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jobean12-blog · 9 months

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Love in Bloom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Plant!Dad!Bucky)

Word Count: 2,863

Summary: You and Bucky have the best coffee date then meet up at the Farmer's Market. Every minute you spend with him makes you fall harder.

Author's Note: More plant!dad!bucky for you! I'm so excited that you all liked meeting him so much! I'm having a lot of fun with him! You can read the first story HERE! And please check out @nalonzooo art to see how amazing it is! 😍Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS If you'd like to see the shirt Bucky is wearing you can HERE and the two plant pots, ONE and TWO. 🥰💕

Warnings: plant talk, Alpine fluffs, sweet and soft fluffs all around :)

You and Bucky have been texting every day since you met at the garden center, silly plant memes and pictures of Alpine filling up the lines between sweet words and soft flirting.

You couldn’t wait to see him for coffee today.

The bell above the door dings as you enter and your eyes search for him. He’s standing at the counter, a large black backpack slung over his shoulders and a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He’s not wearing his hat today and his long hair is pulled back into a low bun with several strands sticking out.

When he spots you he smiles wide and waves you over.

“Hiya doll,” he says when you get close. “You look beautiful.”

You preen under his sweet words and kiss his cheek hello. “Hi Bucky.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky’s backpack starts to move and Alpine’s white furry head peeks out between the open zipper.

“ALPINE!” you squeal, rubbing his head.

“He would have been very upset if I showed up without him,” Bucky laughs. “You can take him out if ya want.”

You reach down and gather up the cat, carefully lifting him out until he’s in your arms. You coo and gush over him while Bucky waits for your coffees.

The barista sets them down with a smile.

“Oh…shit,” Bucky mutters, finally tearing his eyes away from you when the coffee arrives. “Uh…I almost forgot,” he continues, holding out the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”

You take them with your free hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“They’re so beautiful Bucky! Thank you!”

He grabs your coffees and starts toward a small empty table in the back. “You’re welcome doll. I got them at the Farmer’s Market in Union Square this morning.”

“You picked them out?” you ask, softly fingering the petals of the different blooms.

“Yeah,” he answers, looking both proud and slightly shy at the same time. “I like makin’ bouquets but I don’t really get the chance much.”

Bucky puts the coffees down and pulls your chair out for you.

“Well, it’s perfect,” you tell him as you sit, setting the flowers down on the extra seat. “Thank you!”

Alpine promptly curls up in your lap, his tail swishing contentedly back and forth as you pet him.

Bucky sits next to you and unhooks the front strap of his backpack before slinging it off.

You stare at his chest.

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

“What?” he asks. “Did I drop some of my breakfast on my shirt?”

His worried eyes shoot down and he pulls his shirt away from his body, studying it closely.

“That shirt is so cute!”

He sighs in relief and lifts his eyes with a chuckle. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

You press your hand to the soft fabric to smooth it out, poking the spot where the cat sits on the shelf in between all the plants. The feel of his hard chest beneath your fingertips has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and it takes all of your willpower to drag your hand away.

“I love it,” you whisper. “It feels soft too.”

“It’s really comfortable,” he agrees. “I’m glad you like it. I didn’t even realize I put it on. Sometimes I wonder if all the plant and cat stuff is a bit much…”

“No way,” you interject. “What’s not to love about plants and cats?”

You sip your coffee and eye him over the rim of the cup.

“You get it,” he says, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Mmm,” you hum, “this is so good. I can’t believe I’ve never been here!”

“This place is great,” he agrees, “and they allow cats!”

After some yummy sips and comfortable silence he asks, “so how’s Spidey? Still alive I hope?”

“Thankfully still alive,” you giggle. “But I still don’t know the best spot to keep him and how often to water him and if I should repot him? If I kill another plant I’m not sure my confidence will recover…”

You laugh but the look on your face must say it all.

“You’re not going to kill him doll!” he assures you before launching into a barrage of questions and information.

You’re long done with your coffee and scones by the time you both feel satisfied that you have enough starter plant knowledge to keep Spidey thriving.

“When he gets too big for his pot I can’t wait to pick a new one out! They have so many cute ones on Etsy!”

Bucky drops his head with a playful scoff. “Don’t even get me started on Etsy. I have two new pots on the way right now.”

“Lemme see!” you squeak, smacking him in the arm in excitement.

He feigns pain and rubs the spot. “Ouch.”

“Oh please,” you tease. “You’re like solid muscle. There is no way that hurt.”

You squeeze his bicep and he instinctively flexes.

“Well now you’re just showing off,” you tell him, “and if you don’t stop I’m going to feel you up in the coffee shop.”

He goes still, his eyes laser focused on you before they drop to your lips when your tongue darts out to wet them.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment. “I would never…”

“Doll,” he says, stopping you. “It’s fine. More than fine actually. I have zero problem with you touching me.”

“Oh.”

His eyes wander over your face before he leans in a little closer.

“That’s good,” you whisper, getting a good whiff of him, clean and spicy.

“Here are your blueberry muffins to go!” the barista says as she sets down the boxes.

You and Bucky move apart quickly, clearly startled out of the heat of the moment.

“Thanks,” you say, giving the barista a small smile.

When you take out your wallet he stops you with a warm hand over yours. “I got it doll.”

“But you already got the coffee and scones,” you explain.

“And I’ve got the muffins too,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He leans in and gives you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary and your skin tingles.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling out his phone.

He scrolls around for a few seconds before turning his screen around so you can see it. There’s a picture of a white pot with a cat shaped face, the cat’s expression sweet and serene.

“So I got that one anddddd this one,” he says, scrolling again to a picture of another white cat planter, except this time it has four little legs.

“I love them,” you say. “They’re perfect and almost as cute as Alpine!”

Once you’re outside in the sunshine and back to some form of reality you reluctantly hand over Alpine.

“Guess I have to give him back huh?” you joke.

“Well,” Bucky begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re going to be at the Farmer’s Market again tomorrow morning. If you’re around you could join us?”

“I do need to stock up on fruits and vegetables,” you muse. “I’ll be there, just text me a time later.”

Thankfully Sunday morning comes quickly and you’re out the door in record time, strolling down West 17th street in the sunshine.

When you don’t see Buck you start to amble around the stalls, picking through various fruits and admiring the jarred jams.

“That one is really good.”

The deep and familiar voice makes you smile before you even turn around and when you do you see Bucky standing there with his backpack against his chest and Alpine’s head sticking out.

“Hey you two!”

He quickly but carefully swings the bag to his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you toward his chest for a sweet kiss on the cheek.

His hair is down today, brushing his shoulder and you have a strong urge to take one of the strands hanging in his face and twirl it around your finger.

Instead, you reach up and tuck it behind his ear, your eyes studying his face while you lean into him.

“I also have that in fig and raspberry flavor.”

“I think she’s talking to you,” Bucky says with a smirk.

“Huh?” you mumble, still staring at him.

He delicately takes your chin between his fingers and turns your head toward the stall.

“OH!” you squeak. “I’m so sorry…I was just saying hello and um…right. Did you say fig and raspberry?”

The vendor nods with a knowing smile.

“That’s great. I love figs. I’ll take one!”

You slip from Bucky’s arms and finish the transaction, taking your nicely packaged jam and walking toward the next stall, still feeling a bit awkward.

When you stop at the sunflower stall Bucky says, “I’ve always wanted to grow these but I don’t really have anywhere to do it.”

“They get really tall right?”

“Yeah, taller than me,” he says with a laugh. “I have to do more research.”

“They’re beautiful! Have you ever been to a farm to see them. It’s amazing!”

“I haven’t yet but I’d really like to do that,” he admits.

“We can go together…if you want?”

“How about you let me take you on a proper date first then we’ll go out to the farm and pick sunflowers.”

“I love that plan.”

Even though you’re still standing beside the stall and there are people walking by and around you, it seems as if it all fades away as Bucky steps closer and his fingertips graze your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He whispers your name, his eyes falling to your lips just before Alpine’s paw shoots between your faces and bats away a loose piece of Bucky’s hair.

“Alpine!” Bucky chides. “Watch it buddy!”

You cover your mouth but can’t stop your eruption of giggles as you watch Alpine continue to try and bat Bucky in the face.

“Told you he was a menace!” Bucky says with a pointed look at Alpine who simply meows with a blink.

“Aw but who could be mad at that face?” you coo, scratching under Alpine’s chin.

“ME!” Bucky practically pouts. “I’m mad!”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and after a moment of silence you both start laughing again.

“Come on,” Bucky says as he slings his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s buy some food!”

By the time you’re done perusing and purchasing it’s almost lunch time.

“I’m starving,” Bucky says as he rubs his stomach.

Your eyes fall to the action just as his shirt rides up and you catch a glimpse of his taut skin lined with a dark trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.

With a hard swallow you avert your eyes and mumble, “me too!”

“Wanna get some lunch doll?”

“What was that?” you ask, lifting your eyes to find him watching you intently.

“Do you want to grab a bite? It’s lunch time.”

“Shit, already! I’m supposed to meet my best friend for lunch at one!”

“It’s only a little after twelve, don’t worry,” he assures you with a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d invite you to come along but it’s our girl time,” you explain, looking disappointed yourself.

“Nope, I get it doll. That’s important time but let me at least walk you back to your place.”

“I’d like that.”

He adjusts Alpine and his backpack then takes your bag from you, switching hands so his free one is swinging next to yours.

Every so often your fingers brush as you walk and finally he hooks his pinky through yours, gauging your reaction. When you smile and tighten your grip he entwines all his fingers with yours, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

You walk back to your apartment hand in hand.

“I can’t believe I didn’t buy any flowers or plants today,” Bucky states, looking surprised as he holds the door of your building open for you.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!”

“It’s your fault,” he teases. “You’re a distraction.”

You press your teeth into your bottom lip and shrug demurely before turning and heading up the steps.

“Thankfully I’m only on the second floor…this is me.”

You point to the door on the left and start to fish for your keys. Once you have the door open you tell him to come in so you can take your bag and show him Spidey.

He approves of your placement and also Spidey’s overall health and you clap your hands together happily.

Your phone dings and you grab it, quickly reading a text from Nat.

“Thank goodness she finally picked a place to eat,” you laugh.

“Me and Alpine will have to pick some pizza up on the way home,” he says with a wink.

You stand only a few inches apart, staring at each other.

“Well, I guess…” you start.

“Thanks for meeting…” he begins at the same time.

You both drop your heads and laugh.

“I had the best time Bucky. I wish we could have had lunch too…”

“Nah don’t worry, it’s ok doll. I mean I do too. I would have loved to spend the rest of the day with you but you have plans. I understand.”

He turns and starts toward the door.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Alpine. He’ll bitch the whole way home if you don’t.”

As if on cue Alpine’s two white ears perk up and he pops his head out of Bucky’s open backpack.

“Bye handsome,” you croon. “Be good and I’ll see you soon.”

“He’s not coming on our dinner date next week,” Bucky chimes in. “I don’t want him stepping on my toes again.”

“Awwww,” you say with feigned sadness. “I’ll miss him!”

When Bucky’s standing in your doorway he turns to face you again and licks his lips.

“Text me when you get home?” he asks, his tone unsure.

“I will,” you say with a soft smile.

“Have fun doll!”

You both stand there staring at each other again and you finally take a step closer, your eyes focused on his before they drop to his lips.

“Bye Bucky.”

You practically invite him to kiss you, pressing yourself against him as you lean up. You lay your palms on his chest and feel his muscles flex beneath you. He dips his head, his lips brushing your cheek before he gives you a quick peck in the same spot and turns on his heel.

You try to hide your disappointment with a smile but the corners of his mouth turn down as he backs up.

“See you soon,” he says quietly.

“See you soon,” you reply as you start to shut the door.

With a wave you shut it softly and let out an exhale as you deflate.

You’re not even two steps away when you hear a knock. Your stomach erupts in butterflies as you twirl around and swing the door open, staring at Bucky on the other side.

“That’s not at all how I wanted to say goodbye,” he murmurs before he steps back inside your apartment, shuts the door and spins you against it.

You realize there’s nowhere to go as you find yourself pressed to the door; Bucky’s hard body lined up with yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his metal hand as it wraps around your arm and his other clasping the nape of your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

You make a throaty sound you can’t control and cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands holding you to him, it’s all overwhelming in the best way. His hand at your neck tightens every so slightly and he groans, the sound skimming across your skin like electricity.

He deepens the kiss, demanding more and it’s enough to steal your breath. Your hands dive into his hair and you moan into his mouth again, unable to stop it as his hand on your arm slips behind you and traces the curve of your spine.

With a muttered curse he breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His blue eyes are dark, his long lashes lowered as he traces his tongue over his swollen lips.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, resting his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry if that was…”

“It was perfect,” you whisper.

His eyes open and he lifts his head, reluctantly putting some space between you.

“Perfect,” he repeats.

He still looks like he wants to kiss you again and again as his eyes wash over you and his expression looks pained.

Your phone dings again.

“Nat,” you state, not taking your eyes off him.

He wavers, leaning toward you before he mutters, “fuck,” and runs a hand through his hair. “Right. Lunch.”

“I’ll talk to you later doll,” he says.

“Ok,” you manage, willing your body to keep holding you upright.

He gives you a slow and sexy smile before turning and walking down the steps.

@book-dragon-13 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @sebstanwhore @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #plant!dad Bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #plant!dad bucky x reader #plant!dad bucky au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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crguang · 19 days

Text

lost virgins with broken wings that will regrow

You’re an ordinary person with a void in your chest. Black Swan means to fill it.

smut, afab!reader, virgin!reader, sorta stalker!black swan (im just going with canon here…) so mention of voyeurism, oral sex on both parts, fingering, overstimulation, switch!r and swan, 9.3k words and 6k of it is just smut……………

A/N: um…… i just think she’s neat.

black swan: they are such a loser, weirdo, freak, social outcast i have GOT to fuck them

It’s under low, pulsing lights and seated between intoxicated bodies, sensual music in your ears and a half-empty drink in hand, that you feel the most alone. The irony burns your throat not unlike the alcohol you’re sluggishly sipping every five minutes as you take in the sea of strangers on the dance floor of the club rhythmically moving with the beat on the speakers.

Beside you at the bar, a couple converses lowly to themselves, staring into each other’s eyes and laughing quietly like there doesn’t exist a world beyond their intimacy. To your right, friends argue over who will be the designated driver tonight and draw from actual straws provided by one of the bartenders. The unlucky one pouts and the rest cheer before enthusiastically ordering colorful cocktails from a pink haired bartender. The bass reverberates through you, inciting you to join the sweaty bodies losing themselves in the music, but the throb of your head is louder. You feel fatigue at the corner of your eyes while you swirl the clear liquid in your glass and watch its hypnotizing movement, briefly lost in it. You tune out the drunk laughter and shameless flirting happening around you and feel the familiar sensation of your heart constricting in your chest. No one is interested in your sulking, people come and go in the seats beside you, oblivious to your inner struggle. When the feeling spreads to your lungs, forcing you to breathe in the smell of alcohol and sweat, you turn on the stool to search for your friend in the crowd. You catch a glimpse of her red hair as she sways against a tall woman with dark coily hair; she seems to be having fun, occasionally giggling when the woman bends to whisper in her ear, so you sigh and rest an arm on the bar. It was an unspoken rule that if you went clubbing together, you would either leave together or make sure the other would be sober enough to walk out the door with a stranger. You’ll give her another half hour, maybe, before ruining her night by telling her you want to go home.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” a smooth, sultry voice sounds near you.

You smell her before you see her; strong traces of resins and dried fruit, like incense sticks burning through the air, easily overwhelm the different odors assaulting your nose from the variety of people around. The pleasant fragrance makes you pivot in your seat. A woman sits on the stool to your left and drums her gloved fingers on the counter thoughtfully, keen gaze already on you and a small, easy smile on her lips. They look bare in the low lighting, though you can discern a soft sheen on them that suggests she must have applied lipgloss not too long ago. Her thick, pale hair frames her cheeks and disappears down her back in two wavy parts that would undoubtedly reach the back of her thighs were she to stand upright. The purple veil over her head matches the color of her dress— you think it’s a dress, maybe a tight strapless top?— and the sort of stained glass accessory between her collarbones that connects her top to the lacy piece around her neck. Your first thought is that she looks out of place amongst the flimsy, provocative clothing everyone is flaunting. Your second is that she’s gorgeous, the kind you can’t help but stare at like a fool. Which you are currently doing. Her head tilts in question and you blink, remembering the words she’s spoken to you a moment earlier.

You suddenly feel shy under her gaze as you try to come up with a reply.

“I’m not,” you say, mentally cringing at your lack of tact. Your honesty seems to amuse her though, sunset eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Not your kind of scene, I presume?” She has to lean closer for you to hear each other over the music and you meet her halfway.

You shrug dismissively, not wanting to admit that being surrounded by people only made you feel terribly lonely. It would ruin the conversation, you’re not that socially inept for you to know that. “Not really, no. The drinks are nice, though.”

You can barely hear her hum as she replies, “And yet, here you are. What makes you suffer through such an unpleasant experience?”

You find her way of speaking a little odd. Evidently, she’s not from around here. You turn around to face the dance floor and her eyes follow the direction you point your chin towards.

“I’m here with her,” you gesture to the redhead cheekily grinding against the same woman from before. The sight is a little funny, despite your mood you’re glad that she’s enjoying herself.

“I see. A friend of yours?”

You nod and steal a glance at the woman beside you. Her posture is impeccably straight, chin resting in the palm of her hand while she leans an elbow on the counter, and she looks at you with a sense of familiarity that you can’t reciprocate. You’ve never met her before, you would have remembered. You’re not the type to be embarrassed by every little thing but her attentive stare makes you feel exposed, as if you’re standing in front of her with your flesh turned inside out and she could see the gross parts of you usually hidden from sight. You want to evade her gaze, if only to compose yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to. She pulls you in effortlessly with only a look and you lean towards her when she speaks up again.

“I realize I haven’t asked for your name.”

You tell her your name, having to speak a little louder to be heard over the music. She repeats it, trying the feel of it on her tongue, then her eyelids lower in appreciation, a knowing smile on her face.

You ask for hers in return and she offers a gentle hand after answering you. “I am Black Swan.”

Black Swan. An odd name, like her odd behavior and turns of phrases. She stands out like a sore thumb and doesn’t seem to care enough to try to blend in. Her politeness is endearing, so you grasp her hand to shake it half-jokingly. Her fingertips linger on your skin when you slowly pull away.

“What about you? Are you here alone?” You don’t see anyone else acknowledging her presence around you. Black Swan confirms your suspicions with a nod. “Ah. A party girl, then.”

