesn't lose them at all in the first place.

And if Sephiroth were to find out/be told the truth, about his mother, or about the future, HOW is he gonna react to that???? Knowing that okay, so my heritage isn't actually that of a monster, I have human DNA, but ended up snapping and trying to destroy the world anyways - once again, what does it mean to be a monster, and is he one already, if he hasn't even done all of it yet, technically? In this timeline he's likely closer to Zack, maybe close to Cloud, potentially has met Aerith, maybe Genesis and Angeal are still alive, so he's more tethered by a support system, so how would that change his viewpoints? Would he feel guilty? Does that send him into a worse depression?

Sefikura just tends to give me emotional catharsis when it's written like that, because it gives Sephiroth the opportunity to mourn what he should've had, and gives him a fighting chance to change it. It's someone else being shown the decades of neglect, how deep the hypocrisy of Shinra actually went, the systemic abuse, acknowledging all of the bullshit Sephiroth went through before Nibelheim. It's him breaking out of other's expectations of him, Jenova, or Hojo or whoever else, and getting his childhood wish to just be normal. Like Angeal said (quoted loveless I think) "and what do angels dream of?" "Angels dream of becoming human."

This is also why I find very little enjoyment in reading domroth sefikura. Sephiroth isn't someone who reminds me of that type of personality, before he went crazy. He seems like a very awkward, calm and even sometimes soft dude in his downtime. He's literally just some guy. We don't see a lot of his personality because he was trained (tortured) into believing anything other than perfect control is weakness and failure. I don't think he would have any sexual experience. I think he's depressed, and exhausted and alone and is just very good at hiding it. I don't think he even wants or needs sexual intimacy necessarily, so much as he needs someone to feel safe around.

Anyways. This is. Way too long now. Goodbye.

[fanficmanic]

I have a confession to make.

I only started watching 911 a few months ago, after season 7 had ended. I was going through some rough time (health wise), and I needed something to take my mind off it.

I honestly wasn’t looking for anything serious. I just needed a show that doesn’t require me thinking about it too much.

I remember going over Netflix and Amazon Prime, and nothing had caught my attention. When I went on Disney+, I found that I had already watched the first 2 episodes of the show but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember that I did or when I did.

I thought that if 2 episodes didn’t catch my attention, then it probably won’t, but I had reached a point where I didn’t care as long as it would numb my mind.

I didn’t realize how wrong I would be.

I gotta admit, season 1 wasn’t my favorite, but I powered through because I wanted to see where the show would go. Then I started with season 2, and boy oh boy was I hooked.

By the middle of season 3 I realized that yes, this show has taken my mind off my personal issues, but also, this show will be the one that makes me write again after not having written any fanfiction for over 7 years.

The last show I was obsessed with to this level was True Blood. I followed it religiously, wrote fanfiction, got into shipping wars. I even found a way to watch it same time as the US (those who don’t live there know what I mean) - which was 4 am in the morning where I lived at the time.

With the way True Blood ended (IYKYK), I promised myself that I would never get attached to another show that way again. I watched Game of Throne, which I loved and followed but not to that level of obsession. I watched some other shows and movies that I can’t even remember, which alone says what kind of impact they had on me.

Now, here I am, waiting for each episode like crazy, following the actor’s IG accounts and everything they post, following different accounts on Tumblr, IG, and TikTok for videos and edits, and filling most (all) of my free time reading amazing and wonderful fanfiction. I sometimes even have to take a moment to think about scenes if they happened in the show or if I read it in a story.

I’ve published 3 stories on AO3. I also have one story that I’ve written 4 chapters of so far, 5 stories that I’ve roughly outlined, and 1 that I just have an idea for.

The issue is, when I was obsessing over vampires and werewolves who lived in Bon Temps, HBO aired the show between June and August. Meaning, there was no break over the holidays, and the show didn’t go on hiatus.

This is the first time that I have to go through a fall hiatus, and I have so many mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand, I’m super excited about all the fanfiction that will come out between now and March 2025 – some will be speculation after the fall finale, some not so much, but regardless, it will all be great.

On the other hand, how am I supposed to wait 3 full months to see what will happen to my favorite characters?

Anyway... I apologize for the long post, but I just wanted to vent.

Here's a picture of our favorite fire fam BTS from this weeks’ episode to make up for it.

[solavelyan]

yet more "mythal was andraste" (and related flemeth) thoughts (and a readmore to save your dashboards from my rambling)

our lady of (perpetual) victory is a name for andraste, so obviously the eluvian you find in veilguard's opener is underneath an andraste monument. and what more appropriate place for solas's hideout to be than hidden under a statue of one of mythal's lives (whether he realizes it or not)

with how much matching symbolism and how many hints there are in veilguard that mythal was andraste despite andrastianism/the chantry itself being so downplayed in this specific game, i feel almost completely comfortable saying that andraste-was-a-mythal-vessel is functionally canon -- but also that i don't think it will ever be bluntly stated in a game. it might show up in an artbook or if they do another world of thedas? maybe? but it seems that the choice was made a long time ago to never confirm the true nature of the maker/andraste in maintext and they've stuck to that. maybe that will change if they get a DA5 or they get DLC and do something whacky with it, but i wouldn't expect it at all

but also, like... i was mostly right about the evanuris/old tevinter gods situation 10 years ago and this all has the same vibes and more evidence, so

however, i don't think that solas knows that andraste had a mythal shard. i think he would have been much much much less amiable to the idea of the (distinctly andrastian) version of the maker and less generally neutral about the andraste of it all in inquisition if he knew. i'm not given to the impression that he sat down and had a long chit-chat with flemeth at any point in time; avoiding mythal seems to be his preference in the modern era, out of shame if nothing else, so i don't see flemeth really having the time with him to have gotten around to mentioning it, if we even assume it's the same piece of her

which i do, btw. i do think flemeth has the same chunk of mythal that andraste did, and i would even venture to say that flemeth is a blood relative of andraste. both of them are explicitly stated to have only ever had daughters, and andraste's biological children only had daughters themselves. it's one of those details that's kind of a fun fact if you do it once, but clearly a trend if you do it twice. i don't think mythal was hopping from one andraste descendant to the next, necessarily, but i can see her having enough of a soft spot to show up for flemeth when original recipe flemeth called out for help from the spirits

with all of this, given DAO and silent grove lore... i'm inclined to think that flemeth - who we know is capable of and willing to section off parts of herself to survive her potential death - is probably the first of mythal's vessels to decide to "follow" her. we know that morrigan remembers flemeth as young once, and that she body-hops when she gets very old, but it's also clearly still the same person in the modern era as it was in 3:00-something

morrigan in veilguard also claims flemeth's titles. so i'm inclined to believe that "flemeth" is both an actual person's name and kind of functionally a title for whatever a daughter becomes when they accept the mix of godhood and memories that gets passed down. morrigan just might be the first one to still call herself by her old name instead of adopting "flemeth" as a moniker

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

as in the plot and chapters are more about the build up to the relationship and then the fic ends once they've gotten together (including with just a short epilogue afterwards).

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[headspace-hotel]

I saw this book entitled "Plants Have So Much to Give Us, All We Have to Do is Ask" by Mary Siisip Genuisz and i thought oh I HAVE to read that. The author is Anishinaabe and the book is all about Anishinaabe teachings of the ways of the plants.

Going from the idiotic, Eurocentric, doomerist colonialism apologia of that "Cambridge companion to the anthropocene" book, to the clarity and reasonableness of THIS book, is giving me whiplash just about.

I read like 130 pages without even realizing, I couldn't stop! What a treasure trove of knowledge of the ways of the plants!

Most of them are not my plants, since it is a different ecosystem entirely (which gives me a really strikingly lonely feeling? I didn't know I had developed such a kinship with my plants!) but the knowledge of symbiosis as permeating all things including humans—similar to what Weeds, Guardians of the Soil called "Nature's Togetherness Law"—is exactly what we need more of, exactly what we need to teach and promote to others, exactly what we need to heal our planet.

She has a lot of really interesting information on how knowledge is created and passed down in cultures that use oral tradition. The stories and teachings she includes are a mix of those directly passed down by her teacher through a very old heritage of knowledge holders, stories with a newer origin, and a couple that have an unknown origin and (I think?) may not even be "authentically" Native American at all, but that she found to be truthful or useful in some way. She likes many "introduced" plants and is fascinated by their stories and how they came here. (She even says that Kudzu would not be invasive if we understood its virtues and used it the way the Chinese always have, which is exactly what I've been saying!!!)

She seems a bit on the chaotic end of the spectrum in regards to tradition, even though she takes tradition very seriously—she says the way the knowledge of medicinal and otherwise useful plants has been built, is that a medicine person's responsibility is not simply to pass along teachings, but to test and elaborate upon the existing ones. It is a lot similar to the scientific method, I would call it a scientific method. Her way of seeing it really made me understand the aliveness of tradition and how there is opportunity, even necessity, for new traditions based upon new ecological relationships and new cultural connections to the land.

I was gut punched on page 15 when she says that we have to be careful to take care of the Earth and all its creatures, because if human civilization destroys the biosphere the rocks and winds will be left all alone to grieve for us.

What a striking contrast to the sad, cruel ideas in the Cambridge companion of the Anthropocene, where humans are some kind of disease upon the Earth that oppresses and "colonizes" everything else...!...The Earth would GRIEVE for us!

We are not separate from every other thing. We have to learn this. If I can pass along these ideas to y'all through my silly little posts, I will have lived well.

[nkogneatho]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓

—cw: rough, blowjob, degrading nicknames, hair pulling, tie leash, fem!reader

—a/n: this came into existence after i watched the new episode and i realized this mf is insane and actually has some wild ass kinks

you hated how the world pictured kento. he wasn't just some bored and tired man who hates his job. he was more than that. he was insane. if only there was a way to show them that.

"On the knees." Nanami ordered, the cheetah print tie circling around his big, rough hand.

You did what he asked to. Not that your body had a privilege to betray your lustful brain and deny. He wrapped his tie against your neck and secured it with a distanced but tight knot. Tight enough to yank when needed. You couldn't meet his eyes in embarrassment, maybe a little fear too. This was a side he kept hidden to the world, only portrayed if he either loved them or wanted to kill them.

"Take my cock out, my sweet slut." Your fingers struggled to unbuckle his expensive belt. He wouldn't help, you knew it. Once you got the metal out if it's loop, you aimed for the buttons, then the zip. Your sweet fingers dug through his underwear to find his cock. It felt so big in your hand always, and it wasn't even completely hard yet. You started giving it slow pumps and heard him curse under his breath. you waited for his next command, for him to tell you what to do but it never came. Instead what came was a hand that cupoed your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

"I'm going to use this beautiful face as my cocksleeve, yeah? You'd let me, right?" Your core wet, your mind hazy at his words. He didn't need to ask. You know it was just a formality and a dessert that came with the gentleman personality. But he was anything but a gentleman in the bedroom. Calling you names. Using you to his satisfaction. But he knew you liked it because he's the one feeling your pussy tighten when he calls you a "slut."

Nanami's hand traveled to the back of yiur hwad where he grabbed a fistful if your head. You gulped in preparation about what had to come. You opened your mouth and Kento slammed his dick inside you. It slid fast through your tongue but you could taste the hint of his precum.

"Fuck. So good for me," he said, beginning to thrust. "You like when I fuck my frustrations on you." You did. "your mouth is my cumdump, right? you're such a good little slut who always sucks my anger out of me." People out there constantly think how is he always so calm. He's not. The truth is here. He comes home and fucks his anger away. And you count yourself lucky to be his fucktoy because holy shit, the way he fucks you makes you feel like you've found heaven on earth. It's sinister. The darkness in his eyes. They consume you. But ironically, the pleasure that he gives you can only be compared with heaven.

"Shit! I am close—sss agh!" he felt the back of your throat vibrate which sent excitment down his balls. "fuckfuckfuck" he cursed as he yanked your hair back to look at your doe eyes. Soon, he caught up to his high and all you could make for a sound was consumed by his thick load shooting deep inside your throat. He was so deep you didn't even get to taste them. Nanami pulled out, the remaining beads of his cum lacing your lips.

"Such a good little slut. my exclusive cumslut," he cooed running his thumb over your lips, glistening with your sakiva mixed with his released. "ready for me to fuck your brains out, fuckdoll?" Like you'd ever say no.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

mint chocolate rewards [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii i kept getting stuck with this one but am pretty happy with how it turned out!! as much as i love pathetic steve i also looooove cocky steve. hope you enjoy!! feel free to send requests/suggestions or just chat with me :) -m

summary: you’re tutoring steve (there’s not a lot of learning going on) and he’s a smug asshole sometimes. (ft. ice cream, trains, and karaoke)

modern!steve x fem!reader 

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, angst (steve is a little bit of a an asshole), kissing, a tiny bit of phone teasing, dirty talk, fingering, edging, p in v, smidge of daddy kink (used like once or twice and it’s steve referring to himself)  18+ MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 19.3k (oh im a yapper)

masterlist here!!

College has been a fresh start for you, moving away from your small, stuffy town and basking in the change of scenery and people that a new city brought you. 

Boston was busy most of the time, a Friday or Saturday night in downtown made the city feel alive, electrified—but unlike New York, this city did sleep. Once the hustle and bustle of cars and trains stopped, the city shutdown for the night and the streets were quiet and still. Well in some places. 

It was your third year at Boston University and you’d developed a fondness for the city around you. It was a city of passion and that extended to food, history, and especially sports. A passionate place with the people to match it. 

With this new school and new city, you’d also found some new friends. Robin and Eddie, the three of you had found each other during the first week of freshman year and it had kind of just been that way ever since. You’d like to say you were Robin's best friend, but you knew that title was reserved for someone else. 

You didn’t know Steve Harrington, but you certainly knew of him. Hushed whispers and tired rumors always swirled through the air when Steve was around—and even when he wasn’t. 

Despite the reputation he seemed to have, you wondered if there was really any truth to it. Sure, he seemed charismatic and a little full of himself. Yes, he wore a smug smirk that you thought could bewitch just about anyone. But, when you sat on the sidelines and observed him, you noticed the way he tried to make everyone laugh. You’d seen firsthand how he took the time to talk to everyone around him and make sure they felt included in whatever the group was up to. You saw how he treated Robin, and cared for her. And plus, he couldn’t be that bad if she thought so highly of him, if she loved him so much.

So maybe you did know him, at least a little bit. 

But in reality you were a fairly optimistic person, so you kept your theories about Steve to yourself. You tended to look for the good in people, even when there wasn’t much to look at. A glass half full kind of gal. Which is why when you hear about the ladies man, the stereotypical asshole that is Steve Harrington, you keep your mouth shut and don’t add to the conversation at all. 

Even with Steve being Robin’s best friend, the two of you hardly ever overlapped. You’d see him in passing or he’d be coming to see Robin while you were leaving, but that was it. You weren’t sure why this was how it was, especially with how much she yapped about him. But really you think that Steve has his group of people and Robin has hers. The time they spent together was their own and you didn’t have any issues with that. 

And so when your professor pulls you aside after algebra ll, you realize your overlap with Steve Harrington just increased tenfold. 

“Steve is asking for some outside help and we talked about it and decided the group sessions that I do probably aren’t going to be a good fit. I know you’ve picked up some one on one sessions in the past and made you my first stop.” 

Although you don’t want to admit it, your heart beats a little faster at the thought of spending one on one time with Steve. You’re not sure if it’s excitement or dread—maybe a mix of both. 

“I, uh, I can do that. He’s serious about this right? I don’t want to waste my time if he’s not really wanting to learn something.” Okay, so maybe you’d let some of the rumors about him wiggle their way into your brain, but you couldn’t help it! 

“He is. From what I’ve seen he takes his classes seriously, despite what others say about him. I don’t think he’d ask for help just to make a joke out of it.”

She had a point, why would he go out of his way to seek tutoring if he wasn’t serious about it? And if someone needed some help and you could do it, you were going to. 

“Alright, I’m in. You can give him my number and I’ll see about setting something up.” 

———-

Your phone buzzing beside you while you laid in bed that night wasn’t out of the ordinary but it was strange when you looked and didn’t recognize the number on your screen. Until you remembered the conversation you’d had with Professor Benson that morning. And until you scrolled through the messages and saw his name. 

Unknown: Hi! I heard you agreed to be my tutor! Professor B didn’t tell me your name but thank you! 

Unknown: You are a lifesaver. 

Unknown: Oh shit this is Steve Harrington by the way. I forgot to mention that. 

Phone still clutched tightly in your hand, you cursed yourself for feeling nervous. He was being perfectly polite, cute even, and here you were with sweaty palms at the thought of texting him back. But you had to. You agreed to this and you wouldn’t go back on your word over some jitters. 

It only took you writing and rewriting the message about twenty times before you came up with something simple that didn’t make you cringe. 

Y/n: Hi, Steve! You’re welcome, I hope I can be of some help to you. I’m y/n, by the way. Did you have a certain time or place you wanted to meet up for your first session? I’m free most days after 6. 

Steve: Y/n? As in the person Robin has replaced me with? What a small world. 

Y/n: Funny. I don’t think anyone could replace your spot in Robin’s life, but yes that’s me.

A small smile worked its way on your lips as you went back and forth with him, some of the nerves slipping away. 

Steve: Well lucky me, I’ll finally get to spend some time with the girl I’ve heard so much about. But as for the first session, what about the library at 7 tomorrow? The tables in the back? 

You tried not to let the first part of his text affect you so much, but it did. If you were being honest, you didn’t think he even knew about you at all, so the thought that he had was making your pulse speed up. 

Y/n: Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then! 

Y/n: Oh and I’ve heard plenty about you too, all good things. 

Steve: Let’s hope I live up to my name then. See you tomorrow. 

———

Steve was living up to his name, but not the one Robin had given him. 

The day had passed quickly and before you knew it you were here about twenty minutes early with math textbooks and notes surrounding you. Now you wouldn’t fault Steve for not being early, that wouldn’t be fair, but you would fault him for being an hour late. 

Well technically he still hadn’t shown up. 

Ten or fifteen minutes, even half an hour you could brush off. Things happen, you get that. But you had no text, no call, no anything and you felt a steady stream of irritation flowing through you. Your texts had gone unanswered and while the rational part of you was concerned that something had happened, more than anything you were frustrated. 

You texted Robin to see if she knew anything about what was going on and she didn’t. If he wasn’t here by 8:45 you were leaving. That was more than fair and you cursed yourself for even giving him that much leeway. But really you hoped he didn’t show at all because now you were tired and pissed and certainly not in the mood to hear his excuses let alone tutor him. The thought of even speaking about math right now made you want to cry! 

It was a surprise your pencil didn't snap from how tight you were gripping it in your hand, your jaw clenched and the beginning of a headache pulsing behind your eyes. You’d try one more time, send one more text before you were done. 

Y/n: Can you at least let me know you’re alive?

That was fifteen minutes ago and still nothing. Looking down at your phone you see it’s now 8:50 and you push your chair back with a huff, standing up to stuff everything back into your bag, shoulders aching before you even add on the extra weight. 

It’s when you’re sliding in your laptop that you hear it. Panicked footsteps are hurrying toward you and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Any exhaustion you had is wiped away and replaced with red hot anger, the tips of your ears burning as you try to remind yourself to breathe. 

“Fuck, I’m here! Shit, I’m sorry but I’m here.”

You ignore him, it’s all you can do right now and honestly you think it’s best for both of you that you don’t speak. You’d been up since 5 am and that wasn’t his fault, but it definitely was his fault that he was showing up 2 hours late and keeping you up when you didn’t have to be. 

Zipping up your bag and grabbing your keys off the table you turn, brushing past him without so much as a glance before you’re heading to the doors of the library. Maybe you’re being a little dramatic but you don’t care. You hear him behind you, cursing under his breath and trying to quietly call your name but you keep going. Past the doors and down the sidewalk and straight ahead with a frown on your face. 

A hand on your arm stops you and you realize you manage to keep a few feet ahead of him for about four blocks. You don’t turn to him, don’t give any acknowledgment of his presence besides the pause of your feet. 

“I’m sorry I was a little late—”

That gets your attention and it’s enough to break the little silent treatment you’ve had going. It’s enough to have you pulling your arm away from his hand despite the warmth it provided as you turn to finally face him. 

“A little? Try two hours, Steve.” 

His nose scrunches and he looks away. You can see the embarrassment in his pinched brows and pouty lips but it does little to dull the frustration that’s been building inside of you since the half hour mark. 

But he’s standing in front of you for the first time and while he’s spewing sorry’s you’re taking him in. His hair is disheveled and his lips are a little swollen, like he or someone else has been biting on them. He’s wearing a lilac t-shirt that looks a little too good on him and jeans that hug him in all the right places. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Time got away from me and I didn’t realize until I was leaving her house that it was so late! I thought I’d given us plenty of time but I guess I…I fucked up.” 

You don’t hear much after “leaving her house”, a new wave of anger washing over you and you have to fist your hands at your side to keep from knocking in his pretty white teeth. 

“Was everyone okay?” Your voice is calm and quiet, a little sprig of hope inside that maybe someone needed his help, something had happened and it was an emergency. You hated yourself a little bit for hoping for something like when in reality you knew the truth. He’d been too busy with a girl to remember you. 

And yes you realize it wasn’t so much you specifically as it was your tutoring session, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You were a girl, a girl who blushed around cute guys and who wanted to hold hands and kiss and go on dates. And so what if it hurt your feelings a little bit that Steve had forgotten you? You could get over that. But what you wouldn’t get over, at least tonight, was that he’d taken advantage of someone wanting to help him and wasted your time. 

“Oh, yeah, everyone’s okay. It was more like a…a date, I guess.” 

“Right. And your phone stopped working?” 

He scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t hear it go off and when I saw all your texts I was already almost here so I just didn’t respond.” Well at least he’s honest. 

“Okay. Maybe you should try out a group session with Professor B before you rule it out completely, you might do well with it.” 

He pulled back, eyes wide and a look of surprise written across features. You get the feeling he’s not used to being told no, even indirectly. “What does that mean?” 

“It means that it’s not fair to me to waste my time. I agreed to this because I wanted to help you but if you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time or even call me to let me know you couldn’t make it, it doesn’t really give me hope that this will be beneficial for either of us.” 

His face hardens the slightest bit and despite the pull you have to be a people pleaser, to say sorry and that it’s okay, you hold strong and straighten your shoulders as he stares down at you. 

“So that’s it? One strike and I’m out?” There’s almost a scoff when he says it, like he can’t believe you and it only adds fuel to the fire burning in your chest. 

“Well you haven’t exactly made a great first impression. If a date is more important than math, that’s fine. I really don’t care. But I won’t clear my nights and sit in libraries alone for someone that doesn’t take this seriously.” You watch him take in your words, furrow between his brows getting deeper the more you talk and you just keep going. “And for the record, I don’t owe you more than one shot. What’s the point of this if you’ll just strike out?” 

“I don’t strike out.” 

A laugh of disbelief flies out of you, hands going up like your surrendering, “Really? That’s all you got out of what I just said?” He shrugged at you and despite his pretty face you felt nothing but contempt for him right now. 

“It was a mistake. I lost track of time. If you think you’re too good to give me a shot to prove that I care, then whatever.” 

“You’re an asshole! Don’t try to-to manipulate me into feeling bad about you doing something shitty. Me setting a boundary with you does not mean I think I’m too good, it means I know my time is worth something and I don’t have to put up with bullshit from people, especially someone I don’t even know!” You can see the regret on his face, the way his features soften and his shoulders slump. “Maybe next time set an alarm or don’t schedule a date on the same day as tutoring. Or maybe let someone know you won’t make it before they sit there waiting for 2 hours to help you out. And maybe if you don’t do any of that, show up and don’t be an asshole when they’re upset about it. Maybe learn that you’re not entitled to people’s time and effort just because you think you deserve it.” 

Finished with your little rant you take a breath, hoping he doesn’t lash out at you because you feel your courage waning and you just want to go home and sleep. 

But all he does is nod at you with dim eyes before he’s turning on his heel and walking in the other direction before you can say anything else. Not that you would, you think you’d gotten it all out when you were standing in the middle of an almost empty street scolding him like a toddler. 

Maybe you’d been wrong in your theories about Steve Harrington. Or maybe you just didn’t fall into the group of people that got to see a different side of him. 

————-

Steve felt like shit. 

He’d lost the nerve to say anything when you tore into him like you did, and he deserved it. It was an asshole move to be 2 fucking hours late and then get upset at you being upset with him. And all for what? A girl he barely knew, who didn’t even like him and called him once every few weeks when she was bored? To be fair he didn’t really like her either, so that made him only feel more shitty. 

You’d told him off, which didn’t happen often and regardless of how pissed off or embarrassed he’d been, it was hard to stay upset when he noticed the cute little twitch your nose would do when you yelled at him. 

And he felt bad because you were Robin’s friend, one of her best friends! He’d been hearing about you for what seemed like forever and now that he was actually going to spend some time with you, he’d blown it. He knew you were a sweetheart, quiet most of the time and always willing to do anything for others. It had been a low blow trying to make you feel bad, he knew that. But he really needed your help here and was willing to do anything to get it. Even if it meant guilting you into it, I guess. 

He was well aware of his reputation around campus, grade A asshole with girls hanging off his arms every weekend. Hell, he played into it most of the time. It was easier to just play into what people expected sometimes, even if that meant being a dick. 

And okay, maybe he was guilty of being kind of cocky sometimes. He could be a little smug but he never meant to come off like too much of a prick. He liked to think it was charming sometimes. 

But right now he was worried about passing algebra and making things right with you. Robin would kill him if he didn’t, and he owed it to you to at least try to be decent. 

That’s how he finds himself here, standing in front of you and Eddie where you’re perched in the shade under a big tree in the center of campus. Before last night he’s never said more than a hello to you and he doesn’t think he’s ever even been this close to Eddie. 

He watches the two of you, the way you lean into Eddie as he walks closer and the way Eddie narrows his eyes like a guard dog who’ll bite if he gets too close. He feels a twinge of something deep in his stomach watching you cling to Eddie and maybe it’s because you’re so pretty or maybe it’s because Robin has built you up in his head to be this angel that he’s kind of enamored with. 

“Can I talk to you?” He’s wearing sunglasses so you can’t see the way his eyes dart around your face and settle on the small pout you're wearing on your glossy, peach colored lips. 

“You didn’t have much to say last night, nothing good at least.” You had one hell of a backbone, he’d give you that. From what he’d heard from Robin you tended to try your best to appease the people around you so a little spark shot up his spine at the thought of you not backing down to him. 