Her quiet laugh is beautiful, low and velvety. It makes you suppress a smile. The music blasting through the speakers is now much more energetic and worsens your headache.

“What makes you say that?”

You shrug. “You don’t seem from here but you also look totally at ease. I thought maybe you were either the sort to adapt quickly or to love this kind of scene.”

Black Swan hums, a forefinger tracing shapes on the surface of the bar. “I suppose that assumption is not entirely incorrect. I am not a local, no.”

“Where are you from?”

“That is… a complicated question to answer.”

You raise a curious eyebrow and she pushes some hair out of her face with a hand before leaning into you, closer to your ear. You pause as her soothing scent fills your nose and you feel her breath on your cheek, words meant only for you.

“Let’s talk somewhere quieter, if you wish. We can continue our conversation without having to yell to be heard.”

You consider her offer, hesitant. Your stomach tightens at her proximity and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to keep talking to her. Her subtle charms lure you in and lower your defenses, and that is both refreshing and concerning. Black Swan feels like the kind of person you only meet once, you want to make the most of it. Not to mention that it would be stupid to deny how attractive she is. You look back at your friend in the middle of the dance floor, suddenly envious of how easy it is for her to be comfortable among the crowd. She hasn’t spared you a glance since she was approached by her dancing partner and while that doesn’t really bother you, part of you wants to prove that you’re also able to make immediate connections with strangers, that you’re not an antisocial freak who only keeps to themself.

“Okay,” you accept and look away at the pleased glint that shines in Black Swan’s eyes. “I have to warn my friend, it’ll take a second.”

You stand from the bar stool and clumsily make your way to the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding sweating limbs and their intoxicated owners. You hate the way anxiety buzzes uncomfortably in your guts as you’re closely surrounded by so many people. You make it to where your friend is, breathing heavier from the stress, and tap her shoulder to get her attention. She wears a grin as she sees you and jumps a couple times in excitement, grabbing your shoulders.

“You wanna dance?!”

“I’m leaving with someone,” you say loudly, pointing to the bar. Her eyes squint, looking in the same direction. She stands on her tiptoes to see over the heads of some clubgoers but doesn’t seem to find who you’re referring to. “Are you gonna be okay?”

She looks back at you and smiles with a quick nod. You don’t think she’s drunk, maybe just a little tipsy, because her eyes are clear and she hasn’t pulled you into an intricate dance only she knows the steps to yet.

“Have fun! Don’t worry about me! Go get laid!”

You make a face, embarrassed by the idea. She only laughs loudly and turns back to the woman she’s been with all night. You make your way back to the bar as fast as you can, eager to be away from the crowd and deafening music. Black Swan waits for you near the end of the counter and gently takes your hand in hers when you get close enough. Her gloved fingers delicately curl around your hand, an unexpectedly comforting sensation. She expertly navigates through the sea of bodies, tugging you along with a firm hand until you’re both out of the club and standing under the moonlight.

From outside, the music has dulled to a faint pulsing and you feel like you can finally breathe properly. You briefly close your eyes to take in a slow breath, inhaling the crisp summer breeze and exhaling softly through your nose. Black Swan is still holding your hand as you do, she turns to face you and observes the way your shoulders relax a little more with each calming breath. Your eyes blink open. You feel a bit sheepish under her stare but her small smile assures you that she doesn’t think any ill of you. Your hand slips from her gasp so you can wring them together.

“Do you want to walk as we talk? My place isn’t too far from here,” you realize how that sounds and falter, glancing away. “Not that we have to go.”

“I would enjoy that. Lead the way.”

You scratch your temple awkwardly. There’s a silent pause as you start to walk through the empty streets and closed businesses, almost close enough that your fingers brush with every step. You take your time, your pace measured to bask in the night air and the way the light winds blow Black Swan’s perfume towards your face. The quiet is a reprieve for your throbbing skull, you feel your headache shift to a dull pulse with every passing minute. You look up at the round moon in the sky, then remember your question from earlier, the one she had trouble answering. You start to cross a wooden bridge over a wide canal and clear your throat.

“You didn’t tell me where you were from, earlier,” you say, slowing down slightly to look at the moonlight reflecting off the still water.

“Ah, that’s right.” Black Swan trails her fingers over the railing before coming to a halt. She follows your gaze on the water and leans her forearms on the railing, seemingly lost in thought. You turn the other way, your back against the wooden bars, waiting for her to sift through her thoughts. Finally, her head turns to look at you and she asks, “Are you familiar with Memokeepers?”

You take a second to remember where you’ve heard that word before. “Memokeepers… from the Garden of Recollection, right? Beings who preserve humanity’s memories for the Remembrance.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t add anything else, only rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and gazes at you like she’s able to see past all your barriers and it only fuels her interest in you.

“…Are you saying you’re…?

“I am.”

“Oh,” you ponder the admission for a short moment. That explains why she stands out from the crowd. You think you remember that Memokeepers choose who to be seen by; you must have looked like a crazy person if no one else could see her at the bar. “I don’t think I have any memories worth preserving to attract the attention of a Memokeeper.”

“Mmm… We seek to protect humanity against the irreversibility of time. I, for one, believe there is nothing more human than loneliness, wouldn’t you agree?”

The smile that stretches her lips is a soft one, far gentler than you think you deserve. You look away from her to observe the discoloration of the wood beneath your feet. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised she knows about that considering what she is, but you feel slightly irked at the idea of somebody intruding on your mind without your knowledge or consent. Your thoughts and experiences are yours to keep, no matter what any Aeon may believe.

“I don’t appreciate you looking inside my head.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I haven’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You’re just that astute, huh?”

“Or you don’t hide it as well as you think you do.”

You hum. You can feel the warmth of her stare against your face and when you meet her eyes, you feel small. It’s hard to imagine all the things she has witnessed and lived through, you are nothing compared to her time among mortals. You don’t understand why she’s here with you, who is painfully ordinary and inexperienced in most matters of life.

“I still don’t think I have anything unique to offer to the Remembrance. You’re wasting your time.”

“Collecting every aspect of life includes the mundane, not every memory worth preserving is extraordinary. Besides, I don’t believe you to be ordinary.”

“That’s a bold, but misguided, assumption.”

Black Swan chuckles lowly, straightening up to face you better. She stands slightly shorter than you, even with her heeled boots. A step brings her closer to your body, a hand loosely holding onto the railing.

“I have plenty of those,” she drawls, a little quieter, “and I don’t need to look into your memories to know that they are true.”

“You got all of this from one conversation? I doubt it.”

“Then let me presume something else.”

Your breath hitches as her fingers delicately cup your jaw like it could break under her touch. You’re unable to tear your gaze from hers and you want to shrink faced with the bright sunset colors of her eyes, there’s a knowing sheen in their depths that makes you feel vulnerable in a way you refuse to be with anyone. Her thumb moves across your skin, the gesture almost tender.

“There is an ache in you,” she says, eyelids lowering to watch the movement of her thumb near the corner of your mouth, “a profound desire that creates an immeasurable crater inside of you. You feel that this void makes you fundamentally different from your peers, so you hide behind tall walls and attempt to ignore the cries of your heart.”

Your lips part but the words get stuck in your throat. Black Swan’s smile is without malice and you feel emotion swirl in your gut, tightening the muscles and quickening your breath. A chill passes through you, raising the hair on your arms, and you don’t know if it’s from the temperature or her hold on your jaw. The smooth fabric of her glove rubs against your skin in soothing motions, the smell of incense fills your nose from her proximity, you feel bare in front of her, exposed to her judgment— it’s all too much. You take several steps back to catch your breath and she lets you go somewhat reluctantly, observing your struggle as another breath of wind makes you shiver. The temperature has dropped since you left the nightclub; though you know nights can get chilly, you thought you would be going home in your friend’s car, the same way you got there, and wouldn’t need to bring a jacket.

You rub your arms, hesitantly glancing at Black Swan. “What do you want from me?”

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” She kindly replies instead, extending a hand. “You’re freezing.”

You look at her outstretched palm with slight suspicion. She hasn’t done anything to make you believe that she’s ill-intentioned, quite the opposite, but you’re used to being careful around others. Still, she isn’t wrong. There is a gaping hole in the middle of you and it makes you incapable of letting anyone past the walls you’ve built for yourself, afraid that it would consume whoever ventured too close. You long for something you can’t bear to think about anymore, but Black Swan is… different. Somehow, she sees you for everything you are, and while that thought is uncomfortable at first, it soon develops into something deeper, desperate. You don’t know how it feels to be known. Black Swan materializes behind your defenses and gazes at you with genuine interest. Against your own practiced sense of self-preservation, you let her.

Her hand is warm as you lead the rest of the way to your apartment. A shiver runs through you occasionally and her free hand trails up your arm after each one to warm you. You try to ignore the pulsing of your heartbeat in your ears and the yearning in your gut growing with every casual touch on your skin. You don’t speak much while you walk. It doesn’t take too long to reach your apartment, maybe around twenty minutes or so. You fiddle with the keys when you stand on the doorstep of the building. The door opens with a soft click and you keep it ajar with one hand, turning to face Black Swan.

“Do you want to…”

“Yes.”

She enters the building after you, following you up the stairs to the first floor where you live. Her presence makes you a little anxious since not many people have been inside your living space and you thank the Aeons that you’re a fairly clean person before opening the door and stepping inside. There’s a gust of wind as you walk in and you realize you must have left a window open because the place is colder than usual. You discard your shoes near the entrance to slip into indoor slides, toss your keys into the bowl on the small table and scratch your temple, wondering what you’re meant to do next. You don’t play host often, so for a moment you simply stand in your living room as Black Swan looks around, trailing her fingers on framed pictures and leather chairs. You suddenly feel self-conscious about your taste in interior design but she only looks at you with a smile once she’s seen everything she needs to see.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I have wine.”

Black Swan shakes her head. “I don’t feel thirst— not that kind anyway. You’re sweet to offer.”

You don’t ask her what she means by that, thinking it might be Memokeeper related.

“You should change into something more comfortable,” she adds. “I can see you shuddering.”

It’s not a bad idea. You nod, adjusting the room’s thermostat to a higher temperature and feeling her eyes on you all the while before disappearing into a hallway. Your bedroom is warmer than the rest of the apartment. You let out a breath as you rummage through your drawers for casual clothes, hesitating between sweat shorts and sweatpants. You’re already warming up a little, so you pick the former. You change into a t-shirt and step in front of the mirror to check that you don’t look as tired as you feel. You rub the fatigue out of your eyes then pinch your skin to make you seem more awake. You fiddle with your hair a little until it looks good enough. Thinking of Black Swan in your living room causes your stomach to flutter uncharacteristically. It’s a different kind of nervousness from the one you’re familiar with, anticipation lingers in your belly and you don’t even know what it’s for.

There’s a soft knock at your door that has you pivoting towards the sound in surprise.

“Come in.”

The hinges creak as it opens and Black Swan slips her head through the opening, eyes briefly running down your figure.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

“Of course. I wanted to check in on you.”

“Oh.”

Her attention catches you off guard still. She walks further into the room, taking note of the various tapestries and images on your bedroom walls, and you sit on the bed as you watch her. Her hands trail on the desk of your vanity, on your low dresser’s wooden surface, around the bottles of perfume you keep on it. She seems entirely at ease in your room like it was her own, her composure not faltering for a moment. Her eyes stop on a polaroid of you and the same redhead you went out with tonight that is stuck to the full length mirror on the door of your closet. She observes it for a while, a finger tracing the picture’s edges.

“When was this?” She addresses you without turning around, immersed in the sight of you doubled over with laughter while your friend stands to the side with icing all over her face, a pout on her lips. A fingertip touches your frozen form. You think maybe she can sense the emotions through the captured memory.

“About two years ago, when we were still rooming together. We used to prank each other when the other least expected it.”

“You seem… lighter, less burdened than you are now.”

She’s right, once again. It feels as though there’s nothing you can keep hidden from her, like she’s already learned you from the inside. She said she hasn’t been inside your mind but you’re not sure if you’re inclined to believe her words. How else can she accurately perceive who you are? Something takes over the uneasiness you would normally feel at being so acutely exposed to another’s gaze, something you recognize and have desperately been trying to ignore for years. The profound yearning for closeness; for fingertips in your hair, for low confessions into the night, for a synergy that can only exist between two beings completely attuned to each other— it swallows you whole and leaves you writhing in its belly. Your fingers sink into the sheets as they curl to grab a fistful of them. You look away from Black Swan to stare at a point on the other side of the room, willing your treacherous heart to be steady.

You don’t notice Black Swan watching you until she steps into your peripheral vision. She walks around your bed, heels muted on the carpet, and takes a seat beside you. Her fingertips brush your fist as her head tilts, sunset eyes dimmed. You just now realize that she doesn’t have any pupils.

“Poor thing,” her voice lowers to a sultry tone, a hand tenderly resting on your cheek, “you’re scared, aren’t you? These emotions inside of you, itching to leave the confines of your heart…” She watches your lips part when you exhale softly through your mouth. Her fingertips trace your jawline before tilting your chin up. “I can sate this hunger, if you wish.”

You swallow, staring into her appreciative gaze. “Why?”

“Why?” She repeats almost to herself. Her thumb slides up your chin to your bottom lip and follows its curve. “I’m afraid that eludes me. There is something unattainable about you, a part of you that is locked away, perhaps. I feel… inexplicably drawn to it.”

Black Swan slowly leans closer as if gaging your reaction and giving you time to react should you want to push her away. You can almost feel her breath on your lips, then she pauses to look up into your eyes, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. She seems to find what she’s looking for and when you think she’s going to kiss you, a persistent fluttering in your lower belly, her head dips to the side and her lips press against the skin of your neck. You tense as her fingers brush your curled ones on the bed, moving over your knuckles to your wrist, then up your forearm in a deliberately gentle touch. You feel her open mouth trail down your neck. Her hand leaves your face to settle on your bare knee. You let out a shuddering breath, frozen in place.

“Your pulse is racing,” she murmurs into your skin, pressing a firm kiss to your pulse point, “I can feel it.”

“What… are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

The hand on your knee slides higher, fingertips brushing the fabric of your shorts on your thigh. The other coaxes your muscles to relax with soft touches up and down your arm. You feel overwhelmed by her closeness and you’re unable to do anything but breathe out at the sensation of her slow kisses up your neck and to your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine and she hums in delight. The tip of her tongue tentatively darts out to lick a stripe up your jawline to your ear, causing you to inhale sharply through your mouth and drawing an amused chuckle out of her.

Black Swan pulls away slightly to take in your facial features as her hands sneak under your shirt to hold onto your waist, squeezing once. Your lashes flutter with every blink, the rise and fall of your chest quickening under her seductive touch.

“How adorable,” she mutters with a lustful sunrise in her eyes. Her hands travel over the expanse of your stomach, one of them separating from the other to trail up your back. She rubs the skin over your ribs. “I’ve barely touched you and here you are… so breathless for me.”

A meek sound escapes you at her forwardness and an appreciative gleam brightens her gaze. With her insisting hands on you and her scent all around, you feel entirely at her mercy. When she leans closer for her teeth to graze your neck, your head tilts to allow her better access. Her thumbs rub circles on your waist, enjoying its pliable curves. Your hand sinks into her long hair, messily tangling around the soft locks, and you bite your bottom lip at the low hum that follows. Black Swan finds a sensitive spot on your neck, sucks on the tender skin and your fingers grip her hair tighter at the pleasant sensation of her mouth on you. You relax against her like butter left in the sun. You can’t help the sharp exhales that leave you and with each one, her fingers dig into your sides almost possessively.

Her tongue swipes over the bruising spot at the base of your neck, soothing the dull pain caused by her teeth and earning a quiet, breathy noise from you. Black Swan smiles into your skin.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Her voice is a sultry purr. Her touches grow bolder, lifting your shirt to pull it above your head in one smooth motion. She discards it somewhere on the bed and leans to gently bite down on your shoulder.

“Oh!”

Her palms roam over your torso, nails brushing the band of your bra. You fleetingly wish she would take off her long gloves so that you could feel her without any barriers and she seems to be thinking the same; a moment later she takes her hands from you to pull the garment off her forearms. You don’t see where they end up, nor do you care, because the feeling of her soft, unscarred palms sliding over the plane of your stomach steals your breath away. They reach your chest, squeezing your breasts over your bra as her wet kisses travel to your collarbones. Her fingertips slip under your bra, grazing your hardening nipples, and something resembling a quiet whimper escapes you.

“I wonder… How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this, mm?”

“I’ve never…”

Her lips pause near your throat. You feel her breath on your skin with every exhale.

“Is that right?”

You nod hesitantly, apprehending her response.

Black Swan pulls her mouth away from you, fingers expertly unclasping your bra to get it out of the way, and firmly pushes you further into the bed. Her gaze is hungry as she straddles your thighs and looms over you, a palm over your breast.

“No one has ever held you so close… had their hands on you like this?…”

“No.”

A possessive glint flashes in her eyes. She squeezes the flesh of your breast, the friction of your nipple brushing deliciously against her palm has you gasping out at the same time Black Swan eagerly claims your mouth. Her tongue pushes past your lips to swirl around yours and she readily swallows the soft moan you let out. You hold onto her hips while she presses breathy kiss after breathy kiss on your lips. You feel a mix of her saliva and yours at the corner of your mouth and her tongue licks it off before meeting your own once more, leaving you breathless. Two fingers pinch your erect nipple, coaxing more needy sounds from you and a low, appreciative moan on her part.

Her thumbs roll your nipples in tight circles, occasionally twisting this way and that to draw a whimper out of you, and she reluctantly separates from your lips to allow you to catch your breath. Her own chest heaves as she looks down at you, at your bruised lips and hard nipples under the pads of her fingers, arousal pooling in her belly. She is the only one privy to the sharp gasps you make, to your soft moans and quiet whimpers. Black Swan fills the void inside of you with her lustful and unrelenting touches, claiming you with her hot mouth and nimble hands. She leaves an imprint on your body with every kiss to your skin, every graze of her teeth or nails across your chest. You feel your arousal ruin your underwear, clit aching to be touched. You bring Black Swan’s mouth to yours with a hand around her neck, lips locking in desperate, messy kisses. Her hums of pleasure only turn you on more and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the pressure between your legs.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips as she pulls away to press the flat of her tongue over your nipple. The tip teases your sensitive bud before she takes it into her mouth and sucks, hard and fast. She fondles the other breast, twisting your nipple between two warm fingers, and you can’t help a choked moan at the feeling. Pleasure courses through you in short, intense jolts down your spine, and your cunt throbs in your panties, begging for her attention.

“B-Black Swan,” you breathe out, biting your lip when she hums in satisfaction around your nipple. Her teeth graze the bud teasingly but she doesn’t bite, instead she opts for long suckles and the occasional flicks of her tongue. “Please…”

Her mouth leaves your chest and stretches into a smug smile, desire apparent in the way she gazes at the faint marks she’s left on your skin.

“What are you pleading for, darling?”

You forego timidity to focus on the burning need in your belly. Your fingers curl around her wrist and guide her hand down your stomach, over the band of your shorts. Her eyes narrow though the smile doesn’t leave her face as she lets you slip her fingers into your shorts. Her middle finger sinks between your outer lips over your panties and feels your slick through the thin fabric. You hold onto her wrist to keep her hand over your covered sex, sighing in relief.

“How rude of me,” she says lightly, finger running up and down your slit, “to neglect you like this. I was caught up in my own desire, it seems.”

Black Swan settles between your thighs. Her lips leisurely trail wet kisses down the curve of your stomach and her pussy flutters in response to the whimper that comes out of your mouth. She’s so wet already and all she’s done is kiss you. Her gaze is intense as she looks up at your brows furrowed in anticipation of her tongue on your cunt. How stunningly helpless you look under her ministrations. So sensitive, so responsive… she wants to ruin you, devour you until your thighs tremble pressed to her ears and your throat is sore from crying out her name. It sounds beautiful in your voice, even more so with unashamed desire lacing your words.

Black Swan discards your shorts without ceremony, tossing them on the floor next to the bed. Her tongue swipes over her lips at the sight of your wet panties. Her fingertips trace the edge of the material, hooking under it to watch the sticky string that connects it to your cunt as she pulls it away from you. Part of her wants to take her time ravishing you, she’s waiting this long, after all, but she also desperately wants to indulge her desires. How can she resist when you’re panting under her this way, a hand around your own breast and gazing down at her figure between your thighs?

Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs, lost in the sight of your glistening cunt. Arousal slides down your pussy in slow drops, the tip of your pretty, aching clit poking out from between your lips. She almost wants to curse.

“You have no idea how long I’ve craved to have you bare before me like this,” she purrs, two fingers spreading your lips to fully appreciate your cunt, “how much I’ve wanted you.”

You exhale shakily, brows twisting for a second. “We just met…”

“Officially, perhaps.” Black Swan presses a kiss on your wet folds, tongue licking a stripe up your slit and collecting your slick. You moan, eyes squeezing shut. The taste of you makes her greedy and she has to contain herself not to lick you silly. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while…”

Your brain barely registers the words. Your thighs threaten to close in around her head with every flick of her tongue against your needy cunt. You pinch a nipple between your fingers as Black Swan places wet, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy and you almost forget to reply to her statement.

“What— What do you mean?” You ask breathily, hips jerking forward further into her mouth.

She laughs softly at your confused tone. Her fingers keep your lips spread wide to allow the flat of her tongue to collect more of your arousal. She feels your thighs on her ears and makes no move to stop you from squeezing them together.

“What do you think? Memokeepers are rarely eager to show themselves, and this pull I feel towards you… I had to understand it.”

You don’t know what to say. She’s admitting to stalking you while in between your thighs, tongue greedily swirling around your slick folds. She feels so good that you can’t focus on anything but the way she spreads her saliva on your pussy and swallows your arousal. You vaguely recall that this is the thirst she meant earlier, this bottomless need for more of your taste coating her lips and chin as the tip of her nose bumps against your throbbing clit.

You have trouble forming full sentences in your mind when she sucks your folds into her mouth and you don’t even care about the invasion of your privacy.

“You…” A finger teases your entrance and you whine, momentarily forgetting what you meant to say. “You’ve been following me.”

“Mmm…” Black Swan tentatively pushes the tip of her index finger into your cunt and swallows a moan as it effortlessly sinks inside you. “I needed to know who you were, what makes you tick, your unspoken desires. And after observing you for so long, committing your every heavy sigh to my memory, I could not resist meeting you myself— to touch you with my own hands and hear my name fall from your lips the way curses escape you on the brink of pleasure.”

You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a moan, the tip of her finger brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. Her pace is steady, careful not to overwhelm you too fast or too soon, and it takes you two full minutes to understand what she’s implying. She takes your clit between her lips and sucks, long and hard.

“F-Fuck,” you whine, hips jerking forward in need. You feel your orgasm build in your lower belly and grip a fistful of the sheets under you, grinding your pussy against Black Swan’s experienced tongue. “You’ve— You’ve watched me… watched me touch myself?”

A throaty chuckle leaves her like she’s amused by how hard you’re trying to follow her sentences. She pulls away from your puffy clit for only a moment, looking up at you with unbridled desire. She drinks in the quiver of your bottom lip and the creases around your eyes, your parted lips and your hand palming the flesh of your breast. You are as beautiful under her as she imagined you to be when she would take a look around your empty bedroom, piecing together the puzzle of you with the help of your possessions.

Black Swan quickens the thrusts inside you, feeling her own cunt clench inside her shorts at the sensation of your warm walls around her digit. “How could I not? The way you fall apart under your own hands… your quiet moans as you play with yourself, oh…”

She moans into your cunt and you feel yourself gush into her mouth at the thought of her gaze on you all this time, watching you pleasure yourself and having to restrain herself from touching you, quietly suffering while she ruins her underwear. You wish you could have seen her and you wonder if she squeezed her thighs together as you played with your clit or sucked in a breath as you thumbed your nipple. She’s usually so composed, to think that your bare body can bring her to the edge of her self-control makes you so wet you’re sure you’re ruining your sheets.

“I can be a very patient person. I’ve had to restrain myself all this time, to be content simply watching you.” Black Swan circles your clit with her thumb, applying pressure on the tip as her slender finger drills into you the same way you do it when you touch yourself. The pleasure is too much and has you moaning into your forearm, uselessly trying to contain the noise due to living in an apartment building. “And… I think I deserve a reward for my patience, don’t you agree, darling?”

There’s a tightness in your stomach begging to snap; the pad of her thumb presses against your clit and the jolts of pleasure that course from your cunt to the rest of your body is heavenly, you’ve never felt more desired than with Black Swan’s uneven breaths fanning over your pussy, tongue darting out to taste you in soft, sweet kitten licks. You can’t control the tremble in your thighs and the stutter of your chest, or the hand that tangles into her pale hair to pull her closer to where you ache for her. Broken, high moans fill the room along with the wet sounds of her digit inside of you and her lips around your clit. You can’t think of anything but the pleasure that suddenly crashes over you and makes you shiver. You come hard around her finger and on her tongue, thighs squeezing against her ears and fingers tightly gripping her hair, and Black Swan laps up your cum with a rumbling hum of satisfaction. She helps you ride your orgasm by slowly massaging your walls, but her mouth doesn’t leave your cunt even as your high subsides. She licks long stripes up your slit, teases the base of your sensitive clit, then attaches her lips to your gushing entrance.

“S-Swan…” you manage to utter, back arching.

Black Swan inhales sharply at the soft sigh of her name. Her hands fondle the flesh of your inner thighs and spread them wide, keeping them pinned to the mattress. Her colorful eyes have dulled, the shine of your cum on her lips alike the lipgloss she’d applied earlier tonight. Her gaze is hungry and smug at having you shake for her, at being the first to make you come, to hear the mewls spilling from your open mouth. The thin layer of sweat on your skin gives it an intoxicating glow and she can’t resist dragging two fingers between your folds to watch your slick envelop her digits.

“You are a vision,” she drawls, unhurriedly rubbing your sensitive cunt. “Beautiful and so, so responsive to my touch…”

The pad of her thumb presses against your twitching clit and your hips jerk as you whimper, helpless under her. Black Swan hums appreciatively and gives you some reprieve, hovering over you to plant a tender kiss to your jaw. Your fingers grip the back of her neck to pull her body closer and the friction of your hard nipples on the fabric of her clothes makes you exhale audibly. She uses sticky fingers to tilt your chin upwards. Your lips part almost instantly to welcome her hot, wet mouth. It’s a softer kiss than the urgent ones from before, her lips slowly slide against yours and you feel her breath in your mouth, her firm tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Your arm sneaks around her waist, pulling her body flush on yours, earning another long hum from her. Her weight on you is a delight as she leads the pace of your mouths and your heart constricts as if squeezed between loving fingers. This is intimacy, you realize; Black Swan’s thigh between your legs and her wet digits under your chin, her tongue past your lips and the warmth of her skin on yours. You feel breathless in an entirely new way.

The ache of your pussy dulls to a soft pulse, your hands run down her sides to squeeze her waist and you’re suddenly hungry for everything she has to offer. You rub circles into her pliable flesh, your touch growing insistent as you keep her pressed against you. Black Swan moans low into your mouth when your palms slide down her body to grasp her ass. Her breathing is a touch heavier against your lips and you prop up the thigh between her legs, drawing an exquisite gasp from her.

“Need you…” you mumble, fingers slipping under top to pull at the mesh of her bodysuit over her back. It slaps her skin when you let go and the needy sound that leaves her almost makes you moan. “Off.”

“Demanding…” Black Swan sits up, lavender hair cascading down her back, and grips the material of her purple top from the bottom to pull it over her head in one smooth movement.

Your pupils dilate considerably at the sight of the intricate lace of her bra. She leans forward to capture your mouth in an eager kiss. You run your hands up her stomach and fondle her heavy breasts between your palms, enjoying their plushness. Your fingers tug on the cup of her bra to free one of them and you whine in the middle of the kiss at the feel of her hard nipple under your thumb. Black Swan leans into your touch with a quiet sigh. You harshly twist her nipple for the surprised moan that escapes her. Pulling her tight bodysuit down her waist only takes a few seconds and your hands greedily take fistfuls of her breasts and squeeze once, then twice, as your mouth chases hers, her tongue wetting your lips in a sloppy, hurried kiss.

Black Swan helps you pull her clothes past her hips and takes the rest off herself, revealing the creamy skin of her plump thighs and the dark lace of her underwear. Slick clings to the fabric in a thick, sticky string when she slides it off her legs to discard it on the floor. Two of your fingers run down her cunt, grazing her engorged clit, and she lets out a breathy moan, resting her forearms on each side of your head to support her body. She’s incredibly wet, so ready for your touch between her folds. Her entrance gushes with another wave of arousal, breath heavy, as the tip of your index teases her hole. Her forehead rests on yours, the tip of your noses brushing. You nuzzle into her at the same moment you push a finger inside her throbbing pussy, tentatively thrusting into her to feel the warmth of her walls before slipping a second digit into her.

Black Swan squeezes her eyes shut with a needy moan against your lips and her cunt clenches tight around your fingers. The slight stretch of her pussy brings her considerable relief; it’s not long before her hips follow the pace of your thrusts inside her. Her breasts move with the rest of her body, baby pink nipples grazing your chest with every roll of her hips. Her breath is hot on your face and she stutters out soft gasps as you quicken your pace, drunk on the feeling of her cunt sucking in your fingers like she never wants to let you go.

“Yes—” she gasps against your mouth, “You feel so good…”

You plunge into her up to the knuckles, determined to have her gush over your hand. Your name is a half moan past her lips and her brows twist in pleasure, the filthy, wet sound of your digits drilling into her fluttering pussy filling your bedroom in an intoxicating melody. A quiver goes through her thighs. Black Swan lifts one hand from the bed to bring it between her legs and swipe her aching clit in tight circles, low oh’s and ah’s spilling from her mouth. Together, you bring her closer to the edge. You masturbate her the way you know how, the way she’s watched you do to yourself so many times, fingers curling inside her and making her see explosions of colors behind her eyelids. She’s tempted to curse, her who never does, and she feels the coil in her belly snap as white hot pleasure washes over her. Her hand stutters on her clit and she comes around your fingers with a sharp moan, squeezing them tight and forcing you to slow down your pace, her limbs trembling over you. Her orgasm is intense, she shivers from head to toe and struggles to keep herself above you, chest leaning into yours.

Black Swan barely has a moment to catch her breath as you slip out of her and rub comforting shapes into her love handles with one hand while bringing her wrist up to your face. You take her fingers into your mouth and her eyes blink open at the sensation of your tongue swirling around her digits, sucking her clean. She gazes down at you, lips parted.

“Swan…” you breathe out around her fingers, the hint of a whimper in your words. “Want you on my face.”

Black Swan applies pressure on your tongue, making you moan. “Is that right?” Her voice is low and throaty, each word carefully enunciated despite her heavy breathing.

You nod eagerly, squeezing the dip of her hip. The thought of her plush thighs around your head, trapping you between their soft flesh as she grinds her cunt on your tongue makes your head spin. You want to bury your nose in her slick folds and have her come in your mouth until she’s too sensitive to handle your ministrations. Black Swan hums, a fondness in her lidded eyes as she takes her fingers out of your mouth. They leave a wet trail on your skin when they cup your cheek.

“So eager to please,” she says softly to herself, thumb tracing the curve of your top lip. “Alright.”

Like she was ever going to say no to the needy look in your gaze; you look up at her with twinkling admiration and she feels herself pulled to you once more.

Black Swan positions herself over your face, thick thighs on each side of your head, and your arms wrap around them to pull her closer. Her pussy glistens, puffy and pink, as she gently tangles her hand in your hair and the sight is breathtaking. The short hairs on her cunt are only slightly darker than the ones on her head, they shine with her slick and entice you further into her folds. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up her slit, delighting in the soft hum that follows the gesture. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best to apply theory to practice, rubbing the flat of your tongue on her cunt and collecting her tangy cum. The grip on your hair pushes you closer to her wet pussy, but she’s careful not to be too harsh.

“Just like that,” her quiet, breathy moans encourage you as you suck her pulsing clit. The drawl of her words sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. “You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

The taste of her fills your mouth, the smell of her arousal takes over your nose as it coats the tip of it, you can feel her all around and it makes you moan into her throbbing cunt. The vibrations reverberate through her pussy, pulling another long moan of your name out of her lips. She’s sensitive from her previous orgasm, already twitching against your tongue, yet her hips rolls into your mouth to chase release a second time. You stare up at her head thrown backwards in blind pleasure, at the sheen of her lips and the movement of her breasts, nipples like pretty pebbles on her chest. Sweat clings to her brows and dampens the bangs framing her cheeks. She’s a painting above you, one that you can’t tear your eyes from.

“You’re so pretty, Swan…” you mutter into her pussy, flicking your tongue on her clit, and she almost melts at the compliment.

Her hips grind into your face as she feels herself getting closer to release, gripping your hair a bit tighter to keep your mouth on her cunt.

“Oh…” Black Swan moans, two fingers closing around her nipple to pinch it softly. Her cum drips down your chin and her eyes shut in bliss.

Her orgasm comes embarrassingly fast— after having to rely for so long solely on the thoughts of you as she touched herself, hearing your muffled sounds into her pussy is enough to bring her to the brink. You’re enthusiastic, licking up her slit and between her folds, sucking her clit hard and fast, and she can’t resist bucking into your mouth as she comes on your tongue. Her body trembles and you welcome the gush of her cum in your mouth with a pleased moan, eagerly lapping up her release. Your hands tighten their hold on her thighs, keeping her flush against you while she rides her high, slightly leaning forward. Her clit twitches, her cunt throbs and she can’t believe how wet she is, cum staining her thighs and the bottom of your face.

You don’t let her pull away, gripping her tighter when her hips jerk away from your mouth, and she gasps out, the feel of your tongue pushing into her entrance quickly overwhelming her.

“Aeons—“ A moan breaks her sentence and the words get stuck in her throat as you wriggle your tongue inside her to swallow more of her cum.

Her thighs shake around your head and her eyes almost roll back into her skull at your desperate need to draw more of her needy sighs and throaty moans. Your open mouth won’t leave her pussy, sucking her lips, nose grazing her sensitive clit. Black Swan makes a pretty mess on your face and her hips greedily grind into you despite the overwhelming sensations, clutching the headboard in a tight grip.

She breathes out your name, eyes shut and brows twisting in pleasure, “Ah… Mmh—!”

You wrap your lips around her clit and suck, making her choke out a strangled moan as the hand in your hair attempts to pull you from her pussy.

“T-Too sensitive…”

Black Swan sees stars behind her eyelids, a broken whine in her throat when you relent slightly and opt to tease the base of her aching clit instead. Her stomach is so tight, orgasm rapidly approaching, and she can’t do anything but rub her cunt desperately onto the flat of your tongue. She needs to come so badly she forgets to take into account the fact that you’re having difficulty breathing with your nose in her pussy and her thighs around your head. There’s a throbbing in your skull not unlike a coming migraine, but you focus on making her feel so good her teeth sink into her bottom lip to muffle a needy cry.

With the tip of your tongue teasing her entrance, Black Swan comes hard and shakes above you as a drawn out moan of your name rips from her throat. You can’t breathe with how much she’s squeezing your head, you have to tap her thigh a couple times to get her attention and she finds the strength to pull herself from you, a tremble in her legs. You’re both panting heavily when she collapses on the bed beside you, catching your breath as the throb of your skull slowly subsides. Black Swan has the back of a hand on her eyes and you can see the quiver that runs through her with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

You bury your face in her chest and she sighs in satisfaction, absentmindedly stroking your hair as you press soft kisses to her breast.

“Was that okay?” You murmur into her skin, rubbing her waist.

Black Swan laughs, disbelief sending ripples through her abdomen. She tilts your head to face her and gazes down at you with a mix of endearment and amusement.

“It was more than okay, trust me.”

Her hand pulls you to gently kiss your lips, tasting herself on your mouth. You’re putty against her and she has no difficulty flipping you over so that your head rests on your pillows. A thumb swipes over your jawline when she separates her lips from yours. You watch the sun rise in her eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mmh?”

#honkai star rail #hsr black swan #black swan x reader #hsr x reader #hsr smut #black swan x you #hsr x you #black swan smut #hsr fanfic #sub!hsr #dom!hsr #hsr #hsr black swan x reader

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chenfleur · 1 year

Text

open the gates, let me in

summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin

genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers

disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating

word count. 4.0k

released. 02.05.23

author's note. feedback is appreciated! BAEKHYUN IS BACK FROM WAR 🙏🏻 WE CHEERED

masterlist

For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.

Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.

He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.

It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.

"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans.

He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.

Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.

Too strong.

"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.

"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."

Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.

He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.

"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"

"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."

Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."

He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.

Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.

Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.

"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.

"Y/N asked me to."

Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.

Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.

It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.

The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.

He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.

His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.

Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.

Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.

It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.

It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.

It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.

It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.

Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.

He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.

Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.

Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.

He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.

Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.