He didn’t miss the way Eddie smirked, looking between your stern eyes and the pleading puppy dog look Steve was wearing. He nudged your shoulder to grab your attention, “Oh hear him out, yeah? It won’t hurt anything.” Steve gave Eddie a quick, grateful nod and turned back just in time to see you rolling your eyes at the both of them. 

“5 minutes, Harrington.” 

Eddie got up, gesturing for Steve to take his place as he grabbed his stuff and sent a reassuring wink your way. Steve thinks with all the friends he has, he doesn’t have any besides Robin that really count. Maybe if he quit being an ass, you and Eddie would be his friends too. 

“First I wanna apologize for being late, and for not calling or texting to let you know. I do care about school and I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me. I’m sorry I took that for granted.” He watches your lips part in what could either be shock or surprise and the small nod you give makes him keep going. “And I’m really sorry for the shitty stuff I said. It was a dick move trying to make you feel guilty when you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m lucky you even agreed to help me in the first place, s’not your job. I guess I’m just…used to getting my way. It sounds shitty to say it out loud but I guess we both know it’s true. I realize you don’t owe me anything and I haven’t done anything to earn a second chance, so I’m sorry. I’m gonna try out a group session and see how that goes, I think. But uh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for anything.” Well, he has to admit that is not what he expected to come out of your mouth. Your shoulders had softened the slightest bit but your eyes were still weary of him. 

“I don’t expect you to, you did nothing wrong. I deserved you telling me off. Hell, I probably needed it. I just wanted you to know I was sorry, you deserved to hear it.” 

When you don’t say anything for a few minutes he takes that as his sign to leave, pushing himself off the ground beside you and dusting off his pants before you stop him with a sigh of his name. 

“Thank you—for the apology. I can tell you mean it and that’s all I wanted. It sounds like you actually heard what I was saying and…and if you want a second shot, you’ve earned one.” 

“Really?” He smiled wide at you, hand grabbing yours that you’d held out and he lifted you up with ease. You nodded at him and he felt relief all over. He didn’t realize he still had your hand in his until you gave him a squeeze and he dropped it, shrugging shyly. 

“Two strikes and you are out, Steve. Don’t make me regret this.” 

He couldn’t help the cocky smirk he flashed, hands going to his hips, staring down and not missing the way your throat bobbed at how close he was. 

“I told you I don't strike out, didn’t I?”

—————

You were very pleasantly surprised by Steve’s apology, kind of shocked by it too. You hadn’t expected much to come out of your little rant, let alone him seeming so genuinely sorry about what had happened. And he seemed to understand what you said, he let it soak in and took accountability for it. 

When he was standing there so sincere and upset, you couldn’t help but to offer him another chance. This was the Steve you thought you’d seen, kind and attentive. You were happy you weren’t totally wrong about him. 

But one thing you did realize was that Steve Harrington was a pest. He got under your skin in the best way possible and lit you on fire in a way that nobody ever had. It’s like he lit a spark in you and you loved every second, even if you pretended like he got on your nerves. 

In the last two weeks you and Steve had gotten together about 4 times, and it was going well! You’d realized within one session with him that he just needed some one on one time with the material. He grasps the concepts much easier when he has someone to walk him through a few problems at his own pace. 

And he’d been on time to every single one, even early to a couple. Today he even showed up before you, the little eager student that he was. 

You noticed the more time you spent together over the last two weeks and the more comfortable Steve became, the more he liked to tease you and watch you flush red under his stare. 

Like now you’re sitting beside him—you had sat down across from him but he pouted like a child and said it would be easier if you were closer—and he’s complaining about the quadratic formula for the millionth time. 

“We’re almost done, Steve. Two more problems and you’re free to go.” 

“I think I should get a reward for all this.” He would probably stomp his foot at you if he was standing up and you can’t help but huff a small laugh at the little frown he’s wearing, chin in his hand and shoulders slumped in annoyance. 

“You do. You’ll pass the class.”

He’s not amused by this, rolling his eyes and pinching the bare skin of your thigh where your shorts have moved from you shifting in your chair. You watch the spot turn pink and his touch, even something so quick and simple, has you buzzing. 

“Lame. I was thinking more of a kiss, let me have a quick taste of those pretty lips.” No matter how many times he mentions your mouth or how’d you taste it never fails to thrill you, your face heating and your eyes darting everywhere but his. 

It’s even worse when you watch the way he watches you, leaned back in his chair with his thighs spread and a smug look on his face. He’ll flash his teeth at you in a smile and send a quick wink that has you having to stop yourself from sinking between his open legs. He knows what he does to you and he loves it, soaks it up and never gets tired of it. 

You’ve turned back to your own notes, leaving Steve to work on the last few problems and of course he does anything but. It’s only been a few minutes when you feel something brush across your hair, you ignore it. A few seconds later something soft hits your cheek, and you ignore it. But when it hits your forehead you turn to him with a scowl, a little ball of paper between his fingers. 

“You are a child.” You swat at his chest and regret it when he catches your wrist in his hand, skin turning hot under his touch. You can’t look away from where his fingers wrap around you and it makes you dizzy to feel his rough hands against your skin. 

“Hit me again, baby.” 

That was another thing that had started, the pet names. He used your name sometimes, but called you baby, sweetheart, or doll when he wanted to make you stutter your words and stumble through your sentences. 

He’s smirking at you, eyes light and filled with amusement at the way your neck is turning a bright pink, reaching and reaching until your ears are burning. “C’mon, please?” 

“No reward for you if you don’t finish those problems.” Despite the turmoil going on inside your voice sounds cool, unaffected, and you thank god for that. 

“Fine. I can be a good boy when I want to be.” 

Ignoring him, you turn back to your notes, far too distracted to actually pay attention to them anymore but you still stare at the paper in front of you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he actually goes back to his work, finishing the problems quickly and you beam at him when they’re all right. 

“See! I told you, just need to take your time with this stuff. I’m proud of you, Steve.” For once he’s the one blushing, brushing it off like it’s nothing and asking for his reward. You should have known, a child never forgets a promise you make them. 

Leaning forward his eyes widen, darting over your face to check if this is really happening. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, not used to playing his games with him and it takes all the courage you have to let your lips brush over the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, before they find the shell of his ear. He’s still beside you, anticipating your next move and if you weren’t so hell bent on teasing him back, you’d kiss him right now. 

Your lips graze him and it’s your turn to smirk when his grip on the table in front of you tightens. His knuckles are white and his jaw is set with you so close to him. 

“Ice cream. That’s your reward.” 

Pulling back quickly so you can see his reaction, you beam at the way his lips are parted and his chest is heaving a little harder than it should be. He just watches you with wide eyes before something settles over him. Something that makes your stomach flutter and tells you you’ve started something that you won’t win. 

When he speaks you can’t help but watch the way his mouth wraps around the words so sensually you feel it all over, like he’s touching every inch of your skin and it’s addicting. 

“Perfect. M’dying for something sweet.” 

———-

He can’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his skin, even if it lasted all of three seconds it’s running through his mind on a loop and making his head a mess. 

God he wishes you would have just bit down on him, sunk your teeth into his skin and let him feel your tongue soothe the burn. 

You’re walking side by side to your favorite ice cream place now, the sun is out and bright but despite that there’s a nice breeze that cools his skin. You would have already been there but he had to spend fifteen minutes distracting you from leaving just so he could stand up without getting arrested for indecent exposure. 

Remembering the small smile of victory you had makes him smile, but not as big as he’ll be smiling when he gets you back. He loves watching you preen under his touch, loves the way your chest rises and falls a little faster when he leans in towards you and loves even more the way your eyes go all big and round and your cheeks turn bright red when he says something cheeky. 

Spending some time with you over the last two weeks, it’s obvious to him why Robin is so obsessed with you. You’re hilarious, sometimes you make him laugh so hard his stomach hurts and he has tears in his eyes. He’d known you were a sweetheart but getting to see it firsthand gave him a goddamn toothache. Watching the way you smile at him so proudly when something finally clicks, how you listen to someone with such intent, no matter what they’re talking about. You’re just so kind and good that he wants to be as close to you as possible at all times. 

But this is the first time you two are venturing outside of the library together and he thinks he’ll spend much more time convincing you to do things with him besides math. Now that he’s got a taste he needs more, craves it. 

He doesn’t even notice you’ve arrived until you’re tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and giving him a smile as sweet as honey as you wordlessly point at the ice cream shop he’d just walked past.

Pulling open the door he lets you go first and looks around to see only a few people besides them in the shop. Perfect. 

Since there’s no line, you both go quickly. You opt for chocolate chip cookie dough in a cup and he decides on mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone. He notices the way your nose scrunches all cute at his choice and he rolls his eyes as he pulls out his card to pay before you can. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s gonna say it tastes like toothpaste or something.” Your jaw drops in offense and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing at how cute you are. 

“I wasn’t! I only made that face because I almost got it myself.” 

“And the thought of having a similar taste to me is making you feel sick?” 

“No, just didn’t peg you as a mint chocolate chip guy.” 

“So you’ve been thinking about pegging me.” He knows you’ve realized what you’ve done before the words even leave his mouth and he smirks at you anyways. He’ll take any chance to get you all flustered and riled up. 

“Pay for my damn ice cream, Harrington.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just quietly snickers to himself while you go and find a place to sit. He notices the way you choose a seat in the corner, far away from anyone else in the shop and he smiles. You probably know what’s coming, waiting for the other shoe to drop after your little stunt at the library and he loves seeing you all worked up and on edge. 

He likes it a little too much. 

Instead of sitting in the seat across from you he slips in the booth beside you instead, watching your eyes dart to the side to watch him carefully. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, he always takes any opportunity to be close to you. 

Slinging an arm around your shoulder he lets his fingertips toy with your hair, smiling when he feels you relax into him. “Can I have a bite?” You seem to not think anything of his request, lifting your spoon up to his mouth and he lets you slip it between his lips, your eyes trained on his mouth and his on you. 

He hums around the spoon and lets his teeth catch when you drag it from his mouth. You shake your head at him, leaning slightly against his chest and enjoying the quiet between you too. 

It’s go time. 

“Wanna bite?” He’s looking down at you and you nod sheepishly, leaning forward to meet him halfway when he moves his cone towards your mouth. Right when he reaches your lips he moves the cone an inch over and touches the ice cream against the corner of your mouth. 

Before you can reach for a napkin he grabs your wrist, smiling all innocent when you look at him with confusion in your eyes. “I got it, don’t worry.” 

And when he leans forward and moves his head down to be eye level with you, he smirks at the hitch in your breath when he leans forward and lets his tongue swipe over the sweetness there, his tongue catching the corner of your mouth. 

The spoon clatters on the table between you and he hasn’t moved, face just inches away from yours and his hand isn’t playing with your hair anymore, it’s gripping the back of the booth so tight it hurts. 

“Steve..” A breathless little plea leaves your now clean mouth and it takes everything in him not to go in for another taste. He pulls back just enough to watch your eyes flutter close and your head fall back to lay against his arm that’s still behind you. There’s a shine on your cheek from his spit and he’s so hard he can feel his heartbeat all through his body. 

Despite the cockiness running through him at the way you’ve melted, his voice is quiet and breathless just like yours when he speaks where only you can hear him. “What? Just cleaning you up, messy girl.” 

He feels something cold on his hand and looks down to see his ice cream melting, spilling over the cone and running down his fingers. When he looks back he sees you staring at them too, a look in your eyes that has him reeling. 

If there wasn’t anyone else here he’d have you lick his fingers clean, he can see the way you’re itching to do it.

But there’s more people coming into the shop and he’s seconds away from dragging you into the bathroom so he needs to get you out of here, get into the fresh air and out of the little bubble you’ve created. 

“You ready, Stevie?” He loves when you call him that, it makes his chest feel all warm and he just wants to nuzzle into you when you say it. He must have been staring at you, too busy thinking about how bad he wanted you to do anything else. 

He nods, sliding out of the booth and holding out his now clean hand to you, body buzzing when you take it and he feels your skin against his. You walk out and into the street and the breeze on his skin is a life saver. 

Your apartment is just two blocks away from the ice cream shop and the walk there is quiet, both of you thinking about his tongue so close to your mouth. His hand brushes yours as you walk and he feels his fingers twitch with the need to slip your hands together. 

“Good reward then?” It’s you that breaks the silence and he’s grateful, his heart racing in his chest despite the smug smirk he’s wearing looking down at you. 

“Oh baby, the best.”

—————

You and Steve spend about four days a week together at this point and you’re not convinced he even needs that much tutoring but you don’t complain. You’ll take any chance to spend some time with him. 

The two of you have also decided to forgo the library, taking turns having it at his place or yours and most times you work on actual school stuff for about half an hour before he’s distracting you with a movie or a game or a promise of food. 

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, where he licked the corner of your mouth and sent you spiraling. Having him that close was overwhelming enough, let alone feeling him on your skin. 

Since then things haven’t changed much, he teases you and sometimes you retaliate but oftentimes you just sit there red faced and let him enjoy how flustered he makes you. He’s still touchy and smug all the time, but hasn’t put his tongue anywhere near you since. Unfortunately. 

Tonight you’re both at your place, you lying out across your couch in a t-shirt and pajama shorts that really don’t fit you anymore but you refuse to get rid of. Steve is on the floor in front of you stretched out and scrolling through his phone while you switch between watching the tv and watching him. 

He’s been less like himself tonight, quiet and there's a little furrow between his brows that has you worried. By this point he’d usually be wrapped around you, playing with your hair or rubbing at your neck. But he’d barely touched you today, barely teased you and you wondered what had happened between yesterday and today that had him so out of sorts. 

Regardless of his mood, he takes time to admire the way your ass peaks out of the bottom of those shorts, his jaw clenching when he gets a peak at the smooth skin there. He can spot where your ass meets your thigh and he wants to bury his face there. 

You're pulled from your thoughts when he sits up, sitting his phone on the edge of the couch beside you and using your thigh to hoist himself off the ground. “Be right back, honey.” 

You just nod, stretching out your legs and trying to memorize how the heat of his palm felt gripping your skin. He goes to the bathroom, the click of the lock sounding out at the same time his phone lights up beside you. 

You don’t mean to look. Really, you planned to call out to him and go back to the shitty reality tv show that was playing in front of you but when you see a name you recognize you can’t help but to look. 

And you immediately regret it. 

Brooke: Are you still coming over tonight? It’s been over a month, I miss you. 

The blood drains from your body and you feel a pit so deep in your stomach you think you might be sick. You know Brooke, everyone knows Brooke. And you don’t keep up with that Steve does but he’s spent most of his time with you for the last month, so you can’t help but wonder if the last time he saw her was the day of his first tutoring session. 

And that should make you feel a little better, should dull the raging jealousy coursing through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because from her text, he’s already made plans to go over. Maybe this is why he’s being so weird tonight, he’s ready to go see…her. And then you’re even more upset because it was your idea to hang out tonight and you wish he would have just said no because then you wouldn’t have seen this text and you wouldn’t feel like you’re about to cry. 

You and Steve weren’t together, hadn’t even gone on a date or kissed or been anything more than friends. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t developed this huge crush on him that’s taken over every part of your brain. And the teasing, the touches, they meant something to you. 

Maybe that was your mistake. 

Maybe he’s that way with everyone and you read too much into it. Maybe you’ve spent so much time together because he actually did need that much help with fucking algebra and stuck around because he felt like he owed you or something. 

In a matter of seconds your whole friendship was Steve was up in the air in front of you and you found yourself dissecting every interaction and graze of skin and now you just wanted to curl up into your bed and forget all of it. 

You liked him, a lot more than you would care to admit and for the first time since that first night, you felt uncomfortable being in the same place as him. 

The click of the bathroom lock snaps you from your spiral and you pull yourself off the couch, gathering up trash from the snacks you’d eaten so you don’t have to look him in the eye. And you shouldn’t say anything, should pretend it didn’t happen and figure this out later but you can’t help but let the words slip out when he walks back into your living room. 

“Got a text while you were in the bathroom.” He doesn’t say anything but doesn’t really have the chance because you’re rushing into the kitchen and deciding that now is the best time to do those dishes you meant to do before he came over. 

Hopefully he’ll just…go. You know he won’t but maybe that would be easier if you didn’t have to see him again tonight or smell him or touch him. The water is hot, too hot to be sticking your hands under but scrubbing at this plate is all that’s keeping the tears that are building from falling down your cheeks. 

“Y/n…” He’s behind you now, close enough that you can feel his presence and you know if you just took one step back you’d be pressed up against his chest, you’d feel the warmth that always comes from him. So you stay where you are, the edge of the sink digging into your stomach but you try and scoot closer to it anyways. 

A noncommittal hum is all he gets from you. You don’t move your head to look at him, you can’t because if you do you’re not sure you won’t cry. And you can’t let him see you cry over something that was never there. 

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is low and sweet, a hint of a plea in his tone that makes your insides twist painfully. You just shake your head, scrubbing at this plate so hard you’re worried it might snap in your grip. 

His hand is on your shoulder now and a shaky breath escapes your lips, the tears building behind your eyes and you will them away. There's nothing to cry over. He’s your friend. That’s all. “If you need to leave, that’s fine. Seriously it’s—you can go if you want.” Your voice cracks the slightest bit, but he notices. Of course he does. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” 

Your chest hurts at the endearment and you squeeze your eyes shut tight because you know he’s wearing that puppy dog look he does so well. You know his eyes are round and full of concern, or even worse, pity. You know his bottom lip is jutting out in a pout and it makes you want to take the plate you’ve scrubbed clean and smash it into a million pieces. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Steve, it’s that he won’t give in. He’ll stand behind you all night, miss his date with Brooke if that’s what it takes. He won’t give up until you’re looking at him, but you don’t know why. Don’t know why he wants to see you upset. But you turn around anyways, cheeks blotchy and a sheen of tears ready to fall at any given moment. 

His lips part softly and his hands are hovering between you, not sure if he should reach over and touch you. “It’s not—she’s not…I don’t want to leave.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t know why I even made the plans in the first place! I’d rather be here with you anyways.” 

“Okay.” 

He’s pacing in front of you now, hands fisted in his hair and he looks like he’s freaking out, chewing on his bottom lip and mumbling under his breath while you just stand there and stare at your feet on the floor. 

“I’ve just been…my mind has been fucked lately and I don’t know what I even think anymore and I do stupid shit when I don’t know what do to.” 

“Okay, Steve.” 

“Are you just gonna keep saying okay?” He’s stopped pacing, the stare he’s wearing keeps you still in place against the sink and you feel like shrinking under his gaze. 

“What do you want me to say? If you want to go hang out with her, you can! You’re an adult, Steve. You don’t have to spend all your time with me.” 

“But I want to.” Heart thudding hard in your chest you try to make sense of what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. He’s giving you something, dancing around what he wants to say and you won’t give yourself false hope, won’t read too far into this. You’ve become friends, best friends even and you don’t want to fuck that up. 

“Then stay.” 

You should talk about this, you know it and he knows it. You should get everything out in the open so there’s no more secret plans and unshed tears but you don’t. Instead he nods at you, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you so you’re nuzzled against his chest. Neither of you say anything, just sit there wrapped up in each other for who knows how long before he pulls back and tugs you to the living room, sitting down and pulling you into his side with no words spoken between you. 

The show drones on around you, but you’re not paying attention. Your mind is too busy, too many thoughts swirling around to even try and focus on anything but him. He sinks down further into the couch and you move with him, your head resting against his chest and his hand lying still on your hip. 

“M’sorry I made you sad. Never want to do that, you’re too pretty to cry over me, too sweet.” 

You just nod against him, closing your eyes and feeling the thump of his chest on your cheek. He doesn’t say anything else and you’re grateful. 

————-

It’s been almost a week since that night in your apartment. A week since Steve got that text and you almost lost your shit. A week since you realized how deep your feelings for him actually ran. 

When you had woken up that next day Steve was still there, hand still on your hip with his head thrown back in what couldn’t be comfortable as he slept beside you. He woke up soon after and both of you just…pretended it hadn’t happened. The last week had been normal, so normal you’d convinced yourself that night was some sort of glitch. 

Steve continued to spend most of his days with you, continued to flash those smug grins your way when he sees something inappropriate and you continue to flush under his stare, preen under his praise and stick to his side like glue. 

That’s how you are now, sprawled under that same big tree Steve had come to apologize to you under all those weeks ago. He’s sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him and your head is on his lap, Eddie beside you hunched over and working on something you can’t see, Robin beside Steve with a book she’s not reading in her hand. 

He’d also been spending more time with the three of you and it made your heart warm. All your favorite people getting along and hanging out.

“We should all go to Lansdowne this weekend.” That suggestion couldn’t have come from anyone but Steve. Eddie scrunches his nose at the thought immediately, tongue sticking out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Robin groans like she’s physically pained by the thought. 

“Now don’t sound too excited.” Lansdowne was a little pub near Fenway Park that Steve was obsessed with. They usually had live music and were packed to the brim with bodies every weekend. Robin and Eddie despised it, always too crowded for their liking. 

“I’ll go, Steve. But you’re buying my first drink.” 

“That’s my girl!” He patted your head like you were a puppy, grin wide as he turned to stick out his tongue at Eddie and Robin who just rolled their eyes dramatically and went back to ignoring whatever Steve would ramble on about next. 

Neither of you noticed the way Eddie and Robin watched you, knowing smiles on both their faces as they took the sight of you two in. They watched Steve brush your hair out of your face, a look of fondness on his face that Robin hasn’t seen him show anyone before. They watch you snuggle into him, content and comfort written all over your features. 

————-

There was a small bit of regret about quickly agreeing to go out with Steve. Friday came before you knew it and you were tired, so tired from a long week of school and work. It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong this week, did and it had you mentally and physically drained. 

The temptation to text Steve and bail was clawing at you, but you couldn’t. Usually spending time with him was something that made you feel better, so you hoped that was the case tonight. 

It was nice out, not too hot but just warm enough to indulge in summer clothes. Dressing up for tonight was out of the question, you needed to be comfy if you were going to be squished against sweaty bodies and pulled through big crowds. 

That was how you found yourself now, tucked into Steve’s side at the bar at 11pm with a short denim skirt snug around your hips that you’d found in the back of your drawer and a cropped pink t-shirt that molded to your chest. A few inches of skin showed above your skirt and the feel of Steve’s palm resting there had you blushing already. 

You were both three drinks in, a nice buzz in your veins that had you giggling into his chest without embarrassment. When you’d seen him tonight, you knew you were going to need some liquid reinforcements to survive. He’d been wearing a dark green button up that he left undone, tight white tank top underneath that showed the outline of his chest. A pair of light wash denim jeans cinched around his waist with a belt. 

There might have been an audible gulp at the sight of him, but with three dirty shirley’s pumping through you, you eyed him up without care, taking in every inch of him with a palpable hunger. 

His breath is hot against your skin when he leans down to try and whisper in your ear, but ends up talking much louder than he meant to. “Forgot to mention it’s karaoke night.” 

“I am not participating in that.” 

That little frown he does when he doesn’t get his way pops up, lips pouted at you like you’d stolen his candy. “Why not?” 

“Between the two of us you’re the rockstar, Harrington, not me.” 

Before he could open his mouth to argue, someone called his name from across the bar, a man holding a clipboard that looked less than impressed with his job. Somehow in the short time you’d been here Steve had gotten his name down on the list for karaoke without you knowing, and it was his turn now. 

He gave you a quick wink that had you almost melting before him, a small smirk as he squeezed your shoulder and started to push his way through the crowds of people. “Eyes on me, baby.” 

Liked you’d be able to look anywhere else. 

You watch him hop up on the small stage that’s only a few feet tall, no hint of nervousness on his face as he smiles at the small crowd that’s paying attention to him. There’s lights focused on him and you think he was made to be in the spotlight with how good he looks up there. You’re somewhere in the middle of the crowd but he spots you easily, winking before he strips off his button down, tossing it to the side of him. 

The sight of him up there with his tank top tucked nicely into his jeans does little to help with the fuzziness you were already feeling from the drinks. You’re careful not to drool at his arms on display, bulging slightly when he lifts them to grip his hands around the mic. 

“Hello, Boston!” 

You’d think this was his personal show the way the crowd cheered back at him, encouraging what you know was nothing but mischievous behavior. He’s getting the attention of more of the bar the longer he stands up there and you can’t blame them, he’s a sight to see. 

“You all look beautiful tonight!” 

A laugh bubbles out of you when the beginning notes of Mr. Brightside by the Killers boom from the speakers behind him, not sure why you expected anything else from him. 

He’s practically bouncing on his heels as he sings the first few notes—and so is his hair. But your laughter and amusement is quickly replaced by something fiery and strong that builds in your stomach as you watch him. 

His hands are wrapped around the microphone in front of him, eyes screwed shut when he gets to the chorus and you feel like you’re on fire. During a pause his head is thrown back, throat bobbing for everyone to see and you try to trace the beads of sweat running down his throat from your spot in the middle of the bar. 

When he starts singing again—and fuck he’s good—his eyes are open and on yours, coming so close to the microphone you can see the way his lips pucker against it on certain notes and you’re thankful it’s so packed in here, the people around you keeping you from falling to the ground. 

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

About seven feet are between you but with the bright lights shining on him you watch in awe as his raspberry lips wrap around the words and his tongue swipes out and darts across them every few seconds. He looks ethereal on that stage, hair slicked back from running his fingers through it and hips rocking side to side in time with the beat. 

His voice is pure silk and honey, like he was born to sing this song and it has your heart racing so fast in your chest it’s hard to catch your breath. He’s jumping around, putting on a noteworthy performance while the patrons around you yell and dance with him. 

Every once in a while his nose bumps against the mic and you can’t get over how alluring he looks with his lips grazing the mic. He’s captivating, stealing the attention of almost everyone in the room now and your heart swells in your chest. 

It takes you a second longer to realize the song has ended, cheers and hollering making your ears ring as he basks in the attention on stage. You can see that cocky smirk from here, his eyes dark and cheeks red as he blows you a kiss when he catches your eyes again. 

Maybe you could use another drink after all. 

 —————

Steve was sweaty from karaoke, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck, button up he’d been wearing thrown somewhere and he was sure he’d never see it again. The tank top he wore was clinging to his skin and he wished he could peel it off, the stickiness in the air of the bar doing nothing to cool him down. 

But he saw the way you watched him up there, your eyes trained on his mouth or his hands the whole time and it made him feel electric. The way you licked your lips like he was your next meal could have him on his knees for you in an instant. 