He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.

"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"

Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?

The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.

Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.

This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.

But as he always seems to do, he relented.

Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.

"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.

Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.

You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.

Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.

Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"

A shaky blink. "So..?"

"So? Have you thought about what I said?"

Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.

Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.

He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.

A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.

He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.

If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.

And that's exactly what he does.

"I have," he begins meekly.

Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"

"...and I don't think you're right."

The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.

A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"

"I'm not in denial. It's not true."

Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.

"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.

"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."

Jaemin has always doted on you.

He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.

Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.

He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.

Renjun indulges your passionate side.

You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.

Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you.

The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.

When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you.

He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.

There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.

He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.

He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.

The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.

He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.

No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.

Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded.

"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."

He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.

"You're in love with her."

"I'm sorry."

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.

The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink.

You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.

There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.

The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of.

You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.

A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.

It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.

You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.

You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top.

Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.

“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.

Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid.

A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips.

“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand.

“Come with me to the bathroom?”

The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.

Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.

His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist.

He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.

There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.

Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.

Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.

This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—

—and then, he hears it.

There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?

Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!

Had it been his heart all along?

"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.

You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.

"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"

Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.

"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.

"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"

The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.

"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.

A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I'm just... thinking about something."'

An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"

Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.

The iron gates swing slightly ajar.

"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."

A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.

When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.

"O-oh."

Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.

Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.

He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.

"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.

He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—

"I... I don't really know why..."

A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.

"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.

The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.

"Hmm?" he weakly hums.

"I love you."

Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.

It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.

It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.

You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—

—they're so loud.

She just said she loves me.

"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.

It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"

"I do."

"M-more than a friend?"

"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.

"Do you love me too?" you repeat.

The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—

You're in love with her!

Jeno blinks.

I'm in love with her.

Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.

And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.

Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.

And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.

Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.

The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.

"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."

You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.

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hwayangyeon · 1 year

Text

NSFW ex bf actor heeseung x actress reader // you meet heeseung during met gala and he fucks you in the bathroom // a lot of teasing, mirror sex, bathroom sex, public sex kinda // 1.3k words

pt.2 here!! & pt.3 here!!

you sat at the beautifully decorated table, next to other beautifully decorated tables. more and more people started entering the hall and taking their seats. thankfully the chairs at your table were still empty, it gives you some time to check the nameplates and, if you come across an unknown surname, look up the person's instagram profile.

you looked to your right, the small paper read "rina sawayama". great, you like her music. it might be like last year when you were the only actress at your table.

you looked to your left, moved the card to see its front, and– "FUCK!" you exclaimed, probably too loud which granted you a few glances from other celebrities.

fucking lee heeseung will be fucking sitting next to you. who assigned those fucking tables?

actors are all sorts of people - rude, kind, bossy, hardworking, or totally insufferable to work with. heeseung was the last type.

the thing is, he wasn't a bad actor. if he was, your paths wouldn't cross so often. it was his attitude, his cockiness that angered you so much. there was this one movie you both starred in where you had to kiss, and he kept making up excuses to reshoot the scene because he knew how much you hate kissing him, given your dating history from high school.

"happy to see me?" you heard a whisper in your ear. it didn't shock you, you knew that voice too well. you would be lying if you said it didn't send a shiver down your spine, though.

"wish i didn't have to," you took a sip of wine from your glass, "this is your doing, am i right?"

"oh, don't think so lowly of me."

"this isn't the lowest i have thought of you." you turned back to him and gave him a proper look.

his shirt perfectly ironed, broad shoulders emphasized by the navy blue suit. the color of his lips perfectly matched with the strawberry you just ate while waiting for the main dish. the dangly earrings you liked so much. not on him, you just like this type of jewelry. even his hair was flawless, his stylists must have spent a good hour on him.

after every seat at your table was taken, the gala had rightfully started. surprisingly heeseung was behaving himself, talking with other guests, not really paying attention to you. it was your behavior that was questionable.

because of your tight dress, your knees kept drifting to the left, occasionally touching heeseung's leg, after which he proceeded to brush your thigh with his thumb, saying "excuse me," as if he bumped into you. whenever that happened you jumped back to sitting straight, but then your legs started moving to the other side, and you didn't want to bother the woman on your right, so you just excused yourself from the table and went to the bathroom.

because of the banquet just starting, the toilet room was empty. you stood in front of the mirror, wanting to reapply your lipstick when it struck you that you had left your purse on your seat, "fuck."

"forgot this?" you heard the annoying voice. you didn't even notice him following you here.

"it's a women's bathroom, heeseung."

"it's not."

you looked around only to see a display of luxurious men's fragrances for guests to try, "shit."

you wanted to walk past him and leave the room, but he was blocking the door.

"you look so beautiful today, i can't keep my eyes off of you." you knew that tone, he was playing.

"move."

"ah, isn't it just like in moonlight?" he pretended to have a conversation with you, "the bathroom scene, do you remember?" he looked down at you and smirked.

oh you wish you didn't. it was the first sex scene you've ever filmed. of course you weren't having actual intercourse, but it was pretty intimate. you remembered it too well, him delicately touching your skin to make sure you're comfortable, breathing into your lips, looking at you with so much desire.

his face started moving closer to you, calmly, so you could back away if you wanted to, but you couldn't force yourself to.

your lips met his and, shit, they not only look good together on camera but feel amazing too, as if they were carved specifically for each other. it was like two magnets finally connecting. it was a matter of seconds for heeseung to have you bent over the counter.

he moved your dress up carefully, slowly so you can have all the time you want to regret your decision. oh you hated how easily he could read your mind, "hurry up," you rushed him.

"are you this needy for me?" he pushed onto you harder and you could feel the bulge in his pants.

"i don't want anyone to walk in."

"why? it wouldn't be the first time when people see you like this for me," he said, still referencing the movie.

honestly, you wanted to turn around and slap him on the face, which he expected and so firmly grabbed your hips, unabling you to move. then he unzipped his pants and swiftly put his dick inside you, not wasting any more seconds.

without a doubt your body still knew his, he entered you so easily only for you to clench on him immediately after, causing a gasp even from him.

you both looked at each other in the mirror, a smirk appearing on his face once he saw how hard you were trying to keep your lips pressed together.

he was thrusting into you deeply, not leaving any space between you and the sink. his warm body pressing onto you from behind and you rubbing on the stone-cold porcelain from the front really fucked you up. it was difficult for you to hold yourself up, which heeseung noticed and helped you by grabing your neck and pulling you back, closer to him.

a strap holding your dress fell off your shoulder, exposing your right breast. you wanted to bring it back, but he stopped your hand, "i want to watch."

it drove you mad how he kept whispering into your ear, how you melted because of it, how he perfectly caressed your spot, how hot you were getting, how you wanted him to watch.

"why is it that you always come back to me?" he looked your reflection in the eyes while kissing the side of your neck.

"not to you," you paused because of the moan escaping your lips, "to this."

"to this?" he moved his hand up to your jaw, his fingers brushing over your lips, oh you had to tighten your legs together, "i know you want me to put my fingers into your mouth. it always made you cum."

it was so hard to not break eye contact with him because of the filth he said to you, but you were already so red on your face, tears slowly had started to build up in your eyes, you couldn't give him more satisfaction. he can't know how good he's making you feel, even though it's not difficult to tell from the wet sounds you're making.

"come for me. i want to know that you're still mine," the more he talks the closer you feel to your release, but you can't give up so easily. not that you want him to fuck you longer, you just don't want him to think that you're so easy for him.

but you are. no matter how hard you tried to stop your orgasm, it came. you coated his dick with your sweet, glistening liquid. a single tear ran down your cheek, finishing the scene.

"you did so well, baby." he kissed your exposed back.

"don't call me that," you moved his hands away from you.

pt. 2 here!! pt.3 here!!

after hotel.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #after hotel.

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sofasoap · 13 days

Text

When the rain stops

Pairing: Simon "Ghost"Riley x F!reader Rating: T-M rating. slightly open ending. no angst ( for once!)

Summary: You were stuck at the shop with your groceries, and your intimidating ( but nice ) masked neighbour waited the rain out with you.

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for organising the writing challenge! you are totally awesome :) Go here to check out other wonderful writer and artist's work for this challenge.

Prompt used : No.83 Stuck/Caught in the rain note: I have to thank @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world her roommate series simon will always be my inspo for any neighbour/roommate related ideas. *taking deep bow*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Master list

Holding one bag of grocery in one hand, and a bag of rice in another arm, sighing as the sky opened up, regretting not listening to yourself earlier on.

Should have brought my brolly, or should have driven here instead of walking. Thinking to yourself. So much for wanting to get some exercise and steps into my daily routine.

Oh well, What else can you do but wait?

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Suddenly a large shadow with a deep rumbling voice loomed over you, cursing away.

Looking up, stands Simon, your large yet mysterious neighbour, with a small bag of grocery, seemingly in the same predicament.

“You too?”

Awkward silence. He slowly turns his head down towards you. You can almost sense his discomfort from the tense body language and the way he is staring down at you.

“There’s extra storage space on the ground floor. Rubbish collection day is every Monday, remember to take it out. Oh good morning Simon.” your landlord greeted a tall masked man, with a big camo bag who was about to head out the door. He nodded his head towards the two of you, before turning away abruptly.

That was your first meeting with Simon.

After that, he only appears every few weeks, always carrying his Camo bag. Sometimes in his uniform, sometimes already changed into Civilian uniform. The two of you never spoke a word to each other, nor acknowledged each other.

“Um. I am your neighbour two doors down?” You shifted uncomfortably, thinking he doesn’t remember you.

“I know.”

Another awkwards silence.

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop for a while.”

“…….”

Pointing to the cafe next door to the grocery store,“Would you, would you like to um, have a cup of coffee while we wait?” WE? You don’t know why you offered.

“Tea.”

“Pardon?”

“I drink tea.” He repeated.

“Oh.” Well, you assume that is a yes. “Let’s.. Let’s go?”

You look out the window, at the rain that is currently bucketing down heavily, showing no signs of stopping. The drumming sound drowning out the chatting voices of the cafe patrons.

“Not to your taste?”

Simon’s voice snapped you out of the reverie.

“Sorry?” you blinked, confused at his question.

He pointed at your coffee. “Not to your taste? Should I get another one for you?”

He has insisted on getting the drinks.

“I am very particular with tea.” He insisted as he gently set the groceries down beside the table. He raised a hand to stop you before you speak. “A cup of coffee isn’t going to break my bank. What would you like?”

You shook your head and quickly took a sip. “Oh nono, I was zoning out…looking at the rain. Listening to the sound.It’s very… calming.”

He looked out the window, humming. Back to the silence between the two of you.

You took another sip of your coffee, and stole a glance at the brooding man in front of you.

This is probably the first time you have seen him without any face covering on.

Not a face of a model, but a pleasing looking face. Long eye lashes, framing those deep brown eyes, full of sorrow, weariness and… loneliness?

“What if the rain doesn’t stop?” You break the silence again after a while.

“Then we wait a bit longer.”

“Until the cafe closes?” You chuckled.

“Then I’ll walk back to get the car and pick you and the grocery up.”

You cocked your eyebrow. Although the two of you are neighbours, technically the two of you don't know each other before this. He could have just left you there to your own demise..

“But I don’t think I need to do that. Seems like the rain started to die down. Come on.” Simon drained the last of his tea, donning his mask back on and stood up and picked up his bag of grocery and your bag of rice.

“OH, I can..”

Before you finish your sentence, he hauls it over his shoulder like a bag of feathers and stares at you. Somehow you know it’s pointless to argue with him so you just pick up your bag of groceries and follow him out of the cafe.

Two of you walked home in silence.

You couldn’t resist taking a peek at his strong muscles… you mean him. With the first glance he sends people scrambling with his deathly stare. But from his actions today.. You know he’s a man of action. From the little things he does. Insisting on paying for the coffee. Carrying the heavy bag of rice.

Oh he smells so nice. You also couldn’t help but take a deep breath in as he gently nudged you to the inner side of the walking path and shielded you from all the puddle splashes when the car drove past.

Smell of fresh pine. Citrus. Freshly cut grass.

Just like after the rain. Your favourite smell since childhood.

It gives you comfort. And joy. Memories of going for a walk and running around on the field with your family and falling over onto the grass, big patches of mud on your butt while your siblings laugh at you, and your mother shook her head.

“You got the front gate key?” He grumbled, adjusting the bag of rice on his shoulder.

“Ah? Oh. yes. Sorry..” you quickly dug through your bag for the keys and opened it up to let the two of you into the building.

“Well, Ah, Thank you for your help today.” You said as he put the bags down in front of your door. “ Would you like to come in for a cup of tea… OH.” What the hell are you saying, the two of you just sat in the cafe for more than an hour drinking afternoon tea.

He chuckled. Oh, he sounds nice when he laughs. “I think we have enough tea and coffee for the afternoon.”

You nodded your head, embarrassed and somehow disappointed at the rejection. You opened the door and half kicked your groceries in.

“But maybe next time.” you snapped your head around, he was already walking towards his own door. “If you need people to go grocery with you. I will be happy to if I am home.”

You blinked your eyes, is..that his way of asking you to go on a .. date but not a date? Or is he just being friendly??

You stood there for a long time mouth gaping, long after he returned to his apartment.

Simon look down at the little container of home baked biscuits left on his front door step the next morning, and smiled.

“Just a little thank you for the impromptu afternoon tea and carrying my groceries yesterday. This is my number just in case you want to ask me to go again…”

tag:

@homicidal-slvt

@cumikering

@siilvan

@gamergirlbones

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@nrdmssgs

@writeforfandoms

@devcica

@liyanahelena

@okayyadriana

@clipperfly

@glitterypirateduck

#GhostChallenge #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #sofasoap writes

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brewed-pangolin · 2 months

Text

Totally not me nursing a sunburn (my fault) and a hangover (also my fault).

MDNI 18+

cw: alcohol use, mentions of over consumption, hangover

You laid yourself down across the end of the bed. Completely bare and at his disposal. A muffled groan escaped his throat as you heard the sloppy wet sounds of the lubricant fall from the container into the palm of his hand.

Bracing for the inevitable, you fisted into the sheets, clenching your eyes and waited for the sudden cold contact.

"Oh shit," you gasped, following a sharp inhale through your teeth.

The cold fluid sending a shiver rolling up and down your spine as his hand gently spread it evenly along your back.

"How many times I got'a tell ya, bonnie," Soap said softly. A subtle tone of reprimand rolling off his tongue.

"Ya gotta wear suncreen."

"I did."

"Donnae give me tha' shite. Yer burnt to a crisp, hen."

"I forgot to reapply."

Soap huffed mockingly in response to your plaintful excuse. Adding another dollop of refrigerated aloe to his hand, gliding it along your lower back and further onto your reddened thighs.

"Ya mean yer were too wrecked ta remember."

"Yes," you retorted with a heavy sigh. Rolling your eyes as he continued jokingly chastising you.

"Tha's what ya get fer havin fun without me, lass."

"Shut up, Johnny. Not like you didn't spend six hours at the range with your ghost boyfriend."

"Haud yer weesht, smartass."

You smiled softly against the mattress. The cooling effects of the aloe soothing the burn along your skin as he ran his hands down along the length of hour calves.

"Bett'r?"

Nodding in response, your smile widened as the bed shifted to the addition of his weight. Feeling his arms brace on either side of your frame, placing a series of gentle kisses along your shoulder, the gentle sensation tugging a quiet moan from the depths of your throat.

Soap adjusted once more, moving to lay beside you on his side. Gazing upon with an affectionate stare, running his fingers along the length of your hair.

"An' how's my wee bonnie's head? Still mad wae it?"

"I don't even know what that means?"

"Are ya still hungover, bonnie?"

His smile stretched across the lower contours of his face. Etched within the lengthy stubble, drapped beneath the bright cerulean jewels within the recesses of his eyes.

"Yeah," you managed quietly on a soft murmur. "I think I could go for one of your herbal teas right about now."

"Aye. I think I ken jus' the one ya need."

You were braced up against the headboard, surrounded by a mountain of pillows in one of his overstretched t-shirts when Soap returned with a tray with two cups of steaming tea. The herbal fragrance filling your sinuses, pulling another smile to your lips as he handed you your porcelain cup with a matching knitted sleeve.

"Hmmm..definitely smelling the ginger," you muttered. Bringing the rim up to your lips, taking a modest sip.

"Aye. An' turmeric. It'll help with tha' poor head a'yers."

You scoffed at him once more, rolling your eyes and curling your lips around the steeping rim.

You caught a familiar scent wafting over your cup, but were unaware of tasting it aromatic effects.

"Are you drinking peppermint tea, Johnny?" You questioned with a curios stare and a raised brow.

"Aye. Become quite fond a'it."

"Oh, I'm definitely talking Simon about this."

"Away n bile yer heid."

A calming silence slowly began to hang heavy around the room. Content with the soothing aloe on your skin and the relieving effects of the herbal brew flowing through your veins.

You turned to give him a loving smile, yet were met with a glare you were all too familiar with in similar bed ridden circumstances.

"Johnny, no. I'm in pain. I can't-"

"Ya donnae have to do nothin, bonnie." He interrupted, deep brogue echoing into his cup as he washed down the remainder of his tea.

All of a sudden, as he began to move down the bed to place himself between your thighs, the implications of the peppermint began to take effect in the back of your mind.

"Oh, you sly little bastard."

"Aye. An' this sly little bastard deserves a reward fer takin care a'yer burnt ass."

Soap let out a throaty growl as his mouth descended onto the cusp of your mound. Encapsulating over the silken flesh with a heavy exhale that had you rolling your eyes back as he tugged you down into the bed.

"Oh my God," you gasped breathlessly on a trembling whsiper. Feeling your body sink further into the bed as he smiled against the flesh of your womanhood.

"Tha's it, bonnie. Jus' relax fer me. Let me take care a'ya."

The warm sensation of his tongue gliding between your folds combining with the cooling effects of menthol, had your mind spinning as a jolt of pleasure ran up and down the length of your spine. Drawing another muffled moan from your throat as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and proceeded to feast on your peppermint infused core.

Drabbles Masterlist

I have no idea if peppermint tea will have this effect, but it sounded good, so I went with it. Menthol infused cunnilingus for the win.

#super soap sunday #soap squad™️#tea master soap #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish x f!reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x f!reader #soap smut #cod smut #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod

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redroomreflections · 1 month

Text

Well Worth The Wait

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Summary : R and Nat have a night alone - based on The Loud House couple that can be found on A03

Note: These are reuploads.