He’d lost you when he got off the small stage, eyes searching through the crowd and sighing in relief when he finds you standing by the bar, chin in your palm as you swirl your drink around. 

That relief is short-lived when he sees some douche come up beside you, a charming grin plastered on his face and his eyes dark as he takes you in. Steve sees red when he places one of his hands on your waist, his palm touching your bare skin since you’d chosen a crop top for tonight. 

Possessiveness stirs in his belly, hands fisted at his side at the laugh you give him. It’s fake, he can tell, but it still makes his jaw clench uncomfortably. 

You’re not interested in this guy, he can see that. You’ve leaned back enough to create some space between the two of you and your eyes dart around the bar quickly and he knows you’re looking for him. 

Little did you know that even if you weren’t looking for him, he’d still be there. He’d always be there. Couldn’t keep himself away from you even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He’d become addicted to your strawberry scent and your sweet little giggles. He’d become addicted to you. 

It’s when this asshole lifts his hand to brush a piece of your hair away from your face that Steve starts to move, shoulders shoving through the crowd with ease and he sees the way your body relaxes when you catch sight of him heading towards you. 

The thought of someone else touching your skin, feeling how smooth it is and how it warms up under their touch has him gritting his teeth. His jaw twitches thinking about you looking up at someone besides him with stars in your eyes. 

When he’s within reach he lays his hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Told ya I’d be right back, doll.” He doesn’t acknowledge the man beside him, eyes focused on yours. 

Your thighs clamp shut around his hand and a devious smirk plays on his lips at the feeling. “Who’s this?” He cocks his head towards the man that had been trying to talk to you, not looking his way but finally acknowledging his presence. Douchebag is still there, watching the scene unfold in front of him with little amusement. 

“I-I don’t know. We were just talking.” Steve hums at you, eyes drinking in the little drops of sweat rolling down your neck and down your shirt. He’s itching to lean forward and collect them on his tongue, to taste any part of you he can get his hands on. 

You yelp when his fingers pinch at your inner thigh, hands coming up to grip his forearm in surprise. He doesn’t miss the way your hips shifted forward though, searching for his touch instinctively. 

“Don’t want these boys talking to you, do you?” He’s leaning closer to you but still talking loud enough that the prick who can’t take a hint can hear him. You shake your head quickly and he smiles. “It’s because you’re my girl, isn't it baby? Want them to know you’re mine to take home, mine to play with, mine to keep.” 

At this point he’s not even talking for the benefit of saving you from some creep in a bar, you both know that. He’s not just staking his claim so they’ll leave you alone, he’s telling you the truth, what you both already know but refuse to talk about. He’s yours as much as you are his. It’s been that way for weeks. 

For him it’s been that way since you ripped him a new one, tore into him for being an asshole with your big round eyes that twitched in anger at his attitude. 

You’re nodding at him with blown out eyes, thighs still keeping his hand trapped between them. The guy you’d been talking to is long gone but neither of you seem to notice or care. 

“So say it.” His lips are tilted in a smirk, knowing eyes watching you shift and squirm under his stare. He feels himself thickening in his pants, head of his cock pressed up against the zipper painfully but he doesn’t care. He’d stand here in pain all night if you kept looking at him like that. 

“I’m your girl.” 

His chest swells with pride, grinning down at you and watching you just eat up the unsaid praise. You’re blooming under his gaze, chest puffing out the slightest bit and his mouth waters. 

It’s hard to breathe when you’re looking at him like that. His stomach feels tight and a feeling he can’t quite describe takes over. He wants to feel your skin on his, to taste you, smell you, anything you’ll give him. But he also feels like he could be sick, just looking at you being too much for him right now. 

He uses his thumb to tap on your thigh so you’ll open them for him, pulling his hand out and tugging on your wrist to pull you back to the middle of the dance floor. Your obedience thrills him, makes his spine tingle and heart race. He should’ve known you were a good girl, the best one really. You don’t even question him as he grips your hips in his hand, pulling you flush against him while the music booms around you. 

Neither of you are really moving, just standing there pressed together while bodies push and move around you. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer so that he can lean down and talk in your ear where you’ll hear him. 

“Saw the way you were watching me up on the stage earlier.” 

Your hands are clinging to his shirt and he feels your grip tighten, smiling knowingly against your ear. He loved the way you watched him, the way your eyes never left him like you were mesmerized. 

“You looked good up there, like a natural.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm, my rockstar.” 

The praise shoots down his spine and makes his body buzz. He’s watching the way your hair flows over your shoulder and he wants to tug on it, make your head fall back and expose your throat to him. 

You pressed against him mixed with the sticky air surrounding you is too much, his head feels fuzzy and he’s seconds away from biting on your lips and licking into your mouth. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

———————

In hindsight, deciding to take the train at 1 am on a Friday night was a stupid idea. Anyone and everyone in the city chose that time to pile on. For a second you’re worried you’ll lose Steve in the crowd of people but a few seconds later you feel his fingers slip through yours and tug you to his side. 

“Can’t risk losing my precious cargo.” 

The ringing in your ears is either from the feel of his skin touching yours or the tell tale screech of the train approaching. When it pulls up in front of you, your cringe at how crowded it already is, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat before you even step on. The doors open and Steve is pulling you through the bunches of people, tugging you through and moving you to stand in front him when he sees an opening. 

Your back is pressed against the opposing doors and you sigh in relief at the coolness it provides. That relief is short lived when you peek over Steve’s shoulder to see more people piling on. He presses closer to you to make room and your heart thuds harshly against your chest. 

His feet are spread slightly to be on either side of yours, arms over your head to hold on to the railing and it feels like he’s caging you in. He’s pressed up against you completely, your chin touching his chest and lips hover near your forehead. 

It doesn’t help that his arms are on full display, button up he was wearing long gone since before karaoke and instead adorned in a white tank top that’s like a second skin. It’s hugging his chest and waist and it’s taking everything in you not to lean forward and nip at his arm. 

And then you’re thinking about how he looked on stage. Pure sex as he captivated the crowd with his effortless charm and talent. You think you could watch him like that forever. 

Fuck. All you could feel was him, his breath on your skin and his body keeping yours snug against the doors. You’re not sure you could even move, not that you wanted to. Tilting your head back an inch you look up at him, eyes glancing over his strawberry mouth that’s tilted into a smirk, looking up further to see how he’s watching you closely. 

Honey eyes staring into yours scream mischief and when you breathe in you feel your knees falter, a sweetness washing over your senses. Just the smell of him was enough to have your skin tingling, hints of cherry and vanilla from where you were practically nuzzled against his throat. 

Your hand was wrapped tightly against the pole in front of you and the feel of the cool metal against your palm did little to help with the heat you felt burning through your chest. The train lurched forward and the hand that was dangling by your side shot out to fist at the fabric of Steve’s shirt. The fucking white tank top he was wearing. 

“Eager, are we?” His tone was teasing and when you took a quick glance down to see a sliver of his stomach showing where you had his shirt tight in your grasp, your thighs squeezed together involuntarily. 

“Oh please.You just happened to be the closest thing to me, Harrington.” 

He feigned offense, knowing smirk never leaving his face and you stifled a groan when you felt his stomach twitch against your hand. You thought that if you had to be pressed against him for much longer you might just pass out. 

When you look up to see you still have a few stops before yours, you release your grip on his shirt and try not to notice the disappointment that floods through you when your hold on him is gone. He seems to notice too, eyebrows furrowing for a split second before his expression goes back and he’s smiling down at you again. 

“Ya know,” He tilts his head to the side like he’s wondering about something important but his expression holds nothing good. “You look good like this, pressed up against me all flushed and pretty.” 

Arousal seeps down your spine and curls around your belly like a boa constrictor, your throat all of a sudden dry and you can’t seem to do anything but blink up at him. 

“Going dumb already? You really are precious cargo.” 

You have about an ounce of self control left and that’s what keeps you from letting a whimper slip into the sticky air between you. You know he can read your emotions on your face but you try and school your features anyways, lifting your leg that’s trapped between his and pressing your weight down on his foot. 

It just makes his sickly sweet smile even bigger and your breath hitches when he leans down to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You dig your fingertips into your palm when he lets his tongue swipe against his bottom lip and it catches your skin as it does. 

“Trying to hurt me, baby? Why don’t you bite me next? Pretty please?” He brings his hand up between you as he talks, uses his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip and if you weren’t on the fucking train you’d part your lips for him and take his thumb into your mouth. You think you want that a little too much to be so close to him right now. 

For the first time since you’ve moved here, the train is your saving grace. The doors pull open and the cool air of the night hits you, breaking you from whatever little trance Steve had put you under. It clears out enough that he can step to your side now, giving you some much needed space to try and get yourself together. 

The chatter around you has died down and while you feel marginally more in control of yourself, the smell of Steve and the feel of his arm brushing against yours beside you is enough to keep you on your toes. 

“Cooling down over there?” 

“Yes actually, no thanks to you.” 

He shrugs his shoulders innocently and if he hadn’t just been whispering in your ear about liking the pain then you might actually believe the sweet look he was wearing on his face. “Oops.” 

The next stop is yours and while you’re trying to figure out if Steve is coming with you or if you’re gonna have to figure out some weird goodbye, he’s already five steps ahead. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open he’s grabbing your hand again and pulling you out of the train and into the breeze that cools the sweat on your neck. 

“M’gonna walk you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, letting your hands swing gently between you as you make your way through the now quiet streets. Everyone is either deep into the city until the bars close or already tucked away in their beds after a long work week. Few people litter the streets but you don’t hear much besides the buzz of the train pulling away and the soft hum coming from the person beside you. 

It doesn’t take long before you reach your building nestled in between two others that look just like it and while you fumble through your bag for your keys you feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the bar.” 

A noncommittal hum is all you give him and he’s not a fan of that, reaching forward and plucking your apartment key from between your fingers before you even register what’s happening. You reach out automatically but he’s pulling back and out of your reach. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” You know what he’s asking and you’re just making this harder for the both of you but he’s had you so on edge since he got on stage and was all…rockstar and sex that you’re scared about what might come out of your mouth if you’re not careful. 

“Why have you been so quiet since we left the bar?” 

“Not much to say I guess…”

“Bullshit.” 

You blink at him owlishly, lips parted in surprise but you can’t deny the little tingle that starts at your toes and makes its way up your body at him calling you out. “Excuse me?” Your voice sounds pathetic and breathless to your own ears at this point so you can only imagine how you look to Steve right now. 

“I call bullshit. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you blush every time you make eye contact or you look at my arms,” Fuck he caught you. “Or the way you clench those pretty thighs everytime I whisper in your ear or get a little too close to you.” 

Your chest is rising and falling harshly and if he wasn’t taking up every inch of your brain right now you’d be embarrassed by how he had you panting at him. Any confusion he had vanishes and you curse yourself for being so easy for him to read. Like a fucking open book. 

“Oh that’s it. Scared of what might come out of that pouty little mouth, aren’t you? You listen to me talk to you all sweet and dirty and it just makes you all dumb, doesn’t it? S’cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up! You…you idiot.” It was a weak attempt at a comeback and you felt yourself scrunch your nose at yourself while Steve chuckled. He stepped closer, his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. 

“That’s the best you got?” You were toe to toe now—literally—and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze. You hated how good he was at making you squirm, how you felt his words on your skin like standing under the sun in the summer heat. But most of all you despised that you didn’t hate it at all.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A big one.” 

He flashed his teeth at you, hand going up to his chest like your words hurt him. “Oooh there ya go, that’s a little better. But if you’re gonna call me names, I’ve got some you can try. How about dadd—”

“Steve!” You practically hissed at him, smacking his shoulder and huffing like a child at the way he laughed loudly at your expense. He laughed so hard there were little crinkles in the corner of his eyes, grin so big his dimples popped out and you had to stop yourself from poking at it. 

“Alright, alright. No need to get violent, baby. At least take me to dinner first.” Rolling your eyes you snatched your key from him while he was occupied, turning to your door and muttering under your breath. Asshole. Jerk. Moron. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder softly to get your attention and when you turned back he was rolling his lips together, trying to keep his amusement at bay for your sake. He had a way of doing that you’d noticed, looking like a little puppy dog when he wanted to. You hated how much it worked. 

“M’done, I swear. For tonight at least. Thanks for coming out with me, I had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too, even if you’re a pest.” 

“Oh c’mon, you love it.” I do. God I love it so much it’s kind of sick. 

“In your dreams, Harrington,” You knew you set yourself up when he opened his mouth, that gleam in his eye that meant nothing but trouble. You beat him to it though, and the little pout he wore made you melt. “Text me when you get home safe, okay? And thanks for walking me home.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Reaching up like he was going to sweep you hair out of your eyes, he must’ve changed his mind because he pinched your cheek instead, laughing to himself when you grumbled at him and smacked his hand away. 

You’d watched as he walked away, watched until you couldn’t see him anymore before you finally went inside, trudging up the stairs to your apartment and feeling your nerves settle once you were finally alone.

It was like you could breathe again, that ache you’d felt all night still thumping but more dull now than it had been in his presence. You finally felt cool and relaxed. Until your phone buzzed about twenty minutes later. 

Steve: Made it home safe and sound. Not a scratch on me.

Steve: Well besides the ones you left on me when you were pawing at me on the train! 

Y/n: Idiot! 

Steve: We really need to work on expanding your vocabulary. Maybe I could tutor you. :)

Steve: Whoops I meant ;), it’s hard to type one handed. 

You gasped and you swear you’d just burst into flames from how hot your face felt staring down at your phone. Was he…he wouldn’t. But did you mind if he did? No. Fuck, no. But you couldn’t just let him know that. 

Y/n: Steve Harrington you are sick! 

Steve: What?? I’m eating cereal and texting you! Trying to multitask here. 

Steve: Get your mind out of the gutter you filthy girl. 

He’d played you and you took the bait so easily! At this point you should know he’d take any opportunity to embarrass you, you both knew you loved it. He loved getting you all flushed and squirmy and you loved pretending like it didn’t light you up inside. 

Now you were thinking about him touching himself, your thighs sore from squeezing together and your heart racing. You wanted to know how he looked doing it, what he sounded like…Jesus Christ you needed to get a grip. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed in your hand that you realized you hadn’t texted him back. 

Steve: Your cheeks are all hot, aren’t they?

Oh fuck off. 

Y/n: No! They have no reason to be! 

Steve: Oh they definitely are. You’re all hot and bothered thinking about me only using one hand to text you. You’ve got a dirty mind!

He was taunting you, you knew that. Baiting you and wrapping it up with a nice shiny bow. And you’d take it every time. 

Y/n: You knew what you were doing! You set me up. 

Steve: Little ol’ me? As if I’d ever do such a thing! I’m offended you’d even suggest that. 

Just imagining the shit eating grin he was wearing riled you up even more, your blood pumping and your fingers twitching as you typed furiously back to him. 

Y/n: Playing innocent won’t work with me, Harrington. I know your tricks and they only make my cheeks red because they piss me off! Go fuck yourself, idiot! 

Steve: You wanna watch? ;) 

You thought about throwing your phone at the wall, watching it smash into a thousand tiny pieces and letting every trace of that arrogant, smug, hot asshole wash away. But you were not so secretly relishing in the back and forth, your tummy a ball of excitement. 

Y/n: In your dreams. 

His reply was instant and it made you fist your bed sheets tight, toes curling in your socks and if you were standing you’d be sure to fall to your knees. 

Steve: Oh you know it, baby. 

Steve: Maybe next time. You’ve been a dirty girl calling me all those mean names. Come kiss it better?

When a picture came in seconds after his last reply you dropped your phone to your bed, eyes wide and pulse thumping in your ears as you took in the image before you. 

Steve lying on his bed, shirtless. He was lying against his navy blue pillowcase, one arm thrown behind his head and he showed just enough of his torso for you to see a patch of chest hair that made your fingernails dig so deep into your palm you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. His hair was tousled like he’d tugged at it and his mouth held the most perfect little pout. You assumed that’s what you were supposed to be kissing better. 

It had been several minutes since you’d moved so it didn’t make sense why your breathing was so heavy and why there was sweat gathering at the base of your neck. All you could think of was leaving your mark over his chest and shoulders, deep purple spots that you know he’d wear with a proud smile on his face. 

If he could see you now…you’d never hear the end of it. 

Y/n: Meh. 

He must have been sitting there waiting for your reply, the three little dots popping up almost instantly after you hit send. 

Steve: Meh???? 

Steve: It took you 10 minutes to reply with meh??

Steve: Liar. 

A sick satisfaction coursed through you and you felt a small sense of victory reading his replies. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Steve was a little upset at your lack of reaction. 

Y/n: It took me 10 minutes because I wasn’t waiting by my phone for your reply. And I’m not a liar, just not overly impressed. 

You were a liar. A huge lying liar who was only able to do this over text because if he was in front of you’d have been stumbling over your words and blushing like an idiot. 

And that little victory you had lasted all of 2 minutes because when your phone started ringing, that ball of dread from forever ago came barreling back into you harder and faster than before. 

Pressing accept you held the phone up to your ear and tried to get your breathing under control. You were gonna blow your cover quickly if you didn’t. 

“H-hello?” 

“Not impressed, hm?” There was an edge to his voice, one you didn’t recognize but it had a sense of sternness, of authority that had your hands twitching in your lap. 

“Nope. Sorry.” The words practically squeaked out of you, the less you said the better when it came to Steve. If you spoke too much he’d be able to know what you were thinking, he probably already did. You swore he had some magical powers or something. 

“Really? And you’re sure? I only ask because earlier just looking at my arms had you panting like a dog at my feet.” 

Your face burned with humiliation and you cursed yourself for the way it turned you on. Fuck. Any control you had was quickly unraveling and falling apart in front of you. 

“Steve, I—”

“Because when it took you so long to reply, you know what I thought? I thought you’d slipped your hand into your panties like some perv. That was my theory, but I can admit it when I’m wrong.” 

“I-I wasn’t! I’m not I just—”

“But you thought about it, didn’t you?” 

And well of course you had. How could you not when he looked like he did and when you could practically hear him in your ear whispering filthy, teasing things. 

You pictured him now, standing at the foot of your bed with his shirt off and his hands on his hips. How he’d shake his head at you, scolding you like a teacher scolding their student for not doing their homework. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he riles you up and it leaves you reeling. 

“I, well I—”

“Just a yes or no, doll. Did you think about it?” 

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper, hanging in the air and you should want to take it back, to tell him no and hang up but you don’t. You sit there and bask in it, the embarrassment, the arousal. You sit and wait for him to give you something—like a dog waiting for a treat. 

“That’s what I thought. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m beat! You’ve kept me up far past my bedtime. Goodnight, perv. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Before you can get a word out, a plea or a curse or anything he’s hanging up the phone and leaving you with your mouth hanging open and an ache so intense it makes your head spin. 

Idiot. Asshole. Jerk. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He’s left you speechless, sitting there still on your bed with your phone in your hand and your mind running a thousand miles a minute. You’re aching and wet, embarrassingly wet, and you feel a need for him so deep in your bones it’s making you feel insane. 

A knock on your front door startles you, it’s harsh and quick and your pulse spikes immediately. Holding your phone in your hand you make your way through the living room, a seed of worry nestled in your stomach because who would be here knocking on your door at almost 3 am. 

Who besides Steve, of course. 

Just as you’re moving close to look through the peephole, he calls your name from the other side of the door. Excitement pools low in your belly, hairs on your arm standing tall at the promise of him just inches away. Pulling open the door you’re met with the same Steve you’d left just a short time ago, but now he’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts that hang low on his hips and his hair is still damp from the shower you’re sure he’s taken. A pink t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders and there’s a simple silver chain hanging around his neck. 

How does he always look this good? You don’t say anything, opting to step to the side and allow him through and he steps in wordlessly, giving your arm a squeeze when he passes by. 

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he makes his way to your room and you stand there dumbfounded, wondering what the fuck is going on and why he hasn’t said a word to you after showing up at your door at 3 am. 

Following him is a simple choice, one that leads you to your room to see Steve sitting on the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide, hands behind him flat on the comforter while he leans back the slightest bit. He’s stunning and it has you fighting the urge to sing to your knees on the carpet in front of him. 

It feels like a staring contest between the two of you. But instead of looking in your eyes, Steve is letting his gaze run over your body. You’re in an oversize shirt that reaches about mid thigh, nothing underneath but a pair of panties that Steve ruined hours ago. 

He finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth that makes you feel jittery. “W-what are you doing here?” You can’t help but to stumble over your words when he’s looking at you like that. Like he could take a bite out of you. 

“What do you think?” 

“Missed me already, Harrington?” 

“Always.” Some of the smugness he carries with him has melted away with the admission and it makes your heart swell in your chest. The thought of him missing you provides a surge of warmth through your body. 

“I missed you too,” Your voice is timid, his stare making you feel exposed to him, “but I thought you were going to bed.” 

“Well that was my plan, but I couldn’t fall asleep knowing you were over here making a mess because of me and not come help clean it up.” 

Your toes curl into the carpet below you and you hope it will be able to ground you a little when you feel so…you don’t even know what you feel. Your stomach is twisting and your palms are sweaty and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

One of his hands lifts to motion you forward and you do so without hesitation, your feet carrying you to him instantly. When you get close enough you go to get on your knees instinctively and he stops you with a small, proud smile. “No, no, I’m here to take care of you, baby.” And while the notion fills you with excitement, you can’t help but feel a little upset that you won’t get to put your mouth on him. 

And of course this just makes him smile even bigger, eyes bright as he takes in your frown and can’t help but shake his head at you. 

“Before we do anything I just…I want you to know I care about you, yeah? This isn’t some one night thing for me. I want everyday with you, everyday that you’ll give me.” 

“I care about you too, Steve. I think that was obvious when I scrubbed all the paint off that plate after I saw that text on your phone,” He huffs a small laugh at you, hands settled on your hips, “You’ve become such an important part of my life and I—I like you a lot, even when you’re mean to me.” 

He scoffs like the idea is foreign, playful glint in his eye the whole time and it drives you crazy. He has that look, the one that tells you he’s about to say something that will either make you hit him or drop back down to your knees. 

“Come give daddy a kiss then.” 

It’s the former, hand coming up to smack at his chest hard despite the way the name makes your stomach clench and your spine tingle. He just laughs, loud and steady, pulling you down onto his lap and smashing his lips against yours. 

His lips are just as soft as you’d dreamed about, full and slick with spit and you feel yourself pulse when he smiles into the kiss. His nose bumps with yours, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair and letting his fingers tug and pull while you push closer to him. 

“Fuck—you taste so good.” You don’t even realize the words come from you until you feel Steve groan against you, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip as if to taste you too. 

When you finally have to pull back for air, your forehead is pressed against his and you both try and catch your breath. He looks like a dream, mouth shiny and swollen, eyes glazed over as he takes you in. He tastes sweet, the kind of taste you crave at the end of the day or when you need a pick me up. Or just because. 

He’s shifted back a little so you’re not hanging off him and the edge of the bed, your thighs wrapped around his hips and your chests almost touching from how close you are. He’s tugging at the ends of your shirt, trying to pull it off but it’s trapped between your thighs and his. You lean up just enough for him to pull it free, tugging it over your head with ease. 

What you’ve managed to forget in the heat of the moment, what Steve doesn’t know but is quick to find out is the little secret no one but Robin knows about—and she only knows because you needed moral support. 

“Oh holy fuck,” You’ve never seen his eyes so wide and his mouth is dropped open so big it’s almost kind of scary. Somehow you’d forgotten your nipples were pierced, maybe it was from Steve kissing you stupid, you’re not sure. But he’s looking at your tits now like he’s got gold in front of him. 

Your mouth opens to tease him but before you can speak he’s moving his hand to cover your mouth, eyes never leaving your boobs and you have to laugh against him. 

“Don’t—you can’t say a thing right now or I’ll cum in my pants.” He sounds so serious, so pained that you whine against his hand all greedy and impatient. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, doll. Think I could cum from just lookin’ at em for too long.” 

You nod eagerly against his hand, the idea of that turning you on even more than you thought possible. He finally removes his hand but only because he can’t hold out on touching you any longer. His palms come up to cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his touch. He uses two fingers to tug gently at the little silver barbell that runs through them, watching your face for your reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your mouth falls open, a small moan slipping out and your hands grip his shoulders tight. 

“Fuck me. God you’re perfect, so pretty and sweet for me. Shit, m’losing my goddamn mind here, baby.” Half his words are almost slurred, attention moving between your tits and your face as he tugs and thumbs at your nipples. The furrow in his brow makes him look genuinely concerned and you throb at the thought of him being so mesmerized by you. 

He’s so occupied with your pretty tits in his face he doesn’t notice when you slide back a little, a few inches of space between you now. You’ve been soaked and aching for far too long and you think if he doesn’t touch you in the next few seconds you might cry. 

You move one of your hands to grab his, tugging it from your nipple and sliding it down between you to press against the front of your panties. They’re messy, your thighs sticky and you hope he understands your not so subtle hint. 

He does, cursing at the feel of how wet and hot you are even through the thin layer separating him from you. “Poor thing, didn’t even know someone could be this messy.” Your hips shift, desperately trying to get his fingers to catch on your clit. “Who made you this desperate, huh? Was it that prick from the bar?” 

You’re shaking your head but it’s not enough for him, hand moving away and you gasp, pulling it back and giving him what he wants. “You. It’s you—you did this to me.” 

Instead of saying anything he dips his fingers past the band of your panties, both of you groaning at the contact. He circles your clit twice, thighs twitching around him before he’s dipping down to your sopping hole, teasing his finger there before swiping through your slit to collect some of the slick that’s there. 

You want to whine when he pulls his hand out but it fades away at the sight of his glistening fingers, how he studies them for a minute before slipping them into his mouth and humming in content. 

“Way better than mint chocolate chip.” 

Next thing you know he’s slipping his hand back between you, the imprint of his knuckles against your panties hot enough to make you drool down his chest. 

Thumb pressed to your clit he moves in slow circles, just enough pressure to make you need more, pressing down onto his hand and trying to swivel your hips. “Want you, Steve. Need you.” 

“I know baby, gotta stretch you out first.” At the same time he’s speaking he’s slipping his middle finger inside of you with no resistance and it’s not enough. It’s like he has a connection to your mind, slipping another finger in immediately and you feel that ache start to untangle itself the slightest bit. 