18+ Minors DNI (it's smut)

w/c: 4k

The door slowly opened to reveal the scene beyond. In the living room of Natasha’s suite were candles lit up in various spots. Some are taller than others, and some brighter than others. Rose petals lined a trail to the middle of the room where there was a picnic-like setting waiting for you. A champagne bottle sitting on ice. It all added to the ambiance of the room. You stepped further inside, and Natasha’s footsteps could be heard behind you through the clacking of her heels against the floor. She reaches for your hand when she realized you’ve stopped.

“I guess Sam does know how to decorate,” You comment as you find a fully decorated table for dinner. This evening had been planned for weeks. A night at the Compound. A date for just the two of you to reconnect and talk with each other. Here you had total privacy. Soundproof walls, nice air conditioning, and a fully stocked fridge. No kids running around. No phones. No work emails. A luxurious night if you do say so yourself. Natasha’s suite in the Compound is huge. It's kind of romantic if you think about it. Every time you’re here you remember the nights you spent together before marriage. The times you promised each other the world. Crazy how things turn out.

“Sam said dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” Natasha tilts her chin towards the kitchen where you can smell the fragrance of whatever is cooking wafting through the air. “For now how about drinks?” She suggests and you nod. You watch as Natasha struts into the kitchen. You decide to stay behind and explore a bit more. There’s a blanket right in front of the fireplace. Sam’s doing? Along with a red box that you’re sure you’re not supposed to touch. Curiosity gets the best of you and you walk over to shake it. Could this be the gift? You know the one. Natasha promised to give it to you the night of Christmas but Paige broke a fever so you rainchecked. Then Charlie got sick too. Then the rest of the house. Next thing you knew it was time for work again. Weeks went by and you never got around to opening your gift. That doesn’t mean you forgot about it. Natasha mentioned it once or twice in passing. She knew how to keep you wanting more. Which is why you’re so excited to open it. Your fingertips trace across the red ribbon, pinching close together to rip it open when you hear Natasha’s footsteps once again.

You pretend as if you weren’t going to touch anything and instead walk over to the double doors of the suite. There’s a balcony here. It overlooks the beautiful forest of upstate NY. You reminisce on the nights you would sit here with your laptop and phone. You’d work and work some more until Natasha was done with her Avenging duties. When she finally arrived home she would come and sit in your lap, give you a big kiss, and fall asleep in your arms. It’s amazing how so much of your life has changed. In a way, the suite was your first apartment together, and now you have a home with your littles.

“What are you thinking about?” Natasha asks as you turn to her. She passes you a full tumbler before taking a sip of her own drink.

“You,” You swirl the liquid around in the cup, watching the ice ding against the edge, before taking a drink. Screwdriver. Vodka and orange juice. Not a bad drink though you think Natasha mixed it for your benefit. “Us.”

“A lot to think about then,” Natasha lowers her drink. She follows your line of sight to the infinity pool directly below you. Many nights she’d watch you swim. You were always so graceful.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” You glance over at her. “When you think about the beginning and everything we went through. You and Me. Did you ever think we’d have this?”

“I did,” Natasha shrugs. “When I allowed myself to. I’ve only ever wanted it. This. With you.” She confirms. In the beginning, your relationship with Natasha wasn’t easy. It was rough and heartbreaking, and pain-inducing all at once. It was also fun, and exhilarating, and everything you dreamed of all rolled into one. In the distance, there’s a timer that goes off. Dinner is ready. You follow Natasha into the kitchen. She sets her glass down on the counter in exchange for oven mitts. She takes out the pan of lasagna. “There’s a salad in the fridge. It’s fresh. Can you pull that out?” She asks and you quickly get to work. You spruce it up, making sure it's to your liking before you both carry everything into the living room.

It’s there you sit across from each other. Natasha is wearing a dress and so she opts to have a pillow sitting in her lap.

“For modesty,” She said even though you’ve seen everything she has to offer. Not that you mind seeing it again. In fact, you welcome it. You take care to fill both of your plates with food. Though you’re sure Natasha will be eating off of yours.

You engage in small talk. It’s odd to do all things considered but you find that you enjoy it. Any time you could get with Natasha was always cherished.

“I love what you did with your hair,” She rests her chin on her hand to admire you. You knew she would. Your hair took hours to do. From the wash routine to the straightening and curling, and down to the styling. Your hair falls into soft ringlets around your face, barely brushing past your shoulders.

“Try not to mess it up,” You take in a forkful of lasagna. Promises of what’s to come in the air between you.

“I make no promises,” She laughs. She takes another sip of her drink to finish it off.

“You made me wait a long time,” You gesture to the box still waiting to be opened.

“I assure you it will be well worth it,” Natasha promises. She scoots around the table to come and sit next to you. You immediately open up to her so that she can crawl into your arms. She kisses your jaw several times before settling her head on your shoulders. “I know it’s been a long while since we have been intimate.”

“A while,” You repeat jokingly. Natasha nods. It’s been a month. A long month. Not that you’re counting or anything. “It has been but it doesn’t matter because I have you all night and all morning.” You tap her nose. “Maybe we can take a bath? A massage? I know you like those.”

“You’re so good to me,” She murmurs.

“I’m only giving back what I receive,” You kiss the side of her head. For a moment, you two sit together in silence. Natasha takes your hands into her lap to toy with your wedding ring on her finger. A small symbol of your love. You haven't taken it off since the day you said 'I Do'. Neither has she with the exception of missions and fieldwork.

“Y/n,” She says. You lift your head up to look down at her. “I’d like for us to do this more often.” She turns to look at you. “I want us to always make this time for each other. It hasn’t been long but it feels like it’s been ages.”

“Having four children will do that to you,” You nod in agreement. “I promise. A night to us. Whenever we can.”

“You want another drink?” Natasha asks and you enthusiastically pass her your cup. You would be making the most of tonight.

Another hour passes where you simply sit and enjoy each other’s company. Every so often one of you will bring up a new topic or random thing that comes to mind. Overall you just want to spend time with your wife and you’re doing exactly as you planned. As the night winds down, you’re even more excited to be opening ‘The Gift’.

************************

“Spunk?” You test the phrase on your lips. You snort at the word written in large white letters along the black-wrapped casing of the bottle. What an interesting yet accurate name for a semen-like lubricant. Natasha glances over at you from her spot beside the bed. She’s lighting more candles here in the bedroom. You would help but you’re feeling a bit…light.

“The girl in the store said it was the best-selling option,” Natasha murmurs as she lifts the small red box. She places it in front of you. You’re still stuck on the fake cum. It’s such an exciting concept—one of your wildest fantasies coming true. The black bottle is simple and pretty self-explanatory. You turn it over in your hands. It’s new. “Could it be any more obvious?” You twist open the cap, and bring the open lid to your nose, to smell the fragrance. You scrunch your nose, anticipating something weird, and only get a citrusy smell in return. “Babe is this safe to be using inside you?” You ask. You’re a bit unsure. You try to read the ingredients on the back. The print is incredibly small. You squint. Interesting.

“I’ve tried it,” Natasha shrugs.

Wait. Pause. You lower your hand to look over at her.

“On yourself?” You ask and she rolls her eyes.

“No, on Wanda,” She jabs but at your interested look she changes her tune. “Yes on myself.” She says exasperatedly.

“Damn, that’s hot.” You mutter. Visuals of Natasha touching herself flash through your mind. You can imagine how good she looked with her fingers stuffed inside of her dripping wet pussy. You picture her face as she spread the sticky substance over her clit. Damn. You can’t wait to be able to do the same.

“It doesn’t take much for you, huh?” Natasha rounds the bed to stand between your legs. Your hands take their usual spot on her hips. You squeeze the skin underneath your fingers, eyeing her cleavage before looking into her eyes. She’s amused.

“Well, when my wife looks like this,” You shrug. Could she really blame you? “My panties are flooded every time you look my way.”

Natasha hums as she swipes her thumb across your bottom lip. “How much did you have to drink again?”

“Not enough,” You open your mouth to allow her to slip her finger inside of it. You suck on the digit, swirling your tongue over the edge of it before you release it with a pop. You purse your lips, hoping she gets the hint. She does. Natasha leans down to press her lips against yours. You moan at the taste of her. Strawberries and cream. Was she wearing lipgloss? You swipe your tongue against her lips asking for permission. Natasha obliges. Her tongue tentatively licks yours. You return the sentiment with enthusiasm. You pull back and look into her dilated- lust-filled eyes before you dive back in. Kissing Natasha would never get old. You don’t ever want to lose the feeling of absolute love and adoration you feel. The blooming in your chest that seemed to explode whenever she touched you is euphoric. She breathes harshly before pushing against your shoulders. You don’t have to be a master in body language to know what she wants. You lie back against the sheets pulling her down with you. She straddles your lap, her fingers finding the buttons of your creme satin button-down. One by one, your skin is exposed to the cooler air of the room. She pushes her fingers under the fabric, finding your nipple already a hardened peak.

“Nat,” You moan into her mouth as she pinches and tugs. She pries herself from your lips to kiss a trail from your neck to your chest. She nudges the covering away with her nose to take your nipple between her lips. She sucks, licks, and lathes until she’s satisfied. Then she moves over to your other breast to give it much of the same treatment. You thread your fingers through her hair. “Nat, fuck, I need you.” You’re not usually this needy. Not this compliant. She’s leading and you’re enjoying it. You know she does too. Much like your shirt, she unbuttons your pants, gripping the belt loops to tug them down your waist. You lift your hips to aid her.

“Here?” She questions as she pushes your legs apart. You nod wordlessly. You’d like her tongue on you. In you. Natasha settles on her stomach, no doubt preparing herself for a ride, as she kisses and bites at your inner thigh. The skin is sensitive there as her hair tickles with every move she makes. You look up at the ceiling in anticipation. The first lick is kitten-like. The second has your mouth dropping open as she pushes your panties further to the side. She wants full access. Natasha licks and licks until finally, she sucks your clit into her mouth. The moan you let out is low and guttural. The high you feel as she gives you her all. It never ceased to amaze you at how well she knew your body. Natasha knows every spot to lick and touch. Every inch and how to play it well. She raises one hand to spread your legs wider. When she’s sure you’ll be staying put, she presses two fingers at your entrance. The fill is amazing. She pumps into you, matching the rhythm of your hips, as she fucks you. You’re not going to last long, You’ve been wanting this. Your moans are frequent. Tumbling out of you like a mantra as she brings you to orgasm. You flutter around her fingers, clenching violently, as she hums. The vibrations give you the much-needed push as you lay spent. Finally, with a little reluctance, Natasha releases your clit from her mouth. She kisses your inner thigh again before coming to lie next to you.

You try to catch your breath. Your head lolls to the side to look over at her with glassy eyes.

“Fuck,” You breathe. She chuckles lowly. Does she know what she does to you? The power that she holds? “Give me a minute and I will absolutely rock your world.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Natasha helps you out of your shirt. Next, she takes off her own clothes, a fiery red dress with laced backing, leaving her in nothing but her panties and heels. Five-inch stilettos that show off her toned legs. She reaches down to take them off and you tap at her.

“Leave them on,” You plead and she releases the straps. “Come here,” You whisper. “I want you here with me.” You say. She nods. She crawls over to you, settling herself on your hips, before leaning down again. “How did I get so lucky?” You ask rhetorically as you look into her eyes. She smirks. You know the one. She’s just a little bit shy about this entire thing and you find that endearing and so sexy. Having a soft moment when you’re about to do nothing but dirty things to her is an amazing thing.

“So I’m guessing I mixed those drinks a little too well?” Natasha murmurs as she traces her fingers along your cheek.

“Extremely well,” You nod your head in agreement. “I’m not drunk. Honest.” You laugh at Natasha’s eyebrow raise. “I’m just really in love with you?”

“Is that a question?”

“Not even,” You shake your head. “I really want to fuck you now.” You confess and this causes Natasha to giggle. She finds the tipsy version of you quite funny. “Are you going to finally let me get my gift?” You ask with a pout. “It’s been so long.”

Natasha reaches above your head, her breasts in your face, as she reaches for the box. You watch the firm soft globes, hanging freely before you raise your head to give one of them a soft bite. Natasha flinches in surprise, dropping the box next to you as she sits up again.

“That’s the mood you’re in tonight?” She asks amusedly. She opens the box, pulling out the dildo along with its harness.

“Nat,” Your eyes widen. “This one looks so realistic.” You take the toy in your hand. It’s at least 8 inches long. Thick and veiny. A smooth tip. The same color as your skin and you don’t know if she made that choice for you or her but you’re not complaining at all. The phallus has a pair of testicles that you’re inclined to squeeze until Natasha lies a hand over yours to stop you.

“It’s filled,” She says and you immediately understand what she means. You turn over the dildo in your hands.

“So, I can cum inside you?” You ask in wonderment. Okay. Maybe you’re just a little bit drunk but you feel like it’s Christmas and your birthday rolled into one . “Oh, babe, I have to use this on you.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” She asks.

“Positive,” You stand to fix the harness around your hips. Next is the dildo that you attach with ease. Natasha looks so delicious sitting before you. Her legs were crossed at the ankle. Her eyes showed her absolute desire and hunger for you. When you’re sure everything is fixed into place accordingly, you crawl into the bed. You bracket your arms around her body, her legs parting automatically, as the head of the penis slides against her panty-covered core. Natasha’s lips drop open as she closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling. You kiss her open mouth first. Then her cheeks, her jaw, behind her ear. Anywhere you can get your lips on. You give a tiny lick to the hollow of her neck. She moans slightly. Your hips cant into her, gliding against her folds, as you prepare her. “Do you need to cum first?” Your lips ghost against her skin. “Need you to be ready for me baby.” You say.

Natasha is lost in the pleasured feeling of the cock against her clit. Even through her panties, it's sending her reeling. Natasha nods just as your fingertips trace along the waistband of her underwear. “Leave them on?” You question, thrusting a bit harder causing Natasha to gasp as it sends shockwaves through her body. You angle your hips to have the head of the cock poke just slightly at her entrance. Not enough to breach but enough to promise what's to come. You duck your head, biting at the soft tissue of her breast, as you start a steady rhythm. It’s essentially dry humping. Though from the wet spot and the way her underwear sticks to the lips of her pussy there’s nothing dry about it. You lick at her nipple, teasing it with the tip of your tongue, as Natasha whimpers below you.

“You’re teasing,” Natasha says in between labored breaths.

“Teasing?” You question. You circle your hips, paying attention to what makes her moan, to pull the most pleasure out of her. Natasha comes with a long whimper as she stiffens underneath you. Her whole body stills even as her hips continue to search for that pleasure. “That’s so good, baby.” You release her nipple from your mouth with a pop. Natasha simply kisses you. She kisses your face and neck her hand slipping up to your chest to push you on your back.

You’re impatient but excited. You lie back against the pillows to make yourself comfortable. Natasha rids herself of her panties before she straddles you. She uses her pussy lips to grind against the toy. Her juices glisten with every swipe she does. When she decides that she’s ready, Natasha lifts up, taking the penis in her hand to direct it to her entrance. You can feel the weight of her against you as she sinks down onto it. She breathes through her nose. She closes her eyes in an effort not to come too quickly as she takes it all in.

From your angle it looks absolutely heaven-like. You can see her having a bit of trouble with the last inch so you place your thumb directly along her clit, providing tight circles that catch Natasha off guard as she takes the last inch.

“Good job, baby.” You praise. You never take your finger off her clit as she lifts her hips again. The sigh that leaves her lips is followed by an even louder moan as she drops down again. You let out your own moan at the sight of her. Natasha’s hand wraps at your wrist pulling you away to place them on her hips.

“Too fast,” She mutters. She doesn’t want to come too quickly. You nod, using your hands to guide her, as she finds what makes her feel good. In turn, it makes you feel good too. Natasha’s motions are quicker. Rougher. As she rides you with abandon. You set this pace this time. Up until this moment, she’s been in charge. Not anymore. You can tell she likes the change as you grip her hips, forcing her up and down, as you thrust into her. You’re thankful for the ab workouts you’ve taken as you thrust up.

“Fuck,” You say to yourself as your eyes travel to where you and Natasha meet. She looks so full like this. She’s spread open so wide, bouncing along your cock, her clit brushing against your pelvis. After a particularly hard thrust, Natasha crumbles, folding into herself, as she leans further down. Her lips are against your ear now, her moans louder, more brazen, as you fuck into her.

“Yes, baby, yes, fuck,” Natasha babbles into your ear. You make a bold move, raising your hand before slapping her left ass cheek. It gives a loud echo through the room just as Natasha clenches at the slight pain. You smack again harder this time and she cries out again. “Yes, yes, yes.” She sounds like a broken record as she sings your praises. One thing about Natasha. She has stamina. She could do this all day. Most days. Except now, it’s been so long since she had you like this and you’re fucking her so well and you’re not giving her a chance to recover as she climaxes around your cock. She’s seated upright again, her back arching, her nails digging into your forearms as she clenches around you. You follow her headfirst into your own orgasm, your hips increasing their thrusting into hers before you drop back down onto the mattress. Natasha falls along with you.

You rub against her back, pulling the cock out of her gently, before rubbing at her cheeks. They’re probably red from how many times you smacked them and you’d be hearing about it later. For now, it was worth it. Natasha lies down tiredly in your arms. She stretches her legs and curls into you.

“Good?’ You ask and she nods. She nuzzles her nose in your neck. “I’m not done with you.” You inform her and she nods again. She already knew. You’d give her five minutes and that’s all she could wait. When you promised her tonight you meant it. You reach for the water bottle on the nightstand. You crack it open and take long sips out of it. You pass it to Natasha who tiredly takes a long gulp.

When you feel both of you have recovered enough, you flip Natasha onto her back. Missionary. A simple position. Top tier if you do say so yourself. You get to see Natasha and all of her expressions of pleasure. You get to hold her down and make her take whatever you’re giving. Natasha helps you guide the cock to her entrance. Both of you share a breath as you press into her. You kiss her forehead, murmuring words of encouragement, as she takes every single inch.

“So damn tight,” You bend yourself slightly at the knees. Her hips wrapped around your waist, your hand on her thigh to keep her spread, as you hump into her. “You’re always so wet.” You mutter into her skin. “Are you going to let me fuck you all night?” You practically growl and Natasha simply nods her head. She’s too lost in the pleasure to give you anything of substance. This round is hard and fast. You don’t hold back as you pound into her. Your thrusts are sharp and short, causing her breasts to bounce with the force, as Natasha begins to whimper again. Her whimpers quickly turn into moans when you turn your attention to her neck to place another bite. Natasha gasps, arching her back, and you can feel things become a bit slicker as she floods your cock.

“Yes,” She manages to moan out. You sit up so that you can kiss her lips.