With two of his much larger fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit, you already feel the signs of an orgasm building deep in your belly. You feel that burn all over, grinding down onto him in search of that pressure that’ll make your eyes roll back. It’s when he curls his fingers that you lurch forward, face nuzzling his neck as he hits that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur. 

“S-steve..” You’re almost there already, walls clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside while he speeds up on your clit. There’s a twitch in your thighs that he noticed, hushed praises in your ear when that string begins to fray, threatening to snap in seconds. 

And then it stops. 

There’s no more curling his fingers and his thumb is still on your clit. You pull back just enough to curse at him, his hand wet and sticky with evidence of just how much you were enjoying that. But when you see his face you know you’re fucked. He’s got that shine in his eyes that screams trouble, a devious little smirk on his lips as he watches the frustration build behind your eyes. 

“Something to say, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you, daring you to curse at him—but you don’t. You can’t fathom the idea of him taking this all away so you remain quiet, shaking your head at him and hoping your obedience will pay off soon. He nods at you as if to say “that’s what I thought”, hand coming up to tuck your face back into the crook of his neck as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you again. 

You’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks turn bright red because you can hear how wet you are, the small little noise it makes every time he drives his fingers back into has you pressing further into him. He has goosebumps on skin from the feel of your hot breath against his throat from where you’re practically panting, little open mouthed kisses left for as far as you can reach. 

It doesn’t take long before that feeling is building back up, stronger than before and you curse against his skin. “Snug little cunt, greedy for it, isn’t she?” You think you chant a whispered “yes” into him but you can’t be sure, overwhelmed by the tight, quick circles he’s rubbing on your swollen clit and the wave of pleasure you feel beginning to wash over you. 

And then it stops again. 

This time you can’t help the whine that slips out, hands fisting his t-shirt as you writhe in his lap. He chuckles in your ear, smooth and teasing and it makes you mortified when you feel yourself drip down his hand at his meanness. 

“You can handle one more time, yeah? Then I’ll give you my cock.” The promise of finally being full of him is enough to push down your frustrations, eagerness and excitement taking over. He lets you get away with a nod, picking up a faster pace than before and you think it’s not for you, but that his patience is wearing thin. 

He’s rubbing harshly against that sponges spot inside of you with every pass of his fingers, your mouth dropped open with no sound coming out as you try and hold off. It’s too much, too intense and you feel lightheaded at how every nerve in your body is lit up and buzzing.

But apparently he knows your body better than you do, stopping just seconds before you begin to tip over and your shoulders sag in relief and annoyance at the same time. 

“Please, please.” They’re quiet little pleas that he can't even hear but can feel against his skin and he coos at you. It’s condescending and should piss you off but instead has you nudging your nose against his for comfort. 

“Told ya I’d give you my cock, honey. Lay down and let me see you.” You move to lay back, watching him stand over you and strip his shirt and shorts off. He’d forgone underwear and you thank god for that. The sight of his cock, hard and shiny with precum as your thighs falling open for him automatically. He notices this, of course he does. He’s thick and you’re suddenly very grateful for the prep he just did, you don’t think he’d fit otherwise. 

When he leans down to pull a condom from the back pocket of his shorts—presumptuous cocky bastard—you feel the urge to stop him but refrain. You’re already crossing all these invisible lines, you need to have at least some self control. Even though you’re desperate to feel him bare. You’re captivated by him, watching him roll the condom on and clenching around nothing as he hisses through his teeth at the contact. 

Seeing him for the first time, how hard and flushed he is makes you regret even more not getting your mouth on him. Next time, you promise yourself. You’d thought you’d be nervous for this, but you think you’re too overwhelmed with a need for him that there’s no room left to be nervous or anxious. 

Climbing on the bed he moves between your open legs, hands on either side of your head as he holds himself up over you. His cock is lying against you, head touching your clit and it’s making it impossible to lie still. “You still want this?” His face is serious, and you want to squish his cheeks at his consideration for you despite his hard cock pressing against you. 

“Please, Steve. I want this—I need you.” It’s all the confirmation he needs, reaching one hand between you to take his cock, running it through your slit and groaning at the way you twitch below him. After bumping it against your clit he moves down to your entrance, pushing in the slightest bit and squeezing his eyes shut at the feel of you clenching down on him. 

The burn of him pushing forward stings, but it’s a welcome pain that has you gripping the sheets below you, looking for something to steady you when you feel like you’ll float away. “Keep going, please keep going.” You’re pleading below him, mouth dropping open when he pushes in. He has to pause when he’s in all the way, his patch of public hair at the base of his cock catching at your clit and you gasp. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” His forehead is pressed against your cheek, his teeth scraping against the edge of your jaw as he tried to collect himself. “I don’t—shit I don’t know how—goddamn baby, never felt anything this good before in my life.” 

He throbs inside of you when you whine, craning your neck up just an inch to take the silver chain dangling above you between your teeth. “Fuckin’ hell, gonna kill me.” You lift your hips off the bed, urging him to move and moan around the chain when he slips deeper inside of you. He pulls himself up to look at you, hair falling around your head like an angel with blotchy cheeks and fucked out eyes. 

Thrusting forward, the tip of his cock nudges against that spot inside of you and you clench around him so hard his arms almost give out above you. This has been building up for weeks and with the way he edged you earlier, you won’t last long. He knows as much, thrusting into you and using one hand to rub sloppy circles on your clit. 

“Feel like I’m having deja vu, having you pressed against me like this, yeah?” It was just hours ago you were on the train, a few more layers between you but pressed up against him all the same. 

The chain pops from your mouth when he moves your hands to lay beside your head, lacing your fingers together as he stretches over you. Your piercings press against his chest just right and it has your tummy tightening, the added friction enough to have your head spinning. 

He looks mouthwatering above you, hair out of place and falling over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves between watching your face and the way your tits bounce with every thrust of his cock. There’s little drops of sweat running down his sculpted nose and slipping onto your chest, your cute little gasps hitting his ears. 

You know you’re done for when he leans down, lips pressed to your ear and his harsh breath tickling your skin. 

“Takin’ your daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you, doll?” 

Eyes screwed shut you claw at his shoulders, his name leaving your lips in a curse and you both can see the way the nickname makes your face flush a shade darker of red, eyes turning dark and fingers digging into him. “Dirty girl, acting like you don’t like it when I can feel you making a mess of me, this pretty little pussy hugging me tight when I call myself daddy.” 

“Fu-fuck, Steve. Gonna cum—m’gonna cum.” Your words are hushed and quick in his air, rope beginning to snap and if he stops right now you might actually kill him. 

“Go ahead, soak my cock, pretty girl. Show me who I belong to, yeah?” It’s all it takes, rope snapping and sparks shooting down to your toes as you tug at his hair, your thighs tight as your orgasm crashes through you. It feels like it goes on forever, your body taught and ears buzzing and you can barely make out the faint curses coming from above you. 

He belongs to you, and he will as long as he’ll have you.

You feel yourself start to come back down, your chin pinched in between Steve’s fingers and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing the first snowfall of the year. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips grinding into yours and his breaths uneven and sharp. “Where…where do you want it baby?” 

Not sure that you can make coherent sentences right now, you reach up to cup your breasts, Steve’s eyes widening before the most pitiful cry leaves his lips. He thrusts into you one, two, three more times and each one has you gasping below him as aftershocks of your orgasm zing through you. 

He pulls out quickly, pulling off the condom with a sharp inhale and you think he looks good like this, all desperate and pathetic for you like you always are for him. You urge him forward, fingers digging into his hips and trying to pull him up your body. He moves easily, coming up so he’s barely resting any weight on your belly, knees on either side of your chest. 

You cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and pushing them together below him. He’s looking at you from under his lashes, eyes hooded and lips parted in a silent gasp. It only takes two quick strokes before what’s been building at the base of his spine snaps and he’s cursing above you, ropes of white covering your chest and neck and catching the piercings too. 

“Perfect, you’re so perfect—shit.” He works himself through it slowly, his cock twitching and his fingers covered in cum from where it’s dribbled over his fist. He’s staring down at you with an intensity that makes you blush, eyes taking in every inch of you that’s marked with him. 

“Look like a fuckin’ dream with these pretty tits covered in my cum. Fuck, doll, I’m gonna think about this for the rest of my life.” 

All you can do is smile stupidly below him, your heart bursting and your body thoroughly exhausted. He leans down and presses a quick peck to your cheek before he’s shifting off the bed, running to the bathroom and washing off his hand before he comes back with a warm rag, sitting beside you so he can clean you up. His hand hovers over you and you roll your eyes at the little pout he’s wearing as he looks at your boobs. 

“Are you seriously pouting over cleaning off my boobs right now?” 

“Who wouldn’t be? They look so pretty like this.” 

You reach for the rag with a giggle to do it yourself but he pulls his hand back, shaking his head at you and begrudgingly wiping his cum off your chest with a little sigh that’s a little endearing. 

Once you're cleaned up and the condom is in the trash he helps you up so he can pull back the comforter, both of you snuggling in under the covers—naked at his request. His chest is pressed to your back, his heartbeat felt against your skin and it makes you smile into your pillow. 

His skin is warm against yours, fingers laced beside your head and you lift your chin to place quick kisses against his knuckles. 

“Now that’s the kind of reward I could get used to.” 

“Steve!”

————-

It’s the next day and there’s a soreness between your thighs that has you smiling to yourself while you get ready. You remember this morning, how you woke up to the sight of honey brown hair nestled between your thighs, coaxing you out of your sleep with his tongue on your clit. 

The best kind of pain, where you’ll feel him for days when you walk or when you sit down. It brings a blush to your skin and memories you’ll think about forever to your mind. 

He left shortly after, both of you needing to be away from each other so you could actually get ready for the lunch you had planned with Robin and Eddie this afternoon. 

A feeling of nervousness settles within you as you get ready for this lunch. It’s not that you want to keep this from Rob and Eddie, but you’re not what you’d even tell them! These nerves were much more about you and Steve then they were your friends. 

Would you tell them you’re dating? That you like each other? That you’re just fucking around? This is what made you anxious, what had your hands twisting in your lap on the train and had you so distracted you stumbled right into Eddie outside of the restaurant. 

“Woah! Caught ya.” He steadies you, smiling down into your worried eyes and a little bit of that anxiety seeps out of you. This is your friend, one of your best friends! Who cares what’s going on, maybe he’ll have some insight that you can’t see for yourself. 

Eddie leads you into the place, a booth in the back already holding Robin and Steve. They’re both on one side of it and you can see from here that Steve’s unhappy about not getting to sit by you. 

You slide in so you’re closest to the wall, legs knocking with Steve’s under the table and the small amount of contact soothes some of the turmoil happening inside of you. 

Everything is going good, things feel normal—besides the subtle winks Steve sends your way to get you blushing—and you’re not even worried anymore. The table in front of you is filled with food, everyone reaching over and grabbing whatever sounds good. Arms are crossed over each other and hands get tangled when you reach for fries or mozzarella sticks or an onion ring. 

Robin is going on about something, you’re not sure what you’ve kind of zoned out a little if you’re being honest, when you feel Steve staring at you. You look up to his brows furrowed, confusion laced in his features and you quirk your brow at him, wondering what has him looking at you like that. 

It’s when Eddie speaks up beside you, cutting Robin off and bringing everyone’s attention to him that it makes sense, “Harrington, I appreciate the love but can you stop trying to play footsies with me under the table?” 

Steve’s face flames and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, hands coming up to try and smother how loud it is. But Steve doesn’t recover fast enough, eyes darting to yours sheepishly and that’s when it clicks for Eddie. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Three sets of eyes fly to Eddie. Robin is confused. You and Steve are looking at Eddie as he looks between the two of you, mouth dropped open in shock and you curse yourself for the storm that’s coming. 

“What?” It’s Robin that speaks first, eyes darting between the three of you quickly. You and Steve keep quiet, trying not to give yourselves away but it’s no use. “Oh my god.” There’s Eddie again, sinister smirk on his lips as he takes his time taking in your pink cheeks and the way Steve won’t make eye contact with him. 

“Oh for the love of god! Someone tell me what’s going on. I am not a mind reader.” 

“Robin, you won’t believe it. These two finally fucked.” A chorus of noises fill your small corner of the restaurant, booth creaking underneath you from where Eddie is practically bouncing in his seat. Robin squeals, hands going to grip Steve’s arms. Steve sighs, letting Robin tug him around like a rag doll in a fit of her excitement. And you gasp, smacking Eddie in the chest the way you do to Steve all the time. 

But neither of you deny it and that alone sends waves of relief through you. Not that you think Steve would, especially with the way he’s gotten over his bit of embarrassment, adorning his signature smirk and a look of pride as the people around him freak out. 

You don’t know how bad Steve wants to show you off, tell the world and scream it from the rooftops how lucky he is to even get to be around you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, sweet and kind but not afraid to challenge him and call him out for his bullshit. God, he’s obsessed with you. 

Eddie’s rubbing at his chest where you hit him, pouting like a child as if it actually hurt. You hope it did. “Damn, she’s got some force behind those hits,” He looks from you to Steve, eyes lighting up and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “but you love it, don’t ya big boy?” 

Your head falls forward to rest in your palm, eyes closed as you try and pretend you're anywhere but here. You think you hear Robin gag from across the table and it forces a laugh out of you. Eyes lifting to meet Steve’s, his teeth are showing and he’s shaking his head like he knows a secret no one else does. His words fill the space around you and make your skin heat under his stare. 

“Oh you have no idea.”  ————————————————————————

(save me steve harrington in a tank top)

@aheadfullofsteverogers i remembered and hope you enjoy 💌

[roanofarcc]

A MISJUDGMENT

pairing. tyler owens x fem!reader

summary. when kate drags you back to the home for a one-week stint to help out one of her old friends, you meet tyler owens. the uncouth cowboy and his reckless actions when dealing with something as dangerous as tornados almost instantly prick your nerves until you realize maybe there's more to the cowboy than meets the eye.

warnings. description of tornados, a curse word or two, slightly inaccurate meteorological info, reader is from the midwest.

word count. 2k || masterlist

a.n. did not expect my other fic to get so much love!! sending kisses to everyone who sent me such nice words <3 and I am having a ball with all of the wonderful requests I'm getting!!

The difference between the Oklahoma and New York was more jarring than you remembered. The wide-open skies and fields that stretched for miles were a distantly familiar sight as you stepped out of the truck. You had grown up in the Midwest, smack dab in the middle of tornado alley, which meant your youth was spent listening to your cautious mother warn you every tornado season of the dangers the storms posed so you’d always be prepared when worst came to worst. You’d hunkered down more time than you could count in your storm cellar, listening to doors rattling and the radio speak. Your father was less cautious; he enjoyed watching the storms roll in on the front porch as he listened to the distant hum of sirens. 

You’d never been a fan of storms, not like your father. They made you nervous; the unpredictably and devastating destruction wasn’t something you found fascinating enough to chase.

Moving to New York was a culture shock but you were lucky enough to score to a job working in tandem with someone who also grew up in tornado alley. You and Kate quickly became friends, bonding over your upbringing and knowledge of the weather. She had opened up to you about her storm-chasing days, all ending with the tragedy that took the lives of three people she loved. Her story only cemented your opinion of storm chasing; it was too risky. But she had suckered you in with your love for the science behind weather, and the next thing you know you were in Oklahoma with Kate and a friend of hers on a one-week mission.

You stuck back with the team in charge of reading the data the chasers collected. Your apprehension wasn’t thwarted by Kate’s reassurance, but you’d always known her to be smart and she knew those storms better than anyone. Your distaste for storm chasers was not because of those there for the science of it all, but rather those who did it for the thrill. 

Tyler Owens was exactly the kind of person you expected to drive into tornados with no regard for the danger. What he was doing, from what you gathered from Javi’s brief explanation, was for entertainment and the excitement of facing down peril, laughing in the face of it. 

You stretched in the nighttime air as Kate closed the truck door behind her and turned to you with the same unsure smile she’d been carrying around since you arrived in Oklahoma. You could tell her feelings were mixed about being back there, but you also saw the spark of enjoyment she was slowly relighting. 

“I’ll go check us in,” Kate said, gesturing to the front office of the motel before she took off. You leaned against the side of Javi’s truck, yawning and taking in the scene of more storm chasers lounging around the motel’s lot, enjoying each other’s company as you all waited for another storm to pop up amidst the outbreak. 

The sound of boots under gravel approached you, belonging to none other than Tyler Owens himself. “How ‘ya holding up, city girl?” he said. 

He introduced himself to you and Kate when you first arrived with Javi, meeting his team and the other groups of chasers who were all gunning after the same storm. She had told him the two of you were in from New York for the week, and he assumed that meant you both were born and raised there. Maybe you had lost your Midwest twang during your stay, but no matter how far you moved away, a piece of you would always remain there. 

“Just fine, thank you,” you replied. His team had set up not far from where you two stood; they all seemed busy working on their equipment, but their work was often cut by howls of laughter. They seemed to be enjoying themselves more than Javi’s team was. They’d all split up into separate rooms for the night, so they’d be ready to leave first thing in the morning. 

He rested his arm against the bed of the truck, making himself comfortable as he too looked out across the lot at the people. “I’ve always wanted to visit New York City,” he said, surprising you. That seemed like the last place someone like him wanted to go. “What’s it like?” 

You shrugged. “A lot different than this.” You looked upwards at the sky, seeing stars blinking back at you. The skies were never that dark in New York City, but the towering buildings made for a cool scene too. “I haven’t lived there too long, though. I’m still figuring it out.” You were still trying to gauge if you liked it more than home. You liked the hustle and bustle most of the time, but being back under starry skies and open plains, you had to admit you missed it a little. 

“Really?” he furrowed his brows. “Where’d you move from?” 

“Kansas.” 

He smiled in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. City girl’s not actually a city girl after all.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” 

“I’m seein’ that.” Tyler was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you miss it?” 

You weren’t sure why he asked or why he seemed to care, but you answered regardless. “Sometimes. Not so much the storms though.” 

He laughed. “Yet, you’re out here storm chasing anyway?” 

“I’m just here to help my friend; their business is to help people. That kind of storm chasing I can get behind, I guess. Yours on the other hand…” You trailed off, and he scoffed in mock offense. 

“My kind of business is to face my fears.” 

It was your turn to scoff. “By putting yourself and your friends in danger for…what, exactly? Your internet audience? I know plenty of people like you from back home. You’re reckless and irresponsible.” You saw Kate waving you down by the stairs of the motel, flashing a set of room keys in the air. You said nothing more to Tyler, didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself, before you walked off and into your room for the night

You’d seen devastation before following a tornado, but it was still a harrowing sight. Homes flattened, family belongings flung miles away, and people left hurt in the ruins of their town. You, Kate, and all of Javi’s team arrived just as the storm subsided and the damage was fresh as wounds many of the townspeople bared. You wasted no time going around to help people; Kate did the same. 

An old woman sat in her front yard, carefully cradling windchimes in her arms. “Are you all right?” you asked, kneeling down in the wet grass in front of her. She looked up slightly startled but smiled kindly as she shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m just fine, dear, thank you.” 

“Here you go, Ms. Riley,” a familiar voice sounded from behind you. You turned your head just as Tyler appeared, holding a small box in one hand and a little kitten in the other. The woman, Ms. Riley, gasped and sat her windchimes back on the grass. She took the kitten, teary-eyed, as it purred. “There’s food there too. Make sure you eat, and if you need more my team’s got a table set up just down the road, all right?” 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Tyler said nothing to you as he began to walk away, but you followed him, not catching up with him until he was at a little table surrounded by his team. They had a stack of brown boxes they were handing out, filled with sandwiches one of the members was making quickly. They also handed out bottles of water to the line of people who had just been affected by the storm. 

One of his team members smiled at you, holding out a box of food. “You hungry?” they asked, but you shook your head. 

“No. These people need it, but thanks.” 

You weren’t sure for a moment that Tyler was going to say a word to you. You hadn’t left your last conversation on the nicest note, only to find him and his team working hard to help the ravaged neighborhood. 

But he turned toward you for a moment, looking a little conflicted. “At least take a water,” he said before looking at another member of his team. “Lily, can you take some boxes up the road? There’re  some people who can make it all the way down here.” She nodded, filling her arms with the boxes before she took off.

You were quiet for a moment, staring at Tyler as he and his team came up with a plan to help and feed as many people as they could before night fell. You felt a complicated set of feelings topple over you. And as Tyler started to walk away, you surged forward and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. 

“What can I do to help?” 

Together, you and Tyler spent the rest of the afternoon helping members of the neighborhood find their lost belongings and connected anyone with injuries to the EMTs working overtime. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that you took a break, finding a blown-away lawn chair that was still usable to sit on. All day you had eaten your judgment and first impression of Tyler and his team. Maybe they all were reckless and a little irresponsible in their storm-chasing, but they were doing just as Kate was, helping people, just differently. He and his team apparently did that often and were some of the first responders to the damage the tornados they chased caused. You had overheard Lily tell Kate they used the money from their t-shirt sales to buy food for victims of the storm. 

“Hey,” Tyler greeted, approaching you with two boxes of food. “Here.” He handed onto to you before he found a seat and pulled it up beside you. 

You thanked him before the two of you ate in silence for a little while. Some of the debris had been picked up, but the wrecked houses haunted the street. You’d been lucky enough to never lose your home turning a storm, but you knew too many people who had. It was terrible. That was why you had gotten a metrology degree. You had witnessed the devastation storms brought and even though you were trapped behind a computer most days, your goal was to help improve warning systems for all kinds of disasters and ensure that people knew the best way to prepare for them, but it wasn’t foolproof. Sometimes all there was to do was help pick up the pieces in the wake. 

“I think I misjudged you,” you said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?” He smiled slightly, his face warmly illuminated by the ironically beautiful sunset. “Are you taking back the reckless and irresponsible comment?” 

“No.” You smiled too. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. You guys did a good thing here, helping these people.” 

Maybe there was more to him than you had originally believed. 

“It’s all a part of the job,” he said, a bit too casually for all of the work they actually did to help; one could say he was humble about it, which confused you even more. From the second he climbed out of his truck the first time you saw him, you were so sure you knew exactly the kind of guy he was. 

“You aren’t exactly how I expected you to do,” you said, honestly. 

He seemed to take that in stride, smirking at you bright enough to bring heat to your face. “Well, if you stick around, you might even get to like me.” 

You laughed. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.” But you had a feeling he right be right. The week wasn’t over yet; you still had time to figure out exactly who Tyler Owens was. 

[zemosbff]

study session

amongst other things…

pairing: mentor!agatha x witch!reader

summary: tired of studying, you find something far more enjoyable to do together with your mentor, agatha harkness..

content warning: (legal) age gap, teacher x student, fem (afab) reader, a little mix of everything; dry humping, nipple play, eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink

word count: 1.6k

a/n: haii :3 this is my first ever fanfic, i hope you all enjoy it! don’t be afraid to leave requests or some feedback!

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

the words in the book you were reading soon turned into mush. your head throbbed and a big sigh left your lips before turning to your mentor sitting on your right.

you had been agatha’s student for a couple of months now, ever since you moved in next door. she had been the first to introduce herself to you, and as soon she realized that you too, just like her, were a witch, she took you under her wings. she wanted to teach you everything she knew, wanted you to be her perfect little student.

“agatha..” you started, but as soon as you locked eyes with the older witch already staring at you, you quickly forgot your trail of thoughts.

as embarrassing as it was, there was no denying your feelings for agatha. which maybe wasn’t so weird after all since she was quite literally the only one you had. you spent more time with her than alone, and you had tried to convince yourself it was because of your immense dedication to the research and work you put into learning and be a good student. but that wasn’t exactly the truth, and deep down you knew it.

so, instead of trying to bury your feelings, you decided to have some fun with it instead.

you had no idea whether agatha actually liked you back though, so it was definitely a risky game. but you were tired of studying, and it was a risk you were willing to take. besides, she always used pet names for you which sent butterflies down your stomach. was it normal for a mentor to call their student things like “hon, “sweetheart”, “angel”? or your personal favorite, “good girl”. you weren’t sure, but in your mind you were the only one she would call those things. hopefully.

“what, darling?”

darling. the word sent shivers down your spine, and you tried hiding your little smirk that creeped up your face. perhaps agatha saw this, because what she did next made your breath heavier.

she calmly put her hand on your thigh, still keeping eye contact with you as she started to move her hand up and down, caressing you carefully. the touch wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, but made your heart flutter nonetheless.

you had grown impatient as of lately, and therefore dressed in a way you thought would attract the older dark haired witch beside you. the short dress made an easy access to your already dripping cunt. it took so little to make you worked up, something that agatha regularly took to her advantage, unbeknownst to you of course.

“are you going to answer me or not?” she let out a small chuckle, watching your cheeks grow red.

“can we do something else?” you asked with uncertainty. you didn’t know how she would react, perhaps your delusions were just that - delusions.

she leaned towards you, and when she was so close you could feel her breath against your ear she whispered in a seductive voice.

“like what?”

she leaned back again and bit her lip while watching you lose your confidence and quickly surrender to her.

your legs started to feel weak, and you felt thankful for sitting down. was this actually happening? is agatha flirting with you or is this simply your imagination slipping away from reality?

she closed the thick book in front of you harshly and continued.

“alright, since you’ve worked so hard, would you like a little reward?”

you managed to open your mouth and let out a pathetic attempt to answer yes while nodding.

you had no idea what would happen next, it felt as if your head simply stopped all kinds of thoughts, not wanting to interfere with whatever was going to happen next.

agatha leaned forward slowly, as if she was afraid to scare you away if she moved too quickly. you could see the lust and yearning in her eyes, and as if something took over your body you crashed your lips onto hers. her hands reached your hair and gripped tightly, making you groan into her mouth, which led to her taking the opportunity to stick her tongue in your mouth. you had been kissed before, but nothing could compare to this. months of stares that lasted a bit too long, pet names and touches that could be considered flirting, but both too anxious to actually take the first step.

it felt as if you were on fire, shivering when her tongue went deeper, making you forget how to breathe properly. while keeping body contact she stood up, and you obediently followed her lead. her hands laid on your shoulders and still deep in the kiss you moved to agatha’s couch; the bedroom simply being too far away at the moment. you needed each other, and had no time to spill, so the couch would do. agatha pushed you down while quickly following, she sat down beside you, legs touching.

without breaking the kiss you raised one of your legs and put it on the other side of her, making you sit on top of her. the sudden change of position made agatha whimper into your mouth and you realized you now had the upper hand.

desperately wanting some friction you started moving your hips back and forth, searching for something to get you off on. agatha’s hands found your hips and pushed you down while helping you move.