“Whose pussy is this?” You ask. You’re feeling bold. Probably something you both will laugh at later. For now, you need her to say it. "Whose is it?"

"Yours," She wheezes. She doesn't really know up or down right now.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach. You reach down between the two of you, making enough room to toy with her clit, as you want to come at the same time. You slam into her and this time Natasha practically screams.

“Oh fuck, yes, Daddy,” Natasha moans and you almost do a double take. She’s never called you that before. Suddenly that’s all you want to hear from her.

“Say it again,” You command, and Natasha’s eyes open just slightly to question. “Say it.” You thrust into her again and Natasha grips your forearms for purchase.

“Daddy,” Natasha cries and you practically come on the spot. You angle your hips again, gripping hers in your hand, as you thrust harder and harder and harder until Natasha reaches her peaks, and you fall quickly behind her. You know your grip will bruise later and you’ll apologize when the time comes. Instead, you squeeze the balls of the fake cock, making sure to keep your hips still, as it spills into Natasha in thick spurts. She is thrown into another small orgasm as her insides are painted with the sticky substance.

You kiss across her forehead, tapping at her hips again, and she loosens them as you pull out. You look down between the two of you, her pussy still pulsing, the fake semen dripping from her and onto the blanket. You take two of your fingers, sliding them through her core to collect the mixed fluids to bring to your mouth.

“Nat?” You question when her hips jump at the feel of your fingers. She’s sensitive and exhausted. You lean back, the cock bobbing in the air though you ignore it, as you help her take off the heels. Really you’re doing all the work and she lies there.

“Mhmm?” She responds without ever opening her eyes.

“This was the best present ever,” You say and she laughs. A full belly laugh that has you laughing too.

It was well worth the wait.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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obsessedfics · 6 months

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Soft Rain: Gojo Satoru x Reader (SMUT! Mature/Explicit) Part 1

I want to first say I usually try to find a photo that fits the aesthetic of the story but this one was way too good to walk away from. Everyone enjoys this gem <3. Also, this fic because it's too damn long is split up into two parts. Part 2 is already up and will be linked at the bottom of this page.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Rating: Mature/Explicit (Sexual scenes)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Summary: You are in a coffee shop one rainy day when a sad beautiful stranger enters. Slowly, you open up to each other in the warm confinement of the cafe. Little did you know that you would fall in love with this man, and he with you.

I wrote this from the perspective of seeing Satoru with his barriers down. No masks, no facades, just him when he's alone with his haunting thoughts. I wanted to give him a more human perspective and touch on some of the things that plague his mind. I know I have been MIA for quite some time, if you were someone who was waiting for this I am sorry! Life has been a rollercoaster recently but I am finally back to being in a place of stability. This is certainly a longer fic, so I hope you all enjoy it. As always feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Word Count: 25k+

September: When I met you

“Your coffee, miss.”

“Oh, thank you,”

Finally, you tore your eyes away from your book to smile at the girl handing you your drink.

You gratefully accepted the liquid, hands wrapping around the warm ceramic mug as you inhaled deeply. The bitter scent of coffee with a hint of vanilla kissed your senses, causing you to smile.

Taking a sip, your eyes wander to the large window as the warmth travels down your throat.

Soft rain fell from endless gray.

It had been raining for hours now, which drove you into the small cafe. You were pleased when you entered the space. A warm cozy atmosphere fragranced with coffee and paired with the sound of rain.

What more could you want for a reading environment?

You let yourself settle further into the oversized couch, watching placidly as drops of rain slowly travel down the planes of the window.

Such a perfect day.

Peering down at your watch, you sigh. It was nearly 5 pm. Idly, you run your fingers along the soft threads of the couch, drifting further into your own thoughts. You knew you had to leave sometime soon, but willingly tearing yourself away from this serenity seemed like a crime.

“Is this seat taken?”

Huh?

You pull your eyes away from the window to find a man standing before you, soaked to the bone in rainwater.

Soft white hair stuck to his porcelain skin. It drew your attention, eyes unable to look away. However, when your eyes met his, your breath caught. They stole your attention; piercing blue that seemed to know everything .

“No, go ahead. Do you need a towel?”

You realized you were staring all while feeling slightly awkward. There were many other open seats, why did he need to choose the one that was adjacent to you?

“Do you have one?” he asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Giving him a curt nod, you began digging in your purse until you found your folded hand towel. Silently, you handed it to him and he accepted it, sitting down with a huff, roughly drying his hair.

Beginning to feel uncomfortable, you set down your coffee and resumed reading your book. Your fingers lightly played with the cover – feeling the embossed words, you traced the shapes, mind unable to focus.

Who is this guy?

You peered at him over the cover.

He had unzipped his black athletic jacket and draped it over a chair. He now wore a simple white button-down shirt and it clung to his muscular body. The color of his skin bleeds its way into the white, stealing your attention. With eyes discreetly tracing the planes of his body, you noted the pale blue veins that delicately decorated his hands.

You blushed, feeling as if you saw something you shouldn’t, so you quickly turned your eyes to the book – pretending to read.

Is he some kind of gym rat? Why is he so fit? He looked like a noodle a second ago…

“Miss?” his low voice calls, breaking your thoughts.

You meet his eyes over the pages. His hair, now more dry than wet, began sticking up in multiple different directions. The male is holding your towel out to you with a sad smile on his lips.

Deciding reading is futile, you close your novel, placing it to the right as you shake your head.

“Keep it,”

You don’t want a wet towel in your purse and it seems he doesn’t have an umbrella. It’s not much, but you hope it’ll give his spikey head a little coverage.

“You sure?” he asks, already leaning back to find comfort in his seat. You control the urge to stare at his body. So you grab your coffee, forcing your eyes to look at the deformed latte art.

“I’m sure. It seems it’ll get more use with you. Why were you outside in this weather anyway?”

It had been raining for hours, most people would be in their homes by now.

He eyed you for a moment, white eyelashes downcast, almost like he was recalling a painful memory.

“I wanted to be alone, my thoughts were loud, so the rain helped block them out. What about you?”

How can you say something like that so casually?

“Honestly, I was on my way home. But it had started raining and it led me here. Pulled out my book, and yeah…”

You shrugged your shoulders.

If you were being sincere, it was a needed escape. The walls of your home felt too suffocating, you looked for any excuse to not return.

“What’s your name?”

You now fully looked at his face.

He is handsome, with a sharp jawline and regal features. Nothing about him was mundane, it seemed as if he was a sculpture; something perfect and unattainable.

“Y/n, you?”

“Satoru. What do you do for a living?”

With eyebrows knitting together, you eyed the man.

What is this, a surprise interview?

“I am an author and I do some remote networking for a hospital. What about yourself?”

His eyebrows rose at your response and you couldn’t tell why. It’s not like your profession was anything to be shocked about.

Taking a sip of coffee, you sigh. The warmth slides down your throat as the delicate taste coats your tongue. Silently, you savor the feeling – the easy calm that washes over you.

“I am a sorcerer,”

The cup nearly dropped out of your hands.

Well, shit.

It’s not that you didn’t know they existed, it’s that you did your best to distinctly distance yourself from that world.

That explains the physique at least.

“I am sorry, then.”

You watch as his eyes turn sorrowful, then he faces the window, cheek in his palm.

“I don’t see any cursed energy coming from you, how do you know about us?”

It’s a simple question, but in truth, it was perhaps the heaviest one to ask you.

“A close friend. They went missing about 6 years ago. Police never got a trail, so I dug and I stumbled upon a lot of information I shouldn’t have. Been doing my best to ignore it since.”

You weren’t sure why you were talking to this random stranger. Maybe it was something in his expression, with the way his eyes longingly looked out the window – as if he too missed someone close to him.

Satoru hummed as he tapped a finger against his thigh, perfectly in tune with the soft rain.

“I lost someone too,”

The man spoke so softly you hardly picked up on his words. If you hadn't been paying attention to him, you may not have caught it.

“A lover?”

Judging by his expression, you guessed it had to be someone he loved. But, to your surprise, he let out a humorless laugh.

“No, but you could see it that way. He… Was like the other half of me. Someone I could trust. I knew with him, I could let go and be myself. I could breathe. Because he was the only person who saw me .”

Endless blue plagued with deep sadness gazed towards you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“When it rains, it reminds me of him.”

Your heart dropped.

“Where is he now?”

Becoming fully invested in the man in front of you, you cross your legs, leaning your body forward.

“I… He’s dead. It’s been a year,”

Satoru’s eyes turned down again.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached out, gently taking his hand, rubbing the cold, soft skin of his knuckles. Your touch shocked him for a moment, but he slowly relaxed into it, large palm melting in your delicate fingers.

The contact made your body shiver.

When was the last time I touched someone?

“Do you want anything?”

You didn’t want to offer him fake pleasantries, for you thought he wouldn’t appreciate it. However, you also didn’t know what to say. Nothing comforted you when your friend died, and you were positive it was the same for him.

“No, I am good. Thanks though.”

Nodding softly at his words, you reluctantly remove your hand to find your drink. Again, you welcomed the warmth of the liquid, relishing in its taste.

“Do you plan to leave soon?” the question left your lips in a whisper.

“Yeah, but if I am being honest, I don’t want to go back. I kind of just want to forget, y’know?”

At his honest words, you sighed, taking another long sip of your coffee.

“Unfortunately,”

He laughs at your answer. The pure sound makes you smile into your cup, shaking your head to try not to join him.

Maybe some company wouldn’t hurt.

With eyes falling to your coffee, you let your laugh die in your throat. It had been so long since you willing had a conversation with someone. Now you felt stiff and awkward.

“I-If you want, my home isn’t too far from here. You can wait out the rain there. I have some extra clothes that might fit you, that way we can wash your current ones.”

Finding a little bit of confidence you offered the man a small smile, to which he returned with his own.

If you were being honest, it seemed like he needed someone.

And maybe you did, too…

“Inviting a stranger over to your home? That’s awfully brave.” Satoru said with some found bravado, which only made you chuckle.

“Well yes, you are a stranger. But you also look like a wet, sad cat. It would break my heart to leave you stranded.” you tease back, earning yourself a smile from the male which made you bite the flesh of your inner cheek.

He really is beautiful, it's kind of unfair.

To hide your blush, you stuff your face into your mug, gulping down the remnants of your coffee.

“Alright, as long as I don’t end up in a crop top and short shorts.”

It was your turn to laugh. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat, just imagining him in such an outfit was ridiculous – all long limbs in hot pink and denim.

Somehow, you think he would pull it off if he tried.

“Oh I don’t know, now you’re giving me ideas~” you coo playfully, wiggling your fingers in his smiling face. He feigned being offended, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking the other way – which only caused you to laugh harder and him to join you.

The two of you giggled uncontrollably a bit, hands lacing over your stomachs. It was the only sound that could be heard other than the soft pitter-patter of rain.

Deciding you had overstayed your welcome, you began collecting your items. In a pair, you exited the building. Your bodies huddle together under the umbrella that Satoru held. The male looked down at you with a wicked smile, then jumped in a puddle, effectively splashing the both of you with cold rain. You laughed and pretended to be annoyed, joining in his childish behavior.

At some point, you began chasing each other in the rain, umbrella forgotten. You laughed like children till you reached your home, the two of you completely soaked.

Still giggling, you unlocked the door, wiping your hair out of your face.

“Wait here, I’ll get you a towel.”

Knocking off your shoes, you padded over to your hallway closet, grabbing two towels. You were already running yours through the length of your hair when you returned to the male. He gratefully accepted the fabric, using it immediately against his unruly hair.

It was then that you noticed his height and stature. His body is elegant and lithe, whereas he is tall, easily towering over your frame.

This somehow annoyed you.

Why do all the good genes go to one person?

“You’re staring,” he commented and you shrugged.

“Just thinking you’re unfairly blessed,”

A long sigh escaped your lips as you dropped your towel to the floor, hoping to clean some of the water off the polished wooden planks.

“You wouldn’t be the first – Is that a cat?”

Catching the excitement in his voice, you smile.

“Yes, that’s Noir. Before you say it, I know she’s white. I just like the novelty of the name.”

Slightly shaking your hair, you hang up your jacket, watching Satoru stare at your cat out of the corner of your eye.

“Will she attack me?” he asks and you hear an audible gulp .

Satoru places his towel on the floor, cleaning up his own puddle of water with his foot to hide his embarrassment.

Who knew such a big man would be so cautious of a little feline?

“Here,”

Holding your hand out to the male, you lightly cock your head to the side, wet hair tickling the nape of your neck. He places his large hand in your small one and you lead him to Noir, who is currently perched on your gray couch, cleaning herself.

Gently, you guide his hand to your cat, allowing her to give him a sniff. Then, she affectionately nuzzles her head into his palm, purring when he scratches under her chin. You watch as he smiles like a big idiot, squatting down so he’s at eye level with your pet.

“I think she likes me,” he whispers to you happily, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“She likes everyone . That girl is also a glutton, the T-R-E-A-T-S are on top of the fridge. I am going to take a shower, keep my precious furbaby company will ya?”

You couldn’t help the tight squeeze of your heart at the sight. In a way, they kind of resemble each other. Right down to the unruly fur and knowing blue eyes.

“I wouldn’t let anyone harm her for the world,” he promises, and you chuckle.

“Good,”

—

Feeling some life return to him, Satoru pads over to the kitchen, securing the treasure; treats for Noir.

“Here girl,”

He makes kissing noises and the soft feline comes running over. She has a fluffy white coat, and if she had been asleep on the couch he may have mistaken her for a throw pillow.

The cat ‘meowed’ at the sight of the bag, spinning in a circle then sat down, staying perfectly still.

Oh, did your mommy teach you tricks?

“Oh, good girl, Noir!”

He excitedly plucked out a treat, placed it in his palm, and then brought it down so she could lick it off his skin. The scratchy feeling of her tongue tickled his hand until the snack was gone. Then she was sitting again, big blue eyes begging him for more.

“Let’s see,” Satoru hummed happily, grabbing another treat from the bag, holding it a little higher than the cat.

“Jump!”

Noir did as commanded, gracefully jumping, catching the treat in her mouth, and snacking while walking in a triumphant circle.

“Ohhh~ You’re such a smart girl!” the cat rubbed his leg, purring affectionately into him. He knew that she was buttering him up, but he didn’t care.

Over and over, he played with Noir. Giving her treats with each performed trick, petting her lovingly after every graceful action. Eventually, he sat down, ignoring the bite of the cool kitchen tile, letting the cat lay on his chest.

He closed his eyes, enjoying Noir’s warmth and soft fur against his skin. Her soft purs tickled the pads of his fingers, making him smile to himself. The feeling ebbed some of the ice out of his chest, blocking out the whispers of loneliness.

“I see my little lady has captured your heart,”

He cracked open one eye.

Y/n was smiling down at them, wet hair surrounding her soft features. She dressed simply in a white t-shirt and sweatpants, but she still looked beautiful.

He sighed, kissing Noir’s soft little head, then stood. Y/n’s eyes followed his movement, every bit of curiosity easily readable on her face. He couldn’t remember the last time he was around a non-sorcerer. However, her presence was calming, and he was willingly letting himself drown in her serenity.

“The bathroom is down the hall on the left. I put the spare clothes on the counter along with a fresh towel,” her eyes raked his frame. She then clicked her tongue with a disapproving look on her face.

“Put those ruined clothes in the hamper and place them in the hall. I’ll wash them.”

Oh, she’s just not happy about my clothes. It wasn’t toward me.

“You got it, boss,”

Satoru smiled playfully, finding his familiar mask. He heeded her words and headed down the hall. Once in the bathroom, he shut the door and got to work.

Quickly, he peeled himself out of his now-damp clothes and placed them in the empty clothing hamper.

She’s kind.

Hiding behind the door, he slid the hamper into the hallway.

“Clothes are out!”

It was a bit odd, calling to her as he hid his naked body. It made him feel slightly embarrassed somehow.

“Alright!”

At her response, he closed the door.

He felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he turned on the shower, stepping into the comforting heat. It warmed his rain-chilled flesh, blotting out some of the emptiness inside him.

Why do I feel so nervous?

While raking his hands through his hair, he let his day settle over him.

In truth, he never meant to enter that cafe. He simply meant to walk around aimlessly, letting the rain soak him to his bones. Thoughts of Suguru always plagued him on days like this, and with the anniversary of the day he left passing, it was worse.

He couldn’t let his students see him like this, so he sought to punish himself. Walking in the rain for hours, dropping all barriers, letting his body turn frigid.

Then he saw her .

He watched as she had to tear herself away from her book, brightly smiling at the barista handing her the coffee. She settled into the couch, drinking her drink while looking out toward the rain with such serenity he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It was as if she was tranquility itself, surrounded by the warm glow of the industrial lights, dressed elegantly in soft white and pink.

At that moment, she pulled him away from his haunting thoughts.

Feeling the unwavering need to be closer to her, he stepped into the shop. He didn’t know what he needed, but he found himself relaxing little by little under her whimsical gaze. The woman didn’t probe him or shy away. Instead, she offered her silent kindness and pleasant smile. He then found himself opening up to her, saying things that he hadn’t said to anyone in years .

She surprised him, when she softly grabbed his hand, asking if he wanted anything rather than giving her sympathy. He allowed himself to get lost in the kindness of her eyes. He let her touch him, having to hide the shiver that ran down his body from her warmth.

Then, they were laughing.

Before he knew it, they were chasing each other in the rain like children. Even though she was soaked down to her socks, she was spinning and laughing, hair sticking to her skin as she happily jumped into cold puddles to splash him. It was as if they had no care in the world.

Not once did thoughts of Suguru attack him, even with the feeling of rain tracing his skin.

A light smile tugged on his lips.

Who knew I just needed to feel normal?

—

You were setting out the items to make dinner when Satoru entered the kitchen. When you turned around, you had to stifle your laughter.

The sweatpants, though several sizes too big for you, came to about mid-calf length on him. It also didn’t help that he was wearing a baby pink t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy house slippers to match.

“You look dashing,”

Placing a hand on your hip, you motion for him to twirl with your other, earning yourself a bemused glare from the male.

“I look like a twink,” he huffs, a blush lightly kissing his pale cheeks, making you giggle.

“Can you cook?” you ask, completely avoiding responding to his statement. His eyebrows knitted, taking in the ingredients on the counter.

“If you instruct me,” the words leave his lips slowly, still trying to piece together the dish you’re making. You laugh, walking up to him and placing a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s pasta, if you mess up just add more cheese.”

Letting your eyes meet his, you hold your breath.

They were softly looking down at you, corners folding kindly as if he was looking at something precious. The difference was so stark from the emptiness you saw earlier – it made your heart melt.