“please.. i want you..” suddenly the words you had been thinking of for so long finally left your mouth, and you couldn’t believe this was really happening. apparently those three words i want you was all that was needed for agatha to hungrily touch you all over. her hands lingered over your breasts and just seconds later she threw your dress over your head. still sitting on top of her, she had a perfect view of your completely bare chest. she looked at you shamelessly while she took one of your nipples into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue just perfectly making the hairs on your body stand right up. one of her hands found your other nipple and gently pinched it, looking for a reaction from you which you gladly gave her, whimpering loudly.

she moved on from your breasts and instead started leaving wet kisses all over your neck, trying to taste every part of you.

“you want me baby? tell me you want me” her voice was low and husky, making your legs tremble.

“yes, god agatha, i want you so bad”

“such a good girl”

there it was. good girl. nothing in the world could ever get you as riled up as agatha calling you a good girl, specifically her good girl.

you sucked in a sharp breath when she moved you to lay on your back, and she slowly lowered herself and pulled down your underwear with only her teeth. you could tell she was skilled, way more than you were, so you decided to just let her take full control over your body. she could use you, do whatever she wanted with you without question.

she put a trail of small fluttering kisses along your inner thighs, making your whole body shiver.

“does this feel good hon?”

without even waiting for your answer she teased your folds with her nose, before licking up your leaking juices.

“so wet for me already, hm?”

you let out a loud moan when she for the second time closed the distance between your soaking core and her mouth. she explored your pussy with her tongue and started getting more and more aggressive with it. wanting to give you the most pleasure possible she started rubbing your clit in circles with her fingers, still burying her entire lower face into your folds.

“feels.. so good..” you finally let out with a heavy breath, not knowing what else to say or do.

your hands reached down to her thick hair, pulling it harshly when she bit down on your sensitive clit.

mindlessly fucking you with both her fingers and mouth she felt you tense up, and you started to feel the familiar sensation in your abdomen, knowing you were close.

“i.. i’m close..”

“beg.”

“please.. please let me cum”

“that’s what you call begging? honey, you’re pathetic” she said with her low sexy voice, absolutely sending you over the edge.

“agatha oh my god, please let me come, please mommy”

and with that you let it all out, squirting over her face while you bucked your hips up and down to ride it out. with a sigh and eyes rolling back in your head she inserted a finger in your hole, stretching it out without any warning.

“fuck, agatha!” you screamed, while she hushed you, explaining that we didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear now, do we?

but in all honesty, you couldn’t care less. she pumped her finger in and out, soon leaving you a blabbering mess.

a second finger appeared inside you, and she picked up her pace even more while your walls started to clench around her.

agatha leaned forward and pressed loving kisses all over your face while tears started to form in your eyes as she continued aimlessly fucking you, not giving a single thought to just how overstimulated you were at the moment. just a single touch would make you melt.

your breath became more prominent and you knew you wanted, no, needed, to orgasm on her fingers. your back ached and with a couple more sinful moans from you and a third finger from agatha, you screamed her name while letting loose the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire life.

panting like she had just ran a marathon, agatha left a kiss on your forehead.

“how was that, hm?” she asked, and all you could think was that this was so, so much better than studying.

a/n (again): let me know if anyone would be interested in a part 2! also i lowkey rushed this because i just wanted to be done with it, but hope yall enjoyed it anyways!

[cherryfennec]

what could you think of for a second and third phase for super dimentio

Ymmm I don't really see him having another phases so no but I've had something for the first 20 seconds of his initial battle in mind.

Tag, he's it.

okay so like spm spoilers and stuff but:

When you first start the battle with Super Dimentio there's a certain period of time where he's invincible. You can't damage him and nothing really happens until Timpani returns with the Pure Hearts.

Now in my personal opinion while I'm still glad they added this moment, it still left me a little unsatisfied. Here's why:

Dimentio turning into Super Dimentio with Luigi is his big moment, his victory. He has become something that is indestructible, something that generations of Ancients have been passing down. He is a god. The time frame where he's indestructible in the game is supposed to show that you are powerless against him, that no Pixl and no item will do anything. This is supposed to make you realize in the moment that: it's truly hopeless.

Unfortunately Dimentios spotlight is VERY quickly taken from him, which makes the idea less effective than it could've been. You see Dimentio working for this the entire game, just for him to win in the end only for 20 seconds and then turn into a joke of a fight. The speech he gives before the fight is longer than the actual boss, making everything slightly anticlimactic (at least to me).

The concept I've been thinking about using in my take of the Super Mario lore (SPM specifically here) is that those 20 seconds of standing and waiting around for the game to decide it's time to move on are instead spent on: A reverse game of magical tag.

The concept of a magical tag itself is used earlier in the game by Dimentio himself who makes Mario and Luigi humour him by traveling through the worlds they have been in before and finding ripples in space he's leaving behind to keep the game going. I thought by turning this moment of 20 second invincibility into a game of magical tag where he's “it” this time would help that feeling of hopelessness and stakes sink in.

In this scenario Mario still cannot fight back as Dimentio,actively chasing him, is invincible, which forces him to run from danger. He runs from world to world, but now in contrast to the previous tag game, the worlds are being wiped out as you go through them for the final time. They're barely holding on, torn from their colors and mixing with the white void peeking through. Maybe some leftover npcs encouraging to keep going or just being terrified instead. Dimentio is chasing after you, peeking his long arms or head through the ripples to strike, and as he makes his way behind you the world progressively disappears and you have to make it out before it's entirely gone, else its game over. In the end of this chase you make it back to Castle Bleck where it picks up on Timpani restoring the Pure Hearts with Blumiere and using them to help Mario by removing Super Dimentios invincibility.

In conclusion I think making this moment akin to what I described above would help set the tone of this enemy more. For one this moment is now LONGER so you can see direct consequences of Dimentios victory outside and think about it more, second it turns you into an actual helpless plaything that you were meant to be. The entire path of the chase leads you back to Castle Bleck, it's a circle. This time you cannot escape and this time the evil doings have been set in motion on a rapid scale. It's a moment of Darkness that's broken by Timpani, someone who has been with you since the beginning and who you saw grow. She's now full of love and determined to win, something that to me comes off as super inspiring. She has been cursed to live a miserable existence yet she found the Light thanks to you. And THAT'S why you shouldn't give up even after all the ruined worlds you've seen. You have to keep fighting for them even in their darkest moment, even when they're gone.

also to clear any confusion yes i know this game is 3+ but i still think it'd be cool ig

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 4

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha works together with you to help Widow and learns a bit more about just the kind of person you are.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: light angst, violence, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 4329

Natasha steps onto the rooftop of a building, her footsteps barely making a sound as she surveys the city sprawled out beneath her. The low hum of night traffic mixed with the distant murmur of voices, creating the familiar backdrop of New York City after dark.

She approaches the edge of the building, her gaze sweeping across the streets below, her mind preoccupied with the message you had sent her.

A quick glance at her phone confirmed the location and time. She was exactly where she needed to be, but there was no sign of you or your little companion yet.

Natasha lets out a quiet breath, pocketing her phone as her thoughts drift to you.

Despite the doubts her training pressed upon her, her instincts tell her you weren’t a bad person—that she could trust you.

But she couldn’t let her personal feelings interfere, not when so much was still uncertain.

Your situation was complicated, tangled in a web of dangerous choices, which meant Natasha had to remain cautious and vigilant.

That’s when she feels a subtle shift in the air, a sudden presence behind her.

Instinctively, Natasha whirls around, her hand snapping out to catch a wrist mid-motion.

Her eyes meet yours, and in the instant of realization, she halts the throw she was about to execute. Instead, the force just pulls you closer in the process, until your chest is pressed against hers.

You stumble slightly, your hand instinctively landing on her shoulder for balance and support.

Natasha freezes, her breath catching at the sudden proximity.

Neither of you move, the air between you charged with tension. The heat of your body pressed intimately against hers sends a jolt through her system, and for a split second, she forgets to breathe.

A low chuckle escapes you, the sound reverberating against her chest. You look up, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“You’re getting better,” you murmur, a teasing smile curving your lips. “This makes it four to one.”

Natasha blinks, still processing just how close you are.

“Four to one?” she echoes, her brow furrowing slightly.

“How many times I’ve successfully sneaked up on you,” you clarify, your smirk widening. “You’ve only caught me once now.”

Natasha huffs, a faint smirk of her own tugging at her lips.

“Two of those times, I was asleep,” she counters.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue playfully.

“That’s no excuse for the Black Widow,” you tease. “What would your fans think?”

Before Natasha realizes what she is doing, she finds herself leaning slightly closer to you.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice lower than usual, “you tell me.”

Your grin widens, clearly enjoying the usual banter between the two of you.

“I’m sure they’ll still be impressed by your other charming qualities,” you respond softly.

But beneath the amusement, there was a flicker of something else in your eyes—something deeper, almost as if you were daring her to close the distance between you.

Natasha’s pulse quickens, the warmth of your body drawing her in like a magnet, the faint glow of the city lights behind you only adding to the moment.

But just as quickly, she reminds herself of the situation. Of where you both stand.

She swallows, clearing her throat as she quickly releases your wrist and takes a step back, pushing away the feeling that had crept up on her.

“So,” Natasha begins, her voice slightly more controlled, “where’s our little friend?”

Before you can respond, something small and quick leaps onto Natasha’s back, clinging briefly before hopping onto her shoulder.

Startled for a moment, Natasha relaxes as she turns to see Widow perched there, letting out a happy meow in greeting.

Natasha chuckles softly, reaching up to scratch under Widow’s chin.

“There you are.”

You step around her, moving toward the ledge with a teasing glance.

“I’m pretty sure Widow’s score against you is much higher though,” you remark over your shoulder, brushing past her as you approach the edge of the rooftop.

Natasha’s eyes follow you, her attention drawn in once more, mesmerized as you gaze out over the cityscape, your features softened in the dim light.

That familiar warm feeling stirs within her as she takes in the sight of you.

Her focus is only broken when a soft paw taps at her cheek.

Natasha turns her gaze to the feline, who gives her an almost teasing meow before leaping gracefully from her shoulder to yours.

You smile fondly at the cat, gently stroking her fur before turning your focus back to the building across the street.

It’s an exclusive club—one of those high-end places with multiple floors reserved for private, discreet business dealings, both professional and personal, and most of the time, not law-abiding.

“What are we doing here?” Natasha asks, joining you by the ledge.

“This is where the control system for the device inside of Widow is being kept,” you explain, your tone shifting into something more serious.

“How do you know?”

You glance at her, raising an eyebrow in return.

Natasha nods slightly in understanding.

“You already tried to steal it,” she guesses, her eyes scanning the building across from you both. “But something went wrong.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, a hint of amusement flashing in your eyes.

“The system can’t leave this location,” you explain, giving Widow a gentle scratch on the head before setting her down on the ledge. “And Widow has to stay close enough to maintain the connection, which means the bomb has to be deactivated on-site.”

Natasha hums in acknowledgment, her fingers resting lightly against the cool stone of the building as she considers the situation. Deactivating a bomb with specific limitations–that’s something she can definitely help you with.

After a moment of silence, you speak again.

“How’s your mission going?” you ask casually, glancing sideways at her.

Natasha shoots you a look, one that clearly conveys her wariness of sharing too much. You had interfered with her mission before, after all, and trust was still a fragile thing between the two of you.

“Let’s just focus on deactivating the bomb first,” she says, pivoting away from your question.

You smile knowingly, understanding and respecting her decision to keep things close to the chest.

“Fair enough.”

Standing beside Widow, you pull out a small pen-like device from your pocket.

Natasha watches curiously as you aim it at one of the windows across the street.

A thin red laser flickers from the pen, bouncing off the glass as you click it a few times.

Widow’s attention snaps to the laser instantly, her tail twitching in anticipation. She lets out a soft meow before, without hesitation, leaping gracefully from the ledge.

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the cat jump, and she leaned over the edge, only to see the feline's agile body landing on a nearby balcony below before disappearing into the shadows.

“You sure she’ll be okay?” Natasha asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

You shoot her a playful glance.

“I told you—they always land on their feet.”

Natasha rolls her eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Standing a bit straighter, she turns back to you.

“So, what’s next?”

“Now…” you trail off, stepping closer to her, brushing your fingers lightly against her shoulder.

Your smirk deepens as you lean in, the space between you narrowing again.

“Now we see if the Black Widow can keep up.”

Before Natasha can respond, you shoot a grappling line across the street, the device pulling you swiftly into the shadows of the opposing building’s alleyway.

Natasha’s heart races as she watches you disappear, your movements smooth and precise.

Without hesitation, she grabs her own grappling hook, launching herself into the air with practiced ease. As her feet hit the ground, adrenaline surges through her veins, heightening her senses.

She stays close behind, catching glimpses of you darting through alleyways, your figure slipping in and out of view.

Almost closing the distance, Natasha rounds a final corner, only to find herself alone, standing at the back entrance of the building.

She scans the area, brow furrowing when she doesn’t see any sign of you.

Stepping up to the back door, Natasha tugs at the handle—locked.

That means you didn’t go in this way, but discovering that doesn’t mean it’s not something she can’t use.

With a determined sigh, Natasha knocks loudly, stepping back as the door clicks open.

A confused guard peers out, and Natasha gives him a small wave.

"Hey," Natasha greets with a disarming smile.

Before the guard can react, she flips him over her shoulder with a quick, fluid motion, knocking him out cold. Catching the door before it closes, she slips inside.

Moving swiftly through the dark back room, Natasha reaches the main doors leading into the club’s crowded interior. She cracks the door open, scanning the room for any sign of you but finding none.

Wondering about your whereabouts, Natasha suddenly feels a light touch on her shoulder and turns her head quickly, startled to find you standing there with a teasing smile.

“That’s another point for me,” you say, your tone playful.

Natasha huffs in disbelief but can’t deny you’ve managed to sneak up on her yet again.

Before she can respond, you grab her hand and pull her into the chaotic crowd of the club.

“Come on, Widow’s probably already waiting for us,” you say over your shoulder.

The music is loud, bodies moving in rhythm all around you as you guide her toward the bar. You signal the bartender for drinks before leaning back casually against the counter.

Without missing a beat, you slide Natasha’s hand to rest on your waist, your arm casually wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

Natasha’s breath catches, her body brushing against yours as her other hand rests on the bar counter for support.

The close proximity between you stirs something within her, her pulse quickening at the way your warmth seeps into her skin.

Leaning in, you make it look like you’re whispering something intimate, but your words are purely business, focused on the mission.

“The only way to the elevator for the exclusive floors is through that door,” you murmur, nodding toward a guarded entrance. “We’ll need a valid room key to get in.”

Natasha swallows, the sensation of your breath against her ear momentarily distracting her.

“You have one?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless.

"Not yet," you reply, leaning back, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "But I’ll have one in a second. How’s your acting?"

Before Natasha can respond, the bartender sets two drinks beside you.

Turning, you grab them quickly before spinning on your heel and colliding with a nearby patron.

The impact sends the drinks spilling all over the man’s expensive suit. He lets out a shout of surprise, his face contorting in outrage.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your tone perfectly apologetic as you frantically pat his soaked jacket with a napkin.

The man scowls, waving off your apology and shoving you back roughly.

“This suit is worth more than your life!” he snaps angrily.

Before he can say anything else, Natasha steps in, her arm wrapping protectively around your waist as she pulls you against her.

Her gaze sharpens, daring the man to make a scene.

“It was an accident, and she already apologized,” Natasha says, her tone firm. “Now, I suggest you go clean yourself up before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

The man hesitates, his mouth opening as if to argue, but when his eyes meet Natasha’s steely glare, he rethinks his decision.

With a disgruntled huff, he storms off toward the restroom.

Turning in her arms, you flash her a playful grin.

"My hero," you tease, placing a dramatic hand on her shoulder.

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

“The key card?” she prompts.

With a smirk, you hold up the card you deftly swiped from the man’s jacket.

“Got it.”

“Show-off,” Natasha mutters, though her voice is tinged with warmth.

With the key card in hand, you lead her toward the guarded entrance, your hand finding hers again.

The guards barely glance at you as you approach, their attention more focused on the crowd behind you.

With a quick swipe of the card, the door unlocks, and the two of you slip past the guards, making your way toward the private elevator.

Once inside, the doors close with a soft hiss, and the noise from the club fades into silence.

The enclosed space feels intimate, and Natasha is acutely aware of your proximity, your hand still lightly clasped around hers.

“So, what’s next after we finish this?” Natasha asks, her voice softer.

You lean casually against the wall, tilting your head at her with a teasing smile.

“Already thinking about the future? We haven’t even finished the mission yet.”

Natasha huffs a soft laugh, but there’s an underlying seriousness to her question.

“Will you leave the city?” she asks, her voice softening in understanding how that would be the safest option for the two of you once their leverage on you is gone.

Your playful demeanor falters slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression.

“I don’t know. Widow’s grown pretty fond of you,” you say before giving her a soft smile.

“She’ll miss you…” you swing your clasped hand lightly before adding in a whisper. “…and I might too."

Natasha’s heart skips a beat, her eyes locking with yours. The space between you seems smaller, the air around you charged with something unspoken.

Before either of you can say anything more, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival.

Natasha glances away, the moment interrupted as the doors slide open to reveal a sleek, quiet hallway.

You let go of her hand as you step out of the elevator with Natasha following soon after.

You find the door you need to enter at the end of the hall.

There is only one problem—a complex lock is in place, far more sophisticated than expected.

You kneel before it, pulling out a small set of tools from your jacket.

Natasha stands beside you, her eyes scanning the hallway as you start working on the lock.

You can feel her close, her presence like a shadow hovering protectively over you.

A few moments in, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches Natasha’s ears, her posture tensing.

She knows that just standing by the door is too suspicious, especially if someone spots them like this.

She’s about to warn you and prepare for a confrontation when, without missing a beat, you stand abruptly and grab Natasha by the arm, pulling her close.

Natasha’s eyes widen for a split second, but you’re quicker—your lips press against hers, soft and urgent.

It takes her only a heartbeat to respond, melting into the kiss, her hand sliding up to cup your neck, pulling you closer.

Your back bumps against the door as Natasha steps forward, closing any distance between your bodies. You gasp in surprise at the action, the soft and low sound escaping from you as Natasha deepens the kiss.

Her lips move against yours with a heat and intensity that catches both of you off guard while your fingers find and clench at her jacket, pulling her impossibly closer to you.

Natasha’s body molds perfectly against yours as the sound of the footsteps draws nearer.

Whoever was coming stops briefly at the end of the hall, but the sight of two people lost in a passionate embrace seems to deter them, and soon the footsteps retreat quickly.

As soon as the danger passes, you pull back slightly, your breath warm against her lips, your dilated eyes still locked with hers as a flush graces your cheeks.

Natasha feels a rush of heat in her chest at the sight and finds herself wanting to linger in the moment.

“Was that part of the plan?” Natasha whispers, her voice rough and breathless.

You smirk, your thumb brushing lightly against her waist.

“Improvised. But effective,” you tilt your head slightly, causing your nose to brush lightly against hers, your voice lowering. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to kiss someone.”

Natasha smirks, though her voice is tinged with something more.

“Sure…pretend.”

For a moment, the two of you don’t move any further away from each other, the heat still remaining.

Natasha exhales softly as her eyes linger on you a moment longer, and she finds herself leaning in again, slow enough for you to move away if you want.

But you don’t.

Just as she’s about to close the distance again, a sharp click echoes through the hallway—the lock disengaging.

The sound pulls both of you back to the mission at hand, interrupting the moment, and the two of you hear a distinct familiar meow from behind the door.

Clearing your throat lightly, you give her a small smile before turning the door handle and stepping back to push the door open.

“After you,” you say softly, holding the door open for her.

Releasing a steadying breath, Natasha steps past you, her heart still racing from the kiss, but her focus returns to the task ahead.

Inside the room, the dim light casts shadows on the furniture.

Widow steps out from the darkness, meowing softly as she moves toward Natasha.

However, the cat stops in the space between the two of you and turns her sharp gaze from you to her curiously as if she senses the shift of the tension in the air.

Natasha scratches the cat’s head gently in greeting before glancing at you.

“Where’s the system?” she asks, her mind shifting back to the mission.

You move to the large desk, pressing a hidden panel. The surface slides open, revealing a sleek terminal.

“Right here. Couldn’t exactly carry this out the window,” you joke.

Natasha moves to the screen, her fingers quickly accessing the system.

Widow hops onto the desk, curiously observing Natasha before attempting to reach for the keys on the keyboard, but you pull her back before she can.

“No,” you reprimand gently.

The cat lets out a small, disgruntled cry, displeased at not being allowed to assist Natasha in her hacking.

Natasha’s lips quirk up fondly at the cat’s antics before returning to her task.

As she works, you stand nearby, watching her closely, your presence a comforting weight beside her.

For a moment, the mission fades, and Natasha finds herself thinking about your words in the elevator and what happened earlier, wondering if this—whatever this is—could be something more.

But there’s still so much she doesn’t know about you—of the things you’re still hiding.

Wanting to learn more, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice soft.

“What happened between you and them? To make them go this far?”

You lean against the desk, your teasing tone light.

“Trying to dig into my past, Miss Black Widow? Feels like something we’d discuss on a first date.”

Natasha smirks, her fingers still moving over the keys.

“This would definitely be one of the more interesting dates I’ve had.”

You chuckle, running a hand through Widow’s fur as she curls beside you.

Just when Natasha thinks you’re not going to tell her, you speak up.

“We worked together for years. Started off small—simple jobs, easy money. But then, things got darker. Shadier deals, dangerous clients.” Your voice lowers, growing more serious. “I didn’t know people were getting hurt. But when I found out…I couldn’t stay. So, Widow and I ran.”

Natasha nods, her heart softening at your story.

“And now they want you to pay for that.”

“Pretty much,” you say before hesitating slightly and deciding to add under your breath. “That and when I left, I stole almost all of their money at the time and gave it away anonymously to multiple charities across the world.”

Natasha pauses, her brows raising at you in disbelief.

You give her a serious nod in response, no signs of joking or teasing in your expression. Widow meows as if confirming your statement.

Natasha exhales an impressed huff, shaking her head slightly.

“That’s bold,” she states, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as she resumes her work. “But strangely, not surprising of you.”

You let out a light laugh, pushing off the edge of the desk where you’d been leaning. There’s a casual ease in your posture, but your gaze lingers on her as if considering something deeper.

“What about your past, Miss Black Widow?”

Natasha’s lip twists slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she looks up at you.

“Everything I’ve done was revealed to the public when SHIELD fell,” she says, her voice carrying a heavy note of resignation. “So, you know my past isn’t all that much better than yours. Neither am I.”

A quiet settles over the room, the only sound being the soft clicking of the keys as Natasha continues her work.

You watch her in that silence, your mind running over her words and the weight they carry.

Finally, you break the stillness, your tone thoughtful.

“I disagree.”

Natasha glances at you with an amused smirk on her lips.

“And what do you think you know about me?”

You meet her gaze steadily, the playful edge in your smile softening as you speak.

“I know you have trouble sleeping because you’re haunted by what you’ve done.”

Natasha freezes, her fingers going still as her eyes snap up to meet yours, surprise flickering in her gaze.

You hold that connection, offering a small, genuine smile as you continue.

“I know that’s why you spend your life dedicated to helping others. Why you keep trying to fix things, why you’re helping me and Widow.”

As if on cue, the cat meows from her perch on the desk, casting a curious look between the two of you. You chuckle lightly at Widow’s timing before turning back to Natasha.

“I know that you don’t judge people based on past mistakes, no matter how bad they were.”

There’s a pause, the air thick with the weight of the moment.

Your voice softens, and the sincerity in your words is palpable as you add, “And I know you’re a good person. You’ve already proven that to me. More than once.”

Natasha’s throat tightens, and she swallows lightly, clearly moved by your words though she tries to hide it.

Her gaze lingers on you a second longer, searching your expression for any trace of doubt or insincerity.

“Careful,” she finally says, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, her voice teasing but softer now. “You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You roll your eyes, though your chuckle is warm, the tension between you lightening for just a moment.

“I think I might see the appeal,” you tease back, flashing her a smile.

Natasha’s lips quirk upward, her eyes softening briefly before she returns her attention to the computer. Her fingers fly over the keys, a determined focus settling back over her as she works.

After a few more moments, she inhales sharply.

“I’ve got it,” she says, looking up at you with a triumphant glint in her eyes. “I can deactivate the device.”

You step closer, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the screen. The proximity makes the air between you feel charged, your breath warm against her neck.

"Great. Let’s finish this."

Natasha presses a few final keys, initiating the deactivation sequence.

Widow, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly stiffens and stands. The cat lets out a disgruntled meow, glaring at both of you with wide, accusing eyes before biting at the side of her body in irritation.

“So…it’s done?” you ask, your voice laced with relief but still tentative as you straighten and take a step back.

Natasha nods, glancing at the system.

“The bomb’s deactivated,” she confirms. “But we should still take her back to the Compound, just to make sure everything’s clear.”

Before Natasha can say more, a sudden alert flashes on the screen.

Furrowing her brows, she analyzes the information, her heart sinking as she realizes the deactivation triggered something else—another similar device has been activated.

Her fingers flies across the keys as she searches for more information.

The location of the system for this other device appears to be hidden somewhere else instead of here, so there nothing she can do to deactivate it.

But she does end up finding some details and specifications about the device.

Her eyes scan the screen before widening in alarm once she sees who the device is implanted in.

Your name is listed at the bottom of the screen.

Before she can react, Natasha feels a sharp prick on the side of her neck. She recoils away and turns around, her hand flying to the spot.

Her eyes meet yours in confusion before drifting to the tranquilizer in your hand.

You flinch guiltily at her accusing stare.

“That makes it six,” you say softly with a sad sigh.

Natasha frowns in realization as her body becomes almost instantly numb, and she stumbles back against the desk, trying to support herself up.

Widow runs toward her, meowing in concern, her paw raising to grip Natasha’s arm.

But Natasha doesn’t pay attention to the small creature, her focus entirely on you.

“Why?” Natasha grits out.

“I told you—one more job,” you say, your voice filled with remorse. “And I can’t have you interfering.”

You give her a regretful expression.

“Unfortunately, I do need to use you one last time.”

Natasha feels the last of her energy escaping as her legs collapse from under her, and she falls to the ground, her eyelids feeling heavier to keep open.

You crouch down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that cuts deeper than any wound.

Widow hops down from the desk and lands in space between the two of you, her cries growing louder in panic as she looks between you and Natasha in confusion.

Natasha feels the soft paws pushing insistently against her as her vision darkens, her body going limp as the last of her strength fades.

Widow’s concerned cries grow distant as the world around her slips away. The last thing she hears before she loses consciousness is your voice, soft and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, there’s only darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[happy74827]

Ice Breaker

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You start to see your acquaintance/friend in a new light after saving your life.

WC: 6994 (oh, jeez)

Category: Fluff, Eventual Smut (lmfao), Lime/Spice, Slow Burn(ish), {TW: Drowning, Improper Use of Claws (Kinda a joke, kinda not… it’s hinted in the very beginning), P With P, Slight OOC? MDNI!!}

Why am I petrified to post this?? Literally shaking.

So, uh, please be nice to me 😭🫶 Smut is NOT my strong suit. This is like my 3rd attempt at it and the first time I’m posting it. Kinda scary. But I wanted to be that person who wrote all genres (dunno why), so here’s a fic containing mostly all genres? I guess?

@yoursacredqueenmother helped with some parts (mostly the ending) and my confidence so shout out to my queen!! Love you girlie 💞

『••✎••』

Warmth and pain. It’s all you felt. Your lungs were aching, begging for the oxygen that the cold water was denying you. Your vision blurred as your body screamed for air. The feeling of a strong pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you out of the depths and into a blinding light. You felt the air hit your face as you were laid onto solid ground, a large hand pushing on your chest.

Suddenly, you felt the pressure of a mouth being pressed against yours, and it took a moment before your mind registered what was happening.

It was then a sound of a gasp and a deep, throaty growl sounded from above you, and the warm, comforting weight of the hand was suddenly gone. Only replaced by a sound that resembled a sword being drawn from a sheath.

And then, pain once more. You felt something lodge into the airway, and your body was instantly set into a frenzy, attempting to rid itself of the object. In an instant, the sound similar to a sword repeated itself, replaced only by the feeling of being turned onto your side. Your body began to convulse as a mix of the icy lake water, and your stomach acid spewed from your throat.

When your body finally stilled, your eyes fluttered open to reveal a blurry vision; you began to hear things more clearly. Muffles turned into a voice, which turned into words.

"Shit… Fucking shit," Deep and gruff, almost a growl. You remembered that voice. You knew that voice. "Jesus, you’re ice cold. Fuck!"

The sound of a zipper was heard, and before you knew it, a weight was placed over you, and you were off the ground and in the air.

That’s when you peered up and saw him. The very same man who claimed he was far from a hero. He was carrying you with his arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. He was constantly flickering his gaze to look down at you while you did nothing but stare back.

It was after a moment that your senses were coming back to you, and you began to notice things more clearly.

His jaw was clenched tight, and the look in his eyes was one of concern. You didn't know if it was your imagination, but it looked like there was a tint of red around his iris, which was now a piercing hazel color. The muscles of his face were taut and strained. The furrow of his brow gave him a look of worry while the twitch of his lips hinted at annoyance.

"Lo…" You didn’t realize the impact the water and the ice had had on you until you tried to speak, the sound coming out weak and broken. His gaze flicked back to you, and the red ring around his eyes was gone.

"It’s alright. It’s… You’re gonna…" The cold air hit his face as he opened his mouth, causing his breath to turn into fog. "You’re gonna be fine, Sweetheart. We’re gonna get you somewhere warm, alright?"

You couldn't help but shiver at the term of endearment and nodded in response, knowing that any attempt to speak would probably just come out in a croak.

You didn’t remember much after that, only bits and pieces. You remember the sudden quietness as he ripped open the door of his truck and settled you down on the passenger seat. You remember him securing his jacket around your body, his hands lingering a bit too long on your shoulders.

You also remembered the absolute mental breakdown he had when his truck wouldn’t start.

He had slammed his fist into the dashboard, the impact leaving a dent in the metal, while a loud pang signified the adamantium bones beneath. He was muttering curse after curse and had his head leaned back against the headrest, eyes screwed shut, and a look of frustration and pain upon his face.

It was only when he slammed his head into the steering wheel, clearly aggravated by the failure of his truck, did the it finally decide to work.

You don’t remember the drive, only that the heat was cranked up to its maximum, and he was speeding, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tight and his knuckles turning white.

But you remember the look he gave you when he lifted you from the truck, carrying you into some off-the-road motel. For a while, you thought he actually broke into it, but he paid during your trip, both in and out of consciousness.

And now, here you were, completely swaddled in a mass of blankets, in front of a fire that Logan had made as he was pacing the room. His brows were furrowed, and he had his fingers running through his hair in an almost desperate manner. He looked stressed and maybe even a little scared.

Your mind was still foggy, and a wave of pain shot through your head. A wince escaped your lips, and you instantly regretted the noise as Logan snapped his head to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He strode over to you, squatting down to your eye level.

"How do ya feel?" He asked, his voice softer than usual.

"F-Freezing," you whispered, your teeth clacking together. Logan looked around frantically, unsure of what to do.

"There’s no fucking hot water in this place," he muttered to himself. "What a shit hole. Fucking cheap bastards. Shit." He continued to ramble, cursing up a storm.

"Logan," you managed to breathe out, your hand reaching out from under the covers and grabbing his bicep. The man was tense as hell. "I-It's fine."

His eyes widened a fraction at your touch before narrowing in frustration.

"It ain't fine," he said, his tone rough. "You’re freezing to the point where yer shaking like a goddamn leaf. How is that fine?"

Your brows furrowed as you tried to sit up, his arms reaching out to push you back down, but you shrugged him off.

"Logan, I'm not… I’m not dying."

He stared at you for a moment, the crease between his brows becoming more pronounced before he shook his head, the muscles of his face twitching in annoyance.

"That ain't the fucking point."

"Then what is the… the point?"

He stood up, beginning to pace again. You watched him carefully as he rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling and cursing to himself. You could feel the frustration practically radiating off him.

You were going to ask him what was wrong, what was the problem, why he was acting so strangely, when his gaze met yours and your breath hitched in your throat.

He looked so… different. You were used to his scowl and his hard features. Quite honestly, his personality was trash mixed with an added dash of salt. But now, even though he held those same hard features, your eyes took it in a whole new way.

His scowl made him seem protective and concerned. His furrowed brow seemed almost endearing, and his clenched jaw gave him a sense of determination.

It made you want to think back on the way he held you and how his arms were secured around you, making you feel all kinds of—

Warmth…

The idea that made you jolt forward, almost falling off the bed.

"Shit!" Logan was at your side in an instant, his arm reaching out and supporting you. "Are ya tryna kill yourself? Lie back down."

"No," you shook your head. "You."

He frowned. "What?"

"You," you repeated, a small smile stretching across your lips. "I need… You."

He stared at you for a moment, his face dropping into a look of confusion. It would’ve been funny if you didn't feel so damn cold.

"Me?"

"Yeah… I n-need heat," another shiver went through you. "And you’re like a furnace. An overheated dog."

"Like a what?" He narrowed his eyes.

"A… just— I'm cold, Logan." You were starting to get tired. "Please."

He blinked at you. Then, he looked at the ground, then at the bed. He was silent for a moment, and you were afraid he wouldn’t do it. But then, his hands were finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it up over his head.

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. So, why did you suddenly feel a heat spreading in the pit of your stomach despite him not even touching you yet? Why were your eyes suddenly wide and focused? Why were your lips parting and your mouth becoming dry?

There was just a perfect amount of hair trailing down from his belly button and leading down into the waistband of his jeans. It was almost like a treasure trail but thicker. His muscles were so well defined, their cords protruding from the skin, and he was flexing and twitching as he moved. His stomach was taut, and his hips were slightly visible. His chest was broad, pecs perfectly formed, and the lines between them were the most appealing things you had ever seen.

And right in the center was the all too familiar chain, with the dog tags dangling down, resting just over his sternum.

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, a strange and unfamiliar heat washing over you. You didn’t really realize how long you were staring until he spoke.

"A lot of girls would pay good money for the view you're getting," he smirked, and the heat in your stomach only got hotter.

You averted your gaze and coughed into your fist. "Sh-Shut up," you mumbled, pulling the blankets back and slipping under the covers.

Logan sighed as he moved the blankets away from your goosebump-covered skin and settled himself in next to you.

Instantaneously, you sighed as the heat emitting from his body enveloped you while he tensed at the contact.

"Shit, you really are freezing," he grumbled.

You couldn't help the slight moan that came from you as his warm arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressing flush against your back, and his breath ghosting the back of your neck.

You could sleep like this. In fact, you probably would because you were so tired. Your eyelids felt heavy, and the feeling of his warmth made you feel safe.

For a moment, the only noise that was heard was the crackling of the fire, both your panting breath and his, and the sound his throat was making as he swallowed.

"I, uh," his voice was lower and a lot deeper than before. It seemed to rumble through him and into your back. "I thought ya died. When I found you, I thought you were dead."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your mouth went dry. Damn, already with the emotions.

"Well, I'm not," you told him, your voice a lot softer than his. "I'm fine. I’m okay."

You felt him nod against your shoulder. "Right."

And you knew, deep down, that he was lying.

Logan was never a good liar. You knew it from the moment he stepped foot into the mansion. And this, his actions, was living proof of what a horrible liar he was.

"Logan?"

He grunted. "Hmm?"

"Why did you do it?"

You could feel the way his eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Why did I do what?"

"Follow me, and save me," you stated simply. "You had no reason to."

He was silent for a moment. "And, what? I was supposed to leave you there to die?"

"Yes."

"That ain't—"

"But it is, Logan," you said, and he was quiet once more. "You said it yourself. You aren’t a hero. So why did you save me?"

You always knew the answer. But even if you were currently freezing, you wanted to hear it come from him. It was tiringof hearing the same phrase over and over.

And clearly, you poked a nerve because in an instant, his arms were off of you, and you were being flipped over, with all the blankets thrown to the floor, only to find yourself face to face with Logan.

"Is this you pulling my teeth?" He growled, a look of anger on his face. "It sure as hell ain’t a damn good time."

You couldn’t stop the way your eyes kept flickering down his chest, his pectorals tensing as he breathed.

"You say you aren’t, but you are," you told him, not even listening to him. You were too focused on the way the flames of the fire danced along his skin. "Heroes save people. You saved me."

"This isn’t about heroism." He seethed, and the anger was evident. "It’s about you being a stubborn ass and getting yourself in a damn dangerous situation."

"Dangerous situation?" Now it was your turn to get angry. "Are you serious? Are you actually serious?"

"Who the hell just storms off to go frolicking around on top of a goddamn lake? What the fuck were ya thinking?"

"It’s called ice skating, you stupid bastard," you snapped, feeling your body returning back to a chill due to his absence. "I didn't expect it to break, and I didn’t expect to f-fall through. I don’t have f-fucking x-ray vision."

"Any person with half a brain could see how thin the ice was," he spat. "I mean, look at you! Ya, look like a goddamn popsicle."

"I was trying to enjoy myself, Logan. Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"Enjoy yourself?" He barked out a laugh. "You could've fucking died. That isn't enjoying yourself, Icypop, that's being fucking stupid."

"Don’t call me that."

"You are fucking stupid," he hissed. "Do you know what that would've done? Do ya know what it would've done to—"

"Logan," you snapped. "You… This… This is proving my point. If you truly weren’t a hero, you wouldn’t have cared. You would have let me drown and gone on your merry way."

"Anyone would have cared."

"Not anyone," you retorted, "Not everyone."

"You just think that because it's what you want to think."

"No, it's the truth."

"No, it isn’t."

"You saved me, Logan," you whispered, your eyes finding his, which were still burning with anger. "Get it through your head, you idiot. You saved me. I wasn’t even aware you had followed me, but you c-cared enough to keep me from dying. You aren’t a bad guy, Logan; stop trying to convince yourself you are. Because, clearly, you aren’t."

The two of you were staring at each other, neither of you speaking a word. Your breaths were coming out in puffs of air, while his were heavy and almost raspy. The look on his face was intense, and he was practically trembling with anger.

You couldn't tell what was running through his mind, but you had a feeling it was along the lines of, "I'm not a fucking hero. Shut the hell up," or, "Just let me believe what I want to believe."

You didn't know which one it was, but either way, it would be pointless to argue with him.

He would always try to convince himself that he wasn’t a good person. He would try to convince himself that he wasn’t meant for such things.

Even with proving the opposite in so many situations, he still would never take the hint.

And now, with the way he was looking at you, the two of you breathing in the same air, the heat of his body surrounding you, your eyes trying to forget his state of undress, it was hard not to argue.

You didn't mean to do it, but your hand lifted up, and your fingers grazed the chain of his dog tags, sending a shiver through his body.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes flicker down, taking him in for a second time, your eyes trailing down his chest and his abs before finding the patch of hair leading into his—

You swallowed thickly before meeting his gaze again. His eyes were dark, and his pupils dilated. The way his chest was rising and falling, and his jaw was clenching made it obvious he was trying to control himself.

Caught, you quickly dropped your hand and averted your eyes. You didn’t want him to see the effect his body had on you, even if you had no control over it.

"I'm not a hero," he finally whispered, and it wasn’t his words that surprised you, but his voice.

His voice was deep and raspy, and you couldn't stop the way the heat was pooling in the pit of your stomach or the way a strange feeling was taking over your mind. "But, I do care. A hell of a lot."

"Lo—"

"Don’t call me a hero for caring," his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer to his body. "I care too much for worthless shit like that."

Your throat went dry. He was so warm, so very warm.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. Your breathing quickened, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. Not a single coherent thought came to your mind. All you could think about was the way his breaths lined up with yours. The way his skin was brushing against yours. How he smelled so very distinctly Logan, and the way his lips looked so very inviting.

It was taken too far when your tongue slipped out and wetted your own lips, and Logan's eyes darted to the movement.

He stared for the longest time, seemingly frozen, his chest rising and falling heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He pulled away only an inch or two, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

What was he thinking? What was going through his head? You wanted to ask, but you were afraid to break the silence. Afraid to say something and make him come to his senses.

So, instead, you watched his face carefully, the way his lips parted, and his pupils dilated before his eyes found yours once more. Reading him was hard, but this… this was an expression you had seen before.

It was when Jean was flirting with Scott. The way she would lean close and give him that smile, and the way his cheeks would heat, and his eyes would dart down to her lips, then back up.

This was attraction.

And it was an expression you didn't think you would see on Logan. Not for you, at least.

You were one of his close friends, but did you play nice with each other? No. Did you get along? Yes, but those rare arguments the two of you had were heated, and sometimes they didn't make sense.

Did you tease him and mess with him? Definitely.

But never did you think that would lead to this.

Logan was attractive. He was built and tall, and he was very muscular. The definition of a man. His rough, hard features only made him more desirable. And his short temper and bad attitude just drew women to him like flies. They tend to lean towards the bad boys.

You didn’t. You picked the nice ones. The kind ones. The ones who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You had been with a couple of guys since coming to Xavier's, and all of them had been so nice and so polite, but you did come to the conclusion that they were rather boring.

You couldn't remember the last time you were flustered by a man, or the last time your heart pounded so quickly, or the last time your breath caught in your throat.

But here was Logan, suddenly giving you those feelings and making your stomach do flips. The man who pretended to be the opposite of everything you wanted in a partner was the only one making your heart race.

You didn't know if that was good or bad.

This feeling, though, felt good. Felt so very good.

The way his arm was around your waist, his hand gripping your side, his body flush against yours, his lips just inches from your own, felt too good.

The heat from his skin felt good. The feeling of his warm breath was good. His scent was good. Everything was so, very good.

You were tired, and your eyelids felt heavy. The way your limbs felt like lead and how cold you felt was getting to you. You could feel your body starting to relax.

The only thing keeping you awake was Logan.

He was still so close, and his grip hadn’t loosened. But you couldn't help it when your eyelids started to slip closed, and your body went slack against him.

Logan's grip on you tightened, his arms holding your body tighter, his breath catching, before you felt the softest of touches on your forehead.

Kisses… Kisses were being peppered across your forehead, and it made you shiver.

His lips were so soft. His kisses were so gentle. It was so different from the hard exterior he held. It was like he was a completely different person.

So, you looked up and found yourself nose-to-nose with Logan. His eyes were staring right back into yours, and there was a soft look to his features.

The hand on your waist moved and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there.

"You need sleep," his voice was low and raspy. He was whispering as if speaking any louder would break the moment.

"That’s not what I need," you replied just as quietly, not breaking eye contact.

His brow furrowed. "What do ya need, darlin'?"

Words were hard to find and hard to put into sentences. You could’ve said a lot of things. Food, a shower, more blankets, a cup of tea, but the truth was, none of those things would satisfy you.

And the longer Logan's eyes were locked with yours, the more assured you were that what you needed wasn't any of those things.

So, instead of words, you moved your hand to gently grasp the chain of his dog tags. It held the same warmth that was emitting from his skin.

You didn’t know if he knew what you meant or if he understood what you were trying to say.

But the look in his eyes and the way his grip tightened gave you the feeling that he did.

It was silent, and tense. But, it was comfortable, and so, very nice.

You didn’t know if you had the strength to lift your body and kiss him. Or if he had the willpower to.

However, you didn’t need to make the decision. Because when he lifted your hair out of the way and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, his lips just barely hovering over your pulse, you were certain.

So, you did what any other girl would do in that situation.

Your hand tangled itself in his hair, and you pushed his face closer to your neck.

There was a growl, a deep, animalistic growl. One that shook your core from the heat in his voice, and the sound was almost enough to make you moan.

But you were surprised by the feeling of his lips pressing against your neck. You’d imagined with the way he was built, and with his personality, it would be rough and fast. But the way his lips gently caressed your neck, and the way his hands roamed your body made it seem like he wanted to take his time.

His mouth started trailing open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your neck, his hot breath sending good shivers through your body. He sucked and nibbled, making you shiver, and the way his hand moved to caress your waist was gentle.

It was so unexpected, but it was so very welcome.

His lips traveled up your neck until they were just behind your ear, where he placed a small kiss before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Warm enough?"

It was the first thing he had said since your neck began being attacked, and it wasn’t a question that had an answer.

Because, while you were indeed warm, the way his hands were roaming your body and the way his lips were on you was causing an entirely different kind of heat.

And it was obvious that he was trying to get his point across. The way his hips were pressed against yours, and the way his arms were wrapped tightly around you was definitely not helping.

You knew he could smell it, your arousal. And he could most likely hear your racing heartbeat and feel the way your body trembled.

He was waiting for an answer. He wanted an answer.

"Logan," you breathed, your eyes slipping shut and your hands finding his chest. His skin was hot under your touch, and you couldn't help the way you trailed your fingers down his pecs and his abs.

He shook a bit, clearly still not used to your freezing touch, but his grip on you didn't loosen, and neither did the way his body was pressed against yours.

He was hard. Everywhere. His arms were strong, his chest was defined, and his legs were muscular. He was a brick wall, and you couldn't help but admire it.

You couldn't believe how attractive the man was.

Logan Howlett. The guy who was an asshole. The guy who would kill a man with his bare hands. The guy who was working on his temper. The guy who would accidentally pick a fight at the drop of a hat.

The guy who just saved you. The guy who cared about you.

Your hand slid down his stomach, and his muscles contracted under your touch. You were getting closer and closer until you hit the brown border that held up his jeans.

Your hand didn’t stay for long because a hand greeted you, wrapping around your wrist and stopping your movement.

Logan lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his dark eyes stared into yours. There was a warning in his gaze, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Stop," his voice was low and raspy.

Your eyes searched his face, but there was nothing there. No emotion. Just a blank stare. "Why?"

"Don't."

You ignored him and tried to move your hand, but he tightened his grip, making it so you couldn’t move it.

"Logan," you whispered.

"I said stop."

You looked into his eyes and noticed something. His eyes were darker, his pupils were blown, and the look in his gaze was intense.

And it finally clicked.

He was turned on, and he was trying to keep himself in control.

And, you thought about it. If Logan were to lose control, what would happen? What would happen if the man who could slice a man open with his bare hand was in a situation like this, with his hormones raging and his self-control fading?

You didn't think much of it, but when the thought crossed your mind, a rush of arousal surged through you.

You wanted him. You wanted Logan Howlett. And it was a surprise.

He was going to say another word, but your lips captured him, and the hand on your wrist immediately released you.

It was like a switch was flipped. Logan growled into the kiss as you tugged him closer by his hair. The kiss was passionate, and the way his hand slipped under the damp shirt you were wearing was almost too much.

While his one hand was under your shirt, the other was against the bedsheet, his body leaning over you. He was hovering, but his lips never left yours.

Your shirt was gone in an instant, ripped from your body, and tossed to the floor. He paid no mind to the fact that he had ruined a perfectly good shirt, and the only thing he cared about was your bare skin.

Your lips parted, and his tongue darted into your mouth, tasting you. You could hardly keep up, his tongue dominating your mouth and his hands roaming your body.

"Lo," you managed to moan against his lips before his mouth was on yours again.

He didn't reply, but the way his fingers were trailing over the skin of your thighs was answer enough.

It was getting hot, too hot, and Logan knew that.

He pulled away from the kiss, and the string of saliva that connected the two of you broke and landed on your chest. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were dark.

Your hair was messy, and you were still wet. Your body was shaking, and goosebumps were littering your skin.

You were looking up at him, your eyes searching his face. Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling quickly.

He was staring at your lips, and the way they were swollen from the kiss, and his hands were trailing along the expanse of your stomach, before moving back down to the hem of your jeans.

Logan had undone them, and his fingers were playing with the band.

Your eyes didn't leave his face, but you were surprised when he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

He was waiting for something, and when you nodded, the next thing you knew, your pants were gone. The only thing that remained was his jacket, which you still had on from your lake experience.

It felt like a distant memory, one that was fuzzy and far off. It's odd how something as traumatic and horrifying as nearly dying could turn into something as heated and intimate as this.

Logan was watching your face carefully, his hand resting on your thigh, and his eyes were searching your expression. He was waiting for any indication of doubt.

The only thing indicated was desire.

He seemed satisfied with your reaction, and his hand slowly moved further and further up your thigh before the tips of his fingers reached the fabric of your panties.

His thumb was hooked under the band, and he pulled the black fabric aside, moving his other hand to unbutton his jeans.

He pulled the zipper down, and his hand slid into his boxers.

His head fell back with a sigh, his eyes closing as his hand moved along his length.

You watched, entranced, as he pleasured himself. You didn't realize you were biting your lip until his eyes were on yours, his eyebrows furrowed, and his breaths were shaky.

He let go of himself and leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, as he struggled to hold himself together.

He was still waiting, and you couldn't figure out why. Why was he hesitating? Wasn't it obvious that you wanted him?

"Okay, Cowardly Lion, you can do this."

His head tilted to the side, and his nose bumped against yours. His breath fanned over your face, and his hand was gripping the side of the bed.

"Don’t call me that," his voice was gruff.

You grinned and moved your hand to the back of his neck, holding him in place. "Cowardly. Lion."

Logan growled, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through your body. It wasn't scary. Not even close. It was hot and sexy, and it made you want him even more.

He was hovering over you, and his hand was on the side of the bed, his knuckles clenching the sheets. For a second, you believed he’d let his claws out and slice right through the mattress.

But again, only for a second.

He was watching you, his gaze locked on your face. He was staring, and his eyes were dark, and the way he was looking at you was intense.

You didn't say anything.

So, his hand moved.

And his fingers hooked under the band of your underwear, and he slowly, oh, so, slowly, pulled the fabric down.

He tossed the garment somewhere in the room, and his eyes trailed over your body.

He was staring at you, admiring your body, and the way the moonlight shone through the window made it all the better.

Your legs were spread, and you were completely naked. The only thing that was covering you was his leather jacket.

Logan's eyes moved back up your body, and he swallowed. "You’re pretty great when you’re wet."

A smirk made its way onto your lips, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you. "You should see me after I get out of the shower."

He growled, and the hand that was next to your head came up and grasped your chin, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours in an instant.

The kiss was heated, and it was a shock. Not a surprise, though. This was the original thought that went through your head. The way his hands were rough and the way his grip was tight.

This is how you expected him to be. Rough and fast. But this was not that.

This was so much better.

Your teeth clashed, and his tongue fought with yours, his body pushing you further into the bed.

You gasped into his mouth as his hand traveled back down to stroke himself a few more times before he was just outside your entrance.

You couldn't stop the whine that escaped you as his tip nudged against your core before his length started to push in.

His eyes slipped shut, and his hands caught him from falling. The bed creaked, and you could feel him trembling as he took a moment to collect himself.

When he had, there were only two things on your mind as the jolt of pain mixed with pleasure hit you.

One, you couldn't believe Logan had been holding out on you. This was amazing, and you could see yourself getting addicted to the way he made you feel.

And two, it was the way he had his jaw clenched, the way he was breathing, his hips pressed flush against yours, and the way his muscles were flexing.

He looked so good, and it was hard to focus on the fact that he was actually inside of you. His cigarette-stained breath fanned over your face, the way every time he moved slightly faster, he became more vulnerable and less guarded, the back of the throaty moans he made, the way his lips were swollen from the kissing and the biting.

All of it was a big turn-on.

His hands were gripping the bed, and his dog tags were bouncing off of his chest, hitting your skin with a cold metallic sound.

The way his hair hung in his face, and the way his eyes were dark, made him look incredibly sexy.

"Lo," you whimpered, and your nails scraped his shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake.

Of course, by the time he had reacted to the slight pain, they were already gone.

He leaned down, his arms wrapping around your body, and he held you close. He pressed his lips against your neck and sucked the sensitive skin.

It was quiet, except for the sounds of the bed creaking and the gasps and pants that slipped out every now and then. You weren’t very vocal, but that was only because you were more focused on how it felt.

And it felt so good.

It was a lot more enjoyable when it wasn’t painful, and you were more than happy that the pain had subsided and was now replaced with pure ecstasy.

He was big, bigger than you had originally expected. So, he had taken his time.

Well, not really. He had tried to, at least.

Logan had tried to hold out, but the way you had squeezed him and the way you had whimpered when he was halfway in had caused him to lose his grip on reality.

But he had tried to take his time. And that was what counted.

Your hands tangled in his hair and pulled his head closer, making him moan into your mouth.

He was moving faster, and he was losing his mind. Your lips were swollen, and the way your chest was rising and falling was amazing.