“I’ll blame you if it goes wrong,” Satoru winked down at you, hand coming up to your hair, ruffling it lightly.

“H-Hey!” you retort, and he laughs, easily avoiding your swipe at him.

“What’s first?” he asks innocently and you huff while rolling your eyes, unable to hide your smile.

“Let’s hope you don’t burn down my kitchen.”

—

Turning on some music, you and Satoru worked together to make dinner.

Laughter sounded throughout your home as you instructed the male. You watched as he fumbled with different utensils, unsure of what to do with each item. He would turn red, blaming you for not instructing him properly when you would tease him – which only resulted in you both laughing under your breath.

Noir had joined the party, nimbly weaving between your two bodies, brushing up against your legs as you cooked. Once you were waiting for the pasta to finish cooking, you were humming and swaying your hips to the music. Satoru noticed and took your hands, joyfully dancing with you.

You both danced around your kitchen, laughing infectiously. At some point, he picked up Noir, snuggling her close to his chest with one arm as his other spun you.

The silliness continued through the night as you turned on a rom-com movie and halfway through Satoru was tearing up, asking you why he would leave the girl. You were too choked up yourself, shaking your head and cursing at the male lead, holding Noir close for emotional support. With both of you fed up, you decided there was no way you were ending on a sad note, so you turned on a children's movie to feel better.

Which, somehow, made both of you more emotional.

Once the movie was over, you washed the dishes together. It was only then you saw the time.

“Oh my god!” you cried, almost dropping the freshly dried plate.

“What?” Satoru asked, much calmer than you.

“It’s midnight! Do you live close by? I’ll pay for your taxi back. I am so sorry, I lost track of time.”

The male only laughed, making you pout.

Why is he laughing?

“No, I don’t live near here. The taxi would be expensive. I’ll find a hotel, don’t worry about it.” he smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You shook your head aggressively.

“I can’t make you pay for a hotel! After all, I invited you over, so I should take responsibility.”

“I, um…” running a hand through your hair you sigh. There’s really only one option but that seems a bit much.

“You can stay the night, the couch is moveable so I’ll just make it into a bed for you.” heat rushed to your cheeks. You were so embarrassed.

I got lost in the moment .

“Are you sure? I don’t want to invade your space.” he took the plate from your hand and put it away.

“I’m sure. I spend most of my time alone, anyway. Your company isn’t entirely unwelcome.” you could only hope you sounded natural. Internally your brain was screaming at you.

Satoru rolled his eyes, making you chuckle.

“Oh, wow, thanks. Makes me feel so wanted.”

“I am glad you feel that way!” you chirp, playfully elbowing his side as you finish putting away the last dish.

Satoru picks up Noir, nuzzling his nose against her pink one as he starts bad-mouthing you.

“Your mommy is very mean. You should come live with me, I’ll give you lots of treats~”

Rolling your eyes at the sight, you make your way to the hallway closet to pull out an extra blanket and pillow.

Tossing the items on the couch, you cross your arms over your chest. Satoru was possessively holding Noir close to him, eyeing you suspiciously.

“She sleeps with me,” the man-child announces, and you roll your eyes.

“If you truly feel the need to claim her for the evening, then fine. Just don’t be surprised when she’s on your head in the morning.”

Still eyeing you, he slowly places Noir down. The furball comes running up to you, rubbing her head lovingly against your leg.

“Traitor! I just gave you so many kisses.”

Laughing, you motion for him to help you move the couch. He obliges and you work together to shape it to a somewhat bed that will work with the length of his body.

“You should learn spooky magic that makes you shrink.” you huff, eyeing his long frame.

Again, he was back to looking like a noodle. But you knew that he packed muscle under the semi-baggy clothes.

“It’s called jujutsu and I don’t think that exists. Also, you’re staring again,” he notes and you sigh, waving a dismissive hand.

“I am going to bed, if you need anything just knock on the door.”

You turn and you hear him chuckle.

“Avoiding me?”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you run your eyes over the length of his body, this time letting him watch your features.

“You’re beautiful and strong. However, you’re also hurt and trying to piece yourself back together…”

Pausing, you consider your words.

A fallen angel. Made of pure moonlight and stars. But shattered like the image seen through a kaleidoscope.

“I hope you heal your heart, Satoru.”

Without waiting for his response, you closed your door, locking it behind you.

Your worlds are completely different, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had been through. Nor were you going to pretend to know.

But if there’s one thing you could relate to, it’s trauma.

—

Satoru spent the entire night tossing and turning. Noir was resting above his head, purring softly against him. With each passing hour, his throat became drier and drier, until eventually, he was coughing.

My head hurts and my throat feels like sandpaper.

Once the first rays of morning sunlight trickled through the window, Satoru was coughing aggressively while his body felt extremely hot.

Am I sick? There’s no way.

Y/n came out of her room with her hair a mess and her pajamas wrinkled. The second she heard his cough she was rushing over.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, voice soft and somewhat gravelly.

She was rubbing the sleep out of her hazy eyes, already moving to press the back of her hand to his head.

“No, I am fine–” he coughed and she flicked his forehead.

“You're burning up. Most likely a cold from the rain. I’ll go get you some medicine, just rest.”

Sighing, she ran a hand through her tangled hair.

“Really, I’ll be okay. I’m–” Satoru couldn’t even finish his sentence. He started coughing aggressively, each retch of breath making him feel like he was eating sand.

“Right, and I can fly. Don’t be stubborn.”

Rolling her eyes, the woman padded over to the kitchen.

“I can fly!” he shouted hoarsely like a petulant child, plopping back against the cushions, and reaching up to grab Noir. The second his fingers wrapped around her soft warmth, he brought her to his chest, rubbing his nose into her fur.

“Good for you!”

This is humiliating .

After a few minutes, she returned with a mug in her hand.

Slowly, he sat up. His chest felt like it was caving in and he felt incredibly lightheaded. Satoru eyed the mug and then gingerly took it from her small hands.

“What is it?”

He sniffed and she raised her brow.

“It’s ginger tea with honey and lemon. It’s hot. The honey and temperature, once it cools a little , will help soothe your throat.”

Why does it sound like she’s talking to a kid?

Giving Noir a loving pet to the head, she crouched down so she was at eye level with the feline.

“As for you, my sweet girl, your food is in the kitchen. Watch over this big child for me.” the cat seemed to understand its master because she ‘meowed’ in response.

“I’m not a child,” Satoru said begrudgingly. Y/n only stood with a bemused expression.

“Right.” she eyed him up and down once, then walked away.

Satoru felt his face become hot, and it wasn’t from the steam kissing his cheeks.

Usually, women threw themselves at him. It had happened so many times now with both men and women that he assumed he was everyone's type. But it seems Y/n couldn’t care less about his looks.

For whatever reason, that bothered him.

How can she call me beautiful but be so cold toward me?

Without thinking, he gulped his tea, only to quickly pull away due to the heat burning his tongue.

Cursing softly, he set the mug down on the coffee table, pinching his burnt tongue between his thumb and forefinger. He tried to reach for Noir for comfort, but she had long abandoned him for her breakfast.

Y/n exited her room, hair pulled into a loose bun as she wore a baggy white t-shirt and black cargo pants. He couldn’t help but think she looked cute in her streetwear.

Once her eyes saw him, she sighed, a soft smile on her lips.

“You know, I did mention wait to drink your tea till it had cooled. I thought you were a good listener. But it appears I misjudged you.”

With an elegant wave of her hand, she bid him farewell. He watched as she slid on an army green windbreaker and black Dr.Martens. Then she grabbed her purse and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Knitting his eyebrows together, he turned his head toward Noir. She was eating her special food neatly, back to him as she softly purred.

“Is your mommy always so mean?”

—

Walking down the street you couldn’t help but look at the puddles decorating the ground. Yesterday was the first time you laughed and had fun in years.

When you and your best friend moved to Japan it was scary. You were a foreigner and you didn’t know anyone. So naturally, when she passed, you became more isolated. You tried going outside to meet people, but sometimes it felt like too much. People were more interested in the fact that you’re from the States, they were never really interested in you .

To add, you work remotely from home, so opportunities are truly limited.

“Eh, adulting is hard~” you whispered to yourself as you entered a local convenience store.

The clerk at the desk welcomed you in and you gave them a slight bow in response.

Immediately you B-lined for the medicine, grabbing the items you needed. Then, because you were already here, you began searching the aisles for snacks.

I was expecting him to be gone this morning. Even if he’s sick, I can’t say I am not happy for the company.

After checking out you started to head home, thinking about all the trivial things you needed to get done today. You had deadlines to meet for your book and you had to look through the servers to make sure there were no network issues.

Grabbing a coffee from a small shop that you frequent, you began frowning, feeling the lines form on your forehead as your daily list seemed to keep stacking higher.

You were sipping on the last remnants of your iced latte when you opened the door to your home, finding Satoru fast asleep.

Softly closing the door, you shimmied out of your jacket, hanging it on the wooden coat rack. Noir padded over to you, the sound of her little paws tapping on the floor sounded through the space. Smiling sweetly, you pat your cat on her soft head as you take your boots off.

Making your way to where Satoru was on the couch, you note he seemed to look worse. His cheeks are flushed and his skin is pale. You make press your hand to his forehead, but you feel like you're touching a wall.

What?

Your fingers were splayed flat against an invisible barrier, hovering right over Satoru’s body.

“Strange,” you murmur in wonder, trailing your finger over the length of the wall. It stretched all around his body, protecting him in a bubble.

Satoru opened his eyes, softly blinking as he adjusted to his environment, taking in your features.

Suddenly, that wall is gone, and your hand falls limply to your side.

“It’s called Infinity,” he rasps, light cough already pressing out of his throat.

You hold up your hand to silence him, quickly grabbing the medicine you purchased earlier.

“Don’t worry about explaining anything. Just drink this. There’s a sleeping agent in it, so expect to feel drowsy.” he opened his mouth to protest, but you shot him a pointed look, effectively silencing him.

The male sat up, accepting your carefully measured medicine. He drank it, making a face as it went down his throat.

“It tastes like shit,” he coughed and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what that tastes like?”

Leaving the medicine on the coffee table, you make your way to the kitchen.

“You’d be surprised.” he shoots back, voice already sounding better.

“Oh, I am sure~” you make your voice annoyingly sweet as you prepare a bottle of water for him. Once you made your way back to the couch you saw his features flatten, not taking your teasing kindly.

“I have seen things that would probably make you piss your pants and cry.”

He catches the bottle you toss him and you shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I may not be as soft as you think I am.” Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise and you turn away.

Plopping down on the overstuffed chair adjacent to him, you pull out your laptop from the convenient cushion/storage. Once you obtain your computer and headphones, you place your feet comfortably on the cushion, letting your back sink into the softness of the chair.

“You’re a non-sorcerer, what have you seen that’s on the same level as curses?” his voice calls, no prejudice in his words, just general curiosity.

You roll your shoulders. Suddenly, they felt heavy. Every time you thought about your past this happened. Your shoulders would ache as cold sweat licked your spine.

Opening your computer, you sigh, remoting into the network server you manage.

Maybe if I talk about it while working it’s not so bad .

“Curses are born from human's negative emotions, right?” you start slowly, not wanting to look at him.

“Right,” Satoru confirms, confusion in his tone.

“You see, some people act on those emotions. Anger, fear, sadness, resentment…” Swallowing thickly, you continue.

“I think you’ll find that some of those people are much more ugly than curses. Curses don’t wear masks, they are just as they are. People, however…” you cracked your neck, diligently typing in commands into your computer, eyes scanning your screen.

I am not my past. It does not define me.

You repeat this mantra to yourself, steadying your nervous heart.

“Have you experienced it? The ugliness of humanity?” you could hear the caution in his words, almost as if he was scared to say the wrong thing to you.

Your hands had stopped typing entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer but felt the words die in your throat. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes shook. It was like two hands were wrapped around your neck, thumbs pressing into your windpipe, choking you.

Taking a deep breath, you steady your heart.

I am not my past. It does not define me.

“Y/n–”

“You should sleep, I’ll be in my office. It’s at the far end of the hallway. If you need anything just ask.”

Closing your laptop, you place your headphones in your ears. You see Satoru say something, but you pretend not to notice, watching as his features twist with confusion and self-doubt.

You walk away, playing music in your ears but you hear nothing. Everything is silent.

Sorry, it’s not your fault .

Once behind the door to your office, you let out a shuddering breath.

Why did I pay for therapy if I can’t even talk about it?

You spent years trying to feel normal, and for the most part, your brain let you forget. You could be fine for months, but then you get thrown into a space that’s a little too crowded and suddenly you can’t breathe. Someone touches your shoulder and you feel like a thousand spiders are crawling all over you. If you were in a space where there were too many noises, your brain would turn everything into white noise, leaving only the sound of your erratic heartbeat in your ears.

It was the reason why you were single. The last relationship you were in ended with him telling you that you were too complicated . Your love language is physical touch, but sometimes that touch was too much, too overstimulating, or triggering. You enjoy being outside, but can’t be in crowded spaces without being plagued by anxiety, and living in Japan, well, it’s always crowded.

Maybe I am just better off alone.

—

Satoru awoke to the sound of Y/n humming softly.

Cracking open his eyes, he peered over the edge of the couch. It seemed she was making something, but her headphones were in and she was swaying lightly.

He recalled the way she looked just hours prior; shoulders caved in, sweat running down her face, eyes distant. She looked like she would run away any second. So many questions circled in his mind, but more than anything he wanted to hug her. He had seen that look too many times.

Turning his eyes away from the female, he checked his phone.

Shit, they’ve been calling me.

Yaga had called him 6 times whereas Megumi texted him.

“Where are you?”

“I won’t be back for a little bit. Hold down the fort, kay’?”

Megumi immediately responded.

“What are you talking about? Are you on a mission?”

“Don’t worry~”

“Stop being weird.”

“If anyone asks, I am handling a personal matter.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru had a sneaking suspicion that if he admitted he is sick, he would never live it down.

“You awake?”

Y/n’s head was now peering over him, the ends of her hair tickling his face. He searched her features, but none of her earlier fear remained. She looked calm, but now he couldn’t help but wonder what lies beneath the surface of that practiced tranquility.

“You’re staring,” her soft voice teases, making him chuckle.

He moves to sit up and she removes her face from his view, stepping around the couch to hand him a bowl. He takes the dish from her hands to find a broth-based soup with meat, noodles, and vegetables.

“Did you make this?” he asks as she takes up a seat beside him, blowing on a spoonful of golden liquid.

“Mhm. You’re probably not very hungry, but try to eat a little bit.” she hums as she takes a bite of her food, bringing one leg under her other, comfortably settling into the couch.

Satoru follows her lead, blowing on his soup, and then taking a bite. The warm liquid soothed his throat as the broth coated his tongue. It was light but enjoyable.

“Do you cook often?” he asks, turning to face her and she does the same.

Watching as she shrugged her shoulders, he bit back a smile. Her hair was a little messier and her cheeks were lightly flushed from the steam of the soup.

“If I can, I avoid going out too much. I’m a homebody.”

He nodded his head at her words, understanding what she meant. He was the same way, but also different. Being out on a mission or being at Jujutsu High made it difficult for him to eat homemade meals like this. More often than not he would eat out. If he had a choice though, he would rather relax like this.

“Do you not like people?” he ensured his voice was neutral, not wanting her to feel cornered or pressured.

Meeting her eyes, he watched her swallow thickly, considering his words.

“It’s not that. I just don’t do well in crowded, loud spaces. Were you able to sleep?” she changed the subject so naturally he barely caught it. Somehow, he found himself frowning, feeling as if he’d been robbed of an opportunity.

“Somewhat. You said you’re an author right? How’s writing going?”

He watched as she scrunched up her face, shaking her head.

“Annoying. I keep rewriting this scene, but I can’t seem to get the atmosphere right.”

Taking an aggressive bite of her soup, she set the bowl down, leaning her head back against the couch.

Even when she pouts she’s cute.

“What’s it about? Maybe I can help.”

He wasn’t much of a writer, but he was also curious about what her story was about.

Her face suddenly became red, so much so to the point that she turned her gaze away from him.

“I-It’s not important. You said you slept somewhat well, right? Is anything uncomfortable?” she asked without looking at him.

Smiling, he set his bowl down and poked her red cheek.

“Eh? Why don’t you answer my question first~” she swatted his hand away but he kept pressing, now lightly pinching her cheeks.

Y/n faced him, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head, taking his hands with her.

“No way! I will not divulge secrets of my unpublished novel to you.”

Her small hands wrapped around his wrists to pry his hands away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he moved his hands to her sides, tickling her waist.

“Hey! Ah, what’re you doing–”

Laughter filled his ears, and it was like sweet music. He laughed with her, now moving her body to fully face him. She kicked her legs furiously, not caring that she was kicking his thighs at all.

“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

Her hands were frantically grasping at him. She was grabbing his arms, chest, and neck, pulling him closer to her squirming body as she was shouting while laughing.

“No, ah, please stop!” She cried helplessly, hands fisting the shirt that rested on his body, and grabbing it so harshly it pulled his body forward, making him catch himself on his hands to not crash into her.

His eyes widened.

Her face was inches from his own as her hot, heavy breaths tickled his skin. Shocked eyes stared into him and he took in her features. Long dark eyelashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks as her lips, full and parted, began distracting him. Her dizzying scent filled his nose– soft rose with a hint of sandalwood. He could feel the ghost of the rise and fall of her chest as her hands, still fisted in the fabric of the loaned shirt, trembled.

Beautiful.

Hesitantly, he reached up and traced the curve of her cheek. She closed her eyes, body shuddering as she leaned into his touch. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips, and he let himself enjoy the feeling of her warmth seeping into his pores.

“Y–”

Noir jumped between the spaces of their bodies and planted herself right on Y/n’s face. Satoru reluctantly removed himself from the scene, allowing Y/n to pluck Noir off of her.

“I– what has gotten into you Noir?”

The woman held the fluff ball right above her head. The feline flattened her ears while she swayed her tail back and forth.

“I think she doesn’t like sharing her mom,” he suggested and she lifted a brow.

“Or maybe, my precious girl was saving me from my assailant.” She spoke in a baby voice, gently shaking Noir.

“Don’t say it like that! It makes me sound like a creep.”

She sat up, pulling Noir close to her chest as she placed a kiss on her head.

“You attacked me, as far as I see it, I am speaking the truth.”

Turning her head in pure defiance, the woman set down her cat as she stood, taking their finished bowls of soup with her.

“If you just told me I wouldn’t have attacked you!”

“You admit to your crime, then?”