He was holding himself up, his arms flexing as his hips moved against yours, and the sound of your name falling from his lips in such a way was a sound you wanted to hear more often.

He was close. You could tell by the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy and the way he was gasping.

But you were, too.

It was the first time, the only time, you had ever experienced such an intense high. And it was a rush.

Your head fell back, and your fingers tightened in his hair as your orgasm ripped through your body. You were shaking, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as the intensity of it all hit you.

Logan followed soon after, his orgasm hitting him just as hard. His was more brutal towards you, though, as he full-on collapsed into your body, his entire weight pressing into you as he came.

It was an experience you didn't think you would ever forget. Especially when he accidentally unleaded his claws and sliced through the mattress.

"Ah, goddamn it," he sighed and slowly pulled out. He was still on top of you, but he had turned his head to the side to see the damage. "I'm not paying for this."

You were breathing heavily, and your hands were tangled in his hair, your body shaking from the aftershock.

He turned his head to look back at you, and his dark eyes studied your face.

You were a mess. You had bite marks along your neck and chest, your lips were swollen, your cheeks were flushed, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Logan's eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were parted. The way his hair was a mess, and the fact that his eyes were darker than usual made him look extremely attractive.

You couldn’t help but notice how completely out of breath he was and all the sweat and the heat radiating off his body.

He was hot, literally.

"You, uh," you swallowed and tried to keep your hands steady. "You want to take a dive in the lake?"

It took a few moments, but eventually your question had registered, and you have never heard this man laugh like he had right now. He completely lost it, and he was laughing.

And it was a deep laugh. One that could make someone feel safe. One that could make anyone fall in love with him.

His laughter died down, and he turned to look at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "I think I'll pass."

"Oh," you breathed and bit your lip. "You don't know what you're missing."

Logan stared at you, and his hand moved from the bed to trail down your stomach. Blood was coating his knuckles from the five-second fight that had taken place when his claws had popped out, but he didn't seem to care.

You were staring at him, and the way his dark eyes were boring into yours was intimidating.

"How about," his hand slid down further, and the tips of his fingers touched your lower abdomen, "I take a dive in the shower with you instead? Can’t drown in the tub."

Your eyebrows were raised, "Am I that fragile that a simple shower will kill me?"

You were obviously joking; that soft banter had been something the two of you had always done, but there was also a hint of curiosity.

He sat up to look at you. His eyes were darker than before, and the way his hands were running along the expanse of your torso was sending shivers down your spine.

"Says the girl who slipped through ice," he leaned down, his arms caging you in, and his forehead was pressed against yours. "You really are—"

Crack.

Call it what you will: fate, destiny, bad timing, but there now, there was no way in hell he’d escape the expensive bill the motel would surely send.

The bed completely gave out.

It had taken a few seconds for it to register, the sudden drop and the loud noise. But, once you had, now it was your turn to laugh.

And boy, did you.

Your laughter filled the room, and your entire body shook. He started to blame it on the production of the bed, of course, but you knew deep down he couldn’t escape the big fat bill the motel owner was going to send.

He even got up to try to find another possible explanation, and as you pulled his jacket closer to cover yourself, you watched him try and fail to find one.

The smile never left your face, and when he turned to look at you, his dark eyes were studying your expression.

"You think this is funny?"

"Very," you grinned and leaned up on your elbows. "How about we go out for dinner tomorrow night, Edward?"

Logan's eyebrow raised, and he stared at you. You could see the visible disappointment on his face, and it was amusing.

"Alright, come on," he took hold of your arms, and pulled you out of the bed, jacket and all.

"Where are we going?" you asked and let him lead you out of the room. "The shower?"

"Yeah," he nodded, and led you into the bathroom, "I think it's time I teach you how to swim."

You grinned, "We have no hot water, remember?"

"Then, I’ll just have to make sure you don't get cold, won’t I?"

[enreveriee]

♫︎ FROM SCREENS TO SCENES | L.HS

IN WHICH: you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists. GENRE: fluff + crack , ᨓ , WARNING(S): pet names, kissing, cuddling, too much fluff, struggles of bringing online relationship offline, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything ┊ WORD COUNT: 12k masterlist

[RIRI’S NOTE ┈─★ I was too proud when I started to write but then towards the end I just wanted to hide because of embarrassment. I promise I'm gonna make a horror or supernatural fic for halloween since I feel like fluff is driving me crazy now TT]

taglist: @chexnluv , @iconchae, @wonwonpuffs , @sol3chu , @firstclassjaylee , @wensurr , @hoshieee , @academiq

YOU SAT CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, your phone resting comfortably in your hands, its soft glow reflecting off your smiling face. You could feel your cheeks warming as a small giggle escaped your lips, your heart fluttering as you stared down at the message thread from him. Even after two years of dating online, Heeseung still had this inexplicable effect on you—his words always managing to stir that giddy feeling in your chest. You tapped out a reply quickly, the excitement of the conversation making your fingers fly over the screen.

Just as you hit send, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, interrupting your blissful bubble. You quickly locked your phone and dropped it onto your lap, trying to appear casual, but you already knew it was too late.

“Still texting your hubby?” Semi’s voice called out from across the room, her teasing tone unmistakable. You glanced up just in time to see her strolling over with a mischievous grin, arms swinging at her sides. She plopped down next to you on the couch without hesitation, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it close to her chest. The way she eyed you was almost predatory—she had caught you red-handed, and she knew it.

Before you could even muster a response, Heesoo appeared right behind her, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyes gleaming with equal amusement. “Hubby, huh?” she chimed in, her voice smooth and knowing, as if the two had conspired together. She tilted her head, her brow quirking up as she let the word roll off her tongue like it was some sort of inside joke.

You could feel your face heat up instantly, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up in your chest as they watched you squirm. “He’s not my hubby,” you muttered, trying and failing to sound nonchalant, as if their teasing wasn’t getting to you. You fumbled to close your phone, clutching it tightly in your hands as if it could shield you from the embarrassment. The more you tried to act casual, the more you felt your nerves betray you—your fingers gripping the phone a little too tightly, your posture too stiff.

Semi shot you a side glance, raising her brows as if she didn’t believe a single word you just said. “Uh-huh, sure,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. Her lips quirked up into a sly smile as she nudged your arm, causing you to shift uncomfortably on the couch.

“Soon-to-be, then,” Heesoo added with a smirk, her voice dripping with playful confidence as she sauntered over. She stood in front of you now, hands resting casually on her hips, eyes narrowed like she was about to spill a secret you hadn’t even realized you were keeping.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “Oh, shut up,” you mumbled under your breath, sinking deeper into the cushions as if that could somehow protect you from their relentless teasing. Your words might have sounded dismissive, but the way your lips twitched at the corners betrayed the smile you were holding back.

They weren’t wrong, after all. You had been dating Heeseung for two years now—two years of late-night texts, playful banter, and heart-fluttering moments that made you feel like a teenager all over again. And yet, as much as you adored him, there was still that small detail you couldn’t ignore: you hadn’t met him in person yet. You had never even seen a clear picture of him, not beyond a couple of blurry selfies he’d sent over the years. Sure, they looked good—he looked good—but there was always that tiny, nagging thought in the back of your mind.

“Look at her,” Semi cooed, turning her head towards Heesoo as if to share the victory of seeing you squirm. “She’s blushing.”

You scoffed, running a hand over your face to hide the growing warmth in your cheeks. “I am not,” you protested, knowing full well that you were. The way they both stared at you, amused and smug, only made it worse.

Heesoo, always the bold one, plopped herself on the coffee table directly in front of you, folding her legs beneath her as she leaned forward with that signature teasing smirk. “What’s it gonna take for you to finally meet him, huh?” she asked, voice light but laced with curiosity. “You’ve been together for two years now. Doesn’t it feel like it’s time?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling their gazes burn into you as you struggled to come up with a decent excuse. “I mean, we’ve talked about it…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to sound convincing. Truth be told, the idea of meeting him did excite you, but it also made your stomach twist with nerves. What if he wasn’t what you expected? What if he didn’t like you in person? Those doubts, however small, had kept you from pushing the issue.

“Oh, please,” Semi cut in with a roll of her eyes, reaching over to lightly shove your shoulder. “If you’re nervous about it, just admit it. We all know you’re totally whipped for him.”

You sighed, letting your head fall back against the couch as you stared up at the ceiling, their laughter filling the room. “Fine,” you groaned, giving in to their teasing. “Maybe I’m a little nervous, okay?”

“A little?” Semi echoed, her tone full of playful disbelief. “Girl, you’re terrified.”

Heesoo grinned, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice softening just a little, “When you two finally meet, it’s gonna be perfect. And when it happens, we better be the first ones to know, got it?”

You smiled, your heart warming at their relentless support, even if it was wrapped in teasing. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll be the first to know.”

Semi’s gaze was sharp, fixated on you as if she was about to make the most important suggestion of the century. Her brow arched, curiosity and a hint of determination flashing in her eyes. “By the way,” she began, her voice deceptively casual but filled with the weight of her endless curiosity, “why don’t you just ask him to meet up already?”

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, chin propped up by her hands, fully expecting a detailed answer. Semi wasn’t just invested in your relationship with Heeseung—no, she was very, very, very invested. In fact, ever since you mentioned Heeseung, she’d turned into your personal dating detective, always nudging you with questions and advice as if it were her own love life on the line.

You let out a small laugh, nervously shifting under her scrutiny. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve thought about it,” you mumbled, eyes darting down to your phone, the little weight of doubt creeping up on you.

Heesoo, who had been lazily sprawled out on the opposite couch, suddenly let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, her hand dramatically flopping onto her forehead like a character straight out of a soap opera. “Exactly,” she muttered, rolling her eyes for extra effect. “You're not even part of the #hatemenclub anymore, so why not?” Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm, and she shot you a sideways glance, clearly enjoying every second of her role in this drama.

The #hatemenclub. A relic from your high school days—the sacred pact you three made to never, ever fall into the trap of romance. It had been a joking sort of vow, born out of teenage cynicism and a few too many bad rom-coms. And yet, somehow, it stuck. Or at least, it stuck for them.

You, however, had found a loophole: Heeseung. The moment you told them about him, they had teased you endlessly, threatening to kick you out of the “club,” but that day never came. It became more of a running joke now, how you were the only one who had managed to “break the rules” without suffering the consequences.

“I’m still in the club, though,” you tried to defend, your voice soft as you fidgeted with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “If we, uh, exclude Heeseung, I mean.”

Semi let out a loud snort, barely managing to stifle her laughter as she nudged you with her elbow. “Yeah, okay, if we exclude Heeseung,” she mimicked, raising her hands in air quotes before leaning back with a knowing smirk. “You’re so still in the club.”

Heesoo rolled her eyes again, this time in a way that felt almost second nature to her. She sat up straighter, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she gave you the most unimpressed look. “Oh, c’mon,” she said, her voice laced with mock exasperation. “You can’t possibly still think you’re in the #hatemenclub after dating a guy for two years.”

You sighed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as the two of them continued their relentless teasing. “I’m serious! I’ll—” you paused, feeling the weight of their teasing eyes on you, “I’ll try. I just… I need to ask him first.”

There was a nervous edge to your voice, and you knew they both picked up on it instantly. Your fingers twirled the fabric of your blanket between them, your mind racing with the thought of actually asking Heeseung to meet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet him—it was that, despite everything, the idea still made your stomach flip in a thousand knots.

Meeting him felt like the culmination of two years of virtual feelings—two years of inside jokes, late-night conversations, and building something you couldn’t quite explain. What if reality didn’t match the fantasy?

Semi’s eyes softened for a moment as she watched your nervous fidgeting, though her playful smirk never fully disappeared. “You’ve got this,” she said, her tone light but encouraging, as if this was some grand mission you had to complete. “Just ask him! What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glanced up at her, catching the sparkle of sincerity hidden beneath her teasing. It was rare for Semi to offer advice without an accompanying joke, and you appreciated it more than you’d ever admit out loud.

Heesoo, meanwhile, wasn’t about to let up that easily. She scooted closer, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her face now mere inches from yours. “Exactly,” she added, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “And when he says yes—and we all know he will—we get to hear all the juicy details first. Don’t even think about hiding anything.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head as you playfully shoved her away. “I’m not hiding anything!” you protested, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

“Mm-hmm,” Heesoo hummed, raising an eyebrow as if to say she didn’t quite believe you. “We’ll see about that.”

The banter continued, filling the room with laughter and lighthearted teasing as you tried, and failed, to convince them you were still a proud member of the #hatemenclub. But deep down, as you glanced at your phone and reread Heeseung’s latest message, the butterflies stirred again. Maybe it was time to take that next step. Maybe… just maybe, they were right.

For now, you could enjoy the moment—surrounded by the warmth of your best friends and the soft glow of your phone, where Heeseung’s name sat waiting.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME, and your heart was racing with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. You had spent hours preparing, trying to make sure you looked as pretty as possible. Not too much makeup, but just enough to give you a soft, girly look. Your outfit was carefully chosen, a delicate dress that gave off casual yet charming vibes. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you also didn’t want to underwhelm, either.

As you approached the small restaurant you had both agreed on, you paused outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. The place was cozy, not too fancy, which was perfect since you didn’t want to feel out of place. The fact that it wasn’t crowded was a relief, too—no need for unnecessary pressure.

You opened your phone, fingers shaking slightly as you typed out the message, “Baby, I arrived. Where are you?”

Not even a minute later, the reply popped up on your screen, and you smiled. He’s here.

“I’m wearing a blue shirt, it’s the seat in the corner.”

Your heart did a little flip as you looked around the restaurant, scanning for that blue shirt. And then you saw him, sitting by himself in the far corner of the room, casually leaning back in his chair, glancing at his phone. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you approached, trying to calm the butterflies swirling in your stomach. But something felt off as you got closer. His face—it didn’t quite match the picture.

Sure, the picture he sent had been blurry, but this guy… he looked different. More handsome, yes, but different. You hesitated, standing awkwardly near the table for a second, your mind spinning with doubts. Was this really him?

“Umm... you’re Heeseung, right?” you asked, your voice sounding more timid than you’d hoped. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the feeling gnawed at you.

The guy glanced up from his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, you must be Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. There was no hint of hesitation in his tone, as if he hadn’t noticed your uncertainty at all.

You felt a small pit of confusion in your stomach. The voice matched. The name matched. But his face... why did he look so different from what you imagined? You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been catfished—by a ridiculously handsome guy, no less. It didn’t make sense, but the thought was there, lurking in the back of your mind.

You opened your mouth to ask about the photo, to try and figure out the discrepancy, but he cut you off before you could even get the words out. “Can we order first?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes flickering toward the menu on the table.

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden shift in conversation. “Uhh… sure,” you muttered, feeling slightly deflated. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to put the awkwardness on hold, but the unease in your chest lingered. He hadn’t even addressed the fact that he looked so different from the picture. Why was he avoiding it?

You glanced down at the menu, but your mind wasn’t really on food. Instead, your eyes kept flickering back to him. His messy hair, styled just enough to look effortlessly good, caught your attention. His features were sharp, his jawline defined. He had this boyish charm about him that made you want to melt right there in the chair.

He’s so much more handsome in person, you thought to yourself, almost feeling embarrassed at the realization. But that made everything more confusing. Why wouldn’t he just send a proper picture? It didn’t add up.

Heeseung glanced up from his own menu, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, feeling a flush of heat rush to your cheeks. It was like being thrown back into the early days of your online relationship, back when every text from him made your heart race. Except now, you were sitting across from him, and it felt… real.

Too real.

But the unease was still there. You fiddled with the edge of the napkin in your lap, trying to figure out how to ask the question without sounding paranoid. Your mind raced through a dozen different possibilities. Old photo? Bad camera quality?

“So... about that picture you sent,” you finally managed to say, your voice soft, testing the waters. You lifted your gaze to meet his again, trying to keep your expression neutral.

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, but before you could get any further, he leaned back in his chair with a casual smile. “Yeah, I know, the picture wasn’t the best,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in that effortless way guys always do. “I’m not great with selfies.”

The way he said it made you pause. He didn’t seem fazed at all by your question, almost as if he expected it. His easygoing demeanor threw you off, and for a moment, you felt silly for even doubting him. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Ahh,” you nodded slowly, trying to hide the relief creeping in. “I guess that makes sense.”

He gave you a smile, and suddenly, the awkwardness started to melt away. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but the butterflies in your stomach shifted from nervous to something lighter. You glanced down at the menu again, pretending to be interested in the food, but your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of him—this real, handsome Heeseung sitting in front of you.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him. His hair, the way it fell just slightly over his forehead, his relaxed posture, the way his fingers tapped idly against the table. You felt a tiny smile tug at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how you imagined it, but something about this moment—awkward and all—felt right.

And the butterflies? Well, they were still there. But now, they were dancing a little differently.

As you stared down at the menu, the words began to blur together. The pressure of the moment was getting to you, and suddenly, nothing made sense. You hadn’t expected to freeze like this—after all, how hard could it be to choose something off a menu? But the truth was, this was your first time at the restaurant, and the foreign names of the dishes only added to your mounting anxiety.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as the waiter approached your table, notepad in hand. Your heart began to race, and the butterflies, which had been fluttering harmlessly before, now felt like a storm of nerves. What if I order the wrong thing? What if he thinks I’m weird?

Just as you were about to blurt out something—anything—your panic was cut short by the gentle sensation of a hand grasping yours. You blinked in surprise, eyes widening as you looked up from the menu to see Heeseung’s hand resting over yours on the table, his fingers curling lightly around yours. The warmth of his touch sent a calming wave through you, as if he could feel your nervousness and knew exactly how to soothe it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in the most subtle, comforting way. You couldn’t help but feel your pulse slow down just a little, the chaos inside you quieting as he gave you a small, understanding smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ve got you.

He let out a soft sigh, as if he knew this was overwhelming for you, and then, without skipping a beat, he turned to the waiter. “We’ll have the grilled salmon for her,” he said confidently, his tone polite but decisive. “And I’ll take the steak, medium rare, please.”

The way he ordered without hesitation, without even needing to ask what you wanted, left you absolutely stunned. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a second, your mind racing to catch up. It took a moment for it to sink in—he had remembered. He had remembered what you liked, something you had mentioned casually during one of your countless late-night conversations online. Something so small, so fleeting, and yet, here he was, recalling it with such ease as if it had always been on his mind.

As the waiter walked away, you were left speechless, the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults now for an entirely different reason. You hadn’t just lucked out with a handsome guy—you had hit the jackpot.

Sitting across from you was the same Heeseung you’d spent the last two years talking to, laughing with, dreaming about. Only now, he was real, and somehow, better than you had imagined. The boy you’d only known through texts and blurry pictures was suddenly flesh and blood, and he was everything—handsome, cute, charming, thoughtful—and all yours.

“Did you really just… remember that?” you asked softly, still a bit in awe, your hand still tingling from his touch. You tried to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it was impossible. The butterflies had taken over now, and all you could feel was that giddy, almost dizzying sense of affection.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging slightly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Of course. It’s not like you ever shut up about how much you love salmon,” he teased, his voice light and playful. He smirked a little, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d surprised you.

You felt a laugh bubble up from your chest, shaking your head at how effortlessly he put you at ease. “Well… maybe I mentioned it once or twice,” you admitted, a playful edge creeping into your voice.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside of your little bubble seemed to disappear. The way he was looking at you—like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had—made your heart race all over again. It was as if everything you had built over the last two years was now culminating in this one perfect evening.

Before you could lose yourself entirely in the moment, the waiter reappeared, placing your plates down in front of you. The delicious aroma of the food filled the air, but your attention was still on Heeseung. Even as the waiter left, you barely glanced at your food, too caught up in the way he smiled at you across the table.

He picked up his fork, but before he dug into his steak, he gave you a knowing look. “You’re still staring at me,” he pointed out with a chuckle, his voice dripping with that teasing affection that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, flustered, quickly picking up your own fork to hide the fact that, yes, you had been completely lost in thought. “I’m not staring!” you protested, though the blush on your cheeks probably gave you away. You poked at your salmon, trying to focus, but your thoughts were still a mess of emotions—excitement, disbelief, and that growing sense of affection that felt even stronger now that he was here, in front of you.

Heeseung laughed softly, shaking his head. “Sure, sure,” he said, clearly not believing you. “But, you know, I kind of like it.” He shot you a wink, and just like that, the butterflies were back in full force, making your heart do flips all over again.

THE DOOR TO YOUR SHARED ROOM HADN'T EVEN FULLY CLOSED BEHIND YOU WHEN, Semi popped out from behind her desk like a rabbit springing from its burrow. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her whole body practically vibrating with curiosity. You should’ve expected it—Semi was never one to wait for gossip, especially when it concerned something as juicy as your first offline date with Heeseung.

“So, so, so—how did it go?” she asked, her voice pitched high with enthusiasm as she bounced on her toes. It was like she’d been holding in all her questions for hours, just waiting for you to walk through that door. You hadn’t even had a chance to put your bag down before she was in front of you, blocking your path, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a sigh, you dropped onto your bed, letting the soft mattress swallow you up for a second. “We talked and ate,” you muttered, trying to play it cool. The truth was, the date had left your heart in shambles, but you weren’t ready to share every detail just yet. You needed a moment to process it all, to figure out how you felt now that the boy you’d been dating for two years online had finally become more than just a name on your phone.

Semi, however, wasn’t about to let you off that easily. She let out an exaggerated scoff, folding her arms over her chest as she stared down at you, her brows raised in disbelief. “Only that? No kisses? No hugs? Nothing?” Her tone was mockingly disappointed, and she threw her hands up in the air as if you had committed the gravest sin by not locking lips with him. “I expected more from you, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was our first time meeting offline,” you said, your voice defensive as you sat up slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Give me a break. We needed to, you know, talk like normal people first.”

But Semi wasn’t buying it. She huffed, plopping down beside you on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, but you’ve literally been dating for two years,” she stressed, leaning in closer with that signature mischievous grin of hers. “You’d think you two would’ve been all over each other by now!”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at her words. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but still—it was overwhelming enough to finally see Heeseung in person, to hear his voice without the filter of a screen between you. The thought of doing anything more intimate, in public no less, felt like it would’ve sent your nervous system into a complete shutdown.

“Heeseung's not… he’s not like that,” you muttered, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to deflect. But Semi, ever persistent, was already on to her next question.

“So, was he cute though?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows with a teasing smile. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she poked your arm, clearly enjoying how flustered you were becoming. She knew you too well—knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You cleared your throat, trying to muster up a calm, composed response. “He looked…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words just how ridiculously handsome he had been. The way his messy hair framed his face, the effortless confidence in the way he carried himself, the warmth in his eyes that had made your heart race all over again—it was almost too much to describe.

But before you could finish, Semi leaned in even closer, practically vibrating with excitement. “He looked what?” she teased, her voice dragging out the question. “Handsome? Gorgeous? Like a total heartthrob?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, fine!” you finally relented, your voice muffled through your palms. “He’s really handsome, okay? Like… ridiculously handsome. But—” You lifted your head to glare playfully at her. “Don’t make me sound like I’m simping for him.”

Semi let out a loud, satisfied laugh, clapping her hands together as if she had won some unspoken game. “Oh my God,” she giggled, leaning back onto her elbows with a grin so wide it practically lit up the room. “You totally are simping for him! Admit it, Y/N!”

You felt a flood of butterflies at her words. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were simping a little. But could you really blame yourself? You’d spent two years falling for Heeseung’s charm through a screen, and now that you’d finally met him in person, it felt like all of those feelings were amplified tenfold.

Still, you weren’t about to let Semi get the last word. With a playful roll of your eyes, you grabbed one of your pillows and lightly swatted her with it. “Alright, alright, enough!” you said, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Yes, he’s cute. Yes, I like him. Happy now?”

Semi dodged the pillow with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she stood up from the bed and made her way back to her desk. “Oh, I’m more than happy,” she said, smirking as she glanced over her shoulder at you. “But the real question is—when are you gonna kiss him?”

Your eyes widened, and you immediately threw the pillow at her again, missing by a mile. “Semi!”

She cackled, her laughter filling the room as you both dissolved into fits of giggles. And even as you buried your face in your hands again, cheeks burning with embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, a little more excited about what was to come.

But then, your phone buzzed in your hand. The screen lit up with Heeseung’s name, and immediately, a surge of excitement and nervousness hit you like a wave. Your heart skipped a beat, but then you froze. Semi was still there, and you knew her well enough to know that she would pounce on any opportunity to tease you mercilessly if she saw Heeseung’s name on your phone.

You glanced at her, quickly assessing your options. The playful glint in her eyes already hinted that she was curious. There was no way you'd have a peaceful conversation with him if she was around.

With a sigh, you shot her a glance. “I’ll go take this call,” you said, casually waving your phone as if it were nothing. “It must be a job offer.”

The lie came out so smoothly that even you were shocked by how easily it slipped off your tongue. Semi didn’t question it either, though she narrowed her eyes suspiciously for a second before shrugging and turning her attention back to her phone.

Relieved, you swiftly exited the room, pulling the door behind you as quietly as possible to ensure she wouldn’t follow. Once out of the room, you made your way down the hallway, trying to find a quiet spot where you could talk to him in peace. With one last look over your shoulder to confirm you weren’t being spied on, you finally pressed the phone to your ear.

“H-hello?” you stammered slightly, your voice a bit softer than usual. The weight of knowing what he looked like in person now—it made this whole conversation feel different, heavier, in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s familiar voice greeted you from the other end, and the sound immediately sent a rush of warmth through your chest. “You home?”

You hesitated for a second, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “J-just reached,” you finally responded, trying to keep your voice steady, though the nervousness crept into your tone. Now that you knew what he looked like—his real face, the way his smile tugged at the corners of his lips—it was harder to keep your composure.

There was a brief pause on the other end. “What about you?” you asked, attempting to regain some control over your fluttering heart.

“I reached too,” he said simply, though the awkwardness in his voice was undeniable. It wasn’t the same as it had been before you’d met him. Something had shifted. Maybe this was how online couples felt after meeting for the first time—unsure of how to navigate the new dynamic, the new reality of knowing the person behind the screen in a way you hadn’t before.

You leaned against the cool wall in the hallway, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out what to say next. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions—Did you have fun? Did I make a good impression? Will we meet again? But none of those questions made it past your lips.

Instead, you both lingered in the silence, the awkwardness palpable but not entirely uncomfortable. It was almost endearing in a way, knowing that you both felt the same jittery nerves after your first offline date.

“So, um… are we gonna keep doing this?” you finally asked, your voice quiet, but the question was bold enough to fill the space between you. “Meeting up offline, I mean?”

You could almost hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “I hope so,” he said, his tone soft but filled with sincerity. “I liked seeing you in person.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled to yourself, feeling the butterflies you thought had calmed down stir up again. The simple statement carried so much more weight now that you had shared a meal together, exchanged shy glances, and actually existed in the same space, side by side.

“Me too,” you whispered, almost as if admitting it out loud would somehow make the moment more real. And in that moment, as awkward as it was, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new—something that stretched beyond the screen, into the real world where you both could truly be together.

The silence returned, but this time, it was softer, more comfortable, as if the awkwardness had melted away, leaving behind a warmth that lingered long after the call would end.

“I guess… I’ll talk to you later?” you said after a beat, your voice lighter now, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But not too much later, okay?”

You laughed softly, feeling the last bit of tension slip away. “Not too much later,” you promised, before finally hanging up, the warmth of his voice still lingering in your chest as you walked back to your room.

The moment you stepped back into the room, Semi was there, perched on her bed, looking like she had been waiting for this exact moment. Her arms were crossed, and that mischievous grin was unmistakable—she wasn’t buying your ‘job offer’ story for a second.

“So…” she dragged the word out, her eyes narrowing playfully as you tried your best to keep a straight face. “Was that really a job offer?”

You sighed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, sure, let's call it that," you muttered, slipping your phone into your pocket as you moved towards your bed, hoping she'd let it go. But you knew better—Semi was never one to back off when there was potential for gossip, especially when it involved your love life.

She let out a dramatic scoff. “Come on, you can’t fool me. You were talking to Heeseung, weren’t you?” She jumped up from her bed, practically bouncing over to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Tell me everything—what did he say? Did he ask to meet up again? Were you blushing the entire time like you are now?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as you felt the heat in your cheeks deepen. “It wasn’t anything special, okay?” you mumbled through your hands, though you knew your attempt to downplay the call wouldn’t work. “We just… talked about getting home, that’s all.”

Semi was relentless, of course. “Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, pulling your hands away from your face so she could get a proper look at you. “You’re totally hiding something. I can see it! You’ve got that weird ‘I just talked to my crush’ glow. Did he say something cute? Oh my god, he did, didn’t he?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily she read you, and finally, you gave in, sitting down on your bed with a defeated sigh. “Fine, fine. He was sweet, okay? It was just a normal conversation, but it felt… I don’t know. Different now, I guess?”

Semi raised an eyebrow, sitting beside you with her full attention. “Different how?” she asked, her voice softer now, less teasing and more curious.

“Well,” you began, thinking back to the way Heeseung’s voice had sounded over the phone, a mix of awkwardness and warmth. “It’s just… after seeing him in person, everything feels a little more real, you know? Like, all this time we’ve been talking online, but now it’s not just a screen between us anymore. I’ve actually met him, and it’s… weird but in a good way?”

Semi grinned. “So, you’re saying you’re falling even harder for him now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I mean, he’s really cute in person,” you admitted, your heart fluttering just at the thought of how Heeseung had looked when you met. “And he remembered what I liked to eat, which was unexpected and kind of… sweet.”

Semi gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she were swooning. “He remembered your favorite food? Oh, girl, you’ve hit the jackpot!” She nudged you playfully, her excitement infectious. “What’s next, huh? When’s your next date? Are we already planning the wedding?”

You laughed, shoving her lightly. “Calm down! We haven’t even planned a second date yet.”

“But you will,” she said, her grin widening as if she were already planning everything out in her head. “I mean, how could you not? You’ve been talking to this guy for two years, and now that you’ve met in person, the sparks are basically flying!”

You blushed again, but this time, it wasn’t just because of the teasing. Semi wasn’t wrong. Something had shifted, and the idea of seeing Heeseung again now that you’d met face-to-face made your heart race in the best way possible.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said softly, feeling a bit shy as you thought about it. “I guess we’ll see what happens. But yeah… I think I’d like to see him again.”

Semi squealed, throwing her arms around you in a sudden hug. “Yay! I’m so happy for you! My best friend is getting married!”

“Stop!” you protested, laughing as you wriggled out of her embrace. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” she echoed, wagging her eyebrows at you. “But soon, I bet.”

YOU STOOD AT THE ENTRANCE OF HEESEUNG'S APARTMENT, clutching the bouquet of flowers nervously. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and a million thoughts rushed through your head. Was this really a good idea? Going to a guy’s place you had only met offline once? What if he turned out to be… well, something out of a true crime story? Your mind raced with irrational fears, imagining worst-case scenarios, but then you shook your head.

No, it’s Heeseung, you reminded yourself. The same guy you’d been talking to for two years. The guy who remembered your favorite food and texted you goodnight religiously. You weren’t going to let a silly rush of nerves ruin this. Besides, wasn’t this the next step? Taking things from the screen to real life?

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button for his apartment number. A small buzz rang through, followed by a few agonizing moments of silence until you heard footsteps approaching from the other side. When the door finally swung open, you were greeted with the sight of Heeseung, looking as relaxed as ever. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts, the definition of casual, but somehow he still looked like he had stepped straight out of a magazine photoshoot.

You blinked for a second, momentarily stunned. When did you become such a simp?

“Come in, please,” Heeseung’s voice broke through your thoughts. His smile was warm and welcoming, and before you could even process what was happening, he was taking the bouquet from your hands.

“Crap—wait, I mean—this is for you!” you stammered, awkwardly snatching the flowers back only to hand them to him again. The exchange was so clumsy that you both burst into laughter, the tension easing ever so slightly.

"You really didn’t have to," he said softly, holding the flowers as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

“I did have to,” you insisted, your voice sheepish. “It’s my first time here. Showing up empty-handed just felt… wrong.”

Heeseung chuckled at your seriousness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned down and pinched your cheeks lightly. “You sound just like you do online,” he teased, flashing that signature smile that made your heart race.

“Hey, quit it,” you protested weakly, swatting his hand away, but the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. You were still getting used to seeing him in person, but that didn’t stop the familiar warmth from spreading through your chest at his touch.

The two of you stood there, just outside his apartment, for what felt like longer than necessary. It wasn’t until Heeseung cleared his throat that you realized you were still blocking the doorway.

“Right, shoes off,” you mumbled to yourself, quickly stepping out of your sneakers as you followed him inside. His apartment was small but cozy, with a lived-in feel that made you instantly relax. You noticed a few potted plants by the window, a couple of books scattered across the coffee table, and a faint scent of something familiar—ramen?—lingering in the air.

You perched yourself on his couch, feeling a little too aware of your movements as you sat down. The cushions were soft, and the space felt intimate. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to focus on anything but your own nerves. From the corner of your eye, you could see Heeseung moving about in the kitchen, preparing something.

After a few minutes, he returned with two steaming bowls of ramen, setting them down on the table in front of you. "Sorry, I didn’t have time to prepare anything fancy,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Hope this is okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest unraveling at how normal it all felt. “Are you kidding? This is perfect,” you reassured him, reaching for the chopsticks. “Nothing beats instant ramen, especially when you’re too lazy to cook.”

Heeseung laughed along with you, sitting down next to you on the couch. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. It was nice. Comfortable. Almost like the two of you had done this a hundred times before.

He turned on a movie—some romantic comedy you’d both agreed on—and as the opening credits rolled, you found yourself stealing glances at him. The way he absentmindedly blew on his ramen before taking a bite, his brow furrowed in concentration like it was the most important task in the world. He was so focused, so natural, and it made you smile without even realizing it.

But when you dared to look over again, you caught him doing the same—his eyes already on you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, chopsticks hovering in mid-air, before quickly looking away, your cheeks burning.

You could hear him chuckle softly beside you, and that only made you blush harder. It was awkward, but in the most endearing way. You were both adjusting to this new reality, trying to navigate the uncharted waters of an offline relationship.

The movie played in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. The real entertainment was the silent communication happening between the two of you—the subtle glances, the shy smiles, the way your knees brushed against each other accidentally, and how neither of you moved away afterward.

You took another bite of ramen, trying to focus on the noodles instead of the fluttering in your stomach, but it was impossible to ignore how close Heeseung was. Every time he shifted slightly or laughed at something in the movie, your heart skipped a beat.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself glancing at him again—only this time, you caught him looking at you too. This time, instead of looking away, you both just… stayed like that. His eyes softened, and for a brief moment, the world outside of this small, cozy apartment disappeared.

It was just you and him, sharing an awkward, silly, but undeniably romantic second date in the simplest way possible. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this content, this happy. And as Heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, you couldn’t help but think that this—this quiet, unspoken connection—was worth every bit of awkwardness.

Maybe this offline thing wasn’t so bad after all.

But then you were proven wrong yet again as a sharp sting of the hot ramen hitting your skin made you gasp as you shot up from your seat, dropping the cup back onto the table. “Ow…” you winced, instinctively pulling at your shirt where the soup had splashed. The yellow-ish broth stained your top instantly, spreading in a not-so-fashionable blotch across your chest. Your heart sank.

Before you could even process the situation, Heeseung had already grabbed a glass of water from the table and, in a flash, poured it over the stained area, dousing you in the process.

You froze, eyes wide in disbelief as the cold water seeped through your shirt. “What… what are you doing?” you squeaked, half laughing, half mortified.

“I—I thought it would help cool it down!" Heeseung stammered, his eyes wide with genuine panic, clearly unsure if he'd done the right thing. “Are you okay? Did it burn you badly?”

You blinked a few times, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. The date had gone from mildly awkward to full-blown disaster in a matter of seconds. "I’m fine... just soaked." You looked down at the mess of ramen and water now pooled on the floor and clinging to your ruined shirt. Embarrassment surged through you like a wave.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled, your voice small as you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning.

Heeseung, however, didn’t seem fazed at all by the chaos. In fact, a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t be. It’s not your fault. It happens. We’re good.”

You bit your lip, still feeling like a complete klutz. “But... I ruined the date.”

Heeseung stepped closer, gently placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “Hey, it’s just ramen. I’m not mad. Accidents happen. Besides," he added, his lips curling into a playful smile, "it’s kinda memorable, don’t you think?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but the tight knot of embarrassment in your stomach refused to ease. “Yeah, memorable as in me looking like a complete mess.”

His eyes softened as he squeezed your hand. “You don’t look like a mess. But… you should probably change. It must be super uncomfortable.” He winced, eyeing your soaked shirt.

You glanced down at your shirt, the bright orange stain glaring back at you, and let out a resigned sigh. “Yeah… this isn't exactly ideal.”

“Wait here. I’ll grab you something,” Heeseung said before quickly heading toward his bedroom. He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around, and you stood awkwardly, trying not to feel like a complete fool. The entire scene played in your head on repeat. Could this date have gone any worse? First, the awkwardness of meeting offline, now this?

Heeseung returned, holding out a neatly folded oversized t-shirt. “Here, it might be a little big, but it’ll be more comfortable than a wet, ramen-soaked top.”

You hesitated, looking between him and the shirt. It felt weird to wear his clothes, but then again, what choice did you have? You took it from him with a shy smile. “Thanks…”

“Bathroom’s that way,” he gestured toward the hallway, scratching the back of his neck. “Take your time.”

You nodded and walked toward the bathroom, feeling a bit self-conscious as you clutched the t-shirt to your chest. Once inside, you peeled off your wet shirt, the smell of ramen clinging to the fabric. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment. How had you managed to turn such a simple date into a complete disaster?

Pulling Heeseung’s oversized t-shirt over your head, you were surprised at how soft and comfortable it was. It smelled faintly like him—clean and warm, with a hint of cologne. You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your chest at the thought of wearing his clothes. It was oddly intimate.

You took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the living room where Heeseung was waiting. As soon as he saw you, his eyes widened, and a deep blush crept up his neck to his cheeks.

“What? Is it bad?” you asked, feeling your face heat up under his gaze.

Heeseung shook his head quickly, though he seemed a little lost for words. “No, no... you look... you look really cute,” he mumbled, his voice dropping a notch as he rubbed the back of his neck again. The sight of you in his oversized t-shirt had clearly caught him off guard.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. “Oh…” was all you managed to say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something else—something warm that spread from your chest to your cheeks.

“Sorry, I mean, I didn’t expect—uh—anyway, you’re good, right?” Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject to save both of you from further awkwardness.

You nodded, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt. “Yeah, this is… way better, thank you.” You paused, biting your lip before adding, “Sorry again for ruining the date.”

Heeseung shook his head, stepping closer to you, his expression soft. “Y/N, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s just ramen, seriously. Besides…” He smiled, his voice growing softer, “I kind of like this. It feels real. I mean, we’ve been talking for two years, but this... this is different. It’s nice.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and suddenly, the awkwardness of the situation didn’t feel so bad anymore. You met his eyes, feeling a warmth settle between the two of you. Maybe this date wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It was messy, and awkward, and human.

And somehow, that made it feel right.

“Okay,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.”

Heeseung grinned, his dimple showing as he teased, “Besides, you still owe me another date. One without any ramen casualties.”

You laughed, feeling the tension lift. “Deal. But next time, no ramen.”

“Deal,” he repeated, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at you in his t-shirt. “But you might have to keep that shirt. It looks too good on you.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, the embarrassment was replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“I should leave,” you muttered, letting out a heavy sigh as the reality of the night settled in.

“Already?” Heeseung asked, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. The look on his face tugged at your heart, a mix of longing and vulnerability that made it hard to stand your ground.

“It’s getting late,” you said softly, though the truth was that you didn’t want to leave—not yet. The air between you was charged, electric with the unspoken feelings that had been simmering just beneath the surface. You hesitated at the door, your hand resting on the knob, knowing this moment was slipping away.

But just as you were about to step outside, you felt Heeseung’s warm hand gently but firmly grasp your wrist, pulling you back into the cozy space of his apartment. Your back hit the wall softly, and the breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, surprise etched on your features.

“W-what are you…?” you stammered, your heart racing.

His expression mirrored your own, a blend of nervousness and determination. “Can we—can we kiss before you leave? It’s okay if you refuse, after all, we’ve just…”

His words faded as you nodded, the fluttering of your heart drowning out any hesitation. The tension between you felt palpable, hanging in the air like a fragile bubble ready to burst. He didn’t need another invitation; he was leaning closer, and in an instant, your lips met.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, cradling you as he kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you leaned into him, surrendering to the moment.

It was everything you had dreamt of—sweet, passionate, and full of an unspoken promise. His lips moved against yours, gentle yet urgent, a blend of longing and affection. The world outside faded away; it was just the two of you, lost in each other.

As he pulled away, a thin line of saliva connected your mouths, a testament to the fervor of your kiss. Your foreheads rested together, both of you gasping for breath, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close as if he were afraid to let go.

“You taste… sweet,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“But we just ate spicy ramen,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips, mingling with the lightness of the moment.

“True,” he conceded, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But your lips taste sweet.”

“Stop,” you muttered, the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands, shyly hiding from his gaze. The reality of what had just happened washed over you, mixing exhilaration with a wave of shyness that made your heart race all over again.

Heeseung chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urged gently, reaching out to pull your hands away from your face. His fingers brushed against your skin, a tender caress that sent shivers down your spine. “You okay?”

You nodded, a shy smile peeking through your hands as you met his eyes, the warmth of his gaze melting away your insecurities. “Yeah, just… that was unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but good, right?” Heeseung said, his voice low and sincere, a small grin lighting up his face. “Because I was definitely expecting it to be the highlight of my night.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sweetness of the moment flooding your senses. “Yeah, definitely a highlight,” you echoed softly, and the sincerity in your voice made him smile even wider.

“Then how about a second round? Before you leave?” Heeseung teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Just making sure we make the most of the time we have,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

THE DAY YOU KNEW WAS COMING HAD FINALLY ARRIVED — Heeseung was about to meet your two best friends, Semi and Heesoo. And while Semi had been excited to finally get a face-to-face with your boyfriend, Heesoo had expressed nothing but suspicion. After all, dating online for two years and only seeing each other in person for a few months? It was enough to make her raise an eyebrow—and ask questions. Lots of questions.

You sat in a cozy corner of a bustling café, the soft hum of conversations and clinking cups providing a calming background, though it didn’t do much to ease the nervous flutter in your stomach. You stole a glance at Heeseung, sitting beside you, his posture a little too stiff as he absentmindedly traced the rim of his cup with his finger. He was trying to act cool, but you could tell he was feeling the pressure.

On the other side of the table, Semi and Heesoo sat like the unofficial board of inquiry. Semi was leaning forward with a grin that made her look like she was ready to pounce on Heeseung with curiosity, while Heesoo leaned back, arms crossed, her sharp gaze already sizing him up. It was like a scene from a movie—only this time, it was your boyfriend in the hot seat.

Semi was the first to break the ice, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she propped her chin on her hand. “Soo… Heeseung,” she began, drawing out his name playfully, “we’ve heard a lot about you. But you know how it is—we’ve gotta see for ourselves. So, first things first—what’s your love language? Is it words of affirmation? Acts of service? And—be honest—have you ever written her a love letter?”

Heeseung blinked, clearly taken off guard by the unexpected question, but a smile soon crept onto his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Love language? Uh, I’d say physical touch… and maybe quality time. But, uh, no love letters yet. I’m more of a... text message kind of guy.”

Semi’s grin widened. “Text message? Oh, come on! What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever texted her, then? Like, we’re talking Shakespearean levels of swoon-worthy.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face in your hands as Heeseung scratched his head, looking almost bashful. “Well, I don’t know about Shakespeare… but I did once write her this really cheesy line about how her smile makes my heart race.”

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her heart as if she were swooning. “Oh my god, Heeseung! How do you even deal with all that smoothness, huh?” she teased, turning to you with a wink.

You could feel your face heat up, and you nudged her playfully. “Stop, you’re making him blush!”

But Semi wasn’t done yet. “Alright, real talk now—what’s her weirdest habit that you’ve noticed since meeting in person? Spill it, we won’t tell.”

Heeseung chuckled, his body relaxing slightly as the conversation started to take a lighter turn. “Weirdest habit? Hm… she talks in her sleep. Like, full-on conversations. The first time I heard it, I thought she was awake, but nope. Just dreaming.”

You shot Heeseung a mock glare, covering your face in embarrassment. “Heeseung!”

Semi burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “That is so cute! What does she say? Is she giving TED talks in her sleep or something?”

Heeseung laughed along, shaking his head. “I wish. Usually, it’s just random stuff about food or… her phone charger. One time she asked me if I could ‘bring her the moon,’ and I had no idea if I should answer or not.”

You groaned, hiding behind your hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Heeseung grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in close to you. “Because it’s adorable, that’s why.”

Before you could protest further, Heesoo, who had been quietly observing, finally cleared her throat, signaling it was her turn. She straightened in her seat, her expression more serious than Semi’s as she locked eyes with Heeseung. “Alright, enough of the cutesy stuff. Let’s get to the real questions.”

Semi rolled her eyes playfully, but Heeseung straightened up, clearly sensing that this was going to be more intense. You bit your lip, dreading whatever Heesoo was about to throw at him.

“So,” Heesoo began, her voice calm but firm, “two years of dating online. That’s a long time. How did you know she wasn’t, you know, catfishing you?”

The question hung in the air, and you shot Heesoo a look that screamed, Really? But Heeseung just laughed, easing the tension.

“Well, I mean, we sent pictures sometimes, so I was pretty sure she was real,” he said with a grin. “But, honestly, even if she was catfishing me, I’d probably still fall for her voice.”

Semi made a fake gagging sound. “Oh my god, this is too much. You guys are like a Hallmark movie come to life.”

Heesoo, however, wasn’t satisfied yet. “Okay, let’s say you two stay together and get serious. Like, really serious. How do you plan to handle long-distance, or are you gonna move closer to each other? What’s your five-year plan here?”

The intensity of the question made your heart race. You hadn’t even fully discussed long-term plans with Heeseung yet—at least not in any serious detail. But Heeseung didn’t miss a beat.

“I think long-distance isn’t something we can avoid entirely, but we’ve made it work for two years already. It’ll be challenging, but I’m willing to put in the effort. And as for moving… well, it’s something we’ll have to talk about, but I’m open to whatever’s best for both of us.”

Heesoo tilted her head, studying his answer. “So you’d move? Leave your life behind for her?”

Heeseung nodded, his gaze unwavering. “If it made sense for us and it was the best decision, yeah. I’d move. I want to make sure she’s happy, no matter where that takes us.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, and Semi sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay, Heeseung, you’re setting the bar way too high for other guys.”

But Heesoo wasn’t done yet. “Alright, one last question.” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s your biggest flaw? And I mean a real flaw—none of that ‘I’m too caring’ nonsense.”

Heeseung paused, clearly taken aback by the directness of the question, but he didn’t shy away from it. “My biggest flaw? Hm… I’d say I tend to overthink things. Sometimes, I worry too much about doing the right thing, and it makes me second-guess myself.”

Heesoo raised an eyebrow, clearly satisfied with his honesty, and finally leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a small, approving smile. “Alright. You’ve passed—for now.”

You exhaled in relief, finally letting go of the tension in your shoulders as the interrogation seemed to be over. Semi clapped her hands together, grinning. “Well, Heeseung, you survived! Congratulations. We’ll go easy on you next time—maybe.”

Heeseung chuckled, turning to you with a playful smile. “That wasn’t so bad. I think I can handle them.”

You smiled back, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You did great. I was kind of worried they’d scare you off.”

Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice soft and teasing. “It’ll take more than that to scare me away.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you nudged him playfully. “Stop being so smooth.”

Semi, clearly not done with teasing, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Okay, but seriously, Heeseung. Do you think you could beat her in a game of Mario Kart? That’s the real test.”

Heeseung laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, I’ve already tried. She destroyed me.”

You shrugged with a grin. “What can I say? I’m competitive.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “And that’s why I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but in front of your friends, it felt different—more real, more special.

Semi let out a dramatic gasp, fanning herself. “Alright, that’s it. You two are officially too cute for me.”

Heesoo smirked, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we’re done here. But, Heeseung, remember—if you ever hurt her, we’ll find you.”

Heeseung grinned, nodding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

THE SOFT GLOW OF STREETLIGHTS REFLECTED OFF THE THIN LAYER OF SNOW THAT HAD BEGUN TO BLANKET THE SIDEWALKS, creating a quiet, almost magical atmosphere. It was one of those evenings where the world seemed to slow down, where time stretched out in front of you, and all that mattered was the warmth of Heeseung’s hand, firmly intertwined with yours, as the two of you walked side by side. You could feel the cold bite of the wind, but it hardly registered, not when you were this close to him, not when his presence radiated warmth.

His binnie was dusted with the tiniest specks of snowflakes, and every now and then, a flurry would land on his dark hair peeking out from underneath, adding to the charm of the moment. You stole a glance at him, your heart swelling at the sight—his cheeks flushed slightly from the cold, his breath coming out in soft puffs of condensation. He was fumbling with his keys, his brows furrowed in concentration, and the sight made you smile.

Heeseung noticed, catching you looking at him, and his lips quirked into a curious, soft grin. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a hint of playfulness. He finally managed to unlock the door, but instead of stepping inside, he paused, letting the question hang in the air, waiting for your answer. His eyes were on you now, all of his attention focused, as if he could sense the weight behind your unspoken thoughts.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip, before speaking softly. “Just that… we probably wouldn't have such a lovely relationship if we didn’t agree to meet offline. I mean, we would have a relationship—but maybe not like this.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, his amusement clearly visible as his breath hitched from the cold, but before you could say anything more, he was pulling you inside, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you immediately, but the contrast between the chilly night and the sudden comfort inside felt almost surreal.

He let out a low chuckle, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s literally freezing outside, and that’s what you’re thinking about?” Heeseung raised an eyebrow as he slipped off your jacket, his fingers brushing lightly against your arms in the process. You could feel the heat from his touch, even through the thick fabric, and it sent a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that teasing smile you’d come to know so well.

Before you could respond, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing the snow off the tip of his nose. “You have snow here,” you muttered, your voice soft, almost breathy, as you leaned in slightly to brush away the last remnants of snow from his cheeks.

Heeseung’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he tilted his head closer, nuzzling your nose with his own in the most affectionate way, as if you were a couple of playful kittens. “This method is better,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke, his lips barely grazing your skin. The closeness was intoxicating, and you couldn��t help but laugh, the sound light and airy.

“You’re weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you attempted to step back, but Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. Before you could escape, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion.

Your giggles filled the room as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart skipping a beat at the suddenness of it all. Heeseung grinned up at you, his lips brushing against yours as he planted a few light kisses, each one sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“You’re so tiny,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur as he carried you toward his bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, never breaking his gaze from yours, and the sheer confidence in the way he handled you made your pulse quicken.

He gently laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he climbed up, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of you. You could feel the weight of his presence, the heat radiating off him as he pinned you beneath him.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at each other, the intimacy of the moment stretching out, thick and palpable. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the glint of mischief hiding behind the warmth in his gaze.

“Heesoo and Semi are going to kill you if you do something,” you teased, though the smile on your lips betrayed your words. You ran your fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the smooth skin, feeling the way his body tensed under your touch.

Heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he pressed soft, lingering kisses, each one sending shivers down your spine. “Like what?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing, the sound of it sending a wave of warmth flooding through you.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the butterflies that swirled in your stomach. “You know what I mean,” you muttered, pouting slightly, but before you could say more, he captured your lips with his, his kiss silencing your protest. His lips were warm, soft, and insistent, and you found yourself melting into him, completely forgetting what you were even trying to argue about.

Then, in one quick movement, he shifted, flipping the two of you so that you were now on top, straddling him. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance as you adjusted to the sudden change in position.

“Woah,” you breathed, your eyes wide in surprise as you looked down at him.

Heeseung just grinned up at you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “I’ll settle for cuddles,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. His teasing tone had given way to something more tender, more intimate, and the affection in his voice made your heart flutter.

“You’re seriously such an overreactor,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he held you against him, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheek pressing against his chest as you relaxed into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The sound was soothing, grounding, and you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace as you lay there, wrapped up in him.

“Am I heavy?” you asked playfully, lifting your head slightly to look down at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

Heeseung’s grin widened, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “What? No,” he muttered, laughing softly. “If anything, you’re way too light.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you deepened it. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you tighter, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The snow continued to fall outside, but inside, wrapped in Heeseung’s arms, you felt nothing but warmth. And as the two of you lay there, tangled up in each other, you couldn’t help but think that even though the world outside was cold and quiet, in this moment, everything felt perfect.

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