“I plead the 5th.”

What was that just now?

Satoru placed his hand on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart. His cheeks felt hot, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his sickness or the lingering scent of her perfume.

She scoffed and he heard the sound of water running. The only noise that filled the space was the sound of dishes being washed, and her making something. Once the woman returned, she was holding out a mug toward him while holding one of her own. He took the liquid from her hand, and she rejoined him on the couch.

Eyeing the cup, he noticed it was the same tea from earlier, but much less hot. Y/n fidgeted with the string of her tea, he watched as she brought her knees up to her chest, eyeing him sidelong.

“About earlier, I am sorry.”

She lowered her dark eyelashes, eyes refusing to meet him as she took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have asked you something personal.”

His response seemed to surprise her. She faltered for a moment, then set down her mug, slightly facing him. Satoru took a drink of his tea, the temperature pleasantly warm, easing his sore throat.

“It’s not that. It’s just hard to talk about, my mind will suddenly go blank and I can’t think.”

She wrapped her hands around her knees, resting her cheek on them as she let her eyes meet his. Solitary sadness peered at him, whispering of isolation and numbed scars – a look he knew all too well.

“It doesn’t hurt me anymore, but forcing myself to relive memories is harder than coping with them. People always say talking about it makes it easier to deal with, but I think that’s bullshit.”

He laughed lightly at her words, making the corners of her mouth lift softly.

“I haven’t talked to anyone about Suguru since it happened. I don’t think they would understand me if I said what I was really thinking.”

His finger traced the rim of the ceramic mug, memories of his youth playing in his mind.

“Whatever you feel, it’s valid. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong.”

His chest suddenly felt tight. Her words eased some of the tension out of his shoulders, making him avoid her gaze.

“Can I ask you something?”

She hummed in response and he swallowed his saliva. He needed to be careful, for he tended to be too insensitive at times.

“You seem so at peace, but earlier, you looked…”

He couldn’t find the right word.

Distraught, lost, fearful, horrified, panicked? None of the words seemed to fit.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head, and letting it rest between her legs.

“Years of practice. It’s a mask of sorts. I let myself forget most days, and it’s easier when I fall into a routine. But sometimes, something will trigger me, and I kind of just… Shut down? I don’t know how to describe it, but I become numb to everything for a while.”

Her words struck him. He placed his mug down and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs as he resonated with her.

“How much do you know about the Jujutsu world?”

Maybe we can relate to each other.

“The basics. A lot of the times the Gojo family and the Six-Eyes came up in my research, but honestly, I skimmed through those bits, understanding almost nothing about it. Why do you ask?”

She eyed him, and he inhaled deeply. Her stare was piercing; like she was dissecting him.

“I am the strongest sorcerer of this generation. I am also a teacher to the new generation. I’ll save you from the specifics, but my role is incredibly isolating. Naturally, I can’t ever fail. There was a time when I thought I would be able to share this burden of power, but my dreams were crushed by the reality of my strength.”

Satoru opened and closed his hands, familiar frustration rising in his chest.

He looked at her and that frustration vanished. She gazed at him with open sincerity. Kindness traced her features, listening to every word he said earnestly. No sign of awe or admiration, just pure intent on understanding him.

He cleared his throat.

“You see, despite the blessings I have been given, not once has this power made a difference. When it mattered the most, I was unable to save those who I deeply cared for. So I smile, laugh, and pretend I am okay. But in truth, I want to destroy the system and people that have stolen the youth of so many, consequences be damned.”

The truth of his words lingered in the air. The only way he could cope after Suguru was by dedicating himself to a new goal, something substantial that would transcend through generations.

“I can’t claim to understand the isolation of power, I am just an average person. But, I do understand the loneliness and yearning for someone to understand you…”

Finding her tea, she paused, took a deep breath, and then continued.

“I never knew my parents, I was an orphan. Whether they died or gave me up, I don’t know. But I bounced around from one temporary home to another. Most weren’t great. Some kept locks on the pantry and fridge so I couldn’t eat. One would lock me in a small closet as a form of punishment, that is if they were too tired to hit me. Either way, there’s not a lot of people who relate to that. So it’s isolating.”

Y/n softly smiled at him. No tears filled her eyes, despite the heavy words that left her lips. She just smiled sadly, eyelashes softly kissing her cheeks; it felt as if she was peering into his soul.

He didn’t know what to say, so he took her hand in his, wrapping his fingers around hers, softly stroking her knuckles. She squeezed, soft skin hugging his own. He could feel the slightly rough texture of her fingertips as her warmth seeped into him, calling to his nerves.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head, setting some of her hair free of its confinement to frame her face. Again, he was struck by her alluring beauty.

“What?” the question left his lips in a breathless murmur.

“Usually, I can’t talk about that without my heart beating out of my chest.”

Without another word, she gently guided his palm to her chest, right above her heart. Subconsciously he held his breath as he felt the steady thrum of her heart. It softly beat against her chest, and he could feel it through the fabric of her shirt. Her lovely warmth kissed his skin, and he couldn’t tear himself away.

She smiled.

“No anxiety,” whispering in astonishment, her eyes searched his in wonder.

He was locked in her innocent gaze – eyes swirling with perplexed emotions.

Satoru smiled down at her, allowing her fingers to intertwine with his.

If only for now, let me be human.

“Tell me more.”

—

You spent the rest of your day exchanging stories of your youth with Satoru. Sometimes you laughed, and other times you teared up, but either way, you both listened to each other earnestly.

It was different somehow.

There was an ease to the flow of the conversation, and it washed away any lingering fear in your heart. It was like you could breathe for the first time – you could be you, and you didn’t shy away from it.

“How are you feeling?”

Having finished your 5th cup of tea, you were starting to get a little stir-crazy. Satoru seemed to be in higher spirits as his fever died down. From the looks of it, the medicine and his stupidly good genes fought off the germs quickly.

“Better,”

He sighed, stretching out his long limbs.

You pulled your eyes away from the sight, trying not to look at where the shirt had risen over his stomach.

“Well, would you like to join me for a walk?”

It’s a small offer, though asking still made you feel self-conscious. Your fingers fumbled with the damp tea-string idly, a welcomed distraction from the growing heat on your cheeks.

It’s not like I am asking him on a date, so why am I getting so embarrassed?

Satoru gave you a knowing smile but then gestured to his clothes.

“Just like this? Fuzzy pink house slippers and all?”

Rolling your eyes at his tease, you motion toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes and a toothbrush have been laid out since this morning. The outfit choice is yours to make. Brushing your teeth, however, is non-negotiable.”

“Oh, planning on stealing a kiss?”

The male stands, and you now have to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

A smirk tugs at his lips, and it makes your mouth go dry. Despite the playfulness of his demeanor, there is something predatory in his eyes. He takes another step forward, invading your space. Not close enough to feel his breath on your skin, but it was the distance that lovers stood from each other.

Finding some bravado, you speak.

“Fantasizing about me already?”

You feign confidence by placing a hand on your hip while puffing out your bottom lip.

To say that you’re not attracted to this man would be an outright lie. Also, to say that you only have platonic feelings for him would be another lie. But you weren’t going to let him know that, nor were you going to let him toy with your feelings.

Satoru's smirk doesn’t falter, instead, he lowers his eyelashes elegantly, looking at you in the way men look at women they’re enamored with.

“You want to make those fantasies a reality?” his low, breathy voice caught you so off guard to the point your eyes widened and your cheeks became heated.

“I– wha?” incoherent words fumbled out of your mouth.

Then Satoru laughed.

“You should see your face!” he said between breaths, making you only blush harder.

Embarrassment rising in your chest, you kick his shin, grateful his magical protection bubble wasn’t up.

“Ow!“

“Don’t pretend to be hurt! Go change you bastard!”

—

Cold night air nipped at the skin of your cheeks as you and Satoru walked silently side by side. The quiet was welcomed as you relished in the calm of the night. The warm glow of the street lights complimented the cool evening sky. Though only being just past 9, the streets were empty, which you appreciated.

Peeking at Satoru out of the corner of your eye, you smiled.

His eyes, beautiful and alluring in the night air, took in his surroundings. They seemed to be swallowing every detail, brain dissecting and memorizing the scene in front of him: Stone tiled streets lined with a mix of old and modern homes.

It made you wonder if he ever had moments of quiet like this. Because right now, he looked like a child who had never been outside a day in his life.

“Do you not go on walks often?” you ask, breaking him out of his reverie.

The male, with hair that of moonlight and eyelashes of silver, blinked – your words registering in his mind.

“It’s not that. Usually, I am on a mission. It’s not often that the world is this slow .”

Clasping your hands behind your back, you consider his words, trying to piece together an understanding.

“Care to elaborate with the class?”

The need to understand was greater than your pride. Even if you were to come up with a plausible answer, your guess would be further from his truth – and every part of you screamed to know that truth.

You hear him chuckle under his breath, then he turns his eyes to the stars.

“My eyes are special. To put it simply, they allow me to process everything around me at a much faster rate than the average person. So, usually, when I am out I am surveying my surroundings so much to the point where the simplicity of life is lost. Beautiful architecture no longer captures my eye, rather its existence becomes how I can use its shape to my advantage in a fight…”

His eyes found yours as he held your curious stare side-long.

“But right now, my mind is quiet. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. With you, everything seems to slow down. Almost to the point that I feel normal.”

The sound of your skipped heartbeat filled your ears.

Unable to hold his burning gaze, you turned your eyes to the starry night sky.

The stars, bright and alive against midnight blue are surrounded by the white glow of the moon. They captured your attention – reminding you of the male at your side.

“I don’t think I could ever see you as normal if I am being honest.” the words left your lips in a whisper.

“Why’s that?”

His voice was filled with innocent wonder, so you answered.

“Everything about you is unnaturally beautiful. Not a single feature that decorates your skin is flawed. It’s like someone painted you into existence.”

Perfect and unattainable. Something to be admired, but never to be kept.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you allowed your eyes to peer over at the tall male. He was smiling softly, eyes staring up at the night sky, the stars that rested there reflected in his irises.

It was like he was talking to the stars, and they glittered brilliantly in response.

“You see me so poetically,” Satoru murmured, mostly to himself.

“How do you see yourself, then?”

The question left your lips before you could consider its weight. You watch as he takes a deep breath in, whether it is to calm himself or to simply enjoy the atmosphere, you can’t tell.

“Honestly? Objectively, I know who I am and the weight of my power, it’s not fueled by ego or feigned confidence, it’s just a fact. But when I look at my reflection, it’s blurry. I can’t see anything, because I resent myself. If I had just tried a little harder, been less selfish, and paid more attention, maybe things would have been different.”

His honest words cracked your heart.

You silently grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers. He leaned into your touch, molding his hand to yours, thumb idly sweeping over the flesh. Unable to resist the smile that tugged at your lips, you let his warmth seep into your skin. Your hands swayed lightly, and to anyone else, you would’ve looked like a couple.

If only for a short time, I will open my heart to you.

“You know, someone once told me that you can choose to live in your past, to let it define you and your life. Or, you can learn from it and grow into the person you’re supposed to be, carrying the memories of those most precious with you. So, when I feel lost in the murky darkness of my thoughts I tell myself: I am not my past, it does not define me.”

You’ve never been this raw with anyone. Part of you was fearful he’d laugh in your face, but the other part of you whispered for you to let go. To continue baring your soul, because with him, he made you feel seen .

Satoru tugged your hand, halting your movement, stopping both of you in place. You met his eyes, a sheepish smile on your lips as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

“You are… A surprise.”

There is a hint of shyness in his voice, which in turn made yours rise. The tips of your ears felt hot, but you couldn’t pull away from his stare. You allowed yourself to be swallowed up in the moment, surrendering yourself to him under the gaze of the stars.

“Meeting your expectations?”

You bite the flesh of your inner cheek, feeling naked under his knowing blue eyes.

“Exceeding them and more,”

His eyes folded kindly, white eyelashes kissing his cheeks as soft moonlight illuminated him in an otherworldly glow. You couldn’t help but be swept away by his beauty – as if he was pure moonlight itself with dazzling stars for eyes.

For the second time this evening, your heart skipped a beat.

If you keep looking at me like that, I am going to fall for you, you idiot.

“Let’s go back, yeah?”

With forced enthusiasm, you turn around to head back the way you came. A light laugh escaped his lips as he allowed you to pull his body, which you were grateful for.

What he didn’t know was the act was to hide your deepening blush.

“Yeah,”

The evening ended and you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in years.

But in the morning, it vanished.

—

“Good morning,” you greeted him, having just finished freshening up for the day.

Satoru was dressed in the clothes you met him in, with the addition of a black blindfold covering his eyes. You saw that your couch was arranged the way it was previously, and Noir was eating her breakfast.

He cleaned and fed my cat.

“Morning,” his voice was somewhat distant, so you stood in front of him, placing your hands on your hips.

“You leaving?”

The fabric of his mask rises. Taking it as you surprised him, you rolled your eyes.

“I have to go back,” Satoru answered and you nod your head, taking a deep breath.

It’s not like you didn’t expect this. However, after yesterday, you knew you were going to miss him.

“I see. Thank you for cleaning up and feeding Noir.” You say pleasantly, trying to make your voice bright. There was no way you were going to let your feelings show. It isn’t fair to him.

Satoru took off his blindfold and stood, taking your face in his hands.

The sudden contact surprised you, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you steeled yourself, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“You don’t have to put on an act, Y/n.” his thumbs rubbed the soft skin of your cheeks as his eyes, endless sparkling blue, stared into you.

You let out a small laugh, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. Closing your eyes, you begin committing him to memory – The callouses that peppered his hands, the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of fresh summer rain.

“You don’t have to make it harder, you know.”

Your words left your lips in a whisper, barely audible to yourself. But he heard it, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Is it so hard to let me know that you’ll miss me?”

His thumb traced your lower lip, and you shivered, tucking away that memory, too.

“Yes, because then I’ll be admitting something to myself I am not ready to face.”

With eyes stinging, you smiled sadly, drinking in his features for the last time. Soft and elegant with eyes that looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Let him go.

Lightly wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull his hands away from your face, separating your bodies.

“Please, go, and be safe.” Satoru nods.

Don’t leave.

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

I know I don’t belong in your world.

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

Will you miss me?

Leaning down, Satoru pressed his lips to your head. The soft, warm pressure made your skin tingle as his scent invaded your senses, giving you a false sense of safety. He lingered for a moment, hand brushing down your arm, making you bite your lip to hide your helpless whimper.

You closed your eyes and felt his warmth disappear. Only when you heard the ‘ click ’ of the door did you allow your tears to fall.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, you hugged your knees, crying into your skin. Your heart felt like it was breaking into two.

He was never mine, to begin with, so why did I get so attached?

His scent lingered on the couch and you clung to it like a child, desperate and hopeless. You couldn’t breathe, and you were sure you were shouting. Noir came to comfort you, soft body brushing up against yours as you cried violently.

That’s the first time he said my name…

—

Satoru had to force himself to walk away. Her cries reached him through the door, and it took everything in him not to turn around.

When she told him to leave, her eyes begged him to stay. When he kissed her forehead, drinking in her scent for the last time, he felt her small body tremble. While he walked away, his heart screamed at him to turn around, to pull her into his arms and soothe her pain.

But that would only make it worse.

Because their reality is that she is just a normal girl, and he is the strongest sorcerer of his time. Their worlds are completely different, and she would be in danger if he allowed her to be close to his heart.

And he wasn’t about to allow himself to lose another person to his strength.

Fall in love with someone else and be happy, Y/n.

—

“Why do we keep stopping in cafes, you don’t even drink coffee,” Megumi asks begrudgingly, but Satoru simply waves a nonchalant hand.

I thought I saw her…

“I just can’t help but chase the sweet smell of mochi!”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Satoru continues his leisure walk with his student. He hears Megumi let out a deep sigh – clearly getting more fed up with him.

“Where are we going anyway? You’ve been shut in your office ever since you came back from your ‘personal matter’. Why drag me outside with you all of a sudden?” another long sigh accompanied by an eye roll.

“I needed some fresh air and wanted company.”

It was half of the truth, but he was leading them to a training ground so they could have a private conversation. Too many untrustworthy ears at Jujutsu High.

“You really need friends your age. Or get a girlfriend, you’re getting old. At this point, you’re going to die alone.”

Before he could get offended, a woman in an army green bomber jacket and a book in her hand walks right by him.

Without thinking Satoru turns around and grabs the woman’s wrist. Her frightened eyes peer up at him and his heart sinks for the 10th time today.

“U-Um, excuse me, do I know you?”

Not Y/n.

Megumi yanks him by his collar. Satoru let him, of course, but nonetheless, he yanked hard .

“Sorry ma’am, he confused you for someone else, forgive him.”

The boy didn’t even wait for the woman’s response, he walked, dragging Satoru with him.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” Megumi whisper-yelled, spitting venom in his direction.

Satoru sighed, letting his brief defeat wash over him as he righted himself. He put infinity back up, moving his student’s hand away from his frame, no longer wanting to feel the touch of another person.

“I rather die alone.”

That was all he said for the rest of their walk, pointedly ignoring every cafe they walked by.

Part 2

348 notes · View notes

bangaveragewhitewine · 6 months

Text

feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family.

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical.

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head.

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department.

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered.

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.”

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights.

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home.

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard.

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder.

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city.

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow.

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door.

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner.

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot.

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.”

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.”

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you.

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.”

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face.

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries, you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip.

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you.

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile.

“Steve.”

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing.

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not.”

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was.

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags.

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way. “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…”

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes.

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?”

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?”

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again.

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again.

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips.

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list.

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about.

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.”

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand.

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face.

“Oh, you’re trouble.”

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again. “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends.

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too.

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved.

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed.

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it.

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed.

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.”

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.”

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands.

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?”

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.”

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you.

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington.

What’s your middle name?

Best Halloween costume?

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be.

Two middle names, Henry Michael.

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough.

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous.

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous.

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell.

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one.

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst.

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye.

Goodbye.

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington.

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face.

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes.

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little, his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.”

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest.

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?”

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.”

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other.

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over. If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag.

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much .

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind.

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington.

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils.

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…”

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down.

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together.

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow.

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it.

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back.

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you.

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did.

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out.

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.”

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips.

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.”

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?”

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be.

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.”

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow.

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter.

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.”

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other.

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips.

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss.

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours.

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek.

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly.

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky.

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something.

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked.

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.”

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again.

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave.

“This is me, just up here.”

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve.

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight…

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?”

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf.

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm.

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you.

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.”

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.”

